All that is left by the corrosive Hours

[Ak'lya]

Sleep came fitfully to the old Bothan these days. Nightmares plagued him, and his breath came in fits and spasms. A drained man lay on the bed, specks of blood clinging to the fur around his lips. He had lead a long life, and it seemed all those years on the run were catching up to him. The white sheets, replaced almost daily by his assistant, always left the room with crimson stains sprayed onto their surface. Pain surged through him, and the Bothan pushed the Datapad he was typing on to the side as a wave of coughs racked his weakened form. Fresh blood flew from his mouth, staining the sheet. At least it didn't get on the datapad, he thought with a grim smile. He gave a small shake of his head, returning to his work. A short message was forming on the datapad.

Imperator,

I don't know what happened to you, or where you've been all these years. Frankly, at this point, I'm not sure I care. The Imperium failed. I've never been a leader of men, and they wouldn't trust an old spy to lead them in war. At least, that's what I tell myself. I think we end up telling ourselves a lot of stories to help us sleep at night. But I'm not messaging you after all this time to tell you things you probably knew already.

​ The doctors say I'm dying. The official diagnosis is metastasized synovial sarcoma. It tends to hit younger people or old fools like me. Sadly, we didn't catch it until it spread to my lungs. They say I have less than six weeks to live, even with modern medicine. There's a couple of things I can try, but there's no guarantee I'll survive. But I've found a way to do it, even if my upcoming surgery fails. An old friend reached out to me, and he's got a way for me to cheat death. I won't say more until you arrive here.

-Strask Ak'lya

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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It was always the little things that he forgot the most.

The message received a simple one word reply.

Coming.

Strask was old. Death loomed over all mortal creations, but it had started to creep ever closer to the aging Bothan as the years passed. Alexander had known of his failing health for some time now, and he suspected that the man's rather stressful lifestyle was most certainly not helping his condition. That didn't make the death of a friend any easier to swallow.

"You never told him why you left, did you?" Stanley asked as the shuttle came to settle down upon the landing pad. "He deserves to know. He was always kind to you, and good for our people too. He should know that it all wasn't in vain Alex."

The warrior was quiet as he lifted himself up from the starfighter. Clad in his power armor, Alexander did not look like the sort to be taking his time seeing an ailing old friend. Perhaps even something of a mentor if he was being honest with himself.

"I'll tell him if he asks, but I'm not volunteering anything Besides, he seems to have a solution to his problem already. He always does." He retorted as he came to the doors. The helmet was removed once he stepped inside, revealing a familiar if not scarred face. "I'm Alexander Ontonas. Strask called me here."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Alexander would be met with the face he may recognize, if his memory of Strask's associates was good enough. Natasha seemed surprised that he was here, but the woman gave the towering, metal-clad figure a short nod, no sign of intimidation or fear apparent on her face. There was a hint of concern there, and one of worry. Nat had spent nearly a third of her life working for the man imprisoned in the medicine lined room beyond. Now, as he neared the end, she didn't know where she would go. In no time had she really had this sort of freedom. And it worried her. She would hold on to this as along as she could. "He's in there, Mr. Ontonas." She said, motioning to a durasteel door with a small number pad next to it. "It's unlocked." As she turned away from him to return to whatever she was working on, before pausing to turn to look at him. "Please don't excite him too much. He needs his rest." With that, she continued on to a computer bank, where she returned to typing in commands.

As the man would enter, the old Bothan looked up from the Djarrak table that sat beside his gunnery. Propped up by the bed's raised support and a fair number of pillows, the dying spy smiled as the man walked into the room. "Imperator! it has been a while. Come on, have a seat." He turned to his opponent, a young bothan man dressed in fine clothes, his shoulder bearing an insignia of blazing wings spread up from a blackened gear on his shoulder. "This is my son, Barkt."

The younger man nodded. "I've heard a lot about you over the past few days." There was a solemn tone to his voice. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get everything ready for the procedure tomorrow. Try to get some sleep tonight, Dad."

A smile crossed the graying bothan's snout. "I'll try." A small shake of his head followed the man's exit. "It's funny, you know?" He coughed as the last word exited his mouth, the fit throwing blood into his sleeve. As he tried his best to catch is breath, a hand reached for a mask by his bedside. Grabbing it, he pulled the oxygen mask to his face and breathed deeply. As he stabilized, he continued. "How dying brings everyone back to your side?" He shook his head. "They both came to see me, although Elanna didn't stick around. She's gt her own life to live. She's a captain in some mercenary fleet. Spitting image of her mother. I couldn't be more proud. And Barkt..." He trailed off, staring at the door. "He went so far as to find me a way out of all of this."

