- September 24, 2015
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Memories on hyperlanes
Var’ath sat lost in thought in the cockpit of Lost Fortune. The other members of the crew were fast asleep as the freighter was drawing nearer to Kluistar, hyperspace streaks zooming past it like arrows made of stars. But sleep had not come to Var’ath and so he had wandered to the sensors console to nurse his insomnia. It felt like it had already been a lifetime since he had first sat in the same cockpit above the steaming jungles of Cholganna. A lifetime where he hadn’t known Kentas or Gha, CQI or Too-kik, Limna Yith or Kara Solaris. A lifetime where he had been separated from his sister he held so dear. And now, very soon, he might see his father for the first time since his childhood. On a rational level, Var’ath felt that the prospect should make him happy. But instead, the idea had started to stir up more mixed feelings inside his heart.
For Var’ath his father had always been a paragon of twi’lekdom, an infallible figure almost larger than life in his immeasurable boldness. In Var’ath’s memories his father would appear as a corpulent orange twi’lek of unmistakeable affluence, always quick to smile and generous both with his wealth and compliments. Likewise, everything surrounding his father in those recollections was draped in that same gauze of jolliness and carefree prosperity. But what An’ath had said to Var’ath at the Stiletto base had brought other, more uneasy thoughts to the younger sibling’s head.
“He made some ill-advised choices in his life.”
“There were many who envied him.”
“I think that finally caught up with him.”
As those words had sunk in little by little, snippets of different kinds of memories had started to plague Var’ath’s thoughts about his father. Memories that he hadn’t previously paid much attention to or had sometimes even brushed aside as too uncomfortable. Recollections of hasty getaways through the back-alleys and seedy side-corners of core worlds. Of Var’ath’s mother fiercely upset at her husband’s madcap whims. Of occasional visitations by strangely menacing sentients who didn’t particularly strike as fans of the renowned thespian. As a child Var’ath hadn’t quite comprehended those incidents, his inquiries being often answered simply by silent hugs from his parents. Even with An’ath’s words ringing in his head, he still wasn’t sure if he grasped the whole picture. But those images flashing through Var’ath’s mind did bear witness to what his sister had said.
Maybe it wasn’t just the Force that had brought down their family. Maybe some of their misfortune had really been caused by their father himself through those ill-advised choices. Var’ath’s brow furrowed into heavy wrinkles. For all of Belg’ath Dyun’s charm and bluster, Var’ath finally understood that even their father was bound to make mistakes. And those mistakes had caught up with him with tragic results. Suddenly Var’ath was yanked to attention from his ponderings by yet another unsettling thought.
Would some day ill-advised choices of Var’ath’s own making catch up with him too?