Private The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

How could I predict what would happen when a portion of my data was stolen from me? I could not. And even if I could predict the future in just a tiny amount, I would surely not have been able to predict everything that had happened in so short of a time. Dozens of people from various governments and backgrounds decended upon my little laboratory in an old mining facility; and all of them at the same time! It was almost an invasion force. And neither one of them had any true idea of what I am working on. Only bits and pieces.

It was a purely chaotic mess that I had to escape from. And I did so; along with some help.

Of course not everyone is happy with me. Nor that of the situation. And honestly I am not so happy with how things have spiralled out of control either. Especially at such a speed. So I need to regain control of it again. I need to regain control of myself as well.

During that turmoil of an event, I had mentioned to Mister Dashiel that I would meet him at my residence there in Makeb. And so here I am packing up my belongings. Whether or not he will show is another story, for he seemed quite angry with me when he had flown out of there. I can only hope that if he does show; that the anger has subsided.

Tag: Balun Dashiell​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

Though Balun had worn a tight expression back at the laboratory, his tension hadn't stemmed from Liin's presence, not in the slightest. Seeing her there had been the only reassuring part of the entire encounter. Amid the sea of Imperial uniforms and shadowy figures, he wouldn't dare trust with his back turned, her familiar face was a welcome anchor. It meant he wasn't entirely alone in hostile territory. If she had sensed some bitterness in him, he hoped to set the record straight—her presence hadn't angered him. If anything, it had caught him off guard in the best of ways. A welcome surprise. And now that the chaos had momentarily settled, the opportunity to speak with her privately was one he had no intention of wasting.

Reaching the nondescript door of the address she'd provided, Balun gave it three firm knocks with the back of his knuckles. As he waited, he instinctively glanced over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the empty stretch of alleyway behind him. No shadows lingered, no watchers perched in the gloom. He had made sure of that, taking a cautious and winding route to avoid tails. After what he'd witnessed at the lab, it was clear that whatever research Liin had been part of had drawn dangerous interest. And though the finer details of her work escaped his grasp—heavy with jargon and science well beyond his own comprehension—he knew enough to understand one thing: Liin was brilliant, and her intellect alone made her a target.

"It's just me," he called quietly through the door, his voice steady but restrained. Loud enough to reach her ears, but soft enough to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the street. A heartbeat passed before he added, "I'm on my own." His tone was genuine, meant to reassure her that she wasn't about to open the door into a trap. Just a friend. Just Balun.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

The knock at my door nearly startles me. Even though I had expected company at some point today; the most recent events has me on edge. I hold my breath as I wait for perhaps another knock or something more. And that was when I heard his voice. Mister Dashiell. And thankfully he is on his own. It is safe. I can breathe.

I set down my things into one of the two trunks that I have begun to pack and move to the door. I unlock it and open it, allowing relief to wash over me as I see him standing there. "Come in, please." I step aside to allow him entry and close the door behind him. At this point I am hoping for no unwelcomed or uninvited guests. Not right now, at least.

"I would offer you a beverage or something to eat, but my cupboards are not stocked. I do not eat here generally." My residence here is furnished, but rather sparse in comparrison to what I am used to. "But have a seat at any rate." I gesture to the two plush chairs and wait for him to choose one for himself before I go to take the other.

There is so much that I can say, and so much that I cannot. And what to explain to him first has me drawing a blank. So I leave it to him. "How should I start, Mister Dashiell? What would you like to know first?"

Tag: Balun Dashiell
​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

Balun offered Liin—Tera, as she now went by—a grateful smile as she stepped aside to let him in. He didn't hesitate, slipping through the door and immediately turning to close it behind him with a quiet click. A swift motion of his hand secured the lock. Habit, maybe. Or instinct. But after everything he'd seen recently, caution came first.

"I took a careful route getting here," he explained, glancing briefly toward the door before meeting her gaze again. "I don't think I was followed—but still. Better safe than sorry." His voice was calm, but the underlying tension was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

She apologised for a lack of refreshments, something warm and domestic in contrast to the chaos they'd both narrowly escaped. He waved the offer off with a small shake of his head and a faint, appreciative smile. "It's fine, really. I'm just relieved to see you in one piece. Especially after the charming company I left you with back at the lab." His smile curled with wry amusement, but there was a shadow behind it—a memory of how quickly that whole scene could have gone sideways.

