The Apple

[Lina Ovmar]

If she pushed past her fear, Calina found the whole thing fascinating. She had never had a conversation with a Jedi, rogue or otherwise. Her exposure in the force had always been dark and as such she had become the only thing she knew. What was it her father had said? We are the darkness. She snorted, not at Sarge but at the memory and raised a hand apologetically. "Sorry." she rubbed her eyes trying to process his viewpoint, attempting to understand.

"So to you, the use of the dark side is unforgivable...toxic even." It was, this much she knew, if her mother wasn't evident enough in the way the dark side had corroded her brain then Vornskr was enough evidence for the physical deterioration is caused. "What if...the dark side was used for good? What about fighting fire with fire?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"As I said, I'm a friend of a former Sith Empress." As though, somehow, that would answer her question. It was an answer, of course, of a sort, but it wasn't a straight one. It was muddled, complex, and required a bit of mental maneuver. "Fire with fire is why something like Force Light exists. It forces itself upon the opponent, weakening, overpowering, crippling and destroying that which they consider a part of themself.

It just won't kill me prematurely to use. Nor does using it somehow decrease my level of inhibition, increase my desire for mayhem, bloodlust or any other manner of thing of which the Dark Side is associated and known for."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Calina frowned. "Force Light is nothing like fighting fire with fire. Force light is like switching on a high powered jet of water and blasting the fire out of existence." she retorted. "On one hand you are black and white. The dark side is cancer and should be eradicated, and as a result you try to kill an old friend. And yet on the other hand, a former Sith Empress, who if I am correct in my assumption of who that friend might be, has committed far worse atrocities than my mother ever did, you wouldn't kill? Because, what? She found her path to the light? Because we are talking about Ashin Varanin aren't we?"

If Calina was nothing, she was educated. She'd spent the first half of her life outside the tank studying everything Anaya had, all her notes on the Sith Empire and the various people she had crossed. She shifted in her seat, eyes burning a little more intensely. "A woman that skipped through more bodies than I can count on one hand," an exaggeration perhaps "pursued only what was beneficial to her and hopped back and forth from dark to light like an addict who can't quite shake the spice habit. She did not fight fire with fire, feth, she fed the damn thing and was one of the most prosperous Emperors of the Sith Empire. Conqueror of Ten Thousand worlds."

She sat back, nails drumming on the side of her cup. "You sound like a man that thinks he should believe in something but who has been so caught up in dealings with those who follow and use the dark side in your past, you can't quite bring yourself to turn your back completely."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

If he was bothered by the rampant hypocrisy that truth created, it didn't show. Rather, he smiled, and he even laughed - it was throaty, full and rich, the laugh of a man who was so thoroughly amused he was almost joyous. "Yes, Ashin, Force rest her soul." His face was split by a wide grin, white teeth showing past full lips and a dark beard turning to gray like leaves changing in the fall.

That laugh remained, lacing through his voice when he finally managed to speak again. In truth, he imagined, laughing was the most offputting thing he could do in that moment. It wasn't the laugh of a mad-man; far from it. But it was genuine. Genuine enough that a few people who recognized him decided it was a good time to clear out of the cantina.

After all, Sarge had never been known for his geniality. "I do believe in it. But I also know that I came to that belief late in life, and, driven by my own code of honor as it is, I'm required to behave in a manner most consider obnoxiously hypocritical. Ashin has done me any number of good turns over the years, long before I grew into what I am today.

She'd be the first to tell you that if she pushed me over the line I'd try to kill her - believe it or not I almost did But so far, she's been wise enough to avoid that, and I've been wise enough not to dig too deep into what her current host may be doing." That smile remained even as he took another sip of his tea, his face softened and the various lines on his tan face lessened to the point he looked almost boyish. Good cheer had a way of removing the years from a face.

"Mm, you are right though. It is a high pressure hose. The strength behind it determines if it's water or fire, though."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Calina looked quite affronted by the sudden outburst of laughter, and for a moment she was quite sure that Sarge was mocking her when all she'd done was present a viable argument against his example. She folded her arms across her chest showing a touch of petulance and revealing here age just for a moment, until he spoke again about fire.

She rolled her eyes. "No it's not. Water will always be water, no matter how much pressure you put it under. It can be just as devastating, don't get me wrong, but the way it destroys things is entirely different to that of fire. Nothing leaves scars like fire does an ire is destructive and painful regardless of its size. Force light, no matter what metaphors you use to describe it is not fighting fire with fire where Sith are concerned."

She drained the last of her cup. "Fighting fire with fire is allowing a sith who has intentions of destroying other sith to do what is required to achieve that goal. It's appreciating that the force is not sided at all, but actually a power that can both create and destroy just like..." she laughed. "Just like fire and water."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Perhaps in the context you're seeking, it's not allowing the Sith, but penning them up and using them yourself as a weapon." He smiled at that, the amusement lingering in his voice without any of the laughter to actually follow it up. He'd noted she had been taken aback, but they'd been having quite a sober conversation before he started laughing.

