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Thread: Astral Drift (Hal)

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    TFA Closed Astral Drift (Hal)

    Space. An infinite expanse of blazing stars and beautiful planets. One could not travel through the void without finding beauty in it. Whether it was in the silent darkness that fell like a velvet curtain, crushing you in the silence; or in the oceans, forests, and skies of a million worlds, each one so different from the last; or in the cacophony of stars that spread out in all directions toward infinity. One needed only the eyes to see.

    Eyes that once seen the galaxy with such wonder had gone dark; the optical lenses gray and lifeless. Large hands that had been so strong, that had held every danger at bay, now listed empty in the absence of gravity. All the strength and determination in creation was worth nothing when lost in the vacuum of space. He knew not how long he drifted. Long ago he had powered down his eyes and closed his mind. He did not want to see, for there was nothing to see but the bodies of those he failed to protect floating alongside him and the distant glittering gem of Ossus that he could not reach. There was nothing to contemplate but the loss of so many friends; innocent and brave souls that were dying all around him; each extinguished life a burning stitch in his psyche. There was nowhere to go, lost here in this nest of debris, except into his own mind.

    And into his mind he went, receding from the physical realm as meditation took him somewhere else; somewhere serene. Here there was no death. Only the Force. No pain. Only the Force. There was no loss or failure or anger. Only the Force. A welcome haven to those lost. Every once in awhile he would drift back to consciousness, but nothing had ever changed. Ossus was still far away and the Jedi were still dead. Despair would return and with it retreat back into meditation. An endless cycle, propagating repeatedly for years unknown.

    His mind stirred. Something roused him from his rest. Optic lenses flared to life; a dull orange in the inky darkness. Something was coming. He felt it in the Force.

  2. #2
    Among nearly every race, it was said that if man was meant to fly, he'd have been created with wings, that if he had been meant to breathe underwater, he would have been created with gills, or if he had been meant to see ultraviolet light, he would have been created with less protective corneas. Those sayings each had merit in their own time, meant to keep dreamers and thinkers down to earth, focused upon what had caused their own civilizations to prosper up until that point. But man created winged vehicles with which to fly, he created apparatuses to facilitate breathing beneath the waves, which could be used in other environments as well, and machines were built to see the light man could not - unless like Halajiin Rabeak, an eye had been naturally damaged to allow it without the aid of such a device. What those cultures of old never spoke of, however, was that if man were meant to see the stars, he'd have been created with a hyperdrive.

    And why would they say such a thing? Those old sayings dated back to the days before space flight of almost every culture which uttered them, and yet in each being who looked up at the night, and all its stars, there was not one who did not wonder what was out there. Man was not born with wings, with gills, or with special eyes, but he was born with the curiosity necessary to create such things, and so much more.

    Well, for the species who weren't actually created with wings, gills, or sensitive eyes. Some are, you know. Hal's mind spoke to him.

    Yes, true, but most aren't, and I think the narrator is trying to tell a story. Do you always have to be so nitpicky? His base natures replied.

    Hal ignored both, as he often did anymore. Man was not born with a hyperdrive, but the yellow-furred Nehantite had come into the possession of a ship which bore one, and it was currently acting up.

    Amber and ruby lights flashed at him from the console as a dull groan began to sound from the hyperdrive's coils in the small Mon Cal cruiser he helmed. One paw upon the flight yoke, his other hammered at buttons and switches in an attempt to bypass the blockage in the coolant flow, somehow, but it seemed no use.

    I should have stolen a better ship. This one is a piece of shit.

    The groan's resonance slowly increased into a hum headed toward a catastrophic whine. Snapping off choice expletives, Hal pounded the dash with his free paw before reaching out and yanking back the throttle lever. The stars, which had appeared stretched out before him, suddenly slammed still as the cruiser made a less than elegant departure from hyperspace and back into reality. All stop, Hal threw home the parking brake and leaned back into the creaking, cracked and patched vinyl of the pilot's seat. "Security be damned, I am stealing a brand new ship, next time," he grunted to himself after a whining sigh of defeat.