Balun eased himself down onto the nearest couch, exhaling slowly as the weight of the day settled across his shoulders. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back slightly, fingers already fishing a familiar packet from his jacket. He held it up in a casual gesture, glancing to her for permission. "Mind if I smoke?"

Assuming no objection, he'd light up—but his tone would shift slightly, more thoughtful now, more grounded.

"Where to start..." he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled it over. "After you vanished from New Cov, I tried to reach out several times. But none of my messages ever made it through. I figured your comms were cut. Probably had your clearance and channels decommissioned when you left. After that, I had nothing. No word. No trail. Just silence."

He took a slow drag, letting the smoke trail upward before continuing.

"And then the lab," he said, his voice quieting as he recalled it. "I wasn't there on business. Wasn't sent by anyone. The Force pulled me in... like a threat I couldn't ignore. No instructions, just this creeping sense that something was off. Wrong. Maybe something terrible had already happened—maybe it was about to. I still don't know for sure."

Balun's eyes drifted back to her, a trace of concern returning. "And then I find you there, surrounded by an Inquisitor and an Imperial Warlord." He paused, letting that hang in the air for a beat. "Not exactly the crowd I expected to see you mingling with. I've fought in wars against people like them, Liin. Seen what they're capable of. That whole situation could've gone to hell fast. Honestly..." He let out a low chuckle, dry and genuine. "If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd have walked out of there in one piece."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

His reassurance is appreciated and well received. However I am not able to allow myself to fully relax. I sit with my posture perfectly straight; even as Mister Dashiell begins smoking. He is not the first to have taken on the habit around me. Mr. Usher smokes, as does Tertius C. Nargath . And so did my father from time to time.

The fact that Mister Dashiell tried to reach me but could not is surprising to me. I had not realized that my communications were cut off in such a way. I was just so deeply in despair and guilt that it did not even occur to me that once my clearances were gone; so too were my avenues for communication.

And here I had thought that everyone had forgotten about me and quickly moved on....I was dead wrong about that.

I draw my attention back to Mister Dashiell's words as he speaks of what he had seen taking place at the laboratory. There is so little information that he has, yet I find it quite surprising that it was his magic that drew him to the old mining facility. Perhaps it had drawn some of the others as well. This discovery will need to be remembered and written down once I have the moment to do so.

"I did not block communications. Yet I had thought that the silence was from everyone not wanting to reach out to me at all. I am just so ashamed with what happened on New Cov that I could not stay. Mister Usher responded to my message to him right away and he helped me to pack up and move. I found myself a nice little place here, far away from politics and high society. And it was peaceful for a while. With the planet's lower gravity, I learned how to leap and bound like a Force wizard; which as you can imagine, is something that I will not be letting anyone else see. But it got me to begin new research into this planet's effects on it's inhabitants." Even here, I do not dare to reveal everything about my research. It is not as though I do not trust Mister Dashiell; for I do. But I do not trust my residence. It could be bugged or watched. "Mister Usher spoke truly, as did I. He will not harm me. Our mutual respect for one another is too strong. It is an odd friendship, yes. But it works for the both of us. We help eachother. And before anymore rumors grow; him and I are not a couple. Just as you and I are not a couple. I have never been one part of a couple and that is probably for the best, given what has transpired at the mining facility" I pause for a brief moment, having let my emotions dictate my words, instead of relying solely on facts. And so I redirected them back to the matter at hand. "I was unaware that my lab partner is an Imperial. Him and I barely speak, saving all brief conversations for the research alone. I had never come across an Inquisitor before either until that moment. And there were so many others intruding upon my research that came from all corners of the Galaxy, it seems. I tried to be careful and discreet. I tried to remain hidden. But once I discovered that some of my data was stolen; I had hoped that it was just a fault of the old program. But no. All of those intruders proved otherwise. I am being watched, maybe even hunted. So I cannot stay here any longer. I am leaving, Mister Dashiell. And so will my research."

Tag: Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

Balun was keeping up, for the most part. As Liin spoke, he followed the thread of her explanation, though there were noticeable gaps. Pieces of the puzzle he simply didn't have, moments he hadn't been present for, choices she'd made without him there to understand why. But he listened, parsing what he could, trying to build a clearer picture from the fragments she offered.

