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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 21, 2013 13:03:48 GMT -8
Continued from here...
Well. This was bad.
Aherk looked around the large shop, turning his head slowly, letting it all sink in. The Jedi that had wounded him had come back from the future to kill him before the apparent worst of his atrocities, and was intent to see that task through to its conclusion. And if she didn't, then it was increasingly likely that Eliana would be all too happy to do so in her stead. He'd have removed her - should have removed her, anyway - from the laboratory as well. But wouldn't that just make her question more? Wouldn't that all but confirm Na'an's accusations? And leaving the would-be Sith in a room with a deactivated SO-6 sample was practically begging for the horrific death she was already promising him.
Things were looking more and more like a bad holovid.
Still providing most of the illumination in the room despite the generator's return to normalcy, most of the screens displayed what they had before. The only one still active and updating, however, was that of the Senator from Naboo. The floor plans to 500 Republica were likely to remain the same. The sketch of this Wanderer woman - he almost wished she had stayed in a raging state, as now even her name was starting to get fuzzy - also remained static, and it only felt right to do so; she looked forlorn, a faraway look in the picture's eyes, as if she knew about all that was to come. As if she had no chance to avoid it. Any of it.
Aherk turned his head to the right, towards a dark corner of the workshop, almost completely without light save for two bright, aquamarine lights shining slightly above his head. If the rapidly-fading memories inside his head were true, this variation of the KR assassin droid would prove every bit as deadly as he'd designed it to be, even with the major density flaw and removal of its transmitting systems. It was unfinished; the torso and head stood on a pedestal and one of its arms lay on a crate that housed the other three extremities, which had arrived from his "liberated" production facility on Mustafar barely two days ago.
And on the far side of the room was the mynock-shaped jet board he had been tinkering with. Repulsorlifts built into the underside of the wings, with magnetic stirrups mounted on the top side, and a powerful turbine engine housed within the metal monstrosity's maw. It was surprisingly powerful and agile for its size, barely larger than a true mynock. And while it would sorely underperform when it came to a pursuit against higher-tier police speeders, between its formidable capability and its pilot's own skill, it hopefully wouldn't have to. A memory had been gleaned from the violent woman before - he in his emerald-colored armor, weaving through the Coruscant skyline while the woman (wearing an unusually tame SO-6) slung around, matching his pace almost perfectly.
A plan, a droid, and a board were in this workshop. and Aherk already knew how each would play their part in his quickly-unraveling story."Hell." Aherk cursed under his breath as he moved to his chair, slumping into the seat as he looked up at the sketch of the so-called Wanderer, who had wandered across time itself to find herself at his doorstep.
Her eyes seemed colder from this angle. Almost judgmental.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 13:44:34 GMT -8
The moment passed. Na'an slipped off her seat, bouncing lightly on the balls of her heels. If she held her breath she could feel Aherk's breathing just a few yards away. She'd let this go on for far too long now; Aherk was supposed to be dead, the timeline altered, her existence...erased? Reset? It didn't matter. It hadn't happened yet, and whatever its name, this would be where it started.
So it couldn't hurt to say a goodbye to a friend she hadn't made, could it?
Reaching up, she placed a thin hand on Elly's cheek. The spot she patted was soft, slick from the tears still drying there, and against the inflamed red color her blue eyes were confused and bright. Not like the sea, though--lighter, like the sky in miniature. Absurdly, Na'an found herself wondering if afterward she'd remember how this color--these blues, in any shade--seemed to end up being the harbinger of bad things. It was almost funny, and she found herself smiling at the question.
"Anyway," she said softly, "you should go to your brother." Her hand dropped, and she stepped backwards quickly towards the door. "Don't follow me." As she slipped through into the hall, she was already drawing Force power into her now-clenched fists.
"Forget us both. "
And Na'an turned back, running towards the heartbeat pounding a slow tattoo in her skull.
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Oracle
Member
Posts: 49 
Affiliation: Jedi Praxeum of Yavin IV
Traffic Light: Red
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Post by Oracle on Apr 21, 2013 13:56:33 GMT -8
Something was wrong. Professor Milnik could sense it even despite his complete lack of ability with the so-called Force and seething, silent fury at his masterpiece being used as a weapon.