    Wallowing in self-pity would do him no good, however, and he knew it. If the First Order was still after him, they would be upon him soon enough, and he didn't wish to be caught with his pants down. The days of dropping his pants had ended many years ago, his carefree attitude with it. Gone was the cheerful smile of the Hal of old, replaced with a grim, hard-set jaw and steely eyes. Once-bouyant and shimmering headfur now fell over his brow in dull, lifeless strands, while the bags beneath his eyes spoke to a life with little mirth. Hauling himself up from his chair, he snatched up his tool belt and headed into the bowels of his stolen ship. Technical high school at least covered clearing coolant blockages.

    ---

    When he returned from what turned out to be a nearly two hour repair job, Hal cursed to find that the parking brake was also broken, and he had drifted far off course, the ship simply sailing along with its momentum. The seat groaned in protest as he dropped his narrow frame into it, punching up the navicomputer for his location. An entire parsec off course. Further swearing turned the air around him blue as he entered a course correction, then brought the engines back online. With great relief, the coolant flowed as it was always supposed to, and he readied himself to punch it into hyperspace once more when something stopped him. There, in the back of his mind, came a little niggle of worry, an element of doubt that departure was the correct course. So long had he ignored his conscience that it often gave up attempting to persuade him of anything, but this was different, this was... the Force?

    Gradually his paw came away from the throttle, and he leaned back into his seat, pink eyes staring out at the expanse beyond. It was the Force, and a sort of sensation he had not felt in a great many years. Urgency told him to forget it, to move on to his next target and to continue his work, but like an itch he could not reach, the compulsion to seek out the source of that sensation grew only greater. No planets registered for countless light-years, and no ships appeared on the cruiser's limited scanner, which only fueled his curiosity. A mongoose's curiosity, once piqued, could not be easily sated, and for that, Hal cursed his race and took to the flight yoke, steering the ship at half-speed toward the source of the disturbance, feeling it growing ever stronger as he went.

  3. #3
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    It was coming closer. Whatever it was. Turning was difficult, requiring very precise movements to keep his body from falling into a destabilized spin. Rotating around, he peering into the void of space, past the debris field that has been his only companion these many cycles. There was something out there. He could see guide lights in the distance, like those found on a starship to make it visible in the otherwise pitch dark of space. Someone was passing by! It was a miracle of the force. However, he had no way to contact the ship. Even with the technological wonder that his suit had once been he had no means of contacting a foreign ship without the necessary comm channels and frequencies. Still, he had one thing they might notice. It was a risk. A great one depending on who was at the helm. It was his only option.

    Reaching carefully, slowly as to not spin himself, his mechanical arm moved to his side and grabbed the long cylinder tethered to a harness point built directly into his body. Holding it out in front of him he looked the object over. It had been a long time since he had looked at it. All these years it had been an anchor on his soul, a weapon that had not saved his companions, that had not chased away the darkness. A symbol of his incredible failure. Just holding it now felt like heresy. He had no right to wield it anymore.

    Dragging his thumb over the activation plate, the Light Club shot to life, a wellspring of green energy shooting upward; piercing the void and illuminating the debris field around. It brought all his sin into focus; the desiccated bodies spinning in their small orbits and the debris of the ship he had failed to save. He forced himself to look beyond it at the ship beyond. Hopefully it would see the light. Hopefully it was not the First Order come back to finish him.

  4. #4
    Once more, Hal eased the throttle of his cruiser, slowing to quarter impulse, then an eighth as readings began to come in. There was wreckage ahead, and plenty of it, but no life signs. Even the emergency beacon of whatever the unfortunate spacecraft had been had long ago ceased functioning. Drawing closer still, he could see bodies floating lifeless, and he could not help but wonder if this was how he had been found all those years ago in his carbonite hiberation. Another scan revealed no life forms, and the Nehantite shook his head. Nothing of use, nothing of value. He was wasting precious time and had work to do. Paw grasping the throttle lever, he readied himself to draw back on it and punch into top speed, when a flash of green shone amongst the wreckage.

    First response was to steel himself in his seat, ready to absorb the impact of a tiberium cannon bolt upon his front shields, but the energy burst did not move. Pink eyes going wide, Hal realized what it was - a lightsaber! And, barring a few technical glitches, lightsabers do not turn on by themselves.

    Immediatley he leaned forward, perched upon the edge of his seat as he steered his ship in for a closer look, mouth hanging open in shock.

