“How ya doing?”
Ahnk looked up at the figure approaching, regarding him with a cold nod.
“It’s your big day. Nervous?”
“I don’t feel anything.”
“Yeah… yeah, death will do that to you. I should know.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“Deal with what?”
“…exactly. There’s nothing happening.”
Ahnk let out a small sigh, kicking out his feet and making himself more comfortable before he responded.
“That’s the thing about death. You live your entire life… decades, centuries of preparation… living your life inside the box, getting ready for this big white light... and then when you go, its not there. Everything you were working towards turns out to be just a big empty galaxy. No pearly gates and cloud top cathedrals, just dead air.”
“It’s pretty damned boring.”
“Why do you think I didn’t stay dead? It’s not too late, you know. I can clone your body an…”
“Fuck no. Absolutely not. I hated this existence once, under no circumstances am I going to walk in and hate it again.”
“Okay. But the option's there, if you decide that floating around is just too boring to keep doing.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, anyway.”
For a moment, the two looked over the ruined landscape of Ossus, the planet still bitterly bearing the scars of the conflict that had wrecked it for most of its tumultuous history. A gentle precipitation had begun, but neither one felt a drop. Lost in the visage of what could have been…
“So… Rogue Jedi Order… dissolved.”
“Yeah… oh, sorry, did you want some consultation?”
“Are you kidding? I was the worst Rogue Jedi in the history of the Rogue Jedi. I was worse then Kamon Vondarinach.”
“Hey, don’t hate on Kamon… what he lacked in any discernable form of skill or ability, he made up for in exuberance and his go-get-em attitude. Sure, he has an annoying tendency to get captured, but at least he’s out doing shit.”
“Unlike me. Point taken.”
“Don’t hate on you either. Being a Rogue Jedi isn’t something everyone can do. You needed some time to nurture your inner Rogue. Given time, I’m sure you would have been outrageously badass.”
“If you think so.”
“It’s not too late, you know. You can still find out for yourself… lift the mantle…”
“Why?”
”What the fuck do you mean, why? Why do you think?”
“I mean, is the mantle even worth lifting? You fought a war, man… you lost. How could I hope to make a difference?”
“Honestly?”
“Brutally.”
“It’s not worth it. There is no point even bothering to fight for a life that is more fair or equal. The nature of being has been evidenced and that nature is cruelty, not compassion. Hatred, not love. The nature of being is evil… and nothing I did or you do will ever make a single ounce of difference.”
“Then the question remains… what is the point?”
“Because the fight is there… sooner or later, someone will take that mantle. If not you, someone else, and they’re going to get hurt Andrew, they are going to get hurt very, very badly.”
“And I won’t?”
“I don’t care about you… you’re so disconnected from any memories of a positive existence there is no possible way for you to ever experience any more loss then you do now. You don’t GET hurt. You ARE hurt. You are the human equivalent of spoilage.”
“Nice of you to make me a simile so simply.”
“It’s a gift. Besides, I know you don’t want to stumble around as you have. Why not go out with a bang, eh? If you’ve gotta go take every one of them with you kinda thing?”
“It’s something to think about, if nothing else.”
“Something else to mull. Why not use your worthless life and try and make a difference for some people instead of just feeling sorry for yourself? There are some kids down there that are lost. Completely and utterly bozared. As completely and utterly pathetic as you may be, at least you can serve as an example of what NOT to do.”
“You always know how to cheer a guy up, don’t you?”
“I’ve never been one to treat people with a velvet glove and a light coating of sugar… you know me better then that. And you know, deep down, you should be better then what you are. And yet you aren’t. You are to blame for that. You, and only you. And you are the only one who can fix it. Do right by…”
Ahnk suddenly furrowed his brow, standing from his seat amongst the rubble and walking to the edge of the hill… he watched slowly as the procession continued, people filtering in, the dull hues of the destroyed Ossian grey, and the sorrowful black of the mourners gathered there, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a hint of red, fiery and rebellious against the muted tones of the day.