When the angry Jedi woman and her mechanical accomplice forced their way onto his chronoporter, and all throughout the journey through to their destination some seven years in the past in some forgotten corner of the galaxy, they had meant business. Apart from terse commands from the small Human, the pair had remained as silent as the death they promised to deliver. Looking to the time display on one of his vessel's many after-market monitors adorning the bridge, he saw that they had been in there for quite some time. And at this time of night? Killing a man should have been simple. And when the murderers were a powerful psychic and droid with a gun the size of a small engine, the simplicity in such a killing should have been akin to swatting an insect. Even if their opponent was a Jedi, like her, the droid would tip the odds well in her favor.
So what, then, was taking so bloody long?
The chronoporter was still lively. While the seven amplification chambers were silent (which, to be frank, allowed for thoughts to be heard within one's own head), the engines still hummed and the computers still chirped and beeped every now and again. If he so wanted, Professor Milnik could get the ship in orbit and return to his own time and place before the pair could do anything about it. They would be free to wreak havoc on their new reality, of course. Seven years' worth of a clean slate would be theirs to do with as they saw fit. After all, wasn't that was he himself was going to do? Instead of lecturing hyperspace theory at the University of Alderaan, Milnik's new plan was to usher in a technological golden age thousands of years ahead of time. It would undoubtedly change the course of history far more than one man's death and change countless lives in the process (or wipe them from the pages of history entirely), but it would be for the better. Professor Milnik was going to use his chronoporter to help the galaxy move forward. And the rational scientist sorely doubted that the intentions of two time-travelling murderers would hold the best interests of galactic society close to their hearts. Seven years to do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted, and their first act in this new reality would be murder. Regardless of who they were or what their intentions held, Milnik simply couldn't allow for them to benefit from that.
Which once again raised the question of what was taking them so bloody long.
Angry as the woman must have been to rewrite history itself as she saw fit, nothing about her seemed particularly malicious. At least, not in the sense that she'd torture the poor soul inside the isolated building before killing him. She seemed more the type to go in for the quick kill, as did her droid; nothing with a gun that big on a frame that small could possibly be built for long, drawn-out death.
Professor Milnik mulled it all over. He mulled it all over again, this time moving into the main deck and resting his back on the foremost amplification chamber to remove the irritating sound of rain constantly slamming on the bridge viewport. And then he mulled it over once more, just to be sure he had all possible information straight and clear. And it all came out to the same conclusion.
Something was wrong.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 21, 2013 15:45:13 GMT -8
Aherk felt her presence move before he heard the quick tapping of her footsteps against the metal floor get louder and louder. It was not especially difficult to do; even now, the Wanderer's head was alight with memories and ideas with no particular focus to past, future, or even present. Aherk was not even sure if she knew what she would do once she crossed the threshold into his workshop. After all, he knew more than most what the constant interruptions of troublesome visions did to one's focus.
The footsteps stopped, replaced by quiet, steady breathing just beyond his lab's door frame.
"You think this'll do it? Give you what you want, I mean. You think this'll work?"
His eyes, now blue in color, stared at the sketch's sad eyes one final time before a few quick keystrokes blackened all six massive screens on his computer terminal, severely darkening the room. Aherk knew that neither Vila nor her yet-unbuilt creation would come to either's rescue this time. It was just her and himself. The Wanderer and her nemesis. As it, if the flashes in her mind were any indicator, was always going to be.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 18:24:22 GMT -8
"I don't know."
Na'an had skidded to a stop in front of the lab, and was now watching the muscles in Aherk's back tense and stretch. The odd sense of disconnect that had settled in during her talk with Eliana had not quite lifted...the red voice was coming back, but quietly, only whispering about angles of attack and pressure points to make those muscles relax for good. She could feel the power it gave still building, though, like coils of fire growing in her fists. When the room went dark, the computers abruptly cut off, she'd almost expected to see her hands glowing red.
