Private To Unsee What Was Seen

[Tannor Grene]

The room was quiet in a way that felt intentional. Soft lighting replaced harsh overhead panels. The hum of distant generators and station traffic was muted behind layered sound-dampening walls. Every surface, every detail, had been chosen with care; not for luxury, but for calm. Neutral colors. Subtle textures. Gentle, indirect illumination. Nothing to distract. Nothing to overwhelm. A low table sat between two comfortable chairs, flanked by a small couch along the far wall. A simple tray held warm caf, chilled water, and a selection of mild teas. No datapads were visible. No recording equipment. No obvious security systems. The space felt private, both deliberately and meticulously so.

Behind it all stood the barely perceptible thrum of a Faraday enclosure, shielding the room from outside surveillance, slicing the space cleanly away from the endless observation that dominated much of the galaxy.

Tannor waited inside. He stood near the window panel, which was a simulated skyline slowly cycling through a peaceful day-night pattern. His posture was relaxed, his presence calm and grounded. His clothing was practical, muted, unassuming. Nothing about him demanded attention. And yet, there was a steadiness to him that quietly anchored the room.

This space was not a clinic. It was a sanctuary. When the door chimed, Tannor turned smoothly, offering a gentle nod of greeting. “Come in. You’re safe here.” His voice carried warmth, measured and steady, without pretense. “There’s no formal procedure. No required introductions. No obligation to share anything you aren’t ready to.” He gestured toward the seating. “We go at your pace. Everything spoken here remains here. I keep no digital records, and nothing leaves this room unless you decide it should.” A pause. Not heavy. Just space. “My role isn’t to judge, fix, or direct. I’m here to listen, to help untangle what feels knotted, and to walk beside you while you sort through it.” His gaze remained gentle, steady. “Whenever you’re ready… you can begin.”

Tag: Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

Ronhar listend on with impatience as Dr. Tannor Grene droned on and one about "procedure" and "records" and "going at your own pace", as if Ronhar actually intended to stay in this office for more than five standard Galactic minutes. The only reason he had come to Dr. Grene in the first place was because he needed to pass his psychological evaluation to get back into the field, and his regular doctor had been unavailable for one reason or anything. Prystill Oasay had recommended Dr. Grene to him, and not really having any other options, he had accepted and scheduled an appointment with the doctor.

Normally, Ronhar would be in and out of here as soon as possible, since the Imperial Psychologists understood the...urgency of approving Ronhar for field duty as soon as possible. Yet, this one was different, almost as if he actually cared about Ronhar's wellbeing. Had Pry known about this? Is that why she had recommended Dr. Grene to him? Regardless of what she knew, Ronhar didn't think that Grene would be the type of guy to sign off on his psyche evaluation release with just a few cursory statements and questions.

"Oh, Karabast!", Ronhar exclaimed as he sat back in his chair in frustration, not really wanting to open up about the things he had seen or how he was feeling. He leaned forward to address the doctor, the annoyance in his voice clear for anyone to see:

"Well the hell do I even begin? The fact that I almost got killed again on that galaxy forsaken planet Brosi? The fact that I'm still becoming convinced that I'm not a person and am actually a droid? Or maybe the fact that I'm scared to death of messing up my relationship between me and Prystill Oasay because of all these problems I'm having?"

Ronhar hadn't really meant to say all that, but the words had started coming tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and pretty soon Ronhar started telling Grene his entire life story: how he had been terrified to fight Darth Carnifex on Brosi, how he had failed to save the child from the clutches of Vakhari Lutris , how he had developed a lasting friendship with Laphisto and a romantic relationship with Prystill Oasay , and how he had nearly had a mental breakdown upon seeing a doppelganger version of himself during the second most recent Podrace he had participated in. For a man who was apparently so against going to therapy...Ronhar clearly needed it.

Having said his piece, Ronhar sat back down in his chair, clearly still agitated about everyone he had been through. Everything he had told the doctor had been true, but he had omitted many specific details, not completely trusting Grene to go and say anything about his many adventures. If Dr. Grene wanted to get them out of Ronhar, he would need to keep Ronhar talking.