Then, out of nowhere, she threw in a remark about not being romantically involved with Mr. Usher. Before he could even register that, she doubled down, adding that she and Balun weren't involved either.

That made him blink.

"Wait—what?" Balun tilted his head slightly, caught completely off guard. His brows pulled together in confusion, not out of anger or jealousy, but pure bewilderment. "Where the hell did that come from?"

There was no bitterness in his tone, just a dry incredulity as he tried to make sense of the sudden detour in their conversation. "Sorry, I must've missed the part where any of this had to do with your love life. I mean... I don't exactly care who you're seeing or not seeing. You always said your work came first—at least, that's how it was back on New Cov. But this? This is different. We're not on New Cov anymore."

The atmosphere hung heavy, not with tension, but with unanswered questions. He took a slow drag from his cigarra, the embers briefly flaring as he inhaled, eyes studying her carefully now.

"So, tell me straight," he continued, exhaling smoke in a soft plume. "Why are the Imperials so interested in your work?" His voice lowered slightly, steady and pointed. "Because you still haven't told me what it is you were working on in that lab."

He let the silence stretch for a beat, giving her space to answer—but also pressing her, just enough.

"You're one of the most brilliant minds I've ever met, Liin. You could've been working on anything. But if people are trying to steal it—and the Empire's getting involved—then it's either something dangerous… or something too valuable to ignore. Which is it?"

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

Mister Dashiell is right. I am not on New Cov anymore. I am not under the scrutiny of the political and high society spectrum. My work always came first; for without it I am nothing. Without my work I have nothing to offer for anyone.

Yet still I feel scrutinized by him. The tone of his voice, however measured, lingers with a hint of disappointment laced with concern. It makes me feel like a child or a teenager once again; listening to the scolding of an elder.

I rise to my feet as I suddenly have the urge to drink some wine, but then pause as I remember that I do not have any. So instead I walk over to one of the windows. I do not want to see his reaction directly, for I can already assume that his reaction will not be a good one. The recent attention that my research has brought proves that.

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, throwing caution to the wind as I did so. "Believe me when I say that I am not looking to involve the Imperials or anyone else. But what I am working on is a way to level the playing field for people like me. Now as to whether or not that is something valuable or dangerous depends on one's point of view. For me and others like me, it is highly valuable. But this is not something that I would put out on the open market. It is only a step in the direction of evolutionary progress."

Tag: Balun Dashiell

​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

"To level the playing field," Balun echoed, almost under his breath. The words lingered in the air as he turned them over in his mind, not answering Liin directly at first, but reflecting on what she might be implying. He knew her well enough to recognise when something deeper was at play beneath her guarded phrasing.

In that moment, she reminded him of his father—Judah had never fully trusted Force-users either. Though his father's mistrust had been focused almost exclusively on the Jedi and their institutions, Liin's scepticism was broader. She'd always spoken of Force-users like they were some inconvenient anomaly scattered across the galaxy, calling them space wizards with just enough sarcasm to veil genuine wariness. To someone without the gift, without the connection, he supposed that's exactly how it must have looked. Magic. Unknowable. Unfair.

'People like me. Non-Force Users...' That thought struck Balun suddenly, anchoring her perspective in place.

He looked across the room at her, studying her body language, searching for a deeper truth in the way she stood, the way she avoided his gaze or didn't. She wasn't one for posturing, but she had always been precise with her words. Purposeful. And the way she spoke of levelling the field? That wasn't just frustration. It was intent.

"You know, the Mandalorians found ways to counter Force-users in combat," Balun said slowly, voice low as he drew from old lessons and war stories. "Ysalamiri—those lizards that create a bubble where the Force can't be accessed. Their warriors used to carry them into battle. And their armour—Beskar—can resist lightsabers. Then there's Cortosis—one of the few metals that can short out a saber blade entirely."

He let the facts hang there, but there was a deeper weight behind them. These were countermeasures, yes, but they were tools of defence—responses to an imbalance, not attempts to rewrite it. And Liin... she wasn't an arms dealer. She wasn't in the business of forging weapons or armour. If she had been, he would've offered her a seat at Dashiell Retrofit™ long ago.