"I'm not a genius, you know, I never was," she said. "But what I want has to come from this somehow." Na'an took a step into the dark room, her own arms held out tensely from her sides. In a moment they would be up and ready to
make him bleed
plow him into the computer panel. From there she'd have to find a weapon, but with the panel broken either she or the voice would figure something out. Before then, however...
"Turn around, Aherk. Let me look you in the eye before you go."
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 21, 2013 19:16:39 GMT -8
"Yeah, sure. If it'd make you happy."
Aherk quickly turned to face her, raising his hands up and behind his head to make the coming kill even easier for the Wanderer.
"That's what you want, right? To be happy? I mean, I've never heard of murder making a Jedi happy, but whatever works."
The man spoke with an alarmingly casual tone. It was not a tone used to gain sympathy as a man looking to beg for mercy, nor was it meant as an insult to the approaching Jedi. Rather, he spoke as someone who knew full well what he was doing, as though he fully intended to walk away from this encounter unscathed. Even now, amidst the Wanderer's own broken mind invading his, despite his prior use of the Force overwriting whatever vision-suppressant drug was in his system, his intermittent visions showed him several paths.
Aherk chose the one that would end in the Wanderer's defeat. Not his victory. Not even necessarily his survival. But her defeat.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 19:43:31 GMT -8
Na'an snorted, still walking farther into the room. "Happiness was never the goal." She stopped just within arm's reach of Aherk's chest. From that distance she could hear his heartbeat; it mingled with the pulse of blood in her head, moving in time with it. The tempo of both sped, from excitement or fear or something made of both, when her eyes met Aherk's.
Blue. Always that shade of blue, dark and laughing and arrogant. Even when he was alone and defenseless, he had that laughter there, like he knew something that he was about to use against her. In the end, those eyes were why she had to kill him. Even they were a weapon that could throw her too far off balance.
"It just has to stop. All of it has to stop." Na'an's voice came out too high and desperate, and she reached out for his ribcage with a charged fist. "And with you it never stops. You just keep taking, even after you're dead, because once you start you just don't--
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 21, 2013 20:00:35 GMT -8
"-shut up, I know, I'm flawed that way."
Aherk wheezed out his response, seeming completely indifferent to the Wanderer's words or attack despite suddenly being doubled over. Taking a few deep breaths, he stood upright and huffed out before simply walking away from the deranged Dark Jedi and towards his primary workbench, where the mynock-shaped flying machine sat perched on two support struts. He was on a roll, and he was not about to let a half-hearted gut punch ruin it for him.
"But consider it. You kill me, then what? You just go back to your life, all things are good and well, and life carries merrily onward, right? I'm sure the Masters will be thrilled that their little peko peko came back to them a cold-blooded killer. Would sure lend merit to that other epithet of yours, for sure."
The mad Force-user turned to face the Wanderer once more, staring her down and trying to ignore the niggling thought in the back of his head. Peko peko?
"But no. You don't want to kill me, Wanderer, and don't insult my intelligence by pretending you do! You want to be happy! Even now, disjointed as your thoughts are, that's where this all leads! Kill Formidonis and earn your happy little ending!"
The words were delivered with force, and Aherk's voice was raised to ensure the point got across. The Wanderer could pretend he was wrong all she liked, but she knew in her heart of hearts that he was completely on the money. Or, at the very least, he hoped she would. Or, if things were truly dire and she did not, in fact, care to be happy, then he hoped she would at least be shocked enough to give him time to change course. In any case, Aherk paused, lowering his voice for the main point behind the whole act.
"But you need me. If you kill me, you'll never get to be happy."
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 21, 2013 20:17:19 GMT -8
Na'an blinked once at his words, taken aback. The red voice, however, only laughed. That was his weapon? That was his big attack on her psyche that was going to get him out alive? Happiness? Was he even listening? Why would he even think that she'd believe that, that she'd buy him caring enough to bother...
No. That was irrelevant. She shook it off.
"No, I suppose this version of me won't. In fact, I'm counting on it."