His eyes locked on it, transfixed, then traveled from the visible traces of hair to the face of the person, the woman, to whom it belonged. She was sad and yet she also seemed… disconnected, almost as if she didn’t know if she should really be here. And yet, there was something about her that absolutely belonged… something, very familiar…
…and Ahnk turned back to the spectre behind, eyes wide.
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
“Oh that is such a copout answer. You never see me pull that kinda shit.”
“Oh no? Who do you know that is more stoic and discompassionate then you?”
“…well, no one. But that’s not the point! How long have you known?”
“Well, since I died.”
“Okay… I guess that’s a good excuse for not telling me before now.”
“I used to be a pretty hip guy…”
“I find that hard to believe…”
“…and I always knew that there was the… possibility.”
“Could there be more?”
”Likely. I didn’t have time for a daytime talk show paternity test.”
“I can…”
“Hell no! You stay away from any and all of my genetic material. I don’t trust you, you clone crazy bastard.”
“Okay, fine. But I have to tell her.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Exactly what I said, why. Why do you feel the need to tell her?”
“Don’t you think she deserves to know?”
“Of course she deserves to know. But what are you going to do? ‘Hello, I’m Ahnk Rashanagok. You might know me from my time as a genocidal galactic despot. I know we’ve never met, but I just wanted to let you know that you’ll never meet your father, since he’s the stiff in the box. Wanna go for coffee?’ Something like that?”
“Okay… point taken.”
“Just do me a favor and stay away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Why the hell not?”
“Call it… The New Ahnk. ‘Why not use your worthless life and try and make a difference for some people…’”
“I was talking about random people! Unimportant people! Not people that matter.”
“Do you see her? Can you see her from here? Do you see the same thing I see?”
“I see her.”
“The sense of emptiness? Of looking for something? She doesn’t know why she’s here, but she’s here. Coincidence?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so. I only believe in coincidences when I lose a lot of money in the process.”
“You’re being very difficult about this, Andrew. I have to admit that I do not like the new you, and I wish to disassociate myself from it immediately.”
“This is something that I need to do.”
At that moment, a sheer of metal fell, separated from its’ perch amongst a broken building by a sudden gust of wind. It fell to the dirty, dusty surface of Ossus with a small clang, the familiar sound of metal meeting concrete echoing across the broken world. But neither spectre nor spectator moved an inch… the twisted shard of metal went unnoticed as both appraised each other, silently willing the other to relent.
“…okay, fine.”
“Thank you.”
“But I swear to god, if you hurt her, I will make every single moment of your life an agony the likes of which will leave you begging for me to kill you.”
“How do you plan to do that, oh great master spectre?”
“I might be dead, but I’m still more powerful then you could possibly imagine.”
“I forgot.”
An uneasy silence once again settled over the two warriors. Both were long past their prime, but for a moment, Andrew Micheal Rashanagok thought that they could still make a difference. Even if that difference was only one person.
Even if that difference was only her.
Only her…
It did look that way at the time.
”I want to thank you for everything you did for me.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“What?”
”Thanking people.”
“So? I’m trying to be humble.”
“Well, forget it. Get to work.”
Once you got into the capital, it wasn’t so bad.
The almost systematic destruction of Ossus had not spared the capital cities by any means… quite to the contrary. But despite Gash Jiren’s attempts to create a paradise, Ossus was still very much like any rimward world… money talked, and bullshit walked. It was no coincidence that the most expensive real estate on Ossus was rebuilt first… it was, rather, the nature of man.
The monolithic towers, felled years ago by awe inspiring missile impact, had been rebuilt, and in typical fashion, had been rebuilt ten meters taller. The crystalline beauty of Ossian shopping centrals had been carved anew, shimmering the reflection of the over glow of the nearby commercial district, awash with a neon radiance both marvelously extravagant and radioactively unhealthy. The world was a study in contrast, as the central complex of life existed almost entirely removed from the decomposing remains of what had once stood, the reminder left in rubble of what had happened casually surrounding the walking simile of life… moving on.