But that wasn't her field. No, her domain was far more dangerous—subtle, scientific, and far-reaching.

Then he remembered her earlier phrasing. Evolution.

His brow furrowed. Something clicked.

"You mentioned evolution," he said aloud, slower this time, as if realising just how significant that word truly was. "You're not talking about tech or armour, are you?"

He leaned forward slightly, all the casual ease from before gone now, replaced by something colder, more serious.

"You're trying to manipulate Force-sensitivity," Balun said flatly. It wasn't a question—it was a realisation spoken aloud.

There was a hard edge to his voice now, something that hadn't been there before. Not anger, but deep discomfort. "You're trying to give that connection or take it away. Alter what was never meant to be altered."

He stood then, slowly, the cigarra now forgotten between his fingers.

"You know that's not something we choose, right?" he added quietly, but firmly. "We're not given this connection because we earned it. It's the will of the Force—an expression of nature itself. Midichlorians aren't something you create or tamper with. They're symbiotic. The Force isn't just some energy field to be engineered. It's life."

He let out a slow breath, his eyes still locked on hers. "Tell me I'm wrong, Liin. Because if you're playing God with this... then we're not just talking about science anymore. We're talking about something else entirely."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

I wanted to get angry at him as he spoke about counter measures in battle, but I did not. I held it in as I had been taught to do. Afterall, this was not some casual conversation anymore. It is much more than that.

Mister Dashiell continued to piece together more of the puzzle. However his perspective is much different than mine. He has always had magic, like most of the people that I have come across outside of New Cov. Even when I had hired random people for my expedition into Stronghold One for the Isotope-5; every single one of them was a Force wizard. Every. Single. One. I just cannot escape them. I just cannot escape them looking down on me and treating or talking to me as though I am some lesser being. Even Mister Dashiell has done it. Whether he is aware of it or not; he has done it. Such actions have put me at a large disadvantage.

I watch in the window's reflection as he rises to his feet. He speaks of nature, life and the Force wizard's lack of choice. But he has a choice. Just like they all do. This is not like being born colorblind like I am. It is not the difference between choosing to see color or not. This is about superiority.

Slowly I turn to face him. So many emotions are running through me right now, but I bottle them up. They are no good for me right now. Instead they would only betray me. I cannot let them all out in front of him or anyone. It would only put me into a further disadvantage.

"This is science. Look at what people do with agriculture. They manipulate it to create the best and healthiest of crops. They assist and further the process of evolution. Look at terraforming. It gives life to otherwise dead worlds. How is this different? Because it is dealing with sentients? You are talking to a lady that comes from a world of sentient plantlife. So how is it different? Because it can help people gain an advantage that they otherwise could never have?" I hold his gaze, never wavering in my stance. I need to hold my ground on this. I cannot falter or show weakness. "Have you ever thought to consider that maybe this is what I am meant to do? That I am meant to create balance in an otherwise unbalanced Galaxy? You said that the Force brought you to my laboratory, perhaps it had sent the others too. Not to put an end to my work but to see it through. To help me to succeed. I am not hurting anybody. I am not some evil scientist that tortures unwilling victims and turn them into monsters. I am just a microbiologist giving evolution a hand to yield more prosperous and stronger generations. And it wants my help. I am not being told what to do by anyone. There is no shadowy figure telling me what to do. No government either. I am working for no one but myself. This is my idea, my purpose and my pursuit. In the past some have tried to create balance by culling Force wizards, killing them and discontinuing life. Well I am doing the opposite. I am aiding the Force."

Tag: Balun Dashiell

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

"Aiding the Force?" Balun echoed the phrase, catching on his tongue like something foreign. He looked at Liin, truly trying to understand how she could believe that—how someone so intelligent could speak those words and think them right. Her intentions, he didn't doubt. But her understanding? That was a different matter entirely.

She didn't know the Force like he did. Not truly. And how could she? To her, it was theory and speculation—a variable in her calculations. But for Balun, it was a constant. A companion. A guiding current woven into every fibre of his being since childhood. He had no desire to argue with her, no need to raise his voice, but the weight of the subject demanded more than silence. So when he spoke, it was with calm conviction and measured restraint—the tone of a friend, not an opponent.