The power in her veins surged, and she threw her other fist forward, aiming for his face.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 21, 2013 20:32:48 GMT -8
The blow - which carried much more effort than her previous attempt, the victim noted - sent Aherk up and into the metal mynock, sending both crashing to the floor behind the workbench. After a pause in which everything in the room was silent save for the rattling of a circular plate attempting to settle, the black-haired man was on his feet yet again, one blue eye looking at the Wanderer with a strange curiosity. His other eye was covered by his hand, and a close observer could make out a small bit of blood leaking out from underneath Aherk's wrist. He stood there for a moment, right blue eye locking gaze with right grey eye, before speaking again as though the punch had never even been thrown.
"Nor will your other version. I die, I never carry out the plans you probably caught a glance of when you came down here. You never meet your friends. And I don't mean those Jedi you occasionally associate with, I mean true blue, adoption-tried friends. Other You never gets to meet them. Other You just goes on playing nanny. Other You just does what she's told, day in and day out, for the rest of her life. Other You never gets to see the space lanes, taste adventure, fall in love, nothing. Kill me, and you condemn her to listlessness."
Aherk circled the workbench, moving to approach the Wanderer this time instead of backing away. He stopped less than a meter away from her, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.
"You had a shot at happiness. And you might have another one, someday, if you stop this. But kill me? You cease to exist, and Other You never gets the chance you had."
If the Wanderer had wanted to play theoretical alternate realities, Aherk sorely doubted she could have chosen a worse opponent.
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 22, 2013 20:08:05 GMT -8
"A chance at what? YOU? THIS?"
Na'an closed the distance with both hands, taking fistfuls of Aherk's ruined finery and dragging him bodily to his knees. From there, it would take only a swift movement to have his neck in her hands.
"My friends are gone. The ones that aren't dead are better off without me around. And I'm the only one who cares because I can't move past what you do to me." She could feel the cloth rip in her tightening fists, and hear the hateful shaking break in her voice. "I can't get past you. And I saw my face on your screen, you've already started."
Her face twitched, as if in response to a sudden loud noise in her ear. At the same moment, one of her hands loosed itself. It slid upwards, gripping Aherk's jaw tightly and tipping it to expose his throat. The angle brought his face into view again--strong-jawed, arrogant, now half-obscured by a bloody hand over his eye.
His left eye. How appropriate. "You already know what happens next. "
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 22, 2013 20:31:22 GMT -8
"I really don't."
Without warning, Formidonis shot upwards, shoving the Wanderer back as he flipped backwards, landing in a crouch on the shiny workbench. His bloodied hand steadied himself on his perch, revealing the extent of the damage the Dark Jedi had dealt to his eye. But much like her punch before it and her dragging after it, it seemingly did next to nothing to faze him. Aherk Formidonis was a man on a mission now, fighting through the pain and temporary loss of vision on one last hand of sabacc
If nothing else, it was one hell of a rush.
"I mean, think about it. By dint of your very presence, time itself has been altered, perhaps irrevocably. Whatever happens now is completely up in the air. I could, if I held no interest in my self-preservation, simply carry on as I did in your past, my future, whatever. But, see, I'm really, really not keen on this whole death thing.
"So why would I carry on as I am when you've just given me practically everything I need to avert it?"
It was true. There would be a few loose ends he'd have to tie up; KR-03 was indeed on the hunt for the Wanderer at that exact moment, scouring the area around the Corellian hospital where Aherk had been taken to treat the wound that Project SO-6 could no longer tend to. Months of work would have to be scrapped outright. He would have to come clean to Vila about the truth surrounding her family's death (and what a fun conversation that promised to be). But Aherk had more than just erratic visions. He had proof. He had been working with visions that were well worth second-guessing and cynicism, but now? Memories and recollection of things that absolutely did happen. It was like reading a holobook, only to have the climax and ending start screaming at the reader a quarter of the way through.
Aherk hopped down from the workbench, taking care to remain a healthy distance away from the Wanderer.
"Other You gets to be happy. You cease to exist. And for all intents and purposes you kill the man your after with the exact same mechanism you'll die from. Everyone wins."
Aherk allowed himself a half-chuckle.
"But I really can't do that until you and RoboBabe are out of my hideout."