"Hell, that's about the gist of it, Doc. So where in the galaxy do we begin?"

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he watched Ronhar finally catch his breath. The man’s words had come out like a floodgate opening; raw, jagged, and filled with everything he’d been holding in. Most would have recoiled at the chaos, but Tannor simply allowed it to exist, unjudged.

“I hear you, Ronhar,” Tannor said evenly, his voice steady, neither rushing nor pressuring. “That’s… a lot. And it makes sense that it feels overwhelming. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to manage alone.” He paused, letting the weight of that statement sink in. “It’s not about whether you’ve handled it ‘well enough’ or whether anyone else would consider you a person or a droid. It’s about you, sitting here, dealing with all of it. That… counts.”

Tannor tilted his head slightly, meeting Ronhar’s gaze without the faintest trace of judgment. “I’m not here to tick boxes for a report or to push you into some procedure that strips you of your own pace. I’m here to help you find the pieces of yourself that might feel fractured; the pieces that are scared, angry, or even unsure if they belong in the galaxy at all. We start wherever you need to start. Not where anyone else thinks you should.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “So tell me, Ronhar… when you think back on everything you’ve just said, what’s the part that weighs heaviest on you right now? That’s where we begin.”

Tag: Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

"So tell me, Ronhar… when you think back on everything you've just said, what's the part that weighs heaviest on you right now? That's where we begin."

Ronhar honestly wasn't sure what to say.

In fact, he had surprised even himself with the amount of words that had come out of his mouth, and he hadn't really intended to reveal all of what he said to Dr. Grene. Still, the man made a good point: what exactly was it that was weighing heaviest on Ronhar? He thought about it for a moment.

The whole "him turning into a droid" thing honestly hadn't been as much of a problem as Ronhar had thought it might be. Save for the incident during the Podrace, it hadn't really affected Ronhar all that much, nor had it prevented him from carrying out his duties or maintaining friendships with other organic beings. Perhaps that was why it wasn't a problem, since he had made so many new friends and created so many lasting relationships that he didn't have time to worry about whether he was organic or droid in the first place.

Then, of course, was he special relationship with Prystill Oasay . It still annoyed Ronhar rather greatly that he wasn't able to see Pry as much as he might have liked, but that came with the territory of being in the Imperial Armed Forces. Of course, that also meant that Ronhar wasn't as quick to take risks as he had been before, since at the end of the day, he had someone that was important to him to come home to. Ronhar had always assumed that he would go out in a blaze of glory, killed on some dangerous mission in service to his people, his planet, and the Imperials, but now he wasn't quite so sure that was the way he wanted to go, since he imagined being with Pry for a very, very long time.

Honestly, there was something that was particularly bothering him, something that was preventing him from finding that peace he so desperately wanted with Pry and all the others he had come to know over the last couple of months. Something that time and time again brought the galaxy to the brink of ruin, something that was only truly concerned with themselves and didn't care how their consequences might affect others, something that Ronhar was starting to develop a personal hatred of despite his better judgement.

"The Sith", he finally hissed out to Dr. Grene, his eys dangerously narrow. "Tell me, Doc, have you ever encountered a Sith before? Nasty, nasty beings, only taking power for themselves, never caring about how they might affect the galaxy with what they do. Every time we try to do something to help the people of the galaxy, its always those damned Sith standing in our way. Seriously, what in the hell are they thinking, unleashing those abominations all over the place, corrupting the Mandos and the High Republic and all that? It makes me sick to my stomach, Doc, it really does".

None of what Ronhar said was false, of course. The Sith were truly the one constant that were interfering with his ability to be happy, his ability to find inner peace and stability and live the life he so desperately craved with Prystill and all the others...

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor did not react to the word Sith. He did not flinch at the venom in Ronhar’s tone. He had heard hatred before; it rarely arrived alone.

