Private Charbydis

[Tilon Quill]

Tilon nodded slowly. "Humility or being humbled, keeping your perspective about your smallness in the universe and your...lack of special-ness among its people — that means a lot to you, doesn't it.

"I like that. I've known too many Jedi Lords or people who wanted to be. You know there's a whole city world ruled by a Jedi sect out there? Not in Herglic Space but elsewhere. I can't imagine wanting to rule more than my own ship. I get the hunger for respect and all, but..."


Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Aiden's hands tightened faintly on the railing as Tilon spoke, though his face remained calm. The curve of Kooda below caught in his eyes, its greens and browns hazed by the thin atmosphere, a reminder of worlds that had endured long before either of them was born.

"It does mean a lot to me. Humility isn't just a virtue, it's a safeguard. The moment a Jedi forgets their smallness, the moment they decide the galaxy is theirs to rule, they've already stepped onto a dangerous path."

He turned toward Tilon, voice steady but carrying an undertone of steel. "I've heard the whispers of sects who crown themselves kings or lords in the Force. They tell themselves it's for order, for guidance. But what they really claim is dominion. And dominion is not our calling."

His gaze softened again, the edge of his conviction easing back into a thoughtful calm. "The galaxy doesn't need Jedi to rule it. It needs us to serve it. To protect it, yes, but more than that, to remember that we're only one thread in its fabric. Not the loom, not the weaver."

He straightened, drawing a slow breath, as if anchoring himself in the truth of the words. "I'd rather walk beside people like you, captains and refugees and traders, than sit on a throne and watch the galaxy bend around me. Respect earned through service is enough. It has to be."

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

-----------------------

That agreement was a good note to close on. Later, while Tilon made trade connections and wrestled with the endless inventory management game that was heavy freighter ownership, he kept thinking back to Aiden's unabashed sincerity. He couldn't decide whether it was an attractive quality; he'd always had very different reactions to honesty and naivety, and this wasn't quite either but close enough to get confusing. Ambiguous, anyway. He figured that came down to Aiden's very Jedi mode of speech, to form and culture as much as personality.

A lesser man might have set a goal to get Aiden to loosen up and learn to speak in other registers. Admittedly, the station bar offered Herglic kelp beer, which had a lot of appeal for those purposes. Instead, when Tilon and Aiden rendezvoused later, it was somewhere unexpected:

Aiden Porte — fill in the blank!

 

[Aiden Porte]

Tilon Quill
​

The promenade was quiet when he arrived, the faint hum of the station's old systems running beneath the murmur of distant traffic. He had expected the bar, the rough chatter of spacers, the sharp tang of kelp beer, but instead he found Tilon waiting at the edge of a wide observation deck.

Aiden slowed his steps, taking in the scene. The station smelled faintly of brine and rust, carried even here. Not unpleasant, simply real. He drew a breath through his filters, let it settle in his chest. This was the kind of place where life carried on without pretense, without ceremony.

He stepped to the railing, resting his palms on the cold metal, eyes fixed on the storms below. No speeches, no ritual. Just two men meeting where the galaxy was larger than both of them.

"Shall we get a beer?" Aiden finally said, with a small smirk.

 

[Tilon Quill]

"Ehhaurl," Tilon said experimentally. He'd been drumming his fingers nervously on the high rail. Now he broke away from the window. "I could go for that. The watering hole has been here since before the Republic; there's a plaque."

There was; it was bronzium restored many times over. Tilon could read about half of it. He had acquired a Dathomiri spell that sometimes allowed translation of the written word, and he chanted it under his breath now, trying to get a better sense of the plaque's details. He figured Aiden Porte had been around enough to recognize the sound of Dathomiri Paecean in spell form.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Tilon Quill
​

The word rolled off Tilon's tongue awkwardly, but recognizable: Ehhaurl. Beer. Aiden's lips curved faintly as he leaned on the railing.

"I think the last time I had a solid drink was probably before I even became a Jedi Knight."

He shifted his stance, not alarmed but attentive. The bronzium plaque glinted under the station's dim lights.

"Paecian," Aiden said at last, voice even, more observation than judgment. "Dathomiri." His gaze moved from the plaque to Tilon. "I didn't expect to hear it here." Aiden moved towards the station bar, much more relaxed than anything else, it did surprise him.

He requested two beers one for Tilon and for himself..

 

[Tilon Quill]

"I ran evac for some witches when the war started," he explained, "and helped some with an excavation right before that. I have no idea why the right words with the right rhythm and state of mind can pull a writer's original intent out of the aether to translate the written word, it's a strange technique, but it works. Sometimes anyway."

The titanic Herglic bartender produced two humanoid-scale mugs of blue-green beer deftly. A row of Herglic-suitable booths looked out over one of the station's cavernous internal promenades. Sitting, Tilon had the table come to his chest and the mug was basically in front of his face when he set it down.

"You ever hear of the Outbound Flight Initiative?"

Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Tilon Quill
​

The mug was heavy in his hand, condensation running cold against his glove. The kelp brew smelled of salt and iron, sharp enough to sting the nose, but not unpleasant. He lifted it slightly in thanks to the Herglic bartender before settling opposite Tilon in the oversized booth. The table edge pressed almost to his sternum; he felt like a child at an elder's hearth.

"I've heard of it," he said after a moment, the name pulling at old lessons if he recalled correctly. His voice was calm, steady, but quieter than before. "A grand vision, cast into the stars. Colonists and Jedi together, setting out beyond the Republic's reach to chart the unknown. A dream of new beginnings."

He turned the mug once in his hand, watching the pale green liquid shift with the movement. "And an ending before it could begin. Destroyed out past Chiss space. They say thousands were lost." His eyes rose to Tilon's across the massive table, the reflection of station lights cutting through the blue-green drink.

"I studied it as a cautionary tale," Aiden continued. "The danger of reaching too far, too quickly. Of ambition untethered from humility." His expression softened then, the sharp edge of the lesson easing. "But I wonder sometimes what truths they touched out there. What might have been carried back."

He lifted the mug in a small, almost ritual salute before taking a measured sip. Briny, bitter, it grounded him in the present even as his mind brushed the long shadows of the past.