Need A Lift? (Darron Wraith)

[Jorus Merrill]

The word went around in certain circles: [member="Darron Wraith"] was in town, and good gorram but that took Jorus back a ways. He hadn't even been a Jedi when Darron was Grandmaster. Coruscant hadn't fallen - or been liberated and rebuilt. Jorus hadn't become a Jedi Master or served seven years as Master of First Knowledge or retired in something like disgrace.

It was a different man that came down the Wretched Hive's ramp to meet Darron. The uniforms and Corellian bloodstripes and spacer clothes weren't in evidence: instead, Jorus wore stained mechanic's coveralls that had once been blue. A scratched and battered lightsaber - yes, Jorus Merrill had a lightsaber these days - hung from his toolbelt. The face was different, younger, and that was a long bizarre story of its own. No more cybernetic eyes, no more skeletal droid hand from his last fight with Kaine Zambrano.

Still, a thing or two remained the same. Darron would recognize Jorus in the Force. He'd recognize the scent and stains of cheap lum and tomo-spiced Karkan ribenes and hyperdrive coolant. He'd recognize the penchant for meeting people in crappy spaceport hangar bays. He might even recognize the grin and the force of the handshake - not competitive, but solid.

"It's me, Darron. How you been?"

 

[Darron Wraith]

Blue eyes that had once been so bright, now looked wearily at the man coming down the ramp. A few hard lines had appeared in his face finally, wrinkles if he was being honest with himself. Whatever had been done to him, the aging process just didn't work the way it was supposed to on the Jedi Master. Not one of his long, blonde hairs had turned grey, and he only still appeared to be in his late twenties. Yet, he was nearly over a hundred years old counting the time he had spent frozen, and the time he had spent wandering aimlessly throughout the galaxy. Looking up at Jorus, a ghost of a smile appeared on his weary face. His slouched shoulders picked up slightly, it wasn't the weight of the world that kept him down.

Wraith was just tired.

"Afternoon, Jorus." His prosthetic came in for the shake, neither firm nor limp. The glove he once wore was now gone, and the servos and the exposed wiring showed how little he had taken care of it. Blaster scoring could be seen, though it was years old, and it's functionality wasn't up to par like it used to be. "I'm well, simply trying to make it through the days, and do what I can here or there." Gone was the armor he once was known for, and his golden chest piece and cortosis arm shields were long gone. Darron's eyes moved to the lightsaber at Jorus' waist, which made the absence of his that much glaring. "What brings you into my neck of the woods? The galaxy a mess again, or are you here for business?"


[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Darron Wraith"]

"There's nothing wrong with a little mess," said Jorus with a grin. "But yeah, the galaxy's about as broken as it ever was. Just shows it different."

Shipping crates and spacecans lay in bunches all around the ramp: supplies, components, tools, personal speeders to get tweaked. Jorus took a seat on a metal crate and rubbed his knees.

"The First Order hit the Alliance hard. Won at Kaeshana, Mustafar, Asmeru, Rutan, Barkhesh. I'm not with the Alliance, I'm with the Outer Rim Coalition next door, and if the Alliance collapses we're in for a world of hurt.

"We're both needed. I do what I do, you do what you do, do I came to build you a ship."

 

[Darron Wraith]

Darron took a seat on one of the crates, simply lifting his blue shit up from his white trousers. A low sigh escaped his lips, every word he heard had been bad. Even keeping himself away from others, and living a simple existence wouldn't allow the former Grandmaster the freedom of peace. "Well, how is that surprising? You push back against the darkness, and enough crazies band together and push back for whatever reason they have." How many empires have I seen rise and fall? The thought left him quiet, and he fiddled with his battered hand while looking down at the ground. Darron could hear the smile in Merrill's words, even if the news itself wasn't that good.

At the mention of a ship, fallen eyes looked up.

"A ship? Why would you do that for me?" Now his face appeared more animated, his weary eyes searching the man before him. "Merrill, I haven't even reached into the Force in years. Nor do I even have a lightsaber anymore." It was true, the Jedi Master had given up Windu's blade. No longer seeing himself worthy of such a thing. "If the Alliance is in that much trouble, you might want to go find someone who even cares to fight." Peopled moved around, their voices and the noises of dock workers making his words hard to hear despite their close proximity.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Darron Wraith"]

"Well, that's a nerf of a different color right there."

Jorus rested his elbows on his knees and studied the stains on the permacrete.

"I'm not about to try and convince you of something I put together before I knew that. I do think you could do some good, even just advice. But I'm also thinking you might be be a little lost. Way I remember it, an awful lot of your life was about fighting. Take that out of the equation and I'm wondering what you filled the hole with. Find a trade? Need a hand? What's your life now, and how can I help?"

 

[Darron Wraith]

"I never said I wouldn't help, Jorus."

Even now, years later, he still had some semblance of himself there. "I just don't know what good it will do in the end. I am a warrior by all definitions of the word, I've spent more years killing for the Jedi than most get to say they will ever live." Clouds formed over his face, and his features tensed as memories moved across his view. He saw Spencer, Ashin, Rosa, Rolf; he saw all of their lives and how he had impacted them. Other faces appeared, but those were the fallen, those who had lost to him. Guilt clouded his face, and he saw the ones he had failed to save.

Those were the ones that kept him away from the galaxy, he had chosen this place as his prison.

"I have a garden here, but that's the extent of it Merrill." Darron pointed to the open space around them,"other than that I simply do odd jobs to help out those in need in tangible ways. Ways that never were really reflected by the big factions in the galaxy when they wage war."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Darron Wraith"]

"Stang, I didn't land on your garden, did I?"

A moment's glance around confirmed that, no, he hadn't.

"Worried me for a second there. Look, don't think I don't respect what you've got going on, and there's no 'but' coming up. Working for your own food instead of letting the Order pay your way - I've got to think that feels good after all those years on the Council. Helping people in person instead of the abstract, I've gotta think that feels good too.

"Look, there's no two ways about it: I feel like I owe you. You weren't the first Jedi Master I ever met, but you were the first one that tried to be a decent person. Heck, I wouldn't have gone Jedi at all if not for you and that whole holocron caper after Coruscant fell. I'd never have kept the 'crons under my pilot's seat. Wouldn't have listened to them. Changed my life, being a Jedi. Helped me line up all kinds of things about my life - the drinking, putting money ahead of my family, all kinds of stupid dren."