Private Up to Speed

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

He listened intently, a million thoughts running through his mind as he slowly processed every word. They'd finally caught up to their 'modern times' as it were, and things began to make more sense. It was... hard to pick an exact place to start. She'd need to backtrack, then jump back to the present, then back even further. This process would repeat itself for quite some time.

"And these... 'Sith', as you call them... they're the enemy of the Jedi?" He asked, interrupting her for about the hundredth time. It would most certainly be hard for one to maintain their patience with his frequent interjections, and yet she seemed (for the most part) understanding, as far as he could tell anyway.

They'd been here for... roughly four hours or so. She'd told him of what she knew thus far, the stories of old going back thousands of years, to times of Sith and the days of the Old Republic, and yet... Garrion still had question after question. Unsurprisingly given just how little he truly knew, he needed answers. Nearly everything about the Galaxy was foreign to him... except for the fact there were still 'bad guys' who needed fighting.

"It's hard to believe such an entity could survive as long as it has... though, I suppose the Jedi are evidence of it." He murmured. "Does that mean...?" Asking optimistically, he referred to his people. The Pius Dea. She hadn't mentioned them much as of yet... seeming to prefer slowly cluing him in to the fact they no longer existed. Yet, Garrion wanted to hope that she'd tell him they were still here, that they were still keeping the peace, and that everything he knew wasn't lost.

He went silent, looking up at her with a gaze that seemed to be one of almost frozen grief, as if awaiting the impending destruction of her answer.

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Four hours had passed, and Ra'a'mah had long since lost count of how many times Garrion had interrupted her. Surprisingly, she didn't mind. They had settled into one of the quieter compartments aboard her ship, and what had begun as an explanation of the galaxy he had awakened into had become something closer to an improvised history lesson. More than twelve thousand years refused to fit neatly into a conversation. Every explanation seemed to require another explanation, sending her backward several centuries before she could move forward again.

"Yes," she answered when he asked about the Sith, leaning back slightly in her seat. "Generally speaking, the Sith and Jedi are enemies. That part hasn't changed much." Calling it that simple ignored thousands of years of history, fractured Orders, competing philosophies, wars, alliances of convenience, and more exceptions than she cared to explain at the moment. "The names have survived. The organizations themselves have changed many times. Fallen, returned, divided, rebuilt. What someone twelve thousand years ago called the Jedi Order isn't necessarily the same institution you would encounter today."

Then he asked the question she had known was coming.

Ra grew quiet, watching the hope enter his expression before it was almost immediately tempered by the expectation that she was about to take it away. She had avoided giving him this answer earlier because there had already been enough for him to absorb. There was no gentle way to tell someone that everything he had known had become ancient history while he remained almost untouched by time.

"The Pius Dea didn't survive, Garrion." Her voice was quiet, but she didn't soften the truth into something misleading. "Not in the way you're hoping. Their era ended thousands of years ago. Their crusades ended, their control of the Republic ended, and the galaxy moved on through more governments, wars, and upheavals than I could possibly explain to you tonight."

She allowed him whatever silence followed rather than immediately burying the loss beneath another history lesson. "There may be remnants of their history somewhere. Records, artifacts, perhaps traditions or ideas that survived in forms neither of us would immediately recognize. We can look for those when you're ready." Ra folded her hands loosely before her, her attention remaining on him. "But the people you knew, the institutions you served, and the galaxy you remember are gone. I'm sorry. I know that's not the answer you wanted."

After a moment, she drew a breath and shifted the conversation toward the one thing he still possessed. "You don't have to decide tonight what that makes you now. You've had four hours to learn twelve thousand years of history, and somehow you've already asked enough questions to make it feel twice that long." The faintest hint of humor touched her expression, meant to offer him somewhere easier to land without dismissing what he'd just learned. "For now, I think understanding the galaxy you've woken up in is enough. Tomorrow we can start figuring out where Garrion Der Rædwulf fits into it."

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

Garrion heard it then... the confirmation.

And then silence. Deafening, ear ringing silence as he stared at her yet wasn't really paying attention. He sat there, frozen in place, completely still.

Every part of him was at war with itself, tearing one end and then another. Anger, fear, sadness, denial, panic, disbelief, it was simply too much to process all at once. He wanted to tell her no, that she'd been mistaken, and that history had proceeded the way he foresaw it: With a powerful Pius Dea, and an orderly galaxy. But he wasn't immature, just... grieving.

Eventually he simply buried his face in his hands, and quietly wept. For any man, especially one bound by honor, this'd be rather embarrassing. And yet, he didn't care. He knew there'd be no judgement, not from her.
Everyone and everything he knew was gone.

