Walak Tu

[Walak Tu]

Walak Tu

imagesource: modified picture from here​

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NAME: Walak Tu
FACTION: so far none
RANK: so far none
SPECIES: kaminoan
AGE: 25
SEX: male
HEIGHT: 2.7 m
WEIGHT: 110 kg
EYES: near-black violet
HAIR: None, small ridge on the head
SKIN: porcelain-gray, pale in the near UV
FORCE SENSITIVE: yes

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APPEARANCE:
Walak is a tall, left handed kaminoan in his mid twenties, with a well developed posture and a somewhat unattractive (to kaminoans) face. His rubbery, hairless skin is grey with little variation in tone. He commonly wears a tight spacesuit with a slim circular backmodule and a clamshell helmet or an overall. To most people the clothes looks mostly white and grey, but those seeing in the UV they show vibrant greens and yellows.​

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (PERSON & PERSONALITY):
Walak is quite creative and can often find unusual solutions to problems, a trait carefully engineered by the kaminoan cloners. He is generally good spirited and polite, but in darker moments or if he has an agenda his cynical nature can sometimes shine through. He is also a scientific man. His kaminoan heritage makes him hardy and grants him a moderate resistance to radiation. His hight makes his stand out from most crowds and leads to problems in confined spaces. As a result of his upbringing he looks down on most naturally born creatures (but won’t necessarily let them know that), seeing the weak as biowaste and the strong as something in need of improvement. After all the kaminoans didn’t survive by modifying the weak to get strong, but by making the strong stronger and letting the rest die out. Walak periodicly swings between overconfidence and selfdoubt, sometimes wondering weather he really is as strong as advertised. Sometimes even the most meticulously manipulated DNA flukes. Sometimes testers don’t notice it. And however rare souch an occurence might be, Walak cannot shed the thought he might be one such case. He grows ever more frustrated with his position as a shuttle-pilot, knowing the potential for greater things is in his genes. Should be in his genes ...​

 

[Walak Tu]

BIOGRAPHY:​

Prologue:

Spoiler

Walak was bred from the DNA of Barok and Dane Tu and gestated in a pod alongside four siblings. While his siblings showed a great aptitude for genetics he was more interrested in machines, leading to tensions between him and his parents. Throughout his youth it became clear that he wouldn’t be joining his parents cloning company. At the age of 15 Walak had finished his studies in engineering but was unable to find a job in his field of choice, much to the disappointment of his parents. After a year of unemployment he taught himself basic piloting skills, aquired a licence and started to shuttle clients from landing pads to facilities and cloning labs.

Part 1:

Spoiler

On one sunny evening Walak was called by a contact while waiting for clients in the opened cockpit of the shuttle. A cold breeze, bearing news of the weather to come slipped by, leaving just the hint of ozone’s odor and a coppery taste on his lips as he moistend them bevore reaching for the headset and answering the call:

»This is Kavala-city shuttle 122-R. Is there anything i can help you with?«

»It’s Halla from air traffic control. I need a lift for an offworlder. Can you do a pickup at a platform outside the capital?«

»Sure. But why do you ask me for a pickup from the capitol? I’m an hour away.«

»I’ll tell you when you are here. Or the offworlder will. She‘s waiting on pad d-south.«

»Okay. I’ll be on my way.«

At the turn of the ignition key the engine awoke and Walak closed the door of the craft. The small shuttle took off and turned it’s nose towards the capital city of Tripoca. It’s hull had been inspired by a local animal, a slender engine section in the back affixed to a small cocpit and two broad wings. The repulsorlifts carried it safely over the murky grey waves, beneath which waining sunlight and the shadow of the shuttle on occasion cast suggestions of enormous maritime creatures. But Walak already had a nagging feeling he would be getting much closer to the water. Halla would call him from time to time and if she didn’t need to go somewhere herself it was almost always for someone who valued secrecy. And that meant going below. Where radar doesn‘t see you. Ofcause ATC personal weren’t meant to arrange such transports. Thats why they got bribed. But why would an offworlder want that extra secrecy? Everybody already knew your intent and destination: Clones, getting cloned or something along those lines. What else would draw anyone to Kamino?

