No More Heroes

[Arage Bao]

Prakith​

A man’s gotta be realistic about things. That’s what I keep telling me every morning I open my eyes and realize what I have lost. I ain’t gonna be melodramatic about it, life does ya a few good ones and then it’ll throw ya a few bad ones, way it is and no point in complaining about it. First morning I woke up after the Goddess was done with me was hell, the sheer realization that I was changed, changed in such a way… it broke me.

Broke my spirit and I am not even ashamed to admit it. Even now I have a strange distance between myself and the Galaxy at large, my eyes see, but my mind does not comprehend it anymore. I remember my past life as if I am trying to look past the surface of an ocean stained by oil, it’s there and yet I cannot reach it all the times. Pain flares up, but I bite through it to remember, a Jedi. The Sardun. This is who I am, but the familiarity has ceased to exist.

I see people during the times I leave my sanctum, but they don’t inspire hope anymore. I remember feeling love and a sense of need when I looked at them in the past, a need to protect them. Why don’t I feel that anymore? What’s wrong with me?

The Force ebbs and flows away from me, it’s there, but just as my memories… it’s hard to reach. I have been training though, through that practice I sometimes manage to reconnect. It feels exhilarating, the embrace of an old friend that soothes me when the world seems filled with all tints of gray and grey.

Where is that moral compass I had always prided myself in? What’s the right path here? The Goddess needs my protection, I feel it in my bones and my soul, the same need I once cherished against Humanity, I feel for her now.

The need to stand against everything that tries to hurt her.

As I re-open myself to the Force and color bleeds back into reality I feel a presence tugging at me from a distance. It’s her again, I have been feeling her for months now, subtly trying to pull me into her embrace, so she could offer help and guidance.

Too late for that now, and yet… I reach out to her.

‘Kay.’

She would experience disorientating from the sudden foreign touch, it held similarity to the Sardun and yet it was someone entirely different. Such was the way of the Force and the Yuuzhan Vong.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Once in a while, Kiskla would take a step back from being directly involved in everything and adjust her role to a more overarching position. It wasn’t a luxury often afforded, with the intensity of the war and the dismal state of the galaxy, but times did present themselves. The very reason she had dissolved the council was to have moments like this, where she could spend time in the Praxeum’s meditation rooms and immerse herself in the serenity of the ethereal. At first, it had been rocky and she had doubted her decision. The council had been disbanded to provide equal opportunity to all members of The Jedi Order, without hierarchy or preference. Of course the natural reaction was just for everyone to assume onus on her — the progress was slow-moving and like trudging through molasses to adopt. Recently though, Knights and Masters alike had begun to showcase their talents and gather progressive motivation.

Thank galaxies.

Her silhouette was in the solitude of the cavernous room, facing the brilliance of the stars. Arching, massive windows provided a perfect viewport to the expansive onyx, glittery canvas. Wrists were balanced on her crossed-knees as she inhaled deeply again, hoping that with the fill of oxygen some sort of insight would also weasel its way into her system.

Nope.

What did inject itself though, was an irritating prickle in the faraway reaches of her mind. It was a foreign feeling, being invaded like that. Kiskla was a naturally withdrawn person, even in solitude there was really only one connection that was truly established to a deep level of mostly constant awareness and that was even a work in progress. She wasn’t sure what it was, what made her so inaccessible — even as a Padawan she’d never shared a bond with her Master that was as incredibly deep as the fabled uniting between student and teacher. There were times that those she deemed as friends established thoughtful connections, like strings between cans for communication mostly, fragile but effective. Especially in moments of desperation.

When she had learned that her right-hand, [member="Nui Akona"] had been taken from Alderaan she’d tried to reach out to him. The traces of his whereabouts were slim and none, and she had been balancing on that fragile connection and damning its delicacy. She’d taken it for granted until necessity and loss. It was after Dagobah that it was confirmed Sardun was not retrieved from Alderaan’s lines. Daily she’d tried to reach out, then weekly. But he was always at the back of her mind, as a stupid, haunting reminder of the disappearances of Empress Teta and her own inactive failures there. Now personally affected, she couldn’t have that disaster repeated.