"With all due respect, Liin," he said carefully, meeting her eyes, "you're biased when it comes to Force-users. You always have been. I don't fault you for it, but you also lack the training and experience to understand how your work might affect the Force itself."

He drew a slow breath, seeking the right words to ground what he felt.

"I can't speak for the Sith, but Jedi don't see the Force as some impersonal energy field to manipulate at will. It's more than that. It's spiritual. Sacred." His voice softened as he spoke, not with reverence, but with familiarity. "Some of us believe it's a conscious, living presence. Others see it as more abstract. But at the core of Jedi teaching, there are two philosophies worth knowing: the Living Force and the Cosmic Force. They're not just doctrines—they're how we interpret our connection to everything around us."

He paused to give her room to absorb that, watching her carefully. He didn't expect her to convert overnight—but maybe, just maybe, she'd consider it before taking another step into territory she didn't fully grasp.

"You're not the first to try something like this," he added after a moment, his voice a little lower now. "There was a Jedi Master Kyle Katarn. He uncovered an old Imperial project... they were trying to do exactly what you're doing now. Manufacture Force-sensitivity. And they succeeded. They created Force-wielding cultists, trained and led by a Dark Jedi. That experiment ended in bloodshed, Liin. The Jedi destroyed them in battle, but the damage was already done."

Balun straightened slightly, his tone firming—not with judgment, but with warning.

"I know your intentions might be good. But intentions don't stop people from misusing what you've made. And what you're doing—what you're creating—opens the door for others to build armies of artificial Force-users. Beings chosen not by the will of the Force, but by sentient hands playing god."

He let the silence settle, the gravity of his words filling the space between them.

"Our galaxy is already bleeding, already broken in ways we can't begin to fix. And now you're introducing something that could tip the balance into chaos. You think you're helping the Force… but Liin, you might be giving others the power to hurt it instead."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

~Poor little Liin. She can't do anything normal. She doesn't have the experience. She doesn't know how to live. She thinks she's smart, but she knows next to nothing.~

Those sentences from my youth still haunt me. And they are still relevant today, for I can fully admit that there is a lot of everyday things that I do not know how to do. There are a lot of every day experiences that others have that I do not. I can almost hear those words being implied in what Mister Dashiel was saying. But he would never outright say them, would he?

No, instead he goes on about the religion of Force wizards and what some of their training has taught them. He speaks of all of those Force wizards being chosen to be what they are, chosen by some spiritual entity to be more advanced. That him and all others like him are special, while others like me are silly little nerfs that need to be herded.

Yet what has that religion cost the Galaxy? Has it stopped wars or stopped bloodshed while they dominate the rest of the Galaxy? No, it has not. Instead it has allowed the cycle of war to explode into something far worse than it has before.

"I am not an Imperial, Mister Dashiell. I am not looking to form some kind of cult. What makes you think that having more people born special would automatically make them evil? Does it make those like you more normal? And who is to say that they will not have the correct and responsible training when they are old enough? Or would they instead be discriminated against because they are different? Well I know exactly how that goes."

I pause for a moment for I was getting close to being emotional again. I can feel the tears of frustration and despair starting to swell up, and I needed to push them back down. I lower my voice, tilting my head slightly downward while I express what I had assumed is a well-known fact; "There is no balance in the Galaxy, Mister Dashiell. It has been living in chaos for quite some time. How many governments have risen and fallen in recent years? How many of them are all led and governed by those chosen ones? How many of them thrive on war all as a supposed path for peace? And how many non-chosen people become nothing but cannon fodder and chattle because they cannot protect themselves from Force magic? Is that all that people like me are for, and all because we were not hand-picked by some unseen entity to be special? I find that highly unbalanced and cruel."

I raise my head again in a bid to reaffirm my stance to the both of us. "I am not going to sell my research. And I am not going to repeat the same mistakes. My next laboratory will be much better and highly secure. As will my data and my notes. I will be more careful." Asking him to trust me at this point would be too far-fetched. I know the risks that come with this project now, whereas before I did not believe that others would think it possible, or that it is something that I could ever accomplish. The sheer numbers of others that intruded upon my laboratory proved that. And now I have to do better and expect more unwanted visitors. That is how I can better protect my project now.