“I have encountered many things,” he replied evenly. “But this session is not about them.” A pause. “It is about you.”

He watched the narrowing of Ronhar’s eyes, the tension gathering in his jaw. “You speak of the Sith as though they are personally robbing you.” Not mocking him, but being observational. “Standing in your way. Interfering with your ability to be happy.” Another measured breath was taken. “You imagined dying in glory once.” His gaze remained steady. “Now you imagine growing old with Prystill.” He let that contrast sit in the room. “The Sith did not change that desire.” A slight tilt of his head. “You did.”

Silence was given for a moment to let that sink in. “So when you say they make you sick to your stomach… I wonder.” His tone sharpened just a fraction. “Is it hatred or is it fear?” A beat. “Because peace is fragile in a galaxy like this.” He did not look away. “And if the galaxy never stabilizes… what happens to the life you’re beginning to want?”

Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

"You speak of the Sith as though they are personally robbing you. Standing in your way. Interfering with your ability to be happy. You imagined dying in glory once. Now you imagine growing old with Prystill. The Sith did not change that desire. You did."

He was right, of course. Annoyingly so, but still right. The Sith hadn't cause Ronhar to re-evaluate himself or his life priorities, he had very much done so of his own violation. But so what? Even if that were true, it was the Sith making it impossible for Ronhar to get the desires he wanted, no, that he deserved. What was his point?

So when you say they make you sick to your stomach… I wonder. Is it hatred or is it fear? Because peace is fragile in a galaxy like this. And if the galaxy never stabilizes… what happens to the life you're beginning to want?"

Ronhar couldn't help but chuckle at the doctor's observation.

"Hatred, or fear, you say? I don't hate the Sith, per say, because I have better things to waste my energy on. But as for fear? You're damn right I'm sacred of them. How could I not be? After seeing half of things I've seen, I'm sure you'd agree with me. Those Sith are monsters...and being afraid of them? That's a given, Doc. Tell me, are you familiar with the planet Brosi? Of course you are, how could you not be? No doubt you've heard the news about how the Imperial Confederation tried and failed to take the planet over. But did you know that wasn't the first time we made an attempt to capture Brosi?"

"If you go to the planet today, you'll find miles and miles of thick, uninterrupted jungle and forest, much like what you'd find on Myrkr or Yavin IV. But did you know that the planet wasn't always like that? Apparently it had once been a testing site for chemical or viral weapons, cause the first time we attacked it, it was little more than a barren wasteland, a veritable hellhole, if you would. Filled with nothing but the shambling corpses of a million reanimated Sithspawn monstrosities, who, mind you, would be more than happy to add you to their undead legions with just a single bite.

"But that wasn't even the worst part. My job was to collect some data from the so called Brosi "Mega-Tower", which probably no longer exists. Getting inside was tough enough, but what we found inside...they were experimenting on children, for the galaxy's sake! What kind of sick monster does that? Us soldiers, we know what we signed up for, and we volunteered to do the things that we have to do. But a child? They didn't ask for any of this! They don't deserve any of what's happening to them. How could they? They're just...children, after all!"

Though Ronhar was physically present in the room, his eyes had a faraway look of them, as Ronhar thought back to the day of his Rhydonium accident, his mind focused on that critically injured children that had been brought alongside next to him as Ronhar awaited treatment. Even today, he had no idea if that child was alive or dead, much as he had no idea if the child that Vakhari Lutris had taken with them was still breathing. Ronhar had always hated himself for not being able to do more, and especially for not being strong enough to rescue the kid from Vakhari Lutris 's clutches while he had the chance.

Just something else that haunted him each and every night of his life...

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor didn’t interrupt. Not once. He let the silence stretch just long enough before speaking gently, calm and anchored. “Ronhar,” he began, “You’re not in Brosi right now.” He paused briefly. “You’re here. With me.”

He leaned back slightly, not crowding him. “What you saw there… no one walks away from something like that untouched. Fear in the face of that isn’t weakness. It’s a nervous system doing exactly what it was built to do; to keep you alive.”