"Besides, if you put too much pressure on fire it just goes out." He chuckles briefly, shaking his head. "Regardless, it's of no surprise that I, like everyone else in the galaxy, am capable - and guilty of - hypocrisy."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

"I find it incredibly infuriating." She said, almost sulkily, tugging the datapad out of her pocket she reached for the tin out of the top of the bag again., flicking it open and setting it on the table she said nothing for a moment while she began the recall process for the droids. They would begin buzzing through th caff door one by one as they continued to talk.

"At least sith are consistent in their views and goals and animosity towards each other. You're the first Jedi I've met but I'm confident enough to say that I'm pretty sure the rest are just as ridiculous."

There wasn't any. Itterness in her tone, in fact it was very matter of fact, though she was smiling ever so slightly.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Sith are only consistent because there's no guiding light other than 'follow your whims.'" He admits, "Jedi are fractured because they have tenets, beliefs - ones reinforced by a lifetime of teaching, training and experience. Sith are made. Jedi are raised. And just like any child, this causes problems when they begin to question your teachings.

You'll find I'm one of the more reasonable, or, at least, understandable. Many Jedi are just... lost. In fact, most cling to pacifism without any understanding of why that may be a bad idea. But that's a story for another time, I'd wager."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

As they were speaking, the collection of little wasp droids was growing in Calina's tin, each uploading their data to the pad the rested on the table before her. "What other guiding light do you need besides 'follow your whims'? Personally i think the jedi do exactly the same, only they call it following the whims of the force, and use that to justify their actions."

The words, 'Sith are made' however seemed to strike a chord within Calina and she looked away. She was made, made in more ways than one, made in a laboratory, grown in a tank. Made to be a sith by the brutality of each of her parents in turn, by Vornskr, by Cerbera. She hated them, all of them. Never had she been given a choice of her own, a chance to take a path made for herself.

A deep breath and she looked back round at Sarge. "How do you unmake a sith?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave a tight lipped smile, the gesture devoid of mirth or goodwill. "You don't." He says flatly, but for once there was an intimation that this wasn't his 'black and white' viewpoint speaking up.

"For the record, I am... unable to sense, or even use telepathy, so I don't get spoken to by the Force like everyone else. So, in this case, maybe you're right, maybe you're not. But you don't unmake a Sith.

Only the individual can do that; for themselves."

[member="Calina Ovmar"]

 

[Lina Ovmar]

What did that smile mean?

She wondered briefly if he knew that her question was not one out of curiosity, but one that came from a girl making a plea. She did not want to be her mother, nor her father. She'd seen the corruption of the darkside, the way it twisted her messed up family against each other and while she knew she had to kill Anaya, she also knew that she'd need to step off the path of hate that had led her for so long once her mother was dead, less it twist her beyond all recognition. But how did she do that with no one to guide her? She'd never known love nor compassion nor kindness. They were not things she'd been exposed to.

She stared down at the tin, whose contents was growing by the minute, but she didn't really see it. Something hard hard formed in her throat and she closed her eyes swallowing against it. Never show your weaknesses. When she looked back up, any trace of her emotion had gone, sealed behind iron gates in her mind. If Sarge was perceptive enough, he might have even see them come down and her walls go up.

"Seems like a lost cause if you have to unmake yourself, because no one can do that, not without help." she smiled "I like you, Mr Potteiger, you don't hide behind a facade. Its a refreshing change from what I'm normally encountered with. Will you contact Jorus?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge didn't realize it was a plea, not until she seemed to retreat into herself. Having spent the better part of a decade chasing a woman who'd turned walls into an art, he knew them when he saw them. "It's only a lost cause if you want it to be." He says, smiling in an almost fatherly manner.

Almost, because he'd never been a father, and thus found himself wholly unable to reach the necessary levels of reassurance and warmth for true 'fatherly.'

But it was close.

"Think of being a Sith like being an addict. A Force User's natural state of being is in balance, yes? It's not normal to draw on the destructive energies of the universe when you're taught properly. Assume, therefore, that the first time you draw on the Dark Side, it gives you a high - it boosts your awareness, or makes you feel stronger, or whatever it is you desire.

It provides that release, in a way.

And slowly, it creeps into you. You want to keep that high. You want to maintain that euphoric sense of power and control.

Perhaps, one day, in a low, you realize how far you've gone, how strung out you've become. On that day, you have a decision to make - do I seek to improve myself as a person for the betterment of others, or do I continue to destroy those around me for personal gain?

Once you've made that decision, then you can start to unmake yourself. The first step is always recognizing you have a problem. From there, it's working on improving it. For that, you have to find people willing to lend a hand. But I've been known for being blunt to the point of rude, and thus, yes, in a way it boils down to 'you must unmake yourself.'"

That smile never left, and he gave what could likely be termed a derisive chuckle. "A lot of people would count my lack of tact as a detriment. And I will, soon. Unless he contacts me first, and I have a feeling he will."