Moving… backwards…
It was at the edge of the city that the funeral was being held. Procession marched through the streets and to the outermost reaches of the residential district, to a small clearing among the rubble where “Gash Jiren” lay. This was no doubt done on purpose… probably by someone who knew Gash Jiren, who knew that he would delight in drawing out the hobknobbing elite in their Sunday best to trudge through the ash of their old home. It was something that Ahnk had to smile about.
Of course, not only the gathered crowd were in mourning. Between him and the effigy were numerous people of all color and creed, either trying to make their way to the proceedings, or generally trying to look disinterested. Ahnk had to offer a small nod to the latter… the cynic, sick of the cyclical attention to Ossus… sure, today Ossus was in the news, but in a week? Where were the Jedi to rebuild his home? The camera crews to film the poverty around? Gash Jiren this, Gash Jiren that…
In and amongst the crowd was a cacophony of emotion… anger, fear, and sadness, permeating the air, making every breath more difficult… choking him, the sorrowful wails of those who knew him and threats of revenge from those who served them, one harmony resonated over all… a bitter hatred intermingled with a youthful determination and aggression… a feeling Ahnk knew, all too well… he found, in light of who he had become, he could not shut it out.
Rather, he walked directly towards it.
“You are angry,” he said, not as a statement but hardly as a question either. It was made as an educated yet uncertain observation. Accompanying it was his hand, finding the man’s shoulder and soaking in the waves of his projected emotion. Ahnk used it as a crutch, holding him… and himself… stable as he searched deeper. “Hmmm, and not without reason, either,” Ahnk appraised. He opened his eyes, drawing them level with the man, seeing from close range the rage contained therein… burning behind his pupils, leaking out in ways he didn’t understand…
Ahnk had to step away. Silently, Ahnk offered his hand, but unsure of what to make of his strange guest, the man could not take it. So Ahnk rescinded, instead giving him a short nod. “There is a vessel docked here… Sihoyguwa. If you wish to do something with your anger beyond just perturb passersby, you’ll meet me there.”
Once again, Ahnk found himself… distracted. He brushed past the troubled man, half-turning to excuse himself but ultimately unable to draw his head away…
Away… from her…
Ahnk sighed, drawing closed his eyes as he stopped. Surely to someone who had lived as long as he had, the mysterious aura of a young woman could no longer draw him so? Did the curiosities of youth truly hold any interest for them? How could they?
But when he opened his eyes and saw her… well, how could they not?
As he walked the ruined planet, feet leaving the refurbished city center and crossing back, once again, to the dirt and dust beyond, his eyes never left her. Though he drew closer to her with each step he was no closer to understanding what she was feeling… so confused was her essence in the force that Ahnk, an experienced master in the arts of its understanding, wasn’t sure how she felt…
Ahnk wondered if she even knew how she felt.
Ahnk imagined that was why she was here.
Finally, there was no Ossus left to cross. The woman… whatever her name… was only a few feet away, and if he wanted, he could reach out… but, first thing was first. “May I sit down?”
“There are plenty…” she began, but then she turned her head to him and trailed off.
“…of empty seats, yes,” Ahnk offered, finishing her thought and then adding that “there are none free besides a woman as fascinating as yourself.”
Unwilling, or unable, to summon a retort, she merely nodded, and allowed Ahnk to sit down. He was tempted to offer his hand, but after the earlier experience with another frustrated force user, reconsidered. “So… did you know him? The deceased, I mean.”
She brought her eyes up to his… a mixture of emotion across them, impossible to read… wary uncertainty and a frustrated confusion… when she spoke she was not forceful, but hardy passive about her frustration… “Why do you ask?”
Ahnk grinned. She was tricky… and that was not altogether a bad thing. “Do you always answer a question with a question? That’s bad form, you know.”
OS: In a world of bon-bons, you are a twinkie.
Ahnk: God damn you, I am Count Chocula and you know it.
I'm not spending my anniversary night thumping my head against the wall. - Damalis, on Moderating TRF
Then tell him you want it harder, damnit! - Ahnk, on Damalis