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 23, 2013 19:27:22 GMT -8
As the words sunk through, Na'an couldn't stop her surprise even long enough to bristle at Aherk's laughter.
It wasn't hard to see what he was suggesting: that by showing up at all, he'd convinced her to change the timeline and leave her alone. All she'd have to do was turn around and walk away. She could give her younger self a second chance, end the cycle of fixation and death, and she wouldn't even have to kill to get it. Something in Na'an--what was left of the Jedi, maybe--wanted just that. It wasn't about the murder, after all. It was about an end. This way would make an end, and maybe even a peaceful one.
There was only one problem...the red voice wasn't having it.
liarliarliarliarliarliarLIAR
And it wasn't wrong. Aherk was--and always had been--a liar. There was no reason for him to let her just walk away, when he could simply just attack her himself and kill her. Other than saving his own sorry skin. All he wanted was for her to not kill him, and for that he'd say anything.
Na'an shook her head once, the surprise in her face hardening into something grim and sad. "I don't believe you. You're already planning how to go after me next." Her fists tensed again, feeling the slow build of blood and power. "I saw my face on those screens," she said, pointing at the polished black surface to their left. I'm just a toy to you, and you're not a man that lets go of his toys."
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 23, 2013 19:47:58 GMT -8
"There are a good few months' worth of your memories that say you're wrong, Vidalu."
Aherk dropped the act. The arrogance dropped, the smile faded, and he looked at the Wanderer with a gaze almost as cold as her own. He stood to his full height, and spoke with an icy edge to his formerly coy voice.
"But if that's what you believe, and my theory on the universe's inner workings happens to be wrong, then kill me. Kill me and prevent the attack on Vyra Salicaire. Kill me and prevent our second meeting. The formation of your pitiful little family. The reunion of the Shan siblings. Let them all be cast to the winds so you can satisfy your pithy little bloodlust."
He took a single step towards her, the icy edge quickly rising to a fever pitch.
"Oh, but it won't stop there, will it? All those things had to have happened, must have happened! You wouldn't be here otherwise! Couldn't be here otherwise! All that transpired must have played out for this to happen! I was wrong, Wanderer! You were wrong! You toy with forces beyond your control, your very understanding!"
Now in the full swing of his fury, Formidonis took another strong step towards her, his eyes burning like a Mustafar lava pit and his lips curled into a hideous snarl.
"It won't just be you that gets erased, little Wanderer! If I die, you never find the impetus to return here, thus it doesn't happen! Thus I LIVE! Your actions won't just destroy you, they'll destroy everyone you ever loved, everything you ever held dear, violently slain as the fabric of the space-time continuum is ripped apart by the seams! Untold, countless species and civilizations will burn, the FORCE ITSELF will die screaming, all because of you!
"But why should it matter? Your friends, your family, the universe itself means nothing to you anymore, and nor should it! It's brought you nothing but pain, isn't that right? To hell with them! With ALL OF THEM! THEY ARE NOTHING TO YOU!"
Aherk surged forward, the Dark Side of the Force practically swirling around him as he seized the Wanderer's wrist and brought it towards his neck.
"So kill me, Vidalu Na'an. Kill me, and let your vengeance tear this sorry universe asunder."
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Post by Vidalu Na'an on Apr 24, 2013 19:56:18 GMT -8
do it
Na'an had her hands on Aherk Formidonis' throat, and her eyes on his. She could feel his pulse in her fingers, the steel rush of blood. The Dark Side of the Force was pulsing off him too, great waves of it breaking over her like the sea; it made her feel oddly strong, as if it was mingling with her own.
Do It
All she had to do was twist. One simple motion, and it would be over.
DO it
It would be so easy.
DO IT!!
And then suddenly, in all the screaming silence, the smallest and thinnest of thoughts.
is destroying him worth destroying everything?
Startled, she pushed Aherk violently away from her. He crashed into the table, and Na'an backed away into the door, putting more distance between them.
