Private Old Wounds, Reopened

[Cale Gunderson]

Venatorum

Venatorum

Venatorum

Cale lay on his side, and agony wrapped itself around him. The wounds were deep and bloody, the Dark Side seemed to ooze from them as the ship's medical droid did its best to patch them. He blinked fervently, eyes filling with the blinding overhead light, trying to shield themselves whilst also trying to make the horror disappear. From the edges of his vision it creeped in, the dark silhouette of the mask he'd spent so long trapped behind. It was like the Gurag's words had woken the shadow long dormant, and now it spread its tendrils out over him in a bid to regain control.

But it wasn't. There was nothing there, battered, bleeding, his hand shaking as it gripped the inactive saber hilt, knuckles either split or white as bone, Cale was simply afraid.

Terrified.

But his mind left himself, and wandered to those with him. It hadn't done that in some time, Cale hadn't let it. But now he felt more concern for the other souls aboard the bleeding starship than for himself. The boys, the mercenary, Tup Tup. They'd all gotten away, but he wondered at what cost. They'd heard the beast, what he'd said, what he'd called Cale. They knew. Perhaps not the specifics, the how, the when, they why. But they knew. There would've been no other explanation for Cale being called such a thing, such a wretched title.

He cursed under his breath, fear gripping him tightly, and wondered if Hector would come through the open door with saber alight, revenge in his eyes. The boy had barely been alive when Cale had been freed, no doubt he hadn't even been born for most of what he'd done, but Cale had sensed it on the padawan from the moment they'd met. He was an orphan in more ways than one, and the death of his master was not the first home he'd lost. Cale had no doubts about who'd he'd lost it too, dark figures in masks, sabers the red of blood. Now he had a chance to finally take some measure of revenge.

And Aleksandr, well, Cale was sure the illusions the boy had about his 'heroism' were likely dust now, and he was fine with that at least. Yet at the same time, he now realized that simply getting them into alliance space wouldn't be enough. Not only could the hyperdrive not handle the jump in its state, but they'd be hunted down before they could ever leave. He had to be able to hold his own, he needed to be trained, and for all his effort Hector was in need of too much teaching of his own to pass knowledge on effectively.

That left it to him, and that frightened him nearly as much as the Sith's whisper.

The mercenary and Tup Tup would likely be indifferent, they'd no reason to truly care. Cale's old allegiances didn't change the present, men like them understood the nuance and complexity of the galaxy at large, but Aleksandr was a boy, and Hector had been raised to see life as light or dark with no room for flexibility. In principle, when it came to the force, that outlook was correct. Those who dabbled in the dark always fell to it at one point or another, and Sith who too strongly felt the pull of the light often broke free, but often not before leaving a horrendous carnage in their wake. Too bloody a business to truly call it redemption.

To hold both was impossible, he'd seen it tried, and failed, over and over again.

He could not see it again, not in them.

 

[Hector Vale]

The dream came to Hector again. He said farewell to his master, watching the older man as he rushed in to duel an Inquisitor. They exchanged a few blows, Daven proving sufficiently competent with Soresu to deflect his opponent’s strikes. However, the Inquisitor paused, taking a moment to relax. Hector breathed a sigh of relief. The dream was different this time. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to watch... the outcome.

Something felt off about the Inquisitor as he resumed his offensive. His attacks were sloppy, relying more on brute force than skill, though that force was enough to keep Hector’s master at bay. Daven was put on a backpedal, but he managed to aim a swing at the Inquisitor’s helmet, striking it clean off. The Inquisitor reeled back in confusion, and Hector saw his face. It was Cale Gunderson . The man drove his saber through Daven’s chest, and Hector awoke, sweating.

Taking time to calm himself, Hector ruminated for a moment on what he had learned from the encounter on Felucia. Cale had always been a hard man, Hector knew that from the second he saw the drunk charge into an Inquisitor head on. Still, Hector did not at all expect him to have a connection with the Dark Side.

Hector remembered the attack on the Jedi Temple again. Cale was part of the order that destroyed my home, and killed my master. Hector was practically fuming, Jedi Code all but forgotten. He had not confronted Cale since the incident.

Every step Hector took echoed in his mind. Any of these could be my last, he thought, knowing that Cale could very well be preparing an ambush. Still, there was no fear in the young Padawan.

Hector’s hand went to Daven’s saber for a moment as he stood at the edge of the pilot’s quarters, but he decided against it. He wanted closure, for now. Revenge could come later, and he would not stand a chance against someone trained in the Sith arts, even a cripple.

Hector entered. His voice quivered a bit as he spoke. “You were a Sith? Truly?” He paused for a moment, clearing his throat and speaking more boldly. “Do you know what your kind have done to me? My temple, my master... gone, all because of you all. Should I not kill you now? Wouldn’t that be fitting, considering what the Sith do to any Jedi they come across?” Every one of Hector’s instincts told him this was not right, not the Jedi way, but he did not care.

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"What I was or wasn't any of your damn business." Cale snapped from where he lay, fresh wounds packed with bacta patches as his eyes stared upwards. Fear still coursed in his veins, but at least he could use frustration to bury it. The padawan had every right to be alarmed, his life had been shaped by the destruction of the darkside. He could feel it, grief, fear, anger, they all swirled around the boy in the doorway. Part of Cale wanted to help him, to scold him as he'd seen many a master do to a difficult padawan, and another wanted to mock him.

