Seaja Linata
Character
Sometimes she thought she would never escape her enslavement. Though ended, it seemed to still stretch into eternity. In the intimacy of the small cockpit, as she sat staring at the stars through the transparisteel window that looked out on the infinite, Seaja Linata's thoughts moved to the rhythm of her journey through places unknown. Today, she had decided, was the end. She had been out on her dream -- a quest, both spiritual and physical. A quest in which she tried to make herself feel free forever of the pirate captain, of the slave overseer, of the cramped cells, of all the other slaves, the menial tasks, the beatings, even the floor on which she slept. In her dreams, that freedom felt to her as if the South Seas from her homeworld had proferred up a gift of marvelous islands yet undiscovered. Freedom would mean rest, intellectual achievement, the spiritual and material fulfillment of her being.
But suddenly, even as she imagined this, a feeling of displeasure erupted into the dream: she could not leave. Yes, she knew quite surely: she could not leave. For the pirate captain, the slave overseer, the cramped cells, all the other slaves, the menial tasks, the beatings, the floor on which she slept -- they were all forever a part of her life. She could never leave it truly behind without destroying a part of herself, without weeping, without realizing, however displeasing the thought, that part of her would remain with it and that losing it truly would be akin to death.
When she first escaped, she had had these same thoughts. Now that she had let it all go behind her and discarded these chains of enslavement that she wore, what would she do? Because she had to do something. And what chains would she wear? Because she would have to wear other chains.
We all have a pirate captain; sometimes he's a tangible human being, sometimes not. In Seaja's case he really was called Captain and he was a wicked, brutal man with the glint of greed and deceit forever in his eye. He was selfish and controlling; but not more selfish and controlling than a great many of the geniuses and the living marvels of Galactic civilization on either side of the law. For many beings the Captain takes the form of vanity, a desire for greater wealth, for glory or immortality. . . . Seaja thought she preferred to have a real-life captain since, in times of trouble, he was easier to deal with than any abstraction the Galaxy had to offer.
But now he was abstract -- no more than a memory, a ghost. And Seaja stood amidst more freedom than she had ever before imagined could be hers. She would no longer be exploited by the crew of slavers, but her question was: was it worse being exploited by the wicked Captain and his crew than by vanity, glory, resentment, envy or the impossible?
Some, the prophets and saints who traverse this vacuous Galaxy, were exploited by the Force itself.
But no, Seaja would never return to that kind of servitude. She looked to the flashing lights of the inner cockpit as if it were a bulwark against life. She felt such an overwhelming sense of tenderness that her eyes filled with tears for her ship which was in reality Voph's, for her lightsaber which she still felt belonged to him, and for Voph himself, who she had decided to return to. She felt love for all this, perhaps because she felt she had never had anything like this to love or perhaps too, because she could never fathom the depths of the love in her soul, she might as well lavish it on the smallness of a starship and the man who owned it as on the grand indifference of the stars.
With a hopeful smile, she calmly confronted the decision to make this training the path of her life, learning from Voph. Tapping the controls and pulling levers, Seaja set her vessel off through hyperspace, returning to where she hoped she would find her home -- and the freedom of a personal choice. Soon she would arrive back at Voph after her months of travel, discovery, and internal struggle, and let him know her decision.
Kyyrk
But suddenly, even as she imagined this, a feeling of displeasure erupted into the dream: she could not leave. Yes, she knew quite surely: she could not leave. For the pirate captain, the slave overseer, the cramped cells, all the other slaves, the menial tasks, the beatings, the floor on which she slept -- they were all forever a part of her life. She could never leave it truly behind without destroying a part of herself, without weeping, without realizing, however displeasing the thought, that part of her would remain with it and that losing it truly would be akin to death.
When she first escaped, she had had these same thoughts. Now that she had let it all go behind her and discarded these chains of enslavement that she wore, what would she do? Because she had to do something. And what chains would she wear? Because she would have to wear other chains.
We all have a pirate captain; sometimes he's a tangible human being, sometimes not. In Seaja's case he really was called Captain and he was a wicked, brutal man with the glint of greed and deceit forever in his eye. He was selfish and controlling; but not more selfish and controlling than a great many of the geniuses and the living marvels of Galactic civilization on either side of the law. For many beings the Captain takes the form of vanity, a desire for greater wealth, for glory or immortality. . . . Seaja thought she preferred to have a real-life captain since, in times of trouble, he was easier to deal with than any abstraction the Galaxy had to offer.
But now he was abstract -- no more than a memory, a ghost. And Seaja stood amidst more freedom than she had ever before imagined could be hers. She would no longer be exploited by the crew of slavers, but her question was: was it worse being exploited by the wicked Captain and his crew than by vanity, glory, resentment, envy or the impossible?
Some, the prophets and saints who traverse this vacuous Galaxy, were exploited by the Force itself.
But no, Seaja would never return to that kind of servitude. She looked to the flashing lights of the inner cockpit as if it were a bulwark against life. She felt such an overwhelming sense of tenderness that her eyes filled with tears for her ship which was in reality Voph's, for her lightsaber which she still felt belonged to him, and for Voph himself, who she had decided to return to. She felt love for all this, perhaps because she felt she had never had anything like this to love or perhaps too, because she could never fathom the depths of the love in her soul, she might as well lavish it on the smallness of a starship and the man who owned it as on the grand indifference of the stars.
With a hopeful smile, she calmly confronted the decision to make this training the path of her life, learning from Voph. Tapping the controls and pulling levers, Seaja set her vessel off through hyperspace, returning to where she hoped she would find her home -- and the freedom of a personal choice. Soon she would arrive back at Voph after her months of travel, discovery, and internal struggle, and let him know her decision.
Kyyrk