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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Stanley muttered something that sounded like a lamentation, but Alexander paid it little mind. He'd said little to the women that had served as reception, only giving the polite nods one would expect until he was led into Strask's room. The Bothan's appearance made something in his gut twist. On the day they had met, Strask had been old, but now he had grown feeble. He seemed to lack much of the stubborn energy that Alexander had come to associate with him during their time together.

Where Strask Ak'lya had been a well meaning and hardy old bastard, now he was a degrading husk. Strask was still in there, but the vessel that contained that familiar spirit was fading quickly. Alex's brow furrowed as he took the sight in, though he quickly put on a friendly smile as the younger Bothan turned toward him.

He gave Barkt a faint nod before turning his attentions to Strask, his body visibly relaxing. "I came as soon as I saw the message."

Stanley's voice bubbled up from the armor's loudspeakers. "You could say he scrambled really."

The warrior stepped closer, though he lingered just at arms reach over the elderly man. "I knew you had kids, but I didn't think I'd ever meet them. Is your wife around too?"

Stupid question, but what am I supposed to say right now?

"You say your son has a way to solve this?" The words came across more unsure than he had intended.

"If there's anyway that I can help, just say the word."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

"It's good to see you again." The Bothan's words were truly genuine, for once. His death was close now, and if their little plan failed, this would be the end. Dying in a bed on some backwater world with some plan to make him immortal failing and killing him earlier than Nature wanted to claim him. Fate was cruel. He just hoped there was enough of his luck left for this to work.

The smile that had grown on Strask's face faded as Alexander mentioned his wife. He looked down. Had he never mentioned this? It seemed impossible, with how long they had spent working together. Maybe he was remembering. Maybe some other dreadguard, long ago. They say the mind's the first to go, after all. "She's..." He sighed, his eyes closing to hide the tears. "She died a long time ago. Long before I'd ever heard the name of Verd, or Tal'verda." He sighed, the noise eliciting another cough. He shook his head, now wheezing as the iron juggernaut continued.

"Solve? Not exactly. There's no way to truly cure what the cancer's done to my body. They're going to replace my lungs and most of the affected organs. Even so, that'll only give me a couple of years." He frowned, pressing a button on the table, moving one of the monsters to an attack. Maybe it was a good one. He wasn't sure. He'd have to trust his son to not be leading him into a trap.

"My son found an old Spynet project. Recovered tech that maps the user's brain, and recreates them inside of a datacore." The excitement in his voice grew as he spoke, the old man clearly looking forward to the prospect. "If it works, I'll be a digital mind, devoid of form and free from mortal pains." He smiled., the tired look in his eyes replaced with a fire. "I'll be able to access the whole of the holonet and all the information therein with a thought. A glorious idea, don't you think?"

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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"It's good to see you too." The words spilled from Alexander's lips without thought. They carried a certain level of emotion that the warrior himself had long since assumed himself to be numbed to. They were heavy with sudden and shocking grief.

It was only when the end came that you truly began to understand the reality of the situation. A pain unlike anything he had been asked to bear during his time in the trenches settled over his heart like a lingering curse. it was one he knew all too well. Ylvaris, Khelgast, Qyren, Coren, Ijaatt mother, father, Sharie -- this pain brought them back one by one. It was the cruelest form of nostalgia, and Alex knew that such anguish could only be felt at the loss of a friend.

And now Strask would be slipping away too. He hadn't spent enough time with the old Bothan. Hadn't told him how much he valued his friendship and his steadying hand after the loss of Qyren, a woman Alexander had never even spoken of to the Bothan.

Stanley answered for him.

"Sounds like you're going to become an AI. Not unlike myself or Miranda really. We were people like you before we became what we are, though you might be a step above us if what you say is true. I must admit that I am jealous," there was a playfulness to Stanley's words. The AI came to life in a flurry of bright green light upon one of the nearby holoemitters, his arms folded about his chest and his robes drawn close. "The process is painless, as far I can remember anyway. I'll have to ask Miranda about hers, but...well, I was an environmental scientist before all this. I worked on terraforming. The Architects wanted to preserve my mind, so they made me this. Can't say I'm not happy with it, I've put myself to more good use now than I ever did when I was flesh and blood. It'll probably be similar for you too." Stanley cracked a wide grin.

A quiet sigh fell from Alexander's lips. "It does sound like a good plan Strask, like something right up your alley if i'm going to be honest." He shook his head, "Do you have everything you need to do this? What happens if the procedure fails?"

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Stanley's words seemed to make Strask consider something. "The Architects? Hmm. That would make sense. May help Nat with configuring the blasted thing." He shook his head, an exhaustion coming over his features. "I certainly hope it's painless. I have enough of that as it is these days." The darkened look on his face was accompanied by a sour tone. "Once the bloody machine's done, we'll start. They just need to get the last few things set up." He coughed again, this time drawing the attention of Nat outside. She shook her head as she helped him reach the mask, which dangled precariously from the bed as she scooped it up. As she pressed it to his mouth, he breathed slowly, his eyes closing. Standing as he worked to catch is breath, the woman, far dwarfed by the armored man, spoke to answer his question.