‘Kay’.

That irritating prick manifested once more, but with more density. This time, it was as if a physical pair of knuckles were rapping against the back of her head — begging for access. If she were a wiser Jedi, she would have blocked the request completely — shutting down access to her precious mentality that bore secrets of her own, and The Organization’s. But Kiskla was not a wiser Jedi, she was a curious Jedi. Extending her breadth, traces of familiarity were eagerly processed and she reacted instantly.

‘Sardun — I'm here‘ she whispered in her thoughts, confirming the link for a two-way communication. She didn’t know how much time she would have, or what sort of situation he was in, but he felt very very different. Her mind instantly considered the worst — but even that was not comparative to the reality (unbeknownst). ‘— Where are you?'

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Her voice was like the sweet touch of water to a man dehydrated for far too long, it brought memories back, ones who had been suppressed and discarded, because their use had been outlived. For a single moment Akona saw his own old face in the resonance of the Force, coming with the whisper of his old friend and through it just the hint, a glimmer of remembrance. A call-back for all the reasons he had fought as a Jeedai Master, it was short lived though.

A single whisper would not, could not, break through the conditioning and sheer alienation the Akona had experienced at the hands of the Shapers and yet the first seed was planted. So when she named him Sardun and asked him where he was, the big hulking Yuuzhan Vong sat back into his talon-shaped throne and closed his eyes. Savoring the moment, before having to break it into pieces.

He answered her, hours had seemed to pass in silence, but it was probably more akin to seconds. The Force worked in mysterious ways.

‘Where are we ever?’ the Sardun whispered back to her, unwilling to give away his position just yet. The time was not ripe for it and neither would his conditioning allow for a quick and easy way out, the Shapers knew their Art well. ‘I am far away, Kay. I lost myself and I am not sure if there is coming back from this.’

More words spoken than he ever had in one conversation, the Sardun had never been a man of many words (at least not when among friends, when he could shed the mantle of the General and could return to his stoic self.) and yet now he felt the need to talk, not words of Valor to inspire his men, but simple words to one of his only friends.

‘How are you?’

Curiosity radiated from those three silent words, curiosity and just the slightest hint of longing.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla blinked at the apparent casualness of the question returned to her. Sardun had always been pensive, but this was no time to be psychological--- she didn't know how long he (or she) would be able to maintain this connection and he immediately defected from a solution. After dodging the admittance of his location (which she assumed he knew, because he didn't admit otherwise) he merely asked on the state of her being.

Seriously?

There was a reason Sardun had been the Jedi's Battlemaster. He was collected as well as talented, able to maintain sensible in stressful situations. His response was atypical and not sensible whatsoever. Where were they really? In a reality that was blundering left, right and centre of course -- that went without saying! She frowned and worked to insert herself deeper.

When a block of silence occurred, she panicked. Had he cut her off? Did he decide against this move?

Ah, no.
Despite Sardun's inadvertent rejection, he wasn't recoiling yet. There was an unspoken hint of confusion and want amidst the nonchalance. It was this air of desire that Kiskla focused on in her response. He shared with her a state of being that resonated deeply. First, he was alive. Second, he wasn't entirely himself. Save for whatever he was offering to her now. He suggested that he was beyond the point of no return and she almost found humour in that. After all, that's how they'd met (for the second time..) -- a stoic general beyond the point of assisting the Jedi again. But he'd come back. And he would again.

He had to.

She had to be careful with her reply though. Kiskla was certain her usual flippancy wouldn't fare positively here-- it was a delicate connection, one that he had finally established; it was her job to keep him talking. Maybe long enough to detect a location if the swell of The Force granted it. 'There's always a way back, Sardun. The Force shows no partiality.' So, how was she? Comparatively; swell!

'I'm....' Kiskla needed a good word. A gripping word. An honest word. Something to stir him and resonate. Saying she was good was placid and pathetic -- ‘I miss you.' She admitted. The circumstances of his communication may have felt genuine, but who knows who this information would be fed to later. Maybe it was even a distraction: there were a range of possibilities -- to which Kiskla would have to tread delicately around until [member="Nui Akona"] offered something more substantial. ‘And worried. About you. Are you in pain?'