What are you waiting for?! DO IT DO IT DO IT
She couldn't. The Family was one thing. She could sacrifice that, and gladly. But their lives...the lives of everyone else...the universe itself? Even if he was gambling, what was left of the Jedi in Vidalu Na'an couldn't take that risk. She'd come here because killing him was supposed to save lives, not just her own or the Family's but those of hundreds. If doing it would kill them again, kill them and worse...paying that price would be more than the pleasure of killing him was worth.
pleasure?
When had she started thinking that? When had she let herself go so far into the dark that she was thinking of murder as pleasure? That one wasn't the red voice--which had been pushing all this time for blood, blood for every victim on that hideous videotape? That was her...or was it?
Na'an hadn't thought of that. Then again, she hadn't been thinking much at all lately. If she'd come this close to potentially destroying the universe without knowing...
go home, Nanii. Rest.
She glanced back at Aherk, still struggling with the wreck and scrap she'd made from throwing him at the table. She wished she could press at him again, take one last strike to at least leave a mark, a warning about where all his scheming and gambling and evil would lead. The red voice was still screaming for it loud enough to give her a headached, begging to make him hurt, to make him bleed. Instead, she just watched him scramble back to his feet, what little blood streaming from his face staunched by his hand. She watched this man, who she'd come across time to kill, this man who had burnt her so deep Na'an wasn't sure how much of her was left. She watched Aherk Formidonis, who coaxed and bragged and insulted and lied (and yes, had even whispered the sweet things she'd never thought she'd wanted) and somehow still knew what to say to her in order to make her think and feel and do whatever he wanted.
Well, she'd only say one thing now.
"I hate you so goddamn much."
She stood there, trembling with more feeling than a body should ever hold, for one last doubtful moment. It took everything in her to turn away, towards the distant exit. As she passed the door where she'd left Eliana and her droid, she did not stop, but called into the oddly silent space as she passed. "Leigh. I'm tired. Let's go home." Without any more goodbyes, the metal behemoth followed.
After what seemed like a long time, they reached the only door to the lab. It slid open silently, revealing the sodden heap just outside that had been her cloak. Na'an didn't look down as she stepped over it, and out into the sheeting rain. She could see at the end of the platform that the timeship was still docked and waiting. It hadn't occurred to her to expect that it would be; in fact, she hadn't thought much about the scientist inside or his ship at all. The fact that it was there at all, its sleek form resting on the dock like a silver fish dropped by some mammoth bird, now almost seemed fated. The time-traveller had probably even guessed that she wouldn't go through with it. He was a scientist, after all; he'd be as arrogant about it as Aherk at been.
As he was. As, no doubt, he would always be, because he always won even when he lost.
She knocked her fist against the hull once, feeling rather than hearing the dull boom that followed.
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Oracle
Member
Posts: 49
Affiliation: Jedi Praxeum of Yavin IV
Traffic Light: Red
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Post by Oracle on Apr 24, 2013 20:36:07 GMT -8
Jecib had seen the woman and her machine compatriot approach and had already been ready to lower the landing ramp. Even through the torrential rain and howling winds, the expression on the Dark Jedi's face said it all; she hadn't done it. Forty-seven minutes since arriving at these particular space-time coordinates, twenty-three minutes since departing the vessel, twenty-two minutes inside the dark metal building before them, and the duo had not gone through with their murderous act. Further, something about the air seemed to change. Professor Milnik could not quite place it, but it was as though the very environment felt defeated. If nothing else, it confirmed for his spirit what the Force-user's expression had confirmed for his logic.
Flipping the final switch in the chain, he felt the hydraulics beneath him shudder as the ventral boarding ramp lowered to allow the two access. Upon reaching the main deck, they would find only two open doors; the main bunk and the lavatory. Every other room was sealed off. And unless they encountered a serious problem mid-flight, they would stay that way. They weren't missing much anyway; just about every other room on the ship served to house some component of the chronoportation equipment. But they had still used his masterpiece as little more than a weapon. They had still used a wondrous device for a sinister, banal purpose. As far as Professor Milnik was concerned, that revoked their bridge privileges. As far as he was concerned, in fact, they should count themselves lucky they got to go back home at all.
Home, however, would be relative. As Professor Milnik fired up the amplification chambers and keyed in a destination, he remembered just how active the Yavin System was. Military ships going to and fro, obviously preparing for something...more conflict? It seemed to follow the Jedi wherever they were; when he last went to a Jedi stronghold, they too had come under attack.
