When Words Are Needed (Galaar/Salem)

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

"You didn't hear? Calico and I are both from The Clone Wars." It was kind of disturbing how they said they were from the Wars as opposed to the fact that they lived during them, as if the Clone Wars were their home. He opened his mouth again and would elaborate unless stalled by the man behind his desk. "We were captured by these odd scavenger droids and frozen. Woke up 900 years later in Triple-Zero's atomo. It wasn't a very pleasant way to wake up, especially since I crashed head first into a Trandoshan Gang hideout in one of the lower city canals."

Once offered the drink, he'd take it and give a rather vigorous nod in thanks before taking a deep swig. "Sorry about your apprentice by the by."

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Norongachi shook his head in response. "I'd only just arrived when you guys flew the coop and I find it mildly disturbing that our paths have followed very similar routes. I was in stasis for about 700ish years? Something like that, Emah could tell you. She was awake through it all. The wars, the Plague, more wars...I've read some of it but...lets just say I'm glad I was safely locked away in my little glass box." And he meant that, not many men could claim to have slept through Armageddon and yet two of them sat facing each other. The Galaxy had a wry sense of humour, he thought.

The apology was not without an emotional response from the Lord Commander but he hid it and hid it well, taking a mouthful of his drink to mask the pit that it opened in his guts. "The universe is a fickle queen, Mr Tal'Verda." Was his answer and raised a glass to salute the weavers of fate and destiny.

"Sir," Came Emahs voice through the com upon his desk, forgoing her holographic avatar. "We are jumping in ten." She said and then the line went dead. Salem locked eyes with the clone.

"I don't know what your future holds Galaar but rest assured, the only way they'll get you off this ship without my say so is by scooping our cold dead corpses out of the wreckage." A meeting of minds and old souls perhaps, Norongachi couldn't say but he'd turn the guns on anyone stupid enough to try and take [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"] by force.

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

"Galaar, call me Galaar. Mr. Tal'Verda is my brother." The clone grinned and rose his glass in cheers. "K'oyacyi!" He shouted with his own raised glass with an almost barbaric tone in his voice not that he meant to. He took another deep swig of the whiskey and slouched in the chair ever so slightly with a sigh.

Then the jump was annouced and Salem spoke up once more. Galaar nodded at him and gave a wry, nearly cunning smile. "I'm rather sure if they attack you over me, we'll find someway out. We're two devilishly handsome should-be-holo stars with 2000 years under our combined belts." It was was a round estimate but it made its point and through it Galaar was hinting a promise to protect Salem should other members of the CIS decide to violently take matters into their own hands, even though he doubted that with nearly ninety percent of his waking mind.

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

"Galaar it is, Mr Tal'Verda." He smiled and touched his glass to the Clones before joining him in inhaling as much of his measure as his gullet and the necessity to breath would allow. The ship have an almost imperceivable lurch and shudder as its massive hyperdrive engines shot them like a cannon ball to light speed.

"Ha!" He barked, near choking on the last remnants of whiskey in his mouth. "I don't imagine they'd attempt it. What would they have to gain. You're stuck on a ship you can't escape from and they have their hardware back." Salem finished with a shrug and reached for the bottle to top them both up.

"So what happens now? I can't see your people letting you rot in some half mad Lord Commanders ship for the Force knows how long. It could take half a year before the bureaucrats decide what to do with you." Although he was easy in Galaars company, Norongachi was no fool. He knew of Mandalorian loyalty to a clan brother, it had been the same in his day. Would they storm the ship, he wondered. The thought brought a quiver of excitement to his mind, it had been a very long time since he'd faced down a Mandalorian Commando team.

[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

"Honestly? I'm hoping Calico isn't that much of a di'kut. I could be wrong though as much as I love my brother. If he does come after me, I'll handle it. This needs to happen to prevent bloodshed on a larger scale at the hands of rabid bounty hunters and angry Concordians looking for revenge." It did very much so seem that Galaar was resigning to do this out of loyalty to his clan brother. He has also doing this to throw them off the trail of any CIS members that had come and recently visited with their friends in the Concord. First a knife to the chest, then a blaster to the helm, and now this, he was at least living up to his promise.

"In the event anything does happen to me, I left a will and testament behind. But I trust the CIS enough to give me a fair trial... Though in all reality, given the circumstance, I want the Templars to try me. Much more effective than bureaucrats, eh?"