His gaze softened. “But the children… that’s not fear talking, is it?” Another gentle beat. “That’s grief. And guilt.” Tannor’s voice lowered. “You were injured. You were a soldier following orders in a nightmare engineered by monsters. You did not design that tower. You did not create those experiments. You did not unleash those Sithspawn. You were not strong enough to stop all of it? No soldier is. That isn’t failure. That’s the reality of war.”

He studied him carefully. “Tell me something, Ronhar… if another soldier had been in your exact position; wounded, outmatched, facing that same horror - would you call him weak?”

Tag: Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

Tell me something, Ronhar… if another soldier had been in your exact position; wounded, outmatched, facing that same horror - would you call him weak?

Ronhar didn't need even a second to answer the doctor.

"Of course not", he snorted in indignation. "I'm not unreasonable, I understand the odds were stacked against us from the moment that we landed on the planet. But that's not the problem here, Doc. The real problem is that fact that I'm NOT 'just another soldier'. I mean, look at me".

Ronhar flexed his cybernetic arms and legs emphasizing their existence to Dr. Tannor Grene .

"Tell me Doc, do you know just how expensive cybernetic implants are these days? Let me clue you in: for a basic pair of cybernetics arms, it'll cost you about 2,000 credits. For the higher end models? That cost jumps up to about 10,000 credits. How much do you think my cybernetic arms cost to make? 50,000 credits. Five times the cost of some of the highest end models, and thats not even including my legs and internal enhancements. You understand, right? I'm stronger, faster, and smarter than the average soldier by a longshot, and it isn't pride or hubris that makes me say this. All these enhancements I've been given simply put me on a different level than most other organics in this galaxy."

"I mean, I'm able to keep up with Jedi and Sith, for the galaxy's sake! How many non force users do you know that could claim the same thing? Not very many, if any, I'd wager, and I'm not really. a betting man. You would think with all of these upgrades and equipment that I've been given, I'd be able to accomplish any mission possible, no matter how dangerous or ridiculous said mission might be. I certainly though that myself, and for a while, I was right. But as these conflicts have dragged on, I've realized I've been sorely mistaken about my assessment of myself."

"I just don't get it: why can't I accomplish what I set out to do? Why do I keep failing over and over again, getting those I care about hurt or killed? I could tell you exactly how many of my men have been killed over the last couple of months, and when and where it happened. You don't think there death weighs heavily on me? Of course, it's not like its entirely my fault: they are chose to serve knowing the risks. But I want-no, I NEED their deaths to mean something. Because if they don't...then what's the point of all this?!?!?"

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor did not interrupt while Rhonar spoke. Not when the man flexed the polished metal of his limbs, nor when the frustration in his voice sharpened into something closer to anguish. The doctor simply listened.

When the soldier finally finished, Tannor leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful rather than judgmental. “You’re right about one thing,” he said calmly. “You are not just another soldier.” His gaze briefly acknowledged the cybernetics before returning to Rhonar’s face. “You’ve been given capabilities far beyond the ordinary. Strength. Speed. Resilience. Tools that most beings could only dream of possessing.” A small pause followed. “But somewhere along the way, you began to believe that those tools meant you were supposed to be invincible.” Tannor then folded his hands loosely. “Cybernetics can strengthen the body, Rhonar. They can sharpen reflexes and reinforce bone. But they cannot erase probability. They cannot guarantee victory. And they certainly cannot grant anyone the power to control the chaos of war.”

His voice remained steady while he continued. “You say your men chose to serve knowing the risks. That is true. But listen carefully to the standard you are holding yourself to.” Another quiet pause. “You believe that because you are stronger than most… that no one around you should ever fall.” He tilted his head slightly as he looked to see whether or not Ronhar was not only hearing what he had to say, but listening as well. “That is not leadership. That is omnipotence. And no soldier; either organic or augmented has ever possessed that.” Tannor’s tone then softened just a fraction. “The fact that their deaths weigh on you tells me something important. It tells me you did not see them as expendable. You cared.” He let that sit for a moment.