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Had there been any tears left to shed Sardun might have shed them right there and then, there was always a silent understanding between the two of them - an understanding created from two like-minded individuals, one who wasn’t comfortable with showing her feelings and another who never saw the point in it.

And so he replied, half in jest, but pain struck in the mental voice that wrapped itself imaginary oral faculties: “There now, Kay. Don’t you go soft on me - there is still a lot to do, before this all ends.”

He sniffed.

“I have missed you too and hard to say,” he said, swiftly changing subjects to something more comfortable. “the pain is there, but it has dulled considerably.” a slight impression of a shrug was added to it.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

She simpered lightly at the suggestion of her going soft.

“You have to let me help you.” Kiskla murmured, standing from her folded position. Her strides were slow, as if her concentration would break with the movement. Her fingertips spread against the tall, curved glass of the praxeum as she looked out at the cold, crisp and brilliant starts that glittered peacefully outside the window. “Let me know where you are and I can eradicate that pain completely.”

Mostly true. What she couldn’t do, they were some great healers within The Order — and other resources available. She knew the pain of Vong toxin; the scar on the back of her hand was testimony to that fact. But she was sure Sardun had suffered so much more than a poison, the fact that he was alive likely meant he’d been distorted beyond the reality she’d known him as.


[member="Nui Akona"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Wonder filled his voice as pure surprise mixed with the already persistent pain, it was followed by a question. -The- Question that would reveal the sheer depravity that had been afflicted upon the once not-so-proud stoic Battlemaster of the Order. He asked of her. ‘Make it stop? Why would I want it to stop?’ it was a whisper, right from the shaped mind of the Yuuzhan Vong/Jedi-Hybrid.

A Slayer - the first in a long time - finally returned to the Galaxy.

‘The pain grants me clarity, Kay. Clarity I haven’t had in a long, long time.’ he sighed and shook his head in the real world, standing up from his throne and moving silently to the balcony that overlooked the city of Prakith. He could make out the endless mass of bodies move through the streets, even at night, bustling from one location to ‘nother in an eternal circle. What was the point?

‘I am scaring you, my apologies, my Lady.’

An instinctive addition to the grotesque apparition, old habits died hard it seemed, and through it she would know that her Sardine was still in there, deep vested, behind the corners of his twisted mind, vestiges uncatchable as smoke plumes from a candle.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla found her expanded palm curling into a fist at the denial from [member="Nui Akona"]. An automatic breeze rustled through the meditation chamber — the air was recycled, but cued to imitate the real air flow every twenty minutes. This light wind touched gently against the flushing cheeks of the Grandmaster, indicating that she needed to remain cool on multiple accounts.

Fright was not something Kiskla often suffered from. She was dense when it came to fear — the only time she was ever concerned on that level was when it came to the protection of persons. The idea that her dear friend was comfortable in a situation of oppression was, yes, scary.

Clarity to what. Kiskla insisted, still attempting to search him out via cues in The Force. Regretfully, the amount of Vong in him made it like trying to find a needle in a haystack — even with their connection. He was Force Dead now for the most part.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

‘I have been fighting for a long time, Kay. Every day we fight and yet… there is no end to it all. Years ago I led the Army of Light, through the combined efforts of the Army and eventually the Republic we managed to defeat the Sith Empire.’ the nostalgic tone turned bitter as he continued. ‘For how long? How long before the Sith resurfaced, stronger, better prepared, ruthless and more importantly right before our doorstep?’

Outside the dream the form of the Vong was pacing back and forth, rarely he had lost his grip on himself and his emotions when he had been a simple man, a General couldn’t offer to lose sight over his feelings and couldn’t let them control him. But as a Slayer? Things were complicated, more difficult, everything seemed to be so much more enhanced. The feelings, pain, regret, anguish, anger, fear - passion.

