They'll All Need a Coin for the Ferryman

[Romano Shamalain]

A bell jingled as the door was swung open. The smell of death was strong upon the air in the musty bookstore. Well polished shoes stepped over the first of several bodies. The eyes of the Associate looked around casually. From one body and to another, he could recall the events that unfolded without having witnessed them. The deaths were quick. For the most part near painless but they felt fear; tremendous fear. All of this caused by the will of a man half the age of the bookstores newest guest.

"Sire." The Associate said as Lear came into view.

Lear emerged from a small door frame that led to another part of the bookstore. After taking a glance at the various spines of several books in his hands, he tossed them onto a growing pile. Lear said nothing as he took note of his Associates presence before vanishing back through the doorway.

The Associate did nothing. The Associate could do nothing. He simple stood, hands at his sides, in complete silence. Having pledged his life to Lear, the Associate had served as his public shadow. His personal guard. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Lear. He acted when told; stayed his hand in all other moments. His apparent age did not do his personality justice. Lear was a driven man. He was on a mission.

A gurgling noise caught the Associates attention. Sitting on the floor to his right and propped up against a bookshelf was a bloodied middle aged man. He gurgled blood as he groaned. He could only wonder why Lear would allow this one, out of all of these, to live. A second glance around the bookstore ensured the other bodies remained motionless.

Lear reemerged from the doorway, catching the Associates attention and tossed another several books on a pile, though he held onto one.

"Where did you find this?" Lear asked.

The young Shamalain came to kneel before the still living soul holding a leather bound book in his hands. The cover was bare. The spine had a symbol though; a symbol.

"Do you know what this is?" Lear asked.

The man nodded.

"It was sold to us by an off-worlder." The man weakly replied.

"I assume you asked how he got a hold of this?" Lear asked.

"He said he bought it from a family on Dantooine." The man said.

"And you've held onto it ever since?"

"I knew only a special kind of a buyer would want it. I also knew a special kind of buyer meant a significant profit."

Lear raised his hand and flicked his wrist, "Fool." The head of the injured man twisted in a 180 degree angle. Without second though, Lear stood and ran his hands over the leather cover.

"One down. Four to go."

 

[Rune Shamalain]

"When you said you were leaving to find yourself," the cool voice of another man filtered in through the odor of blood and the silence of death, "I had not imagined it to be such a messy afair."

He stood in the doorway, tall frame filling the space and blocking what light might have lingered in, a sten pinched between his lips and his pockets filled with his casually balled fists. A lean and stately silhouette cut across the floor, falling along the disturbance of some hapless aggressor unbidden in the night.

Rune's gaze, presently a shade of frosted violet, peered with a certain amount of distaste for the state of the bookstore.

"You're getting sloppy."

 

[Romano Shamalain]

Lear heard his brother’s remark but ignored it for the moment. Instead he allowed his fingers to flip through the pages. Every few pages focused on a planet. On each of those planet’s respective pages were various mathematical equations. Lear was intrigued by what he saw.

“You can go.” Lear instructed his Associate.

Without a word, the Associate left leaving both brother’s to stand momentarily in the silence of the bookstore.

“Listen to this.” Lear said as he stopped on one page that focused on the planet of Coruscant. “The notion of the standard year is based on old world methodology. Specifically an ideology that focuses on one central government and time as it relates to them. Though good in a political sense, it does little when it comes to individual star systems and the effects time has on those planets and their populations.”

Lear looked up to Rune, then around the bookstore, finally acknowledging his brother’s comment. “Well… call me a tad rusty. They had something that belonged to us and I wanted it back. By the time any local authorities catch wind, we’ll be long gone. They’ll be none the wiser as to who was responsible for this mess.”

Stepping over one body and closer to Rune, Lear continued to read, “The gravity of Coruscant is weaker than that of Honoghr but similar to that of Dantooine. A standard human on Coruscant would live a relatively similar length of time as they would on my home world but several years shorter than had they resided on Honoghr. My calculations predict that my time on Coruscant have had no adverse impact on my overall predetermined existence.”

“Fascinating.” Lear said, “Father was tracking gravitational time dilation and its specific effects on himself. Every planet he has visited,” looking to the inside of the front cover which had a faded date, “since you’re birth had calculations in regards to the effects on his human body. He created a book to track how long his life expectancy was.”

Continuing to read from one of the first pages now, “Though ever a shadow of my wife, I am not as completely inept with intellect and some believe. I have learned from her, albeit without her knowledge, and used what I observed in her own studies and research to create these equations to better understand how much time I have left. Depending on the planet and how close to the galactic core I am, each Honoghrian day away shortens my life from a mere few minutes to several days. My body has already begun to show signs of the effects of prolonged exposure to multiple gravitational fields.”