Fourtyfive minutes later the sun set behind Walak as he sored a short distance over the waters, letting darkness slip silently across the waves. With the gloomy twilight came only darker thoughts and frightfull deliberations leading the monolog of his mind ever more astray. Again and again the kaminoan could see foreboading shapes out of the corner of his eyes, drawing ever closer to the shuttle, falling back and nearing again like predators ... Walak slightly nudged the flightstick back towards him and pulled the craft to greater altitudes, hastely asuring himself he was doing so purely for safety‘s sake.

By the time he approched Tripoca, Walaks mind had wandered further and put more pressing matters on the offensive. After a short confirmation with ATC he touched down on a landing pad amidst winds stiff salty breezes doing their best to try and carry him over the edge and away. Across the catwalk a vaguely humanoid figure clad in the umbrageous habit of an order the pilot coudn’t name. As she neared the shuttle her robetails flapped in the wind, revealing for a second the baroque yet alien armor beneath. Walak held the door open for her, went over to the left side and got into the pilotseat.

»So ... Whereto, Madam?«

»Saltro allelics. Dive.«

Her voice was reserved jet polite. Walak lifted the shuttle to the water, checked the seals one more time and then flood the buoyancy negators, and then the divecells. The waters of Kamino sloshed over their heads, swallowing the craft. Walak switched on his LiDAR and accellerated the shuttle.

»Saltro have pads, you know, so if you don’t mind me asking ...?«

»I do, actually. Emerge under the station, I will jump onto one of the walkways. Then land on a pad and wait for me.«

Her voice had turned to a strange tone that send cascading shivers over his body. He shifted to the left and closed his mouth. For the next hour Walak wanted nothing more then to get away from her. With every minute the taste of the cabin air got soaked in foul sweetness he couldn’t say definitivly was a perfume, a stench like a sickness no earthly remedy might heal. Walak fiddled with the atmosphere settings, trying to get rid of the oppressive heat and smell in the cabin. After pressing out the cells the shuttle emerged from the ocean beneath saltro allelics‘ colning plant and he unlocked the passenger side door. Without hesitation the offworlder dropped out of the craft and Walaks sight. His flat breathing normalised slowly. As he turned the shuttle around the woman was nowhere to be seen. He landed on an unoccupied pad and stopped for a moment. There, between the passenger seat and the door lay a polyhedral object, the size of an eyeball, with a fine silver chain attached. Walak reached for the chain and let it slip through his fingers. It was near weightless, flowing like water. Picking it up he noticed a short spike at its bottom. A pendulum. Its strangely iridescent surface covered in the same glyphs and etchings as the woman‘s armor, seemingly transforming with every swing bevore his eyes. Irritated he slid it into the glovebox and got out of the shuttle half way bevore getting an idea.

»Should get me some coffee ...«

he mumbled while booting up the com.

»Hey, ATC? I’m sitting on a pad outside, is there anyone still up interested in trading me a coffee for my shrimpbar?«

» ... «

»This is Kavala-city shuttle 122-R calling Saltro allelics air traffic control. Is there anyone stil awake in that tower of yours?«

» ... «

Walak looked around. No other pad was occupied. Quiet shift. The kaminoan stept out on the metal floor and slowly made his way over to the lobby door. The milky glass didn’t move. He pressed the intercom button. Noone answerd. Walak tried to peer through the glass, but couldn’n make anything out. Slightly annoyed he decided to return to his craft. The chilling wind wade him shiver slightly but he stayed in the open nethertheless. Leaning against the hull he pulled a snackbar from an overallpocket and ripped the packaging open, crumbling it together and into his pocket. The snack was refreshing and salty. He chewed slowly, listening to the wailing winds and the sound of the waves breaking against the station‘s pylons, like a distant leviathan fighting the unruly elements. As he had just about finished his meal, the doors of the lobby parted and gave way to his client. She looked much more relaxed than she had earlier. And she no longer wore the dark hood, revealing the satisfied smile on her face.

»Start her up!«

she shouted over the rising storm. Walak followed the order swiftly and it was only a short time till they left with the engine howling and bellowing before once again diving in the waters, drowning out the previously constant noise to a soft hum. The menace she had rediated on the way to the station was almost gone and Walak wondered if he had just imagined it, just been a bit nervous around an unfamiliar creature.

»Did you get what you wanted? Satisfied with kaminoan cloning?«

»Yeah, i got what i wanted. And yes, it was a wholly satisfying experience.«

The kaminoan relaxed, feeling a little silly for his earlier dread.