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Norongachi drank in silence as Galaar spoke. His mind turning over the information, inspecting it from all angles. "If he does come, I'll give you one chance to reason with him. If he doesn't listen..." The threat didn't need to be spoken. "I respect why you did what you did. I respect you even more for what you are doing right now but I have a job to do." The mood had darkened but that was to be expected, given the circumstances. There was only so long they could pretend to be strangers meeting in a cantina on some far flung rock.

"I'll do what I can on that front but I imagine there will be political pressures from above. If it does fall to me, I'll hear what you have to say. I'll examine the evidence as it is presented to me and make a judgement based upon that. I can only promise to be utterly detached and impartial." He cleared his throat then and drained the rest of his glass before getting up from his seat.

"What do you make of this?" He asked, stepping over to a sliding door directly across from the table, set into the wall. A thumb scanner took its reading and then it moved aside to reveal an armour stand. On it was a full set of dark Mandalorian amrour, beside it were weapons racks holding projectile and melee weapons of varying sorts.

"This," Norongachi said, running his hand over the cold metal, feeling the dings, scrapes and blast marks that marred its surface. "Is just as old as I am. One of three possessions that survived my long sleep. The others being the Fate and," He unclipped the bronzium plated saber hilt from the armours belt and let it flare to life, the green blade buzzing with energy. "This. Only ever made one, I don't suppose I'll live long enough to make another." The saber deactivated and he returned it to its place.

[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar listened to Salem and merely nodded, he understood the man perfectly. He had no illusions about his situation, he was merely ignoring what could be. It was a reaction that had been bred into Galaar since the day he watched his first squad perish. He was a 'Different Galaar' when the time called for it, just had he had been the entire day.

The armor however, it changed something, at first the Clone stood and wandered over to it. Seemingly entirely mesmerized as if just witnessing some holy event. The armor was familiar, so painful. Memories began to flood his mind like a river, as if a flood gate was opened. The next thing Salem would see is Galaar's eyes close and the man drop to his knees, clentching his head as if some great pain just burned though it. However, Galaar was seeing something entirely different...

His fair skinned hands lay on a white floor, drops of blood around them, in the upper corner of his eyes he could see two dark Beskar boots and behind the hazy blur of pain there was a man shouting in Mando'a. You failed them Galaar. You failed yourself, your weakness on the battlefield nearly cost you your life. Your life Galaar. You have to become an animal! You cannot feel pain! Only fear! Only fear! The boot came crashing into his face, sending him flying across the cold, pale, sterile floors of Kamino with a faint blood-trail behind it. He looked up, gazing at T-Shaped visor, surrounded by a Beskar helmet.

He flashed back to reality, instantly slumping backwards from his knelt position with a painting, laboured breathe. His mind was reeling in pain, mental and physical. In all sense he had no clue what just happened.

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Norongachi had no clue at first what had happened to his guest but he saw the signs. The way his body twitched, the way his eyeballs flickered under the surface of his lids. Galaar Tal'Verda wasn't here any more, he was some place else, some place dark where no man ever wishes to tread. He knew all this because he suffered the same debilitating betrayal of the mind. The shattered remnants of a thousands wounds cast up in a brilliant spectacle of pain that you could not resist, that you could not escape, that you could not fight. You could only survive.

So the Lord Commander watched him suffer and was glad that he could not feel those emotions through the grace of the Force. It made him wonder with a touch of melancholy if all those born to the world like he and Galaar were doomed to walk similar paths, plagued by similar demons. Was this the price to be paid when sentients played god? Were their creations, their spawn, fated all the same?

The musings were broken when Galaars body finally relaxed and seemed to fall under the weight of whatever madness he had just experienced. The green eyed commander dipped down and caught him by the shoulder before he hit the floor and turned his face to look at him. "You're back, Soldier. On your feet."

[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar nodded and was back on his feet without hesitation despite the fact that his whole body felt like it had been slammed by a train. His vision remained blurred with the cloud in his mind for a few seconds before he snapped back to entire focus to see the man in front of him. He was surprised, he was surprised that the Lord Commander, seemed to understand what just happened. Or at least he seemed to, though it could have been Galaar's recently shattered mind looking for straws to grasp and hang on to.

