In the end there was no ceremony to the end of thirty years of connection to this shavvit called the Force. This nonsense. Best mastering it ever brought to Jerec's life was lifting up the odd derelict a couple inches to fit jacks underneath. Most folks made it their whole identity.
Tink, whir, tink, whir, tink - a pre-owned medical droid plucking crystal shards from under his skin. He sat in a chair out on his deck, shaded from the maroon Springheel sunlight, with a fine view of the used ship lot. The decision had come down to that weird light. The Force didn't work in this system, such an unexpected fething relief that he'd moved his primary office here from his beloved Seven Corners. The Denon lot still felt like home, but so did this. Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium, now in maroon. A whole new life, more focused on new opportunities - and on all the things he'd loved most about living.
Tink, whir. The medical droid's extraction stuttered and shards of the Heart of Palpatine clattered in the tray. Jerec winced at the next probe and cracked a can of lum.
The big fight at Wielu and Sepan was on the horizon, the duties of one of Black Sun's newest Vigos - and wasn't that a hell of a development. He'd made Vigo without this shavvit called the Force, far as he could recall here in the porch chair, and would be one without it. Wielu would go just fine.
Yeah, feth it all, he decided, forgetting for a second that he'd made the decision already, hence the droid.
There'd been a time, beating on a Jedi as he did, when a Sith had said some things appreciatively. Said going for what you wanted most was at the heart of true Sith shavvit. Well, what Jerec wanted most was none of it. He didn't hate the Force, it just hadn't proven worth his time. You had to be smart about the spending of your time. The good life demanded it.
Tink, whir, tink, whir, tink.
The last shard of ritualized Artusian kyber tugged free of his skin. Of course it felt no different - no Force here - but it felt different. Jerec took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxed, through both sides of his neck. As a ship came down struggling, ready to become the latest finest pre-owned treasure on the lot, he thanked the droid and headed down the porch steps, can in hand, to chat under a maroon sun.
Tink, whir, tink, whir, tink - a pre-owned medical droid plucking crystal shards from under his skin. He sat in a chair out on his deck, shaded from the maroon Springheel sunlight, with a fine view of the used ship lot. The decision had come down to that weird light. The Force didn't work in this system, such an unexpected fething relief that he'd moved his primary office here from his beloved Seven Corners. The Denon lot still felt like home, but so did this. Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium, now in maroon. A whole new life, more focused on new opportunities - and on all the things he'd loved most about living.
Tink, whir. The medical droid's extraction stuttered and shards of the Heart of Palpatine clattered in the tray. Jerec winced at the next probe and cracked a can of lum.
The big fight at Wielu and Sepan was on the horizon, the duties of one of Black Sun's newest Vigos - and wasn't that a hell of a development. He'd made Vigo without this shavvit called the Force, far as he could recall here in the porch chair, and would be one without it. Wielu would go just fine.
Yeah, feth it all, he decided, forgetting for a second that he'd made the decision already, hence the droid.
There'd been a time, beating on a Jedi as he did, when a Sith had said some things appreciatively. Said going for what you wanted most was at the heart of true Sith shavvit. Well, what Jerec wanted most was none of it. He didn't hate the Force, it just hadn't proven worth his time. You had to be smart about the spending of your time. The good life demanded it.
Tink, whir, tink, whir, tink.
The last shard of ritualized Artusian kyber tugged free of his skin. Of course it felt no different - no Force here - but it felt different. Jerec took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxed, through both sides of his neck. As a ship came down struggling, ready to become the latest finest pre-owned treasure on the lot, he thanked the droid and headed down the porch steps, can in hand, to chat under a maroon sun.