    "Holy shit, it can't be..." he breathed. But it was. There, floating among the wreckage, illuminated by saber and floodlights combined, was a hulking droid body he recognized. Reaching back into his mind, Hal summoned up a skill he had not used in years, and prayed he still had some aspirin left onboard.

    "Karkoon? It's me, Hal. I see you. Gonna tether you and pull you in. Turn off the saber" Hal winced as he spoke those few words telepathically to his old Jedi acquaintance. Telepathy of any kind often gave those of his race a severe headache, and typically did so to the other end, too. Though, Hal wasn't sure if Karkoon would feel it, as he didn't actually have a head. Some kind of rock, he was supposed to be, under all that metal. Or something like that, he wasn't actually sure. Karkoon hadn't had the right equipment for Hal to want to bring him back to his place, back in the day, and all that.

    Then began the careful dance of rotating his ship, aiming the tether cable with its horrendous control scheme, and firing it off into the dark. The first shot missed. As did the second, third, and fourth, but Hal found himself fifth-time-lucky, scoring a direct hit right in the middle of the droid's lower left forearm. Okay, so it wasn't really a direct hit, but it was a hit, and the electromagnet stuck, so it was good enough. Slapping the retractor button, he punched in a few keystrokes, then hurried back to the cockpit and sealed the door behind himself, wary of the airlock bay holding on a ship as derelict as his own. To his relief, there was no roar of air from the living quarters, and he watched the lights go green on the dash, signalling a successful haul.

    Doors opening, Hal returned to the airlock bay to see Karkoon laying inside, almost lifeless in the artifical gravity of the ship.

    "Aw, hell, your batteries are dead, aren't they?" he groused and set his jaw. "Get your ass in here."

    He gave his new cargo no choice, lifting him with incredible ease through the Force and floated him into the main living area, where he was deposited on the couch, and a universal charging cable appeared from the wall as if on its own. Yet it, and the charging port cover on Karkoon's carapace both move at Hal's will, no paw gestures or even eye contact was necessary from the Force Master, who dropped onto a chair opposite the metal hulk.

    "What in the hell were you doing out there?" came his second question, this one unable to be answered on his own.

  5. #5
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    Hal. It was too good to be true. He didn't trust himself, with his exhausted mind and dying suit, that what he was seeing and hearing was true. He withheld letting his hopes up, even as the tether cable finally caught him after many failed attempts, even as he was pulled inside the ship; removed from space for the first time in the Force knows how long. It wasn't until the door opened and the familiar furry face of an old friend stepped into the cargo hold that he finally accepted the truth. He tried to stand, reach out, grasp his fellow Jedi, but his body did not move. Warning klaxons in his suit informed him that his battery reserved was at 2% efficiency. He could not even speak through the suit.

    Being carried through the ship caused Karkooon to panic slightly. It reminded him of floating in space, and for the duration of the travel, he thought he might be dreaming all of this while still floating out there in the wreckage. It was an unnecessary fear. Eventually he was set down and power applied. He sat there silent, dead, while the suit recharged. Eyeing the rising power levels he waited until it had achieved 10% and then overrode the safety locks and opened. The chest of the suit split and opened with a hiss and revealed inside the golden, shimmering crystal held within. Karkoon himself. Starving from his lack of nutrients he did not wish to wait for the suit to filter it in instead opened up and became absorbing what little was in the air.

    "Halajiin." He spoke at last, his voice still coming out of the suit's vocalizer. "I am so happy to see you. I have been floating out there for... since Ossus was attacked. My escape ship was run down and destroyed. I alone survived." He tried to gesture with his hand while he spoke, but the limb did not respond well. It was only then did he realized the extent of the damage he had received during the battle. Scorch marks and blast holes in his armor plates. Still operational. No system damage. In all his time out in the void he had never thought to look down at himself. "What of the Jedi? Tell me, how many survived?"
    Last edited by Karkoon; Jan 30th, 2016 at 02:29:22 AM.

  6. #6
    "Don't know," came Hal's reply. It was frank, cold, and final. "You've been out there a hell of a long time. Almost twenty years. The galaxy has changed a hell of a lot, and not for the better."

