Private Charbydis

[Tilon Quill]

Hypergate Mechis bristled with long spines of slow traffic, each linked by shifting skeins of opportunistic service craft and overlooked by hair-trigger military patrols. A knot of tired refugee ships, fresh from unloading, sat on the flat of the hypergate overlooking its intermittent warp. Frogs on the edge of a well.

The ships' crews had linked up with the heavy freighter Wake of Balmorra or come over by space suit. Tilon, the freighter's captain, had procured some fresh food during the unloading, and now relief workers and a few remaining refugees were eating. Tilon sank down on a bench in a detritus-strewn, cot-packed cargo hold and slurped from a drink bulb. A window looked out over the huge hypergate, horizontal from this perspective.

A very, very long thirty-six hours.

Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Tilon Quill

Aiden Porte leaned against the bulkhead near the viewport, hands folded loosely behind his back as the hum of the Wake of Balmorra's systems filled the cargo hold. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, cheap ration packs, and the faint sweetness of the fruit Tilon had bartered for. It wasn't serenity, but there was life here. Tired, battered, uncertain life clinging to whatever light they could still find.


His blue eyes lingered on the sprawl of the hypergate outside, the massive ring lying on its side like a wound cut into space. Traffic crawled through its veins, each vessel another story of flight or desperation. He felt their exhaustion in the Force, rippling threads of hunger, grief, and quiet resolve. It pressed against him like the weight of water, but he steadied himself with breath and patience. He could not take their burdens, not all of them, but he could carry some.

A child's laugh rose from the cluster of refugees at the food crates. It startled him with its brightness. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, and he allowed himself to smile. Hope survived in strange, fragile sparks.

Still, Aiden's gaze returned to the hypergate. Patrol craft traced tight arcs beyond the spines, vigilant, hair-trigger. He could feel the storm beneath the surface, not yet breaking but close. This thirty-six hours had been long, yes. But the galaxy was not done with them yet.

The Jedi looked over to Tilon and moved to sit next to him. "I appreciate the assistance my friend, I owe you big time."

 

[Tilon Quill]

The first dozen times someone had thanked him for flying one of these runs, he'd stumbled through some variant of 'it's nothing.' Eventually he'd understood that most only had thanks to give and nothing else, and you had to take that seriously. "Of course," he said.

He had an x-pack of drink bulbs, three left, and offered it to Aiden Porte while drinking. It was a stimulant electrolyte favoured by long-haul freight pilots.

"Good work on the tractor beam that last time. I thought they were dead. How many evac runs have you done this year? What ships?"

 

[Aiden Porte]

Aiden accepted the drink bulb with a small incline of his head, turning it once in his hand before taking a measured sip. The taste was sharp, bitter salt and chemical citrus, but it cut neatly through the weariness that hung at the edges of his mind.

"The tractor wasn't mine alone," he said, his tone quiet but steady. "The Force guided the timing. And your crew held their nerve when it mattered."

At the question, he exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the viewport where the hypergate pulsed in its slow, patient rhythm. "I've stopped counting," he admitted after a pause. "Half a dozen.... Maybe more since the year began. Two convoys from Chandrila, a refugee flotilla fleeing Corellian patrols." His jaw tightened a fraction.

The drink bulb shifted in his grip as his eyes returned to Tilon, earnest beneath the weight of fatigue. "Every run feels like the first. The fear in their eyes never changes."

He let silence linger a moment before adding, softer: "But neither does their courage. That's what makes it worth flying again."

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

"It's fulfilling," Tilon admitted. "And impactful. But I'm too burned out to see it clearly anymore. This is my second war and the first one hurt me. I was...a medic, more or less, helping handle and treat Sithspawn, figure out what could be reversed to help them get their agency back, make them safe. Very different work from refugee and scouting runs and I was very young.

"I think I'm done for now."

He hadn't thought of it in those terms before, hadn't really come to that realization.

"This last one wasn't too bad, neither were the two Chalacta runs, but Byss to Arkania through the Deep Core, and that loop around Eclipse, and defending Kattada, and the raid on Cato Neimoidia, and Balmorra before that, and I've ignored one too many distress calls along the way. I think I've hit a level of burnout that's unsustainable.

"Case in point: putting this on you. Definitely not fair of me." Tilon drank the last of his bulb and curled up with his shoulder against the window, watching traffic. "Half the reason I started talking was to let you know I know how you must be feeling by now."

Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Aiden let the man's words hang, listening with the patience drilled into him since childhood. Not patience as waiting for his turn to speak, but the true kind, giving weight to what another soul risked to share. He held the empty bulb loosely at his side.


"You're not wrong," he said at last, voice low. "It does take its toll. Each run, each call you answer or can't—those moments stay with you. Sometimes longer than you'd like." His eyes softened, finding Tilon's reflection in the viewport glass. "But you're wrong about it not being fair. The burden doesn't get lighter when you try to carry it alone. Sharing it, that's not weakness. It's wisdom."

He shifted his stance, crossing his arms, his gaze sweeping the cargo hold and the slumped forms of those finally eating, finally safe. "What you've done… I've met Knights who gave less. And they were celebrated for it."

For a moment, silence, punctuated only by the muffled laughter of a child in the distance and the constant rumble of the ship. Then Aiden's tone grew firmer, a quiet conviction:

"If you're burned out, rest. You've earned it. Doesn't make you lesser. You can step back without stepping away. When you're ready, the galaxy will still need hands like yours. Until then, let yourself heal. I could use some rest myself, I say we take a small break, at least enough to recharge our minds."

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

"That's maybe more understanding than I'd expected," Tilon admitted, "and thanks for it. I'm used to killer Jedi, not kind ones."

Out there, a trio of Connestoga superfreighters lurched down into the stargate, and a longing nostalgia came back. Had it really been only a year or two since he came back to the galaxy on the Longjumper's Mark?

"We're not far from the Botor Enclave and Herglic Space. I've been wanting to go out to Kooda and Giju, spend time on Herglic trade stations, pick up some Herglese. Pre-Republic, the Herglic worlds. Lot of history that humanoids never get to see. Good place to set up refugee connections and safe harbors too; hardly anything gets in there, those lanes are so dense. How about you? What's calling to you now in terms of rest?"

Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

"Well, I'm not your average Jedi, or so I've been told." Aiden said with a small smirk.

He listened attentively to what he spoke of Herglic space and the Botor Enclave. Yet after everything that he heard, he was only thinking of one place, and that was home. Perhaps he would return home in a few more weeks, he wanted to do something else, and see something else. Perhaps something he hadn't witnessed or experienced before.

"Home sounds like a winner, yet I know that's just my own mind thinking too much. I need to branch out and find something else to see."

Aiden look over to Tilon. "I say we go and check out this Botor Enclave, and even the stations in Herglic space. There's bound to be something useful and relaxing to do there. What do you say?"

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

"I'm more than curious. Who told you that about you and what did they mean by it?"

His shipsuit had a mechanic's marker in the breast pocket as ever, suitable for writing on hull or canopy or engine, and coming off with just a shop towel without damaging the finish. He started drawing on the viewport: slanted oval for the Core, X for the Mechis hypergate, Atrisia, Eufornis Major, then Botor and Giju each with a tiny oval around it.

"Botor Enclave's ursines, Herglic Space is cetaceans, both with galactic standard species present on the outer worlds. Of the two, I'm more interested in Herglic Space because it's older and I like the sound of Herglese. You're welcome to come along. It's a big ship and having someone aboard won't mess up my need for peace and quiet."

He said that part quietly, not wanting to be overheard, just in case. There weren't many passengers left aboard but he didn't want to make them feel unwelcome if anyone happened to overhear.

"I don't answer to any Council, I can just go. Do you need to check anything off beforehand?"

Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Aiden tilted his head, watching the shapes emerge on the viewport under Tilon's marker, worlds and corridors simplified into strokes of grease pen, but still carrying weight, like a star map whispered over a campfire.


"You asked who told me," he said, his tone thoughtful, as if tasting the memory. "A youngling on Naboo, barely old enough to hold a training saber. After I'd run them through drills, they told me I was kind. Not because of the lesson, but because I'd stayed afterward, sat in the grass, and let them ask about my favorite holodramas." His lips curved faintly, almost amused. "To them, that was worth more than a hundred strikes parried. It made me wonder how many times we mistake severity for strength."


His eyes traced the small oval Tilon had drawn around Giju, lingering there. "Your offer… it's generous. And tempting." He leaned a shoulder against the bulkhead, arms folding. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see Herglic Space with my own eyes. Learn their language, hear their history spoken where it still lives."

He met Tilon's eyes again, steady but with a hint of warmth. "So perhaps the answer yes I would welcome the journey. I've got everything I need."

Tilon Quill