"If the procedure fails, it may kill him. Or put him in a coma. Or cause permanent brain damage." Natasha shook her head, counting them off on her fingers as she spoke, sighing. "Honestly, I don't know if we can get it to the point where it'll be safe. Not for a while." Her eyes flickered with a fear that Alexander would know all too well. Fear of losing a friend. "But I don't know how long he'll last."

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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The soldier drew in a sharp breath as Strask fell into another coughing fit. There was nothing he could really do for the Bothan, that much he knew, but accepting powerlessness felt almost like a sin in this situation. His lips pressed into a thin line as the mask was brought up to Strask's face, his head shaking.

"Get it done sooner rather than later." Alex answered, "Safety is only a partial concern here. If he dies before the procedure is ready, then none of the effort will matters." The helmet was placed on one of the nearby tables, and Alex stepped closer. His gaze shifted from the young woman to the ailing man, his brow furrowing with something akin to frustration. "That's my recommendation anyway, unless you think you can wait it out. I don't think that's a risk worth taking however."

Stanley's holographic form shimmered blue for a moment - it was his way of expressing his worry.

Alexander paid it no mind. "What are you thinking Strask?"

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Natasha nodded quietly at Alexander's words. "We're trying to get the machine ready. We think it's done, but I don't know for sure. The interface is written in a language I've never seen before." She glanced over at the AI on the wall. "Maybe you could have better luck with it. If it's Architect in origin, you'll be more help than me of Barkt on it." Without waiting for a response, she turned her head to the plainly exhausted man in the bed. "Get some sleep, Boss. I'll wake you up if we need it." The man nodded, strapped the oxygen mask to his face, and nodded off to sleep.

Pausing long enough to see that he was indeed dozing off, the woman spun on her heels, quick steps carrying her through the door and out into the main room. Barkt, covered in grease and panting, knelt next to what looked like some sort of generator. Thick braided cables, coated in rust and seeming ready to turn to powder at any moment, ran to a metal tube. The device, were it in a better setting, would have looked like a MRI or PET scanner, the white metal outside displaying various dials and readouts. A computer bank lay across the outer wall, the monitors scrolling through walls of text fast enough that it was hard to track. Natasha motioned to the screens. "I can't make heads or tails of it."

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]

 

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Rook fell silent as Stanley did his thing. The AI too went silent, though not for a lack of words. His holographic structure followed Natasha like an emerald ghost, his cloak following after him in such a way that he resembled a ghastly specter. Bright eyes peered out from the darkness of his cowl at the device in question, and his lips curled into a smile that was anything if not pleasant.

"I've worked with them a few times." Stanley snickered, shaking his head. "I'll see what I can do. The Architects brought me into this form of life, you know? I imagine it won't be all that different for Strask. A little pinch and then you're a holonet god. It's a glamorous life." Alexander followed behind the two with far less enthusiasm. There was an air of disdain to the soldier. Given his expression, it was rather clear that Alex was already thinking up all the ways this could go wrong.

He didn't want to lose another friend.

"Can you fix it Stanley?" His tone was somber.

"Maybe. Probably. So long as the issue is software and not hardware, I think I can. I'll give it a shot if nothing else. Interface me?"

Rook reached up to remove the AI's datachip from the implant at the base of his skull and pressed it into one of the machine's card slots. A moment later, and Stanley's holographic image began to shimmer.

"Yes, this is the work of our old robotic friends," there was a mirth to his voice that made Alex give him an incredulous look. "I can do this, I think. Barkt, could you give the machine more power? It's not working at full capacity."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

The young Bothan cast a questioning glance at Natasha, only bending back down to dial up the generator's output as best he could. For a moment, the machine coughed and sputtered, as if the power source it ran on wasn't up to the new output. Muttering a curse in Bothese, he peaked into the casing, shook his head, and tapped the back of the generator with his wrench. The old machine booted to work like a horse that was whipped, and Stanley would have the power he requested.

Nat looked between the AI and his companion. "So what's it like, having an AI in your head?" Perhaps the question was personal, or too direct, but it seemed the woman understood that she may be in the same shoes soon enough. Not that it would be much different than her life the last few years. She did all the field work, and he kept back. He'd gotten older than most people in this job. Old enough that he should have retired, found a nice place to live, maybe sell his memoirs. Heaven knew that was her plan for turning forty. That seemed far enough away, though. He insisted on staying active, even after death. Assuming this worked.

[member="Alexander Ontonas"]