Tag: Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

"Maybe you're not," Balun replied evenly, eyes narrowing slightly, "but your associates certainly are."

His voice wasn't accusatory—just blunt. She had objected to being labelled Imperial, but he hadn't actually called her one. Still, when he'd found her, the laboratory had been crawling with Imperials, uniforms in every corner, and not the kind you stumbled on by accident. He didn't know what the facility had been before, or who had built it. All he knew was that she was there, working on something, and they were there too.

"And listen—this idea you've got, about Force-users rising up and taking over the galaxy?" Balun shook his head, a faint scoff escaping as he leaned back slightly. "It doesn't hold water. You make it sound like we're on every street corner with lightsabers and empires at our backs. But the truth is, the number of Force-sensitives compared to everyone else? It's tiny. You're talking maybe ten thousand to one—if that."

He paused, then added with a dry smile, "And I'm guessing you didn't pull your research from Jedi census records, so let's just agree: we're rare. Exception, not rule."

"But rare or not, you're still going to hear about us," he continued, taking a slow drag from his cigarra. The ember flared briefly as he inhaled, then faded as he turned to exhale the smoke away from her.

"Because the bad ones—the Sith—they don't exactly keep a low profile. They're out there, toppling governments, enslaving populations, trying to twist the galaxy into their own image. And the Jedi?" He shrugged. "They're the ones trying to stop it. Trying to work with what allies they can find, with governments and coalitions, pulling together just enough support to push back the dark."

He gave her a pointed look. "That's why you hear about us in the headlines. Some fear us. Others depend on us. Hell, some fear both. But that attention? That's not power. That's pressure."

Balun took another quiet pull from the cigarra, his tone sobering.

"I've served in actual wars, Liin," he said, his gaze steady now. "Fought alongside soldiers who didn't have the Force—didn't need it. Regular people. Brave people. I watched them hold their ground with blasters, tanks, and strategy. I watched them win. And I've seen firsthand what that technology can do to Force-users like me. Good men and women I served with in the Tingel Arm Coalition, Force-sensitive or not, died because someone decided their side was right. I've bled beside them. Buried them."

He tapped the ash from his cigarra, the motion subtle.

"So don't tell me this is about Force-users having too much power," he continued, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "This isn't a battle between Force-sensitive and non-Force-sensitive. This is about people. Their choices. Their morality. The same way corrupt politicians start wars they never fight in. The same way some of the people you're working with might be justifying all of this in the name of science."

His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, the smoke curling between them.

"The problem isn't the Force, Liin. It's what people do with power, any power, when no one holds them accountable. If your goal is to stop the fighting, then you'd make a bigger difference running for office—sitting in the Senate, shaping policy, steering the galaxy toward peace from within," Balun said, his voice firm but not unkind. "But creating something that could be twisted into a weapon? That's not the way. Especially not when it's already caught the eye of all the wrong people—people who would kill to get their hands on research like yours, and use it to cause real, irreversible harm."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

My brows furrow as he seems to imply that I am surrounded by Imperials. But I am not. As far as I am aware there was only two of them in my laboratory that day, not including the stormtroopers outside. I did not even know that my lab partner was one of them until the Inquisitor proclaimed it. I had assumed that my lab partner was a Sith of some kind. But I was wrong about that. Just as I was wrong about my laboratory and my research being safe. The Inquisitor only arrivd due to the two of us competing for equipment.

This has all spiralled into an utter mess and I could really use some wine right now.

I listen to him lecture me about how rare Force wizards are, but in my experience, that is not true. Out of everyone that I have met outside of New Cov, nearly all of them have been Force wizards. Even complete strangers that I have hired for random jobs, even those that I have worked for in the Underground; the Force wizards outnumbered those like me at least ten to one. And it is not as though I go out looking for them. They just find me. And most of them belittle me and talk down to me because I am not one of them. I am but a child in their eyes; a child playing with a chemistry set that they are wary of.

I cannot help but let out a bit of a laugh as he suggests that I could do anything in a Senate. I have no voice among them. I saw that enough in the Coprorate sector meetings. My words hold no weight or pull. I have no leverage that they do not already have in spades. It would be a wasted effort.

Only in my laboratories do I hold any power or have any say over what goes on. Only there do I have any freedom to make discoveries and solve life's mysteries. That is is until my laboratories end up being invaded....

