Memories

[Atlas Kane]

The Tower by Ming Chang​

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBcPfq4u-NM

The wind blew into his face. Small frozen flakes colliding with his face, melting instantaneously against the scarred flesh, his eyes closed. His dampened hair dancing in the howling cold. The robes' hood was hanging on his back, the heavy fabric swaying lightly up and down. The rest of the fabric was mimicking the motion as he stood at the cliffside. Slowly but surely it had dampened too, as the snowflakes kept up their constant barrage, the brazen metal showing the initial signs of ice.

His eyes opened, overlooking the field before him. Darker than most planets, owing to the moonless nature of this one. The near-black clouds overhead aided in blocking out a lot of the sun. His eyes focused on a single landmark several kilometres from his current location. A small, dark outline of a building stands out amongst the white snow. Then the cold wind stops, as he dons the mask to cover his face and puts up the hood of his robes. It was time to commence his small stroll through the snowy fields.

In one swift motion, he jumped forwards, spun around, and grabbed onto the icy protrusions of the cliffside. After waiting a moment to see if his grip was secure, he began his descent towards the ground, nothing but the Force to break a fall. It was a lot freer this way, only his lightsabre, the Force, and himself. His mind was in a semi-meditative mode, allowing for enough focus to descend down the cliffside, but remaining decentralised enough to keep his mind calm and empty. He preferred it this way. No need for emotions when there was nothing to kill.

Eventually, his feet hit the snow that formed the surface of these icy fields, part of the snow was stained red. He sunk into it, his weight pushing him further and further until the snow below started giving him enough resistance to start walking. It would take a while to trudge through the endless white towards his destination, but that just left more time for meditation. With every step he drifted off further and further, his muscles had ceased to ache a while ago, exhaustion staved off by feeding off the Force. A nice trick he learned a while back, saved his hide more than once.

His mind wandered further, pushing out the pain from his open wounds along his left side, running the Force through them, slowly mending the flesh where it was broken. Most of the blood he had lost was half-frozen by now and the wound closed off by the accelerated healing provided by the Force. He'd be able to see this through to the end after all. It had been an arduous task so far, but now it was time for the dash to the finish line, well, more of a slow, limping walk. He put his mind back a few hours when his ship landed and his crew was still alive.

 

[Atlas Kane]

A quiet crack echoed through the fields of snow, not one caused by the breaking of ice, rather it was the cracking of thunder in the distance. His eyes moved up, slowly, focusing on the dark spire in the distance. This time he saw it before the sound reached his ears. Lightning was arcing along the upper facade of the tower. Below were several small fires, seemingly kept in check by the constant snow. Black plumes of smoke rose from several of the fires, rising upwards in stark contrast to the white snow. His legs were now moving his body forwards on their own accord. After several dozen minutes of walking it had become a mechanical process, his mind was slipping deeper and deeper into a trance-like state, every step he made towards the spire only helped to push him further away from reality ever so slightly. Even the cold was slowly being phased out. Crack.

The fire, so distant only moments prior, was now seemingly all around him. He could feel the intense heat the burning flames radiated, smoke obscured his vision partially. He coughed, raising an arm to shield himself from the blinding light. He looked around for a way to escape, the flames surrounded him on every side, above him there was only blackness, though somehow he knew there was no way to escape up. His robes fluttered forwards, engulfing his front entirely, the hood of his robe taking his vision momentarily as wind disturbed its rest. They were still intact, though they shouldn't be. He knew there should be holes.

"Atlas! Oi Atlas, get out of there!"

The voice was familiar. It shouldn't be here, yet he did not question its presence. He simply turned back, towards its origin, raising his hood to free his field of vision again. An armour-clad figure stood there, between the flames, behind them was a horizontal white plane that met a black void. He moved towards the figure, instinctively, they knew each other. He was certain of that. With quick steps he reached the figure's location, moving past it outside the cage of fire. He was immediately met by a wall of cold. The white plane had been the snowy ground, the black void the sky, which had taken on a darker blue colour now that he was no longer surrounded by the fire.

"We got hostiles moving in. Seems this hit'n'run won't be as easy as we had hoped it would be. We lost two in the crash, the others only have minor scrapes, we can still finish this." The figure's helmet tilted to the side. "Can you hear me or did you go deaf during the crash?" He turned towards the figure. Even when he stood close to it he could not make out any details about the figure's appearance. It appeared as though they were obscured by dense fog that made it impossible to perceive any details.

"No. I hear you."

"Good, security forces are moving in from the north-west. They'll be here any minute now, I need you to be focused. Let's go."

He followed the figure with a few swift steps. They led him towards a small group of about seven. They were spread out, crouching or leaning against various pieces of junk that had comprised some kind of ship before. With each one that came into view the fog on the figure lifted slightly. It was a man. Atlas realised that as he followed him. They wore armour similar in appearance to that of Mandalorians, but he was not actually a Mandalorian. His helmet had a similar design to his own mask. He took cover next to one of the others. They wore armour reminiscent of that worn by troopers of the Galactic Republic, but their insignias had been removed and replaced by those belonging to ... belonging to ... he could not remember, but they were not Republic insignias.

"Contacts! At least thirty, coming up the hill!"

"Alright, everyone, get ready to fight your way out of this mess."

Without realising Atlas had taken the Lightsaber he carried into his hand and activated it. He was now walking out, in front of the junk and the soldiers, towards the downwards slope of the hill. He could sense them before he could see them, bolts of red energy shooting towards him at high speeds. His Lightsaber moved in the way of those that would have hit their mark, then more started coming from behind him. He heard several groans and shrieks in front of him as he moved closer and closer to the large group coming towards him. Some of their shots were reflected back at them, others simply deflected in an arbitrary direction, and each moment he came closer and closer. Finally, he was close enough to make out the details of the individual assailants coming towards him. At that point he broke his steady pace, charging forward towards the group, Lightsaber ready, and then it moved in an arc in front of him, across the chest of his closest assailant. From that point onward the Lightsaber went through a flurry of motions, each one meant to strike and kill one of the assailants until finally none of them were left standing. The Saber deactivated, the unstable red blade receding into its hilt.

The only sound he heard now was the wind, the only sensation the cold. His mind told him he was standing amidst his assailants' bodies, yet his perception told him he was moving forwards. Then a cracking sound. His eyes opened wider as realisation struck. He was still marching towards the spire.