He appreciated the silence that followed. She understood that this was...

He composed himself after a stretch of time had passed, giving her his confirmation to continue as he mad a slow nod, looking back up at her.
"I agree... It would be best if... I take my time."
The words had a certain tone to them. Defeat. Helplessness.

Yet despite everything, defeatism wasn't in his playbook.

"But what I know for certain is: I must do what I can to pick up the pieces and help rebuild something new."
He maintained clear eye contact with her, gaze filled with a sheer determination which suggested he had no intention of giving up. Not so long as he had the means to keep fighting, she could count on him.

"Tell me more about this... Protectorate?"

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah remained quiet while Garrion wept. There was nothing she could say that would make twelve thousand years of loss hurt less, and trying to fill the silence with assurances would have been more for her comfort than his. She simply stayed where she was, allowing him the dignity of grieving without pretending not to notice. When his hands finally lowered and determination slowly replaced some of the devastation in his expression, she recognized something familiar there. He had lost everything and was already searching for something he could build from what remained.

His question about the Protectorate made her consider her answer carefully.

"The United Protectorate of Sovereign Systems," she began, settling back into her seat. "And before I explain anything else, understand that it isn't a replacement for what you've lost. Nor am I going to ask you to make decisions about your future tonight."

She allowed that distinction to settle before continuing. "The Protectorate is a mutual defense pact between sovereign worlds. Not an empire, republic, or centralized government. There is no Chancellor sitting above everyone, no monarch issuing laws to every member system. Each world keeps its own government, military, laws, traditions and culture. Joining doesn't mean surrendering any of those things."

Ra folded her hands loosely in her lap. "The agreement between them is considerably simpler. If one calls for help, the others answer. What they provide depends upon what they have. Ships, soldiers, food, medicine, intelligence, technology, industry, safe harbor. Nobody expects a small agricultural world to contribute a battle fleet it doesn't possess. They contribute what they can, and receive the same promise in return."

There was considerably more history behind it, of course. "It began as something called the Dark Hand. We operated against the Sith from the shadows through intelligence, infiltration, sabotage and, when necessary, direct action. Eventually we realized there was a flaw in what we were doing. Removing a tyrant doesn't accomplish much if you leave the people you've freed incapable of resisting the next one." A faint smile touched her lips. "So the Hand became part of something larger. It still exists and still does the work that cannot always be done openly, but the Protectorate is what came afterward."

Her expression grew thoughtful as she regarded him. "The Sith remain our enemy, but opposing them isn't our entire reason for existing. Conquest, slavery, coercion, oppression, stripping people of the right to determine their own future. Those are the things we stand against. We cooperate with other powers when our interests align, but we don't require everyone beneath our banner to become the same. That applies to Force traditions as well. Jedi serve beside people who have never been Jedi and never intend to become one."

Ra paused, knowing some of what she described might sound strange to a man whose understanding of galactic order came from another age entirely. "It isn't perfect, Garrion. Nothing involving people ever is. We disagree. We make mistakes. Sometimes deciding what protecting someone's freedom actually requires is considerably more complicated than the principle makes it sound." Her expression softened slightly. "But the idea at its heart is one I believe in. A world shouldn't have to surrender its freedom to someone more powerful simply to be protected from someone else who wants to take it."

She held his gaze for another moment before adding, "There would be room for someone with your experience. Military knowledge doesn't become worthless merely because the galaxy changed around you." She deliberately left the statement there rather than turning it into an invitation. "But that's a conversation for another day. Learn what the Protectorate is first. Learn what the galaxy is. Decide whether you agree with what we're trying to build."

A faint smile finally returned. "Then, when you're ready, you can decide whether you want to help us build it."

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

He remained quiet for a moment, thinking over her words. It was certainly a different concept than he was used to, far less conventional and definitely an... adjustment. Yes, that was the word he was looking for. Adjustment. He could make do with it, though he'd need time. Time to get a better understanding of what he'd be working with, and more importantly... who he'd be fighting beside.

"I'll need time... to adjust. And I'll need to see this concept in practice before I have a full understanding of how it operates. But... I can promise you for certain: I will help you, in any way I am so able. I owe you that much."

All he had for her was that single promise. Though, it was one made to her just as much as it was one made to himself: Not to give up, not to fall into hopelessness, not to lose who he was in his fight, and to hold hope for a better future even if he'd never live to see it. If that's all he could contribute to the Protectorate? Then that's just what they needed.

Someone to inspire others to do the same.

The silence pressed on a bit longer, before he spoke again, quieter and more... emotional.

"...and Ra'a'mah?"

His tone was shaky, though a smile formed on his stoic expression once again.

"Thank you."

Ra'a'mah