August 16th, 2005
|04:13 pm - # VI|
To come here was a mistake. A mistake which I probably won't live long enough to correct.
The air reeks of betrayal. Something is happening. I can feel it in my veins, in the parts of my body that didn't fall victim to the destruction that is despair, no... repair. I was repaired, saved from certain death, not chained to an existence which I'd happily end by my own hand, even now. But, despisable coward that I am, the freedom of silence will never come at my summoning. My beautiful Namal will never again be in my arms, not till my natural time expires. And with all that was done to me, is seems I have a very long time to wait. A very long time.
That is, if I cannot find a way to fall victim to an accident. All soldiers die by accident, or of clumsy technique.
The senator wants to talk to me. Why then, doesn't he come to me as it is custom? Why does he give me instead these silent glares that accomplish nothing but my continued aggravation? Why can't he understand that...
"An Angel's heart flies fierce and free. An Angel's soul burns cold and cruel." I remember, that were her first words to me. A fragile girl-child of no more that thirteen years, a little slave full of pride in the house she serves, standing before me oh so long ago, as she was a present from my dead patriarch, and telling me exactly these words. How it infuriated me to get advise from a human not educated in my art. But she wormed her way into my heart, my cherished Alderaan beauty with her head full of obscure poetry and a wisdom far beyond her years.
And now, here, half an eternity after she was taken from me, I still follow her lead, still can't get her out of my mind. How will I be able to protect what is mine without her guiding me? This situation needs her gentle touch, not the crude hands of a warrior far too damaged to fully control those under his command.
If he wants to believe me or not, the senator needs me. And I will be damned to the eternal mists, for I cannot tell him, cannot find the words to tell the whole truth.
July 22nd, 2005
|08:04 pm - # V|
We are on course to Ammuud, to this desolate place so full of creed and backstabbing cowardise, this black hole whose inhabitants live their miserable lives without pride and honour only to be imprisoned in the chains of corporate politics like their ancestors. For those not raised in their bleak world of suppressed dreams, even being on this world, breathing the tasteless air seems like an act of force, like the bare essence of life is lacking behind the everlasting veils of atmospheric control.
My mind wants to scream, to let lose all the anger and... yes, even fear that have hidden behind the facade I created so long ago. My hands wish for blood and destruction, any way to be free of my confinement. My soul, this shrivelled black shell within my dead heart, the one thing that made her love me without condition, cries for help that can never arrive. I know that now, knew it the moment I was awakened in this abomination of an artificial body.
My employers will probably order the senator's death, or at least his incarceration in a secure location. I am loath to admit that this will probably be the only order I cannot obey. It would dishonour my kin, my Namal and the treasure that was robbed, to follow through with such an act. By taking her into my house, all her kin became mine as well.
June 27th, 2005
|08:10 pm - # IV - [open to Bail Organa]|
- Beloved, warrior of my heart, general of my future, listen and hear what I have to say, what fate I see for your proud house. -
- I see oceans of blood flooding a black citaldel hidden behind a veil of despair. Terrible things to come but also a time of beauty, full of adoring dreams and love fullfilled. I sincerely hope that it is nothing more than a nightmare born of my anxiety, my fears and hopes now that I learned of your future heir. -
- Let me be at your side, my dearest fighter. Let me watch over you as you bury your grand-grandson and protect his children. Let me guide your path so that the blood drenched into your skin may one day be washed away by a soul worthy of your love. That this soul is not my own I have always known. -
- Don't be sad when I die. Cherish the moments we shared and welcome the following days with open arms. Live, my love. Live and find a glorious end, a death that will inspire writers throughout the galaxy to create a hero's tale. -
"Are you certain that it will only be written words, no pictures?" Her voice is as the music she loved to listen to, beautiful and painful at the same time.
"Yes, Mylady. I will personally delete any aditional information from my memory." the droid whose nearly destroyed brain the message was copied from replies. I have never cared much for this artificial creature. TL-9CX was truly more of a ladies companion, far too gently minded for my taste, too much poetry and romance.