    It was not the same Hal which Karkoon had known. Gone was the smile, the frivolity and the madcap enthusiasm, all of that had been drained away and only a grave seriousness appeared to remain. The years had not been kind to the Nehantite, fur beginning to go white around his muzzle, scarcely visible through the pale fur of his face, while lines had formed both over his brow and beneath his eyes. Scars notched his exposed forearms, while another traced its way up his neck, and one of his ears was notably missing a chunk. Even his eyes, which had once been bright and cheerful now appeared weary and worn. He watched as the suit opened, never having seen Karkoon in his natural state, before, and was unsure why the typically protected life form chose to expose himself now.

    "Suit looks like it's gone through hell," he mused. "I might be able to tinker with it a bit, but I'm no Suri. No idea where the hell she's got to, anymore."

  7. #7
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    Karkoon went silent at Hal's frank reply, and his crystalline structure noticeably dimmed in response. Twenty years. It seemed like a fraction of that time has passed. Meditation had put him in stasis it would seem, and a few years of lonely floating had turned into twenty. So much would have changed in that time. His suit had become a time capsule, and his body the contents. The optical lenses of the suit did not work as well as he imagined the eyes of carbon based lifeforms did. The revelation of time passed caused a sudden curiosity, and he reached out in the force, a pulse of feeling that felt the space around him. It gave him the details the suit's optics could not.

    He felt the shape of the ship, the objects within it, and the form of his fellow Jedi. His senses washed over the Nehantite like a wave of invisible sunlight and static. Warming. Probing. He felt the changes in his friend. Where the scars marred his flesh and his fur thinned with age. The damaged ear, the weary posture in which he sat. Yes. He believed in now. Time had definitely passed, and it had not been kind to the short life of his friend. The passage of time was a hard one to understand for a species as long living as the Shard. Hundreds of years was but a beginning.

    "Tell me what has happened. Where have the Jedi gone?"

  8. #8
    The invasion of the Force upon his body was not a sensation Hal had experienced in some time, and at first it felt strange and foreign until he realized its purpose. Instantaneously guards and walls went up around his mind, shielding it from the Shard's search as if it were locked away behind durasteel walls. It was as much defense for himself against the discomfort of a mental probe as it was to protect Karkoon from images he may not wish to see. If one thing was was made clear from Karkoon's search, however, it was that both light and dark now flowed though the Nehantite in equal measure, finding harmony within him where it should not exist.

    "I still don't know all the details," Hal began. "But from what I've been able to get out of Empire goons, the Jedi became a threat to them, again, and one of their factions, the First Order, decided to hit Ossus with a pre-emptive strike. The goal was nothing short of killing every Jedi on the planet, and wiping Jedi culture from the galaxy. To some extent, they succeeded. As far as I know, the library is completely gone, and most of Sanctuary with it. Not sure how many died, but I do know that I and a handful of others managed to get off that rock before the big weapons hit."

    Hal's tailtip flicked in frustration, a hint of a growl lacing the edges of his words as he continued. "This First Order started to hunt us down. Some of the old Imperial Knights were with them, but not too many. For safety, the few Jedi I escaped with and I split up shortly after that, each going into hiding. I've only seen one of them since, the others might be dead for all I know. The Jedi are dead, Karkoon, even if there might be remaining members somewhere, pretending to try and carry on the legacy. I don't recommend you try and do so, though. It's too dangerous, the First Order has spies everywhere. I can take you to a scrapyard, I know some guys there. They can rebuild your suit, fix you up good as new, and you can decide what to do with your life in this strange new world. The less time you're with me, the safer you are."

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    Everyone was dead, or scattered. There was no Jedi Order. Not anymore. The years spent drifting through space all he had thought about was returning to the Order, to protect it once more, to somehow make up for his failure to save those under his care. His one and only goal was now a lost cause, and with it's passing it took his only sense of purpose in this galaxy. The only feeling he had now was to return to Ossus, and stand over the ruins of the Academy. See it one last time. For what purpose? None. It would serve no purpose. He merely wished to see it with his own eyes. To see the truth. To hold his now shattered dreams in his hands.

    "Very well." He said at last, and with it the chest cavity snapped shut, sealing away the dull crystaline body behind the durasteel carapace. "And what of you Hal? Where will you go, what will you do?"