"Anything can be made into a weapon, Balun!!" My raised voice caught me off guard, as well as my lack of respect by addressing him by his first name. I turn from him then and focus on the window. It is raining outside with a storm brewing in the distance. How symbolic. I raise my hand and place it on the glass, allowing the difference in temperature and the solidity to ground me so that I do not have anymore outbursts. They are very unlady-like.

"Even medicines meant to cure can be used to kill. A simple chair used for comfort can be used to cause harm. Even your cigarra can cause death in multiple ways. My research has both benefits and flaws. I am not naive to that. And I am not going to just give that research away, or sell it. It is mine alone. It might not even work in the end, who knows?"

I lower my hand as a wave of grief begins to wash over me. If there are people willing to kill me for my research, then this could be the last time that I ever see Mister Dashiell. A tear slides down my face and I wipe it away whilst I swallow down my emotions once more, retaining my position at the window. Some might consider such a stance cowardly, but it is what I need to do in order to keep my emotions in check. "I think that we can both agree to disagree, Mister Dashiell. Our life experiences create our viewpoints and they are vastly different. I cannot expect you or anyone else to understand. I am well used to being on my own. Still, I will not hold it against you. But I wish you well, Mister Dashiell, should our paths never cross again. Both you and your family."

Tag: Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

The Catalyst Protocol: It Is Not a Game
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Liin "Tera" Terallo

Balun exhaled quietly, a sigh that barely left his lips. He offered a slow nod, not in agreement, but in quiet acceptance, resigned to the truth that he wouldn't be changing her mind tonight. She was committed, determined in the way only someone with purpose and conviction could be. He didn't doubt her intentions, but he feared the consequences. Not because of what she might do, but because of what others would do with her work once it slipped from her control. And the Force… it hadn't led him to that lab by chance. Trouble was coming. Of that, he was certain.

But belief alone wouldn't bridge the gap between them. She had to walk this path herself, see it through to whatever end awaited. All he could do was hope she'd recognise that he had tried to reach her—and that the hand he offered had been a genuine one.

With his cigarra resting between his fingers, Balun reached to his belt with his free hand, unclipping the compact comlink that hung there. From it, he removed a small data chip and stepped closer to the window where she stood, placing the chip down gently on the sill beside her.

"This one's personal," he said, his voice quiet but sincere. "Last time I gave you my business frequency—this will reach me anywhere. Use it… if things go sideways. Or if you just need someone."

With that, he turned and made for the door.

He reached it, hand hovering near the latch, but paused. Something still lingered in the air between them—something unsaid. Her earlier words echoed in the back of his mind, that familiar refrain of hers: I'm on my own.

Balun glanced back, just for a moment, his voice low but carrying the weight of something deeper.

"Life's hard when you choose to live it alone, Liin," he said softly. "But it is a choice."

He opened the door, stepped out into the quiet beyond, and closed it behind him with a soft finality.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Liin "Tera" Terallo]

He was silent for a time. My guess is that Mister Dashiell is either mad at me for my sudden outburst, or trying to figure out what to say in response to it. That and my seemingly parting words that I had left him with.

Those words hang heavily on me, eclipsing everything else in the air. It is like a cloud hanging over me.

I did not expect Mister Dashiell to approach, yet he did all the same. I appreciate the quietness of his tone. Anything else might give me rise to push back. Perhaps he senses that, or perhaps he has gone through situations like this before.

I look down at the datachip on the windowsill, staring at it while he speaks. ~Use it if things go sideways....Or if you just need someone.~ My fingers slowly wrap around the datachip, almost in fear of it breaking within my grasp. He pauses at the door and speaks once more, indicating that I live alone because I choose to. But he is wrong. Others have chosen that too. None have chosen me, outside of business. And so I let business and work be my life's focus. It keeps me occupied, instead of brooding at home.

And then he was gone. I remain perfectly still, outside of the tears that now fall freely down my cheeks. He is not there to bear witness to it. No one is. And that will save me from any embarrassment. It is silly to cry, especially now. There is no real reason for it. But peehaps I have held things in for far too long, and so my protective walls are starting to crack.

- End Scene -

Tag: Balun Dashiell