Je'gan Olra'en
May 10th, 2005, 09:52:46 AM
The skyhook’s window revealed an impressive vista: Coruscant, in all of its nightside glory; above it, other skyhooks, globules linked to the planet below by nigh-invisible tethers; then drive trails, connecting the two and linking them to the infinity of star-strewn blackness that offered the tableau a worthy enough frame.
What Je’gan liked best about it, though, was not the beauty of the planet nor the technological wonders that wove about it. The true reason he was standing here in the window of the public skyhook was that from here, he could see the Core. The dense star-ball that gave the galaxy an axis was, to him, a rather superb symbol of power. He had not actually been in the Deep Core in some time, but he remembered it vividly. There was no black to the space there. Radiation and gas effluvia made it pastel swirled with flame. It was lethal and it was gorgeous.
It was also a decent enough reminder of two things: what was waiting for him in the higher levels of the skyhook, and what was waiting for him back on Corellia. Beauty and lethality: Trric at the Palace; the unknown threat not fifty metres away. It was difficult for Je’gan to home in on who or what, precisely, was up here with him. Still, he had only to turn around, ascend a staircase.
Was he quite done here?
He gave the panorama a last glance and turned from the window. Beneath his cloak, a pair of curved silver tubes sat waiting. They would wait. Je’gan himself would not. He was quite finished with waiting, of hiding behind TSO's pretense of harmlessness. It was quite fitting that he was dressed as a Jedi, and that his sabres had sky-blue blades. No blame need go to TSO or him.
And wasn't it lucky that he sensed the dark side?
What Je’gan liked best about it, though, was not the beauty of the planet nor the technological wonders that wove about it. The true reason he was standing here in the window of the public skyhook was that from here, he could see the Core. The dense star-ball that gave the galaxy an axis was, to him, a rather superb symbol of power. He had not actually been in the Deep Core in some time, but he remembered it vividly. There was no black to the space there. Radiation and gas effluvia made it pastel swirled with flame. It was lethal and it was gorgeous.
It was also a decent enough reminder of two things: what was waiting for him in the higher levels of the skyhook, and what was waiting for him back on Corellia. Beauty and lethality: Trric at the Palace; the unknown threat not fifty metres away. It was difficult for Je’gan to home in on who or what, precisely, was up here with him. Still, he had only to turn around, ascend a staircase.
Was he quite done here?
He gave the panorama a last glance and turned from the window. Beneath his cloak, a pair of curved silver tubes sat waiting. They would wait. Je’gan himself would not. He was quite finished with waiting, of hiding behind TSO's pretense of harmlessness. It was quite fitting that he was dressed as a Jedi, and that his sabres had sky-blue blades. No blame need go to TSO or him.
And wasn't it lucky that he sensed the dark side?