  10. #10
    "First I'm going to get us underway, again," Hal answered. Pressing down on his knees with his paws, he pushed himself up to a stand and ducked into the cockpit. "Hang on, engaging hyperdrive," he called back. There was little time to prepare as the small craft jolted hard, its frame groaning as it was heaved back into hyperspace, the noises slowly dissipating as it adjusted to its new velocity.

    Course set, Hal returned. "Second, I'm going to take a look at this suit of yours." A toolbox was pulled down onto the small table of the kitchenette with a heavy thud, and its top flipped open. "After that, I'm going to do what I've been doing ever since Ossus: making life hell for any who are, were, or sympathize with the Empire. Kicked the hornet's nest pretty good with the First Order, and they've been chasing me most of the day. Fine by me. The more they stretch their forces, the easier they are to take out. More I take out, the more they send, the more I stretch them, the more I can take out. You'd think they'd learn by now."

    As he spoke, Hal sorted out his tools and donned a pair of inspection goggles. "C'mon, should have enough power to stand, let's run a diagnostic and see what's salvageable. I'd offer you a drink or something, but, well, I don't remember you even being able to drink."

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    "Evil knows no discretion, and their armies are often limitless. Evil breeds evil. Like a hydra their heads continue to grow even as you cut them off. I fear for you my friend. You are traveling a dark road." Karkoon said as Hal traveled between the cockpit and back. His head moved little, his eyes tracking the movements of his fellow Jedi, his voice rising in volume to match the distance between them. When Hal returned Karkoon instinctively rose to his feet. Years of having Suri work on him had taught him to respond accordingly, and like a person getting their haircut, he went through the necessary motions without thought. Getting out of his seat was a shaky endeavor. Power was not at optimal operation levels, but he had enough to keep upright. It was more an issue of damaged joints and limbs than anything.

    His body was solid and heavily armor plated, but not rated for starship weapon systems. Thankfully the lasers of the enemy starship had not pierced his body, but the horrible explosion and being tossed around in a metal storm had done some damaged. Nicks and superficial cuts dotted his exterior. The real damage was the ones done to the gyros that acted as his joints and gave him the wonderful level of articulation that he had enjoyed before the incident. Now the scores in them caused them to click and clack as they caught on the armor plates around them, creating jerking movement that betrayed the fluidity they once provided.

    "I rely on minerals to survive. I'll be fine for now. I can draw them from the air. At some point, when time allows for it, I will return to the mineral springs of my homeworld to fully revitalize."
    Last edited by Karkoon; Feb 5th, 2016 at 12:49:16 AM.

  12. #12
    "Like a hyrda, huh? You do know you're talking to man whose race eats snakes, right? The more the merrier," Hal grunted. "Besides, I had the chance to crush the Empire many years ago, and I didn't take it. I thought I was serving the greater good, but I regret it every day. Now I atone for my sin."

    It took the Nehantite some time to find Karkoon's data access port for suit vitals, but when he did he plugged his goggles in and waited. Power levels were dangerously low, and things didn't seem to be charging at the rate they should, meaning there were likely some shorts in the system. Dozens upon dozens of "An update is available" messages scrolled before his eyes, listing driver and efficiency updates for over half of the suit's parts, so Hal set those to downloading before reading the rest of the suit's specs. "Some of this shit is fried. I'll have to get some replacements," he stated. There was no humor in his voice as he stripped off the goggles, instead laying his bare paws upon Karkoon's heavy, cold arm, and manually attempted to move his fingers and wrist.

    "Can you feel pain, through this thing? Like, does it translate damage or alteration into pain signals?" he asked, finally looking up to those camera eyes. "Also, give me a list of the minerals you need, and I'll make them available."

  13. #13
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    "I sense injuries. The data could be called 'pain'. The extent of my damage has made it difficult to determine precisely how damaged I am. I surmise that I will be capable of walking and basic manipulation." He tested a few limbs as he spoke; checking the range of motion still available. There was noticeable limitations; limbs that did not complete their movements, fingers that couldn't close. One leg was looser than the other, causing him to constantly adjust his stability or risk tipping over. "This is merely a setback. Hardly a handicap.

    Also I am unable to connect to the holonet to give you the list of minerals that compose the atmosphere and pools of Orax in basic. I should be able to reestablish a connect when we get planetside."