"I didn't kill your master, you don't karking know anything about me Vale, what I've done, who I've been, and you're not gonna learn either. You're alive because I got you off that damn planet, show some gratitude and quit your groveling." Cale still didn't deign to look at the Jedi, he was a man by technicality, but Hector was for all intents and purposes still a boy. He'd been the same once, so full of righteous drive to fight the evil in the galaxy, saber ablaze in his hands. Unlike Hector he'd even been raised up thinking he stood a chance at doing it. The Republic had been strong then, brutal at times, he'd not forgotten Metalorn and Korriban, but strong. They'd won in the end, only to fall after.

Then the boy waxed on, questioning aloud if he ought to kill Cale there and then. Finally, the weary spacer turned his head to gaze upon the padawan. He was in conflict with himself, torn between the bindings of the code he'd bound himself to all this time and the desire to right one of the galaxy's infinite number of wrongs. As if it would matter, as if it'd make some kind of difference.

"Try it. I'll rip that saber from your hands the second you ignite it and have Tup Tup lock you in the hold. You wanna fight the Sith so bad kid? Don't worry your little damn head, they'll sure as hell be after us now, just hope they decided to kill you when they do so the galaxy won't have to listen to you moan about how they made you a monster like it wasn't inside you all along." He came off harsher than he meant to, angrier, and his furrowed brow and angered expression faded as the words left his lips.

"As much as the masters tell you the galaxy is split between light and dark Hector, but in the end it doesn't matter. They both exist to be sure, good, evil, the shades of gray in-between, but none of it makes a difference. Any great change for good or evil will be undone within the next lifetime, none of it lasts. Focus on survival, not whatever petty justice it is you're desperate to carry out, living on is all that matters." Less harsh in delivery, but the truth in them that Cale subscribed to might've been harsher still, even if he meant it as genuine advice. The broken man looked over the learner who's will had endured the death of his teacher, and wonder how much more he would bear before he realized Cale was right.

He hoped the boy lived long enough to do so, or maybe he didn't. Maybe dying still believing was better than this.

Hector Vale

 

[Hector Vale]

Hector listened to the pilot’s words intently. How could one man be so pessimistic? He was not a Sith anymore, it seemed, or if he was, it was not the same kind of Sith that the galaxy was so familiar with. He was somewhat in tune with the Dark Side of the Force, to be sure, but he was not a zealot committed to the destruction of all justice in the galaxy. The Dark Side had not consumed him. Fascinating. Even in this dire situation, Hector’s curiosity burned at him like an itch that needed to be scratched.

Hector truly considered the statements that Cale had made. Is this truly how he thinks? Are we animals, concerned only with our survival? Hector frowned. “Better to die having made the world a more just place than to live as a monster. The Jedi are not made to live as scavengers, but as peacekeepers.” Master Daven’s teachings were echoing through his head, as was the Jedi Code that he had all but forsaken mere moments ago.

Pessimistic as the man was, he was right about the Sith. They were coming for him. He needed to find a home, somewhere safe. A Jedi Temple. “I’m sorry that my presence endangers you, though. If you want to survive, I shouldn’t hinder that goal. Please, give me passage to the nearest Jedi Temple, wherever that is. I promise, I will not tell the Jedi of your history.” He was doing his best to come to some agreement with Cale here, but his gut told him the man would respond only with more harsh words.

 

[Cale Gunderson]

When the chuckle left Cale's lips it was a cold, bitter thing, heavy with knowing. He knew the sentiment, he'd shared once, what felt like so long ago. But things had been different then, those who fought, and the flags they fought under all seemed to have changed with time. That in itself was not so unusual, but the speed at which it happened most certainly was.

"When I was born, the Republic had been standing for thousands of years, Hector. It'd stumbled before to be sure, Sidious' Empire, the first First Order, Revan and Malak's Sith, each had seemingly beaten it only for it to rise again. Such things happened once in every three hundred years give or take, the Empire and First Order being so close was an anomaly, not the norm. Do you know how many times its fallen in my lifetime? In yours?" Cale pressed the question, rising into a sitting position and swinging his legs from the cot onto the floor.

"I had friends who talked how you are right now, believed what you do, hell I did too. We even thought we won, that we made a difference. But the truth is we didn't do anything. The change they fought for was undone whenever the next great bastion of Darkness rose up and spread like a virus, the people they fought and sometimes died to save just became casualties in the next war. Don't feel too defeated, same goes for the, all they do falls to ruin by their hands or whoever is waving the flag for the light at the time." His eyes hid the stories of a hundred wars, and a thousand battles, fought from the side of light and darkness. As far as Gunderson was concerned, he'd seen all that one ever needed to see, he knew the way of things.

"Eons of conflict between light and dark have led to the time we live in now Hector, the cycle plays out every few years rather than once in six generations. Around and around it goes, Empires and Alliances with territory the spanning half the galaxy rise and fall in under a decade. Children born under one flag will have lived under four by the time they're grown, products of conflicting ideologies hammered into them. The karking universe is in a death spiral and when it ends Jedi and Sith won't mean a damned thing." He wondered why he said anything at all, why he bothered railing on about the way things really were as if that meant the slightest thing to a boy of 19 with a lightsaber in his hand and a drive to make a difference in his sould. Hector probably thought Cale to be just a bitter man made broken by the storm that was life in the universe.

"That struggle you believe so much in is pointless, the only constant is chaos." He looked away, eyes settling to the floor.

"You wanna throw your life away on it, fine, but I'm taking you to Alliance space, not Silver. Got my own reasons selfish as they may be, but that ain't changing."

Hector Vale