It did not take long, however, to find a destination that suited his purpose.
Professor Milnik confirmed the coordinates and the navicomputer began the calculations as Amplifier Three started to kick in. By the time they reached low orbit, the course would already be laid in, and getting the pair back to their own time would be as easy as following the green rectangles.
Their own time...how different would it be now? Clearly, the pair's intended victim had a great deal of influence in at least their social sphere, which in turn would cause a chain reaction within other social spheres, eventually going across worlds. Would things be only marginally different with their interference? Would their world be unrecognizable? By virtue of their very presence, after all, the time stream had been changed. That much was certain. It was only a matter of discovering how far-reaching that change would be. But such a thing would not matter to the Mon Calamari strapping himself into the pilot's seat. After all, he would find himself four thousand years prior to any of this, and the changes he intended to bring about would almost certainly render anything that had just transpired null and void. But if Professor Milnik's hypothesis held, the Jedi, her droid companion, and anybody else they met would not notice; their reality would not be altered by his actions or his influence. It would simply be locked away in its own tangential universe, free from any further temporal interference.
Free from these two mucking things up any further than they already had, anyway.
With a pull of the control yoke, Professor Milnik lifted the chronoporter up from the landing pad and turned towards the dark clouds, blasting away from the dark building and leaving it - and the acts carried out within it - to history.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Apr 25, 2013 20:22:32 GMT -8
Epilogue
There was a long silence in the workshop after the Wanderer departed. Aherk Formidonis stood stock still, barely daring to breathe, reaching out with his feelings to follow the vengeful Jedi's presence to whatever enchanted ship had brought her here in the first place. He could still feel her as her ship raced through the storm, slowly losing her as she traveled farther and farther into the obscured heavens. He knew he shouldn't have been able to feel her that far out. If it hadn't been for her still-racing mind, in all likelihood he wouldn't have. But even on the edge of Kamino's atmosphere, Aherk could still feel her, as warped a sensation as it was. And mere moments later, the Wanderer was gone. And only then did Aherk dare to voice the thought that had dominated his mind since she had left the room, barely speaking above a whisper.
"...son of a bitch, that was close."
Aherk's legs instantly gave out from under him as he finally allowed his guard to fall, sending him crashing against the base of his workbench. Sharp, deep breaths filled the space where silence had been moments before. Sensations - pain and joy and relief and terror all intermingling like drunken aristocrats at some upper-class shindig - flooded his mind and body where before there had been a carefully calculated emptiness.
He was alive. The Wanderer had come across time and space specifically to kill him, and he was alive. For now, that was more than enough for him. His sore eyeball, his bruised stomach, the small cuts that had come his way when he crashed into his jet board, all of that could be tended to later. Aherk simply wanted to lie there for a moment, and savor the breathing. The triumph. The unsung glory. With only his wits and his words - half of which were grade A bantha fodder - he had sent a vengeful woman hell-bent on slaying him where he stood back to whatever cesspit she had come from. He had won. Happiness? Please; that woman would never know the meaning. The universe being ripped apart? Hell of a visual, but physically impossible so far as he knew. Aherk could ask and answer these questions later. For now, it was just sharp breathing. Sharp breathing and joy. Joy and calm. Calm and clarity.
Clarity, and the sudden, sobering realization that this was all his own damned fault.
Aherk had told the Wanderer about the universe being shredded as a result of her actions. That - to his knowledge - wasn't true. But his guilt? The clarity that had been beaten into him by her own inadvertent psychic assault? That - again, to his knowledge - was. And as the dark energy he had summoned to deliver his intellectual coup de grace fell, the guilt he had felt mere moments into the first clash of their lightsabers surfaced once more. The hand that had cradled his eye moments before now clutched his chest, which for a brief moment felt as though a searingly hot gash had been cut through it. It felt unusual. Chillingly unusual. Aherk had heard of somatic symptoms for mental stimuli before, but it was nothing like this. For the instant it was there, Aherk genuinely felt as though he might die, cutting his intoxicating joy and sobering realization short. Or perhaps the conflict had simply reawakened muscles and tissues that had been damaged by the near-fatal strike on Coruscant. Whatever the case may be, the sudden pang of pain in his chest truly awakened Aherk to the ultimate fact of the evening.