  14. #14
    "Yeah, holonet hasn't worked on this bucket since I got it," Hal nodded. It was either true, or he was masking that he just didn't know the password the ship's legal owner had set on the connection. In either case, a new ship was top priority in their next port of call, as the one they currently traveled in was likely reported stolen by now.

    "Well, if this hurts... I would say let me know, but quite frankly you're going to be better off when I'm done, so just keep it to yourself," he chuckled darkly. A moment of seriousness interrupted his own little joke, Hal looking back to Karkoon's optical sensors. "Just, whatever you do, do not attempt to do anything telepathic, or use the Force at all until I tell you, okay? Really don't have to do work twice."

    Hal gave no further explanation, no hint as to what he meant, though all around him the Force could be felt swirling and boiling up like a storm. Eyes closing, he grasped the cold durasteel arm, using one paw to roughly hold it in place, the other placed palm down upon the forearm, grasping only lightly. As if he had injected morphine directly into Karkoon's system, a warmth of energy could be felt radiating both up and down that arm as it came alive with the Force. The Nehantite remained dead still, eyes softly shut as he focused his actions. All of the Force, both light and dark, came alive within the atoms and molecules of the metals in Karkoon's arm, beginning to move and shape them. Deep scratches filled with molecules borrowed from elsewhere, while scars on joints smoothed over, the metal gleaming with a polished shine as he leveled everything as best he could. The pressure grew steadily more intense, with pushes and pulls yanking elements at the atomic level through the droid body's structure as Hal focused his telekenesis so precisely upon each movement system he could locate. With each fix, he controlled the full range of motion in whatever part of Karkoon's arm had been worked on, giving the sentient shard no choice in the matter. Where there had been jams or sticking, there was now full, fluid range of motion - possibly smoother than the day the suit had rolled off the line.

    But while life was being restored to Karkoon's frame, tension began to fill the air around Halajiin Rabeak. His work became faster, more erratic and less subtle, as if he was rushing to finish the entire arm all at once. It had started at the fingers, and by the time Hal reached the shoulder, the Force in the air burned with a palpable pain and anger. At last, Hal could take it no more, and his eyes snapped open, paws pulling free as he stepped away, panting for breath.

    "Holy shit, I forgot how much of a pain in the ass all that is," he wheezed, having to drop back into his seat to recover. While the Nehantite appeared far worse for wear, Karkoon's right arm had been totally repaired, internally. "Did that hurt?"

  15. #15
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    Even without his telepathy and telekinesis to feel out what was happening he could see well enough to witness what he could only describe as a miracle. The dents and scratched pushed themselves back out, and from within the suit's command hub he witness damaged systems returning to near full functioning operational parameters. The results were nearly as impressive as the many times Suri had banged his armor plates straight again, patched holes, and reattached entire limbs. When he finished, and felt back exhausted, Karkoon gave the limb an experimental swing and twist. The joint didn't click or catch on itself. The range of motion was nearly what he remembered it being after a repair.

    It was amazing.

    "That is quite an ability, my friend. I have never witnessed anything like it. Destruction and creation, bent in tandem, to repair a structure. Impressive in this context, but horrifying in others. I dare not thing what the results would be inflicted on a biological construct. You have my deepest thanks, but please rest. You will do neither of us any good if you render yourself comatose with exertion. Where did you learn such an ability?"

  16. #16
    "Jedi Order," Hal answered. "Hundred and fuck-all years ago."

    His back fell against the wall, taking his head back with it with a thud against the durasteel wall. Pink eyes closing, Hal breathed, finding his center and drawing in the energy he could find around himself. "I don't work like you do, like any other Jedi does," he stated. "You see wholes, I see molecules and atoms, chemical bonds and the spaces between. In an instant I could sever the bond between all the molecules in your suit, turn it all into dust, and it would be easy. But moving structure around while keeping it intact is hard. Destruction on its own is easy, as is creation. Balancing the two, however... that's a pain in the ass."

  17. #17
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    "Destruction is always easy. That is why we persevere and take the higher path."