“But tell me this, Rhonar… when you say their deaths must mean something…” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Do you mean they must justify the war… or justify your survival?”

TAg: Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

Ronhar had always considered himself to be a rather understanding kind of man-or at the very least, he tried to be.

It was a result of his upbringing on Mahporeem, which was a planet chock full of different alien species. All those various cultures, languages and creatures in one space had forced the inhabitants of the planet to learn how to get along with one another, with complete and total societal collapse being the alternative. Over the centuries, most Mahporennians had developed the ability to truly understand, or at least tolerate, one another, and Ronhar was no exception to this.

Yet even he was starting to find himself annoyed at Dr Grene's statements, though he had to admit the man was making a fair bit of sense. Perhaps he was right after all: Ronhar was still, very much, human at the end of the day, and no individual in the galaxy, not even the wisest and most powerful Sith lord, was truly omnipotent. How could they be? And Dr. Grene was right, Ronhar had, and very much still did, care about his men and their wellbeing. Maybe Prystill Oasay had been right about this guy all along, maybe going to therapy was something not to be dreaded or avoided, but something that could actually help out Ronhar in the long run! Maybe-

"But tell me this, Rhonar… when you say their deaths must mean something…do you mean they must justify the war… or justify your survival?"

...what?

Ronhar's eyes narrowed into slits as he could feel the muscles begin to tense within his neck and his whole body. What the hell was this guy suggesting? That Ronhar had sacrificed his men for his own safety? That he had abandoned them to die on the battlefield to save himself? That he, their Captain, had not fulfilled his duties to the best of his ability, leaving his men to their fates while he himself scampered off to safety? Surely that wasn't what he was suggesting...was it?

Ronhar leaned in close to the doctor, far closer than he had gotten to him this whole session, and hissed out through gritted teeth:

"Let me tell YOU something, doc. Everything that I've done, everything that I do...ALL of it is in service to my planet, my people, and the Confederation. I find the very notion that I'd somehow prioritize my own safety over that of my men LUDICROUS. What, just because I'm scared means that I've failed those under me? Just because I'm worried I'd let my men die in vain? If that's what you really think, well, than you don't know what in the hell you're talking about! And what the hell am I doing here, anyway? This is clearly a waste of my time!"

With his outburst still under way, Ronhar took the datapad that was hanging off his vest and threw it toward the doc, the release form he needed to get back into combat being prominently displayed.

"Just sign the damn form already, will you?", Ronhar said, clearly agitated. Letting Ronhar go on his way might be in the best interest of the doctor, but would Tannor Grene agree with that assessment, or would he seek to pry deeper and help Ronhar overcome the rest of his trauma?

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor did not flinch when Ronhar leaned forward. He remained seated comfortably in his chair, posture relaxed, hands loosely folded as the soldier’s anger filled the small space between them.

The datapad slid across the coffee table and came to rest near Tannor’s knee. Tannor glanced down at it briefly. He did not reach for it. Instead, he looked back up at Ronhar. “I did not accuse you of abandoning your men.” His tone remained level, almost conversational. “If that were my belief, Captain, we would not be having this discussion.” He allowed a moment of quiet to settle before continuing. “What I asked was a question.” Tannor leaned back slightly in his chair, giving Ronhar the space his agitation demanded. “Because men who carry the kind of weight you do often arrive at two very different conclusions.” His eyes held Ronhar’s steadily. “Some decide the war must have been necessary. That the cause must justify the loss.” Another brief pause to give Ronhar time to let that sink in. “Others decide the only way the deaths of their comrades can mean something… is if they themselves survive long enough to make that sacrifice worthwhile.”

His gaze dropped briefly toward the datapad on the table before returning to Ronhar. “Neither conclusion implies cowardice.” Then, very calmly he stated: “But the anger you just showed me suggests you already know which of those burdens you’re carrying.” He rested his hands lightly on his knees. “And you’re terrified it might be the wrong one.”