[member="Calina Ovmar"]

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Calina did not recognise his smile as fatherly, not because his attempt wasn't welcome or any good, but quite simply because she'd never had what someone might consider fatherly. Jared Ovmar was not exactly what anyone would call fatherly, in fact he was in his own way, a far more damaging force to Calina than Anaya was. Unpredictable and very capable of reading Calina, where Anaya was not. She mulled over his words turning them carefully over in her mind and wondering if such an analogy applied to her.

"That applies to the vast majority of sith." she said slowly, thinking of her mother. "but not all of them. You cannot become addicted to something that has been in your blood and your life from the moment you drew breath. It simply is a part of you and there is very little you can do to escape that. There are some sith, few and far between, who are simply strung along in the wake of another's drive for what you call a 'high' with no easy means of escape."

Calina leaned forward reflecting Sarge's smile as she rested her forearms back on the table. "I know what I need to do." she said softly "It's what comes after that leaves me at a loss."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man laughed again, sudden and genuine, amused fully by her words. He couldn't help it, and though it may be rude it merely was what it was. He was who he was. "On the contrary, a mother addicted passes it on to her child, and the baby's first experiences in life - though they're unable to recall it - are of withdrawal and rehab. This, of course, presents numerous potential difficulties later in life and at birth, but addiction through birth is very much real.

And I cannot think of anything that would stick in the blood quite like being raised in a home that feed on the Dark Side." He smiled, briefly, though it lacked any true sense of warmth - though it was clear from the light in his otherwise void black eyes that he'd gathered what they were discussing.

"But you do what it is you need to do, Calina. Especially if it gets you off the high."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

"Anaya never carried me." she replied sharply. "I was made, grown and nurtured in a tank. A plaything for an insane woman who couldn't quite grasp the concept of love. She wanted me fully grown but circumstances made that difficult so she was stuck with an eight year old to raise." Her eyes were blazing with a hatred she'd never been able to put into words. It threatened to engulf her to manifest itself in a way that would get her killed. There, in that fleeting moment where she teetered between control and losing it all she reflected everything Anaya was. A time bomb ticking away beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to explode.

And Calina knew it.

She dropped her gaze, biting hard on her tongue till she could taste blood. She'd never had the opportunity to talk about any of it, to scream her fury at the top of her lungs and not have to worry about what condescension might follow what so many had told her was weakness, what punishment might await her if she dared to speak her mind. She took a deep and shaking breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself but finding herself unable to. She reached out a slightly shaking hand slamming the tin now full of wasps droids shut.

"You should go." she said softly, not looking at Sarge.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

This time, her response was a snort. His head cocked to the right, and that lazy way he'd been lounging in the chair hadn't changed much - though there was a slight tensing of the muscles in the slopes of his shoulders. "No, Calina." He says firmly, seeing her anger rather than feeling it, and remembering he was right across the street from not only his headquarters, but a mercenary army to rival any he'd ever fought alongside. Nevermind the plants in the cantina.

"I believe you should."

This was his house, damnit. Not hers.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

She tried another deep breath, almost desperate to regain her footing to drive that part of her that was her mother back into its box. Her frustration spilled over her cheeks in hot angry tears. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, to show her weakness anymore than it was already on display.

"I still have business to conduct." it was a pointless plea to make, but it slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Then conduct it." He says, doing his best to avoid sounding imperious, or like he was giving his leave for her to continue. In fact, it was almost dismissive, as though he'd shrugged and said 'go ahead,' without a care for what it would mean or how it would go. Without a word, he took a napkin from his side of the table, unfolded it, and leaned forward to slide it over to her beneath the tips of his fingers. He kept his lips sealed, and did his best not to look at her, or otherwise make her feel like he was staring.

But he didn't avoid looking in her direction either.

She could cry here.

He was used to tears.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

The simple gesture of sliding a tissue over to Calina had a profound affect on the teenager as noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob burst from her lips. She'd expected something cold from him, encouragement to leave perhaps from behind the barrel of a gun. She had not expected a gesture of kindness, small as it may seem to a normal person, to Calina, it was huge.

Her fury shattered, though the tears themselves took a little longer to stop. "I'm sorry." she said eventually, the napkin clutched in her hand slightly damp from wiping her tears. "If i had known that this would have been the effect it would have I would never have let the subject rise."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Contrary to popular belief, Sarge wasn't a stone. He cared, somewhere, deep inside. It was just walled up, like anyone else. But where others made their walls uninviting - vast edifices that said 'stay away,' his were easier to miss. They were, as if in extension of his typical approach to war, camouflaged amidst his personality, unseen until one stumbled upon them. It allowed, in many ways, moments like this to occur. He sat forward, hands folded on the tabletop, studying her as she wiped her tears.

"Better to let it out than keep it in." The words are whispered, and he continues. "The longer you let pain stay inside. I was once told that holding onto anger is like holding onto a hot coal hoping the other will burn - the same goes for pain.

Holding onto it doesn't make it go away, and it doesn't help you process and move on.

This is the first step."