    That was what brought him to the Jedi Order so many years ago. After a childhood filled with hardship and horror, destruction had not been enough to make him feel better. He thought it would, oh how he did. When he returned to Orax with his shiny new suit he squashed the illegal mining operation that had harvested him and many others of his kind. He tore their great machines apart with his hands and speared the poachers on top of the debris. His rage, unchecked, was capable of destroying everything before him. But when he was done, when his planet was safe, he felt more empty than before. It was not enough, and he felt great shame in his actions. The Jedi were the ones that ultimately brought peace and balance to his life. Without the Jedi Code he was just a war machine with a conscience.

    "We should both rest. What planet is our destination?"

  18. #18
    "Right now we ain't got one," Hal replied. He pushed himself back off of the wall, spark returning to those tired, pink eyes. "Snagged you by accident, really. Nearly blew out one of the engines staying in hyperspace too long, running from whatever the hell the Empire calls itself, these days. General destinaton is that way." He pointed in the direction of the cockpit. "But this heap is falling apart, and the Imps have its serial number now, for sure, so we're going to have to ditch it somewhere and steal a new ride so I can go back and deliver them some more pain before they know what hit 'em."

    There was arrogance in his words, mixed with anger and hate - emotions well-deserved in his own eyes for what he had been put through. Nothing of Jedi Knight Rabeak remained, there was only Hal, raw and exposed for the galaxy to see.

    Heaving himself up to a stand, he sighed, knowing Karkoon's suit would take a few more sessions to repair, and he simply wasn't up to another one, yet. He was, however, up for a beer, which he snagged from a mini-fridge. The cap tore off of the bottle, seemingly of its own volition, and the Nehantite tipped back a swig. "You don't want to do that, or if you won't help me steal a ship, I'll be glad to drop you at wherever we end up. I've been where you are, now. Wake up and the galaxy has changed. It's not nice, is it? Well, it don't get no nicer, let me tell you. Not anymore. Nice died on Ossus."

  19. #19
    TheHolo.Net Poster

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    Karkoon's Avatar
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    Geoffrey
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    No direction. No purpose. The emptiness was eating away at him harder than floating in space ever had. While he was out there he had his failure to focus on, and a hope, even if just a glimmer, that he would somehow escape the void and return to save the Jedi. And now he was free, and the Jedi were gone. Looking down at his hands, his big strong hands, he should have been able to hold on to something. Anything. No. The Jedi might be gone but the entire galaxy was his to protect.

    Looking up from his now curled fists into the eyes of his friend, he knew he could not count on Hal to share this journey with him. Hal was on his own path, and though it pained Karkoon to no end to know that his friend's spirit was broken beyond his ability to heal, it was not his place to change his mind. Some things must resolve themselves, and Hal would find his path eventually. One way or another. He had confidence in that.

    "I disagree. The Jedi may be gone, but their memories and teachings will live on, in here." A massive metal hand raised and pressed against his chest armor. It was both the place most living beings kept their vital organs, and the place where his actual body resided. "I will not abandon the path, and if that path means I help you steal a starship, than that is the path I take. I must find my path again. The force reveals everything. In time. I will meditate on it. In the meantime, I will help however I can. I owe you a debt for rescuing me."

  20. #20
    "You can bet your shiny, metal ass that I'll be calling in that debt sometime in the near future," Hal grunted. "And, you can believe all that destiny and path stuff if you want, but don't expect me to be a sucker for it anymore. I've seen too much, seen things you never want to, and done things it's best you don't know about in order to stay alive. Even if there was a Jedi Order left, there's no way in Garamond's Pit I'd be welcome in it. They say that revenge isn't a Jedi concept, but that's all that drives me, anymore."

    Further speech was cut off by a deep swig from his bottle of beer, followed by a deep sigh. "Let me get us underway and I'll try and explain everything you've missed as best as I can."

    Coordinates for some ragtag trading port were locked in, and the stars stretched into hyperspace beyond the windshield, but Hal saw no splendor in it, no joy, and for the better part of the next hour he told Karkoon of the Empire's cruelty, even when shattered, and his quest to rid the galaxy of them, and any who supported them. He spoke of his raids, his demolition projects, and full-scale warfare against any who bore the insignia of the Empire or the First Order. To Hal, there could be no coexisting with such an enemy, they were worthy only of extermination, and if that came at the cost of his own life, he would give it.

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