»I’m glad you like it here. We don’t get many offworlders here, to be honest. And you reall picked the right season. Back to your ship, by the way?«

»Yes.«

Walak accelerated the shuttle, the memory of the outbound trip fading rapidly, like a dream on a busy morning. It returned only on the final approach:

»Total fee is 82 credits. Pay-by-tape is also an option.«

»I only carry chips.«

»Fine by me.«

The pilot accepted the chips while touching down. But as the woman opened the door he remembered the pendulum.

»Wait a second. I found something that must have fallen out of your pocket or something.«

He opened the glovebox, revealing the pendulum. The woman pulled it out and let it swing. Then she offered it to him. Confused he gripped the chain.

»Make it swing.«

»Okay ... ?«

The polyhedron made its way through the oscillations, back and fourth, back and fourth.

»Can you do it without moving your hand?«

Once again her voice had turned hard and inquisitive. Walak answered in a voice that betrayed his intimidation more than he had hoped.

»Y-yes.«

»How?«

»Through small unconscious muscle movements.«

»Can you make it go in circles? Swing in a certain direction?«

»Sure. Thinking about it doing so is suggestion enough.«

»Make it stop!«

Unsure what she was getting at he concentrated and the pendulum slowed ever so slightly, till it hanged straight down.

»No, not like that. Make it stop on the side.«

»That‘s impossible. A pendulum cannot do that ...«

»No. But you can. NOW DO IT!«

The command threw him back against the hard metal of the pilotside door. He swallowed and stared at the pendulum, avoiding her gaze. His shaking hand clenched around the chain, his right gripped the armrest so firmly it hurt. The pendulum moved with fast, sometimes jerky swings.

»That’s enough. Now make it stop!«

Walak had great difficulties stopping it, his hand still shaking. But as he relaxed a little the swings got slower. At first he didn’t notic what he was doing. But then, slowly it got clear that the pendulum seamed to hang to one side, moving way past the horizontal on his left, jet barely past nadir on the right. When it slowed to a crawl it was hanging to the left, the chain pulld tight, still held by his once again trembling hand.

»That’s ... that’s ... there’s a small repulsor in the body right? There’s got to be.«

Angered by his rejection she got out the door, her revulsion growing with every word.

»No. That is the force. But I knew you wouldn’t believe your own eyes, your own power. Disappointing. Keep it. And when you have grown to realise the hollow futility of your existence here come find us. When your life is in pieces and you are ready to have it crumble to dust, seek us. When you look up at the stars and finally see the tenebrous void stare back at the rotting corpse you are, then throw away whatever is your‘s and leave this world behind.«

Long after her ship had taken off, Walak still heared the echo of her words in the storm. For hours he mumbled thoughts he dared not later to repeat. For days nightmares of strange cities, glassed in wars long forgotten, of stony shores along oceans no kaminoan had gazed upon in millennia and finally of days to come, when just rusty, crumbling spires rise above the waters of Kamino plagued his sleep, only leaving him be when after a week he could take it no more and sold the pendulum at a pawnshop near the spaceport, hoping a traveller might take a liking to it and carry it and it’s curse offworld.

Part 2:

Spoiler

After selling the Pendulum Walaks life returned to the way it had been before he met the strange woman. The nightmares stopped and he flew clients, mostly kaminoans, around. He had convinced himself that that night had been just a strange allignment of unlikely events, rationalising away what he had seen and done. He must have been drunk, really tired or something else. Probably tired. After all had dipped in and out of that nightmare during the evening. After failing to stop an eraser on a string he was thoroughly convinced of the trickery behind the strange pendulum. Every week he would reassure himself of the banality of his world, pulling the eraserpendulum out of his pocket and trying to stop ist. Failing every time ...










... for two years.
Doubt crept back into his mundane life one evening. He had made a fantasticly lucky deal which got him a house on vemila station, a collection of pilons near the capital. More frequent highpaying customers had allowed him to pay of his loans and the relationship with his parents improved over time. Like most days he got up early to get in a quick workout before eating breakfest on the way to his first customer. He landed in front of the hotel and gave the freshly lever-covered seats a little cleaning and then stepped outside. A kaminoan buisnessman made his way down the stairs.

»Mr La?«

»Yes. Spaceport, please.«

Walak grabbed the mans luggage and swiftly lifted it into the shuttles storage bay, then he got into the pilot seat.

»How long will it be till we arrive?«

»Aaah ... twenty-something minutes. Are looking to catch a ship, sir?«

»The Star of Sullust.«

Walak punched a few numbers into the com.