He closed his eyes and opened them, reaching out to squeeze Salem in a similar manner on the shoulder (if the man would allow him to) and then stagger back to his chair. Without hesitation he picked up his whiskey and downed the rest of it. "Har'chaak. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He leaned his forehead into his left hand and rubbed his temples for a bit. This wasn't the first time, the first time was in the presence of another Templar though as well, could it be them causing this? No. No. He was Force-Dead, that paranoid though could be ejected out the air-lock. "That's a fine lightsaber, by the by."

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Salem only nodded as the mans grip tightened upon him and then they both retook their seats. The mood had grown darker still and the only reprieve Norongachi could find was in the bottom of the bottle set before them and the thousands of others that had gone before. Another helping of whiskey was given to each and then he drank, looking at the Clone with brooding interest as if he couldn't grasp the words in which to voice his thoughts.

"We live with death," He began in response, deciding it was better to just speak from the hip than with any preparation. "We have killed, we have seen others killed, loved ones..lost. We have watched worlds burn, I made worlds burn.." The screams of Nedjiv came to him like whispers from the grave and it took an effort to shake them from his mind. "That doesn't come without a price Galaar. Those are things no one, no human or alien, Sith or Jedi should ever need to experience. They change you, they stay with you and hang like an anchor around your neck. Try as hard as you can to run from it, as fast as your legs will take you and at the end of it, when your body is weak and your muscles ache it will be waiting with a smile..." His voice dipped up almost like it were the lyric of a song at the last word and his glass rose off the table in his hand.

"Bad things happen and try as me might, as powerful as we become," His eyes seemed to lose focus then, drawn into time immemorial. "We can't change that." The end of his speech was signalled when he took two deep swallows from his glass and lapsed into silence.

[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

------------------A Day After Prior Events!

Synthwood. It was a material that was very comfortable to sleep on... Not really. Galaar woke up with a slight headache and his face compressed into the material. He lifted himself back into a sitting position, rubbing both temples slowly with a pained groan. "Har'chaak. Did I get that drunk?" He mused aloud and rubbed his right cheek, flushing pigment back to the segment of his face before looking around the room for his most gracious host.

"Lord Commander!" He barked and stood, his back making a fierce crack as he took to his feet which caused a stagger and a grimace from the clone trooper. "I think we're in CIS Space. I hope so, in the least."

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

They had dropped out of Hyperspace, on the edge of the Roon system. The broken fragments of long dead worlds were dark blobs upon the horizon as the ship slipped forward. Norongachi stood at the bridge windows, his glass still held in his hand. He hadn't slept as his prisoner had, he rarely if ever did unless he could help it.

The six corvettes kept pace, three on each side in a wedge formation with the Fate as the point. The commander of the Star Destroyer had no doubt their entry had been detected. "Emah," He spoke at last. "Give me a secure connection to [member="Isley Verd"]." It was just after this that he heard [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"] from his office.

"Out here," He called back to the clone. "We have. Welcome back to CIS space. I'm about to speak to Verd, I suggest you remain silent until I establish the lay of the land." He turned then and strode across to his chair and plonked himself down in it and took a swallow of his whiskey.

"Alert me if any CIS ships are on approach. Maximum sensor range, if you please." It was a precaution. They were far enough out, as per his instruction to the A.I, that any fleet scrambled after he explained his position to Isley would take time to reach them, if the CIS did not back his play.

 

[Darth Metus]

The Archon's Wing, Roon Sanctum

With a resounding thud, the towering doors which led to the Archon's personal quarters and office slid to a close. In their wake, the Mandalorian known as Isley Verd calmly strode forth, filling the corridor with the echo of his boots upon the marble floors. He, the former Marshal of the Templar Order, had only just now resigned from his office and instead took up a single, un-titled seat upon the Grand Council. This decision was made due to the plurality of his former duties; and now he only had a single role to which he could dedicate the totality of his attention. 'Judge Magister Verd,' he mused to himself, 'that has quite the ring to it.' Long, confident strides bore the beskar-clad warrior from the wing of the Archon to his personal quarters: a moderately-sized space that was just as much a bedroom as it was an office. Stepping within, Isley seated himself behind his desk and leaned back in his seat, releasing a solid breath.

Perhaps it would be an easy day...