Tannor’s expression softened just slightly as he leaned forward a fraction, closing a small part of the distance across the coffee table. It was an invitation rather than pressure; a subtle gesture, asking Ronhar to speak, to think, and to confront the weight he carried.

Tag: Ronhar Tane

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

"You mean survivor's guilt, don't you?"

Surely that was what Dr. Grene was getting toward: the fact that Ronhar was alive when others were not, the fact that Ronhar had received so many enhancements when his comrades were forced to make do with that they had, and the fact that Ronhar could afford to express his fears and opinions, his triumphs and failures, his dreams and worries for the future while they could not.

It was starting to make a bit more sense to Ronhar, and he couldn't really say that the Doctor was wrong in his assessment. So much had happened since Mahporeem had opened itself back up to the galaxy, and in such a short time frame as well. It had been scarcely two years since all of this had happened, and now that Ronhar thought about it, that was a lot to take in in such a short amount of time. No wonder he felt like he had gone through so much trauma, because that was precisely what had happened to him.

And, with everything that was going on, it was only going to get worse for Ronhar.

He sighed as he sat back down, deflated from his outburst mere moments ago.

"I'm sorry about that. That was...unprofessional of me, Doc. Maybe you are right after all. Maybe its survivor's guilt, maybe I feel bad that I'm still here to have these conversations and my men aren't. What do I do about it? How do I move on from these feelings? It's inevitable that I'm going to lose many men in the future, no matter what I do or hard or fight. That much is out of my hands, as you've made rather clear. So how do I resolve these feelings I have? How do I move on from them?"

TAGS:
Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor did not answer immediately. Instead he let the question settle between them. Not out of hesitation, but out of respect. Ronhar had not asked in anger this time. He had asked in earnest, and that deserved something more careful than a reflexive response.

His gaze lowered briefly to the datapad, then returned to Ronhar with the same steady calm. “You don’t,” he said quietly. There was no edge to it. No dismissal. Just a simple truth, offered without weight or judgment. Tannor leaned back slightly in his chair again, giving the words room to breathe before he continued. “Not in the way you’re asking.” His hands came together loosely once more. “You don’t move on from it as though it were a place you can leave behind. Survivor’s guilt isn’t something you resolve and set aside.” A faint pause. “It’s something you learn to carry without letting it decide who you are.” His eyes held Ronhar’s, both grounded and unshaken. “What you’re feeling is not a flaw in you, Captain. It’s evidence that you remember them. That they mattered.” His tone softened, though it never lost its clarity. “The danger isn’t the guilt itself. It’s what you allow it to convince you of.”

He shifted forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees now, closing the distance just a fraction more. “If it tells you that you don’t deserve to be here you start taking risks you shouldn’t. If it tells you that their deaths must be justified you start making decisions for the wrong reasons.” His head tilted just slightly, studying Ronhar not clinically, but attentively. “And if it tells you that feeling this way makes you weak…” A faint exhale. “Then you stop talking about it altogether.”

Another quiet moment passed, unhurried. “You asked how to move forward,” Tannor continued. “You start by changing the question.” His voice remained even, but there was something firmer beneath it now. “Not ‘How do I stop feeling this?’”A slight pause. “But ‘What do I choose to do with it?’” His gaze flicked briefly toward the datapad before returning. “You’re right about one thing. Loss will happen again. That is outside your control.” He did not soften that truth. “But what remains within your control is how you lead because of it.”

Tannor’s expression eased, just slightly. “You can let their absence hollow you out. Or you can let it sharpen your judgment. Your patience. Your willingness to bring your people home when you can. And to make the right call when you cannot.” He sat back once more, allowing the pressure of the moment to ease rather than build. “You don’t honor them by escaping the guilt, Captain.” He paused for a quiet beat. “You honor them by becoming the kind of man who was worth surviving.”

And then he fell silent, giving Ronhar the space to decide what that meant.

Tag: Ronhar Tane