Lear closed the book and glanced up to Rune. His older brother had always been his own rock, much as his Mother and Grandmother had been for their father. If there was ever trouble, Rune had always been there put Lear on a corrected path. Had Rune known what Lear was about to do?

“I know me causing a scene here isn’t why you came?” Lear asked.

[member="Rune Shamalain"]

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune listened, nonplussed at the words that continued to fall from his brother's lips. This obsession with his father had become strange, though Rune supposed it ran deeper than his father. His father's obsession with the late Shamalain Matriarch is where everything sprouted from.

The man quietly, idly pulled a silver tin from the pocket of his duster, producing a rolled sten and lighting it up with a flame created within the palm of his hand. A purple-hued smoke surrounded him moments later, billowing from his nostrils and lips while he breathed in these addictions of the now-missing Jake Daniels. The once Darth Gravis.

"He could have taken the body she created for him," Rune said simply, without the inflection to mean much of anything other than stating an obvious fact, "time would have meant nothing to him then. None of this would have meant anything."

Such was the life of a halfblood like them - there was no measure of lifespan, only how long before one or the other met their untimely death. What made it untimely was only the notion of it happening at all. For all they knew, Rune thought with a deep sigh, they could potentially outlive the galaxy.

He pulled the sten from his lips and pinched it between fore and middle fingers, regarding his brother with a calm gaze.

"You causing a scene is exactly why I came. This isn't what we're about," the man gestured to the dead bodies, "this concerns me: your flippant use of sentient life. Mother would not be pleased."

[member="Lear Shamalain"]

 

[Romano Shamalain]

“He should have taken the damn body.” Lear mumbled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in sudden frustration. “The old man was too damn stubborn.” Lear loved his father, as did Rune, though his brother had far better control of his emotions that he. They expressed that love in different ways. “I will give him credit for being far smarter than anyone would have thought. It makes me wonder why he let people deem him nothing but a dunce skilled with a sword.”

Lear’s lips curled slightly at the mention of their Mother. It was a sour point for the young man. “These people? They are just one rung above a walking ape on the scale of what sentient is. They’re nothing but purveyors of stolen property. Our stolen property and I was simply getting it back.” A sigh escaped his lips, “Even if you’re right, Mother isn’t here, is she? Hell… we haven’t seen Mother since coming back and each time we ask [member="Ereza"] says she knows nothing and father says nothing.”

Holding the journal tightly, Lear glanced up to Rune. “Fine.” He relented. He knew when Rune would tolerate his shenanigans. The look in his older brother’s eyes indicated now was not one of those moments. “I’ll clean up this little mess then we can leave. We’re stopping at Dantooine though.”

Lear walked to the front register and began shuffling items about, “This man said he bought Father’s journal from a family on Dantooine. Since it’s such a rare relic and he probably paid a hefty price himself he most likely keeps a log of who his suppliers are.” Pulling out a blank three ring binder, the younger Shamalain brother shuffled through the pages until he came across a particular page and read aloud, “Journal – Sith – Pre-Collapse. Antioc Family, Dantooine Capital.” Tearing the paper from the binder, Lear folded it up and crammed it into the journal, “Jackpot!”

Coming to stand among the bodies and books again Lear looked to Rune, “So… lots of old stuff around. What do you say to a good old fashioned book burning? Should deal with this little problem, no?”

[member="Rune Shamalain"]

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune made no remark on the nature of their father, as was his way. Thoughts remained as thoughts, kept to himself unless otherwise requested or necessary - so very much like his mother was he. More than his brother, for certain.

"They are still people," he intoned quietly, icy gaze lingering over the other Shamalain, "they did not need to die for you to claim that book." So many better ways this could have been handled, but Rune was not a creature that lived in what ifs. Further silence still in regards to their mother, to Ereza. Rune's gaze sat frozen on his brother, sharp with words that did not need to be spoken. Words enough had been lost between them concerning both women and Rune had settled his stance with persistent silence on the subject ever since.

"Fine."

On that note, Rune's gaze broke free as he turned back towards the door, intent on leaving this mess behind. The lack of response thereafter to Dantooine was enough to tell Lear there was no argument to be had. Soft strides slowly carried the man across the threshold, pausing only at the suggestion of burning the place to the ground.

He frowned at that, sten held just before his lips as he turned to glance the man over his shoulder, "If you must - I will not be party to it." It wasn't his mess and, he thought while taking another drag from the sten, he wasn't want to offend the memory of their mother who would certainly roll in her grave at the idea of burning books.

"I'll meet you at the ship."