He had managed to cause a woman he would grow to love so much distress that she had broken the laws of physics, the universe, and the Force itself to put an end to it. But he could change that now! He could change everything!
Aherk pushed himself to his feet, formulating his plan with even more urgency than he had done so just minutes before. He would have Eliana - a name he hadn't used to refer to his apprentice in years before tonight, he realized - up the dosage on his medications on the double! He would recall KR-03 and shut it down before the droid had a chance to upgrade and cut off from comlink contact! He would immediately dismantle his plans to take the Naboo senator for a wild chase through the skylanes of Corsucant! He would take whatever samples of SO-6 he had and chuck them into an incinerator! Dammit, Aherk Fyyar was going to make things right.
It only took as long for the six screens of his data terminal to turn back on that Aherk realized the horrible truth of the matter.
If the Wanderer's trip through time was an act of fate, then there was nothing to be done. Things would play out as they always had or always would, regardless of feelings or intent or purpose. Aherk was still going to attack the senator, still form a bond with the Wanderer, and still be killed in some sorry swamp. And there was no power in the universe that could alter that course. But if things could be altered, and his actions somehow prevented this sequence of events from unfolding, what if he caused the very paradox that he himself had warned the Wanderer about? The complete and utter annihilation of the universe would be the end result. And now that he knew such a thing was possible, Aherk had a responsibility to prevent that at all costs.
But the worst case of all came with the most likely outcome. Aherk changes his course and betters himself. His version of the Wanderer becomes happy and healthy, and her growing family face any and all with nary a problem. Vyra and her little Jedi boyfriend get married and possibly stay that way. Caoimhin and Eliana are reunited. Dash Vos founds his own sect of Jedi. That damned tree on Dantooine is healthy and flowering. The Wanderer becomes a Jedi Master. Eliana finds that special someone. Aherk himself goes to work repairing and upgrading speeders and starcraft for the Jedi Order. Vyra and Raan have children. Somewhere down the line, Aherk proposes to the Jedi woman of his dreams, and promises to be there for her in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'til death do they part. She says yes. This life is not without its faults; Aherk has to own up to both Shan siblings that their parents' death was his fault, Caoimhin is forced to confront his own acts of darkness during his late adolescence, and Vyra still has to confess that she hadn't been entirely faithful to her husband. But overall, nothing that cannot eventually be forgiven and overcome with time, patience, and the love this family seems to have for each other. An idyllic life for all parties, all formed from bits and pieces of memories, dreams, and desires he caught in the mind of a madwoman.
A madwoman who, seven years hence, would reemerge from the sands of time to find her life not unrecognizable, but nonexistent. A universe where not only did she not have a small place to call her own, but no place whatsoever. A reality, in fact, where she simply did not belong.
Aherk's breathing grew shallow and quiet once again. It was a cruel choice he was presented with, possibly the cruelest the Force could derive; let things run their course and contribute in no small way to this woman's ongoing suffering (even post-mortem, which was a nasty kick in the ass in and of itself), or rectify the mistakes and make a good life for her knowing that the version of her that needed it most could never have it?
He had to make it right. More importantly, he had to make it right to the version of the Wanderer that needed it to be made right. Most importantly, he had to somehow not make a mess of all reality in the process. And in order to do that, Aherk realized, he had to let things continue on their course. The attack of the Naboo senator had to take place, as did everything that followed it. As sick as it was, it was also the only real way he could make things right, or possibly better.
With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, Aherk glanced at the sketch of the Wanderer before turning his eyes back to the blueprints of 500 Republica, taking a moment to remember where he had been when one of his screens had suddenly erupted with white light. He could alter his plans to lower the bodycount. Hell, if he played it right he could avoid the deaths of innocents altogether.
And if he played it with the utmost precision, Aherk Fyyar decided, he could probably even prevent his own...
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