»Star of Sullust. I can make that happen. Halla, you there?«

»Yes. What’s up?«

»The Star of Sullust. When’s she up for departure?«

»Gimme a second ... 18 minutes, bay 17. Do you need me to do something?«

»I’ll be at the port in about 25 minutes. What’s it going to cost me?«

»What’s being cooked tonight?«

»Mogor-chili and flatbread.«

»That’ll do. Pick me and Tenu up at 8:30.«

»See you then.«

Walak pushed the accelerator forward and turned to his client:

»The fee will be about 30 credits plus an express addage of 28 credits and 99 cents.«

»28.99?«

»For a total of 58.99. Mogor ain‘t cheap these days. Have the money ready, you will most certainly have to run to catch the ship, sir. I’ll be right behind you with the luggage.«

When the shuttle landed they were ready. Heading for bay 17 they had to pass customs and then hastely made their way through the spaceport. The Star of Sullust was still waiting, the groundcrew struggeling with the captain. Walak smiled. Mr La had just catched his flight.
Between two clients he managed to stop by the fishers market for ground mogor and pick up fresh peppers at his favorite rodian shop. A few rides later he landed near his flat and ran inside. In the kitchen he started searing the mogor while chopping the rest of the ingerdients. The chili soon simmered, letting a tantalising smell escape the pot and explore the rooms. He took the pot off the burner and went to pick up Halla and Tenu. On the way he called up his brother:

»Hi Nator. I have some friends over for dinner. Any chance you and Laun care to join us?«

»Sure, we’ll be there.«

Walak arrived at the spaceport a few minutes late, his friends already waiting. 20 minutes later they were waiting around the table while Walak let in his brother and his brothers wife. The house was soon filled with chatter, laughter and the smell of dinner, but it wasn’t long after the meal that they settled in the living room, playing cards and passing around a small pipe.

»It’s been to long guys, seriously. Have you had that promotion jet, Halla?«

»No, but they bumped my pay up so much i don’t mind not having to do more work for it. Is that woman from the north still around, you know, the one which buys all the pets?«

»I flew her home just last week. She had another clone of that cute badger thing with her.«

»Is that the fourth, fifth?«

»I can’t be the only pilot chauffeuring her around. So I guess it must be something like the tenth.«

»I bet they aren’t even pets.«

»What?«

»She clearly eats them.«

»Oh don’t say that.«

»Skins them and cooks them up.«

»You are the worst Nator! The worst! Laun, pass your man that pipe. He needs something else to do with his mouth.«

Laun passed the pipe on while revealing the winning card combination from her hand:

»Bet they taste just like mogor. That’s my third victory for the evening by the way.«

They played till her seventh just to try and find out wether she was cheating, laughing, joking and reminiscing all the while.

Well past midnight the last of Walaks guests had left. After doing the dishes went around the house one last time, yawning, nearly stumbling over the single step leading to the bedroom. Something dropped out of his overalls pocket. He picked it up, realising it to be the homemade eraserpendulum. Over the years it had become a grounding ritual to him to let it swing and try to stop it on the side. Failing to do so every time. It reasured him of his view on the world. But that would change that evening. The pendulum made its swings, steadily oscilating. It stopped soon thereafter. Walak smiled, but his smile instantly vanished as he looked closer. The Pendulum wasn’t hanging straight but about fife degrees of the vertical. His concentration slipped and the pendulum swang a few times before resting in the true vertical.

That night Walak didn’t sleep.

In that night two years ago, what he had seen had been nothing bit the truth and however small a truth it had been, it was enough. Enough to make him doubt the value of his existence. Enough to make him see that the mysterious offworlder had been right. Unsure of what to do with that realisation he left the house and wandered the empty streets and walkways of vemila station as if driven by an unknown urge. Taking the street down to the market and past the few fishers still up in front of a pub, he soon stood at the end of the pier.



And as he looked up at the cloudless sky the tenebrous void accused him for his hollow insignificance.

The salvage of lot 426

 

[Walak Tu]

SKILLS:
Walak is a competent engineer and okay pilot.

 

[Walak Tu]

POSESSIONS:
House on Kamino
Pilot licence
Spacebag with clothes, a few tools and canned food
backpack
cash

 

[Walak Tu]

SHIP:

 

[Walak Tu]

for later

 

[Walak Tu]

as above, so below