‘We are losing the fight, yet… what if we were winning. Would it matter? Would it really matter? How long before they resurfaced again? Before another war breaks out, a second one, a third one. Four, six, ten wars. When will it stop?’

And then it was that the Yuuzhan-Vong stopped pacing, his barefeet settled themselves, gripping at the cold stone beneath themselves and his hands gripped the barricade firmly, and then he answered his own question.

‘Never. Never will it stop, this eternal cycle of war and blood will keep turning and turning, for always and ever. Because it is the brightest Light that casts the darkest Shadow, Kay.’

When the Slayer finished his talk he closed his eyes, somewhere, deep inside of him a lone man, a General, a Leader of Men screamed, but here in the serenity of Prakith the Yuuzhan-Vong heard it not.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla frowned deeply. Everybody, every single person in the galaxy knew that there was an eternal struggle between the light and the dark. This would never end. Those that called themselves grey were pathetic and lame, mostly useless and not using their power for the advancement over one or the other. There was always a preference, they just chose to let theirs go undefined until the critical moment.

Digression.

“And you’d rather be part of the problem than the solution?” Kiskla interjected pointedly and accusingly. That wasn’t how she had wanted to react, but when the funnel of thoughts to speaking had been reduced by 50% and she was stuck with only voicing her thoughts in her head her ability to add filters was difficult. “Your captors have made you something that brings pain, Sardun. Was that your choice? Did they take your choice from you? That’s what they’re doing to the galaxy — taking away the choice of sentients by infecting when convenient.

Don’t be myopic between light and dark, Sardun. This struggle is so much more — it’s for the opportunity of autonomy for the masses."


[member="Nui Akona"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

‘Pain, Kay. It permeates through every fiber of my body, the sweet call of oblivion beckons to me, to forget who I was, what I was and slip into the mindless animal, the butcher of Worlds. If only I would give up my identity, the pain would stop, it whispers to me. But then I see your face, I see Stali and Kei, I see Wraith and I see Merrill, and suddenly… the pain is worth it, worth it to keep those memories.’

And yet… ‘And yet...’ for a moment the connection died out, pain was the only emotion. The only sensation that managed to get through, words trickled in soon after, no longer sentences, but pain-ridden syllables, formed into words. ‘We. Meet. Soon.’ and then as an after-thought, the Sardun re-emerged for just a moment.

‘Stay strong, and do what you must.’

Before disappearing back into the mindless void of the Force, yet the message from the Battlemaster had been clear.

Do what you must, Kay. Do what you must.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The voices changed, their projected octaves contorting to something deeper and darker. Kiskla’s face projected panic as comprehension of the situation overtook her. “Hey!" Just before the communication severed and left her in a spiralling mess, a familiar voice left her with a wisdom bomb that exploded in motivated ripples though her system.

“No! Sardun you idiot!” Fist clenched and pounded against the thick glass, her forehead pressing against the cooling solid when she realized [member="Nui Akona"] as gone. She tried reaching out once more, not to the voice she’d been speaking to all along (which she realized was a sickly combination of Michael and the disease he had become), but to the last one. The one that truly belonged to her dear friend.

Her fist uncurled and dropped as she slid down the glass herself, rotating at the bottom to press her back against the stretch of pane behind her. “Son of a Murglak.” She seethed through clamped teeth, fists still balled next to her. Do what she must? Kiskla operated on necessity — she operated on doing what was needed. What a moron, he knew that.

Wait.

He knew that.

Of course he did, escaping was beyond his realm of possibility. He knew that she’d come for him — she had to. It was a must. It was a necessity. Heels moved from in front of her to beneath her quickly, and she fluidly rose, leaning forward and using her fingers to keep her from falling over in the scramble. Where she was going in such a hurry was..mostly just out of the room. She could see curious eyes peering inside, and she knew some Padawans would be wanting to spend some time meditating or something. She had to reach out to a contact — going into a rescue mission with a largely effective and unknown enemy was not wise. She’d need a little chit chat with [member="Cameron Centurion"].


[Cont’d in ‘Know-it-All’]