Then came a notification from the terminal built into his desk: a solid ringing which denoted an incoming transmission. A glance at the words sliding across the surface of the terminal caused the Mandalorian to quickly answer, as it was coming directly from the Hand of Fate, owned by the Templar Order's own [member="Salem Norongachi"]. At once, his fingertips danced upon the console and on Salem's end, his form would appear as a hazy, blue hologram. "Greetings Lord Commander, I hope all is well on your end. What can I do for you?" he said, giving his comrade a respectful nod of acknowledgement. Little did he know that the content of the impending conversation had much to do with the traitor [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"].

 

[Salem Norongachi]

The hologram sprung up from the projector beside the com and [member="Isley Verd"] appeared. The representation was far smaller and only showed his Head and shoulders. "For a start, you can expect your six missing ships to miraculously make an appearance in little under ten minutes. If you haven't gotten the message yet, you soon will." His eyes flicked to [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"], the clone doing as requested and remaining out of sight while Norongachi and Verd spoke.

"And lastly. I have a prisoner on board. Galaar Tal'Verda. He has confessed his crimes and taken responsibility for turning the former Grand Marshal into a renegade..." Now was the moment of truth, Isleys reaction to this news would set the course of the future.

 

[Darth Metus]

To say the least, the Mandalorian found himself beyond impressed. He did not anticipate that The Lord Commander would be bringing him word of the return of the stolen vessels; let alone be responsible for their safe return! This fact brought quite the smile to Isley's face, prompting him to thank the man. "You've done exceptionally well Lord Commander. Thank you for seeing to the safe return of our pilfered property." he said, regarding him with a nod full of respect. Yet...what else uttered from the ancient imperial's lips caused the Mandalorian's heart to sink. "G-Galaar? Responsible for turning Calico renegade? This can't be right..." he began, all but stammering. The words could not possibly be true, for Galaar was...he was practically family! How could he turn Calico against him? How could he turn members of the Confederacy against their home?

Inhaling a breath to keep composure, the Mandalorian then said: "Bring him to me. I wish to speak to him before he be made to account for his crimes in on trial."

Spoiler

[member="Salem Norongachi"]
[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

The flattery did little to stir any emotion in Norongachi. He'd never been one to blush at a kind word, he did what he did and marched to the beat of his own drum. Someday Isley would understand that. Salems gaze moved to Galaar again while [member="Isley Verd"] spoke. He'd made a promise, one he intended to keep come hell or high water.

"Apologies but [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"] will never leave this ship until the day he stands trial. This is not a negotiable point." The Lord Commander responded coolly. "You are free to pay him a visit but remember that this is my home if you do so. We'll be coming into Roons orbit shortly, if you want to speak to him then hop a shuttle. Until then, I'll attend to my guest. Take care, Mr Verd." With that the hologram shimmered and faded, leaving Salem and Galaar alone.

"I hope you made the correct decision Galaar..." Norongachi spoke while his hand reached for a bottle of whiskey.

 

[Darth Metus]

Now there was a reaction that the Mandalorian absolutely did not anticipate...but before he could so much as open his mouth to formulate a response, the transmission had concluded. Isley knew very little about the former Imperial he had encountered all that time ago in a derelict ship...but if he had given his word to Galaar, then it was the Templar way to keep that oath; come hell or otherwise. As such, while he did not necessarily like it, Isley could certainly respect Salem's willingness to adhere to his word. With no time left to delay, he then promptly made his way throughout the corridors and passages of the Roon Sanctum until he arrived at the landing pad. There, strewn about rather neatly in rows, were a variety of vessels free for Templars to utilize; in addition to personal vessels scattered about the mix. Isley promptly made for his Templar-class Light Freighter, dubbed the Dread Spear, and admitted himself within. After the take-off procedures and other such checks were finalize, he then steered the vessel into the heavens, intent upon meeting the Hand of Fate upon its arrival in Roon's orbit.

The wait was not long and, once clearance was given, Isley guided his vessel into the hangar of the Imperial Star Destroyer. Once situated and landed, the beskar-clad warrior made a prompt disembark and began to stride off in the direction of the Bridge; for that was where common sense dictated the owner of a vessel would be. After a ride in a lift and a few turns here and there, the Mandalorian came to a halt before the Bridge and announced himself with a light clearing of his throat. It wasn't pretentious or anything of that sort...Isley simply didn't have words at that particular moment...

Spoiler

[member="Salem Norongachi"]
[member="Galaar Tal'Verda"]