"Good. He should not know what treason I commit in these halls." She is exhausted, nearly crying. Did she?... No, not this day. Please, not this day.
One can hear a door opening, silently, as if the visitor didn't want to be heard.
"Namal, it is always a pleasure to meet you." Whispered words, equally full of lust and menace. This is the one. This is the still breathing corpse who took what was mine.
"You shouldn't have come again, Sir Knight. You already did what you were ordered to do."
"I have new orders, Mistress Grievous." What follows is a cacophony of terror and destruction painted with the distinctive sound of a laser blade, only disturbed by her pleading words of "No, don't take her away from him."
At this moment the datapad ends its message, plunging me into despair again, not that I know the truth. It was ripped out, stolen and brought to a secret place. Her little baby girl. The unborn mirror of her eyes.
With shaking hands I put the pad down, breathing hard, barely able to stand the pain in my chest. Tears would fall from my eyes if I were able to shed them. How I long for their healing waters...
June 21st, 2005
|09:41 pm - # III|
The disruptive coughing decides in this moment to make itself known again, to make my half-life as miserable as it can get. Though, if I were to really think about it, which I'm not too prone to do since that cursed day, I would realize that probably I was quite fortunate to survive, to still be able to walk down the invisible path to my past.
I banish the thought. Really, what is it with me in the last days? Why this damnable sentimentality now of all times? I don't want to contemplate the reasons. I know they are there, despisable honest and official reason for what I'm doing, and the real ones, those that I don't want to admit to myself.
Namal would have talked me out of this suicidal plan, would have quoted one of her obscure pre-colonial poems to make me see her side. But Grievous Namal, formerly known as Namal Ghirdwyn'Slev, is no longer here to bring her foolish husband back on the right path. Not that I believe to have ever been one of her so-called 'good guys', I truly have too much fun at my job to be a hero.
I don't plan to survive this conflict. It is obviously a lost cause and I don't want my last campaign to be too much of a dishonour towards my blood, as it would be if I dared to stay alive.
Maybe I will see her again. Maybe she will gift me again with her companionship, maybe she will allow me to apologize for the pain I caused her, for the loss of most cherished life within her womb. And maybe, maybe I will be allowed to see the daughter she promised, the little girl whose destiny I destroyed with my foolish jealousies.
My eyes wander to my desk where, buried under uncountable memos and other reports, lies the original to the copy I gave the senator. The one message to her bloodkin I have never had the courage to send, read.
Her last will.
June 18th, 2005
|02:24 pm - # II|
"My love, I need to talk to you." Her voice is as soft as the winds of her homeworld, as pleasant as a mornings light after night long eternity. But there is also an urgency in it that makes me apprehensive.
"Can't it wait, Namal? We are at a critical stage in our offensive against the Huk..."
"You are going to have a daughter, Shakar." Inside, where my heart is supposed to be, I go cold. Everything becomes as sharp as a finely crafted blade. So, this is what happened...
"Who is the father?" I ask her, knowing the answer but dreading to hear it. "Who is the bastard who dared to touch what is mine?" Whispered words that break her heart. How I curse my suspicious mind.
"I love you, Shakar..." She has ended the transmission. A black screen reflecting my face, devoid of any emotion.
Why do these memories haunt me? Why can't I just forget her beautiful Alderaanian face, like I forgot my own? Why do I still see her broken body lying among the remnants of my house, a gaping black void where once sat a haven of creation.
Why can I still hear the silent beep, beep, beep that robbed me of my life?
June 17th, 2005
|06:44 pm - # I|
This is the place where one is able to find my innermost thoughts, my secrets and deepest desires. Here one can see what lies behind the facade, what is hidden behind the face I now wear.
But beware, my nameless friend, some things aren't made for others to know. May the eternal emptiness protect your dreams.