Ayden Cater
Grumpy Goat
The mood on the ship as it cruised silently towards Kuat was a somber one. Ayden sat in a chair, staring out at an empty table with his hand wrapped around a glass. There were no others on the ship, no one to talk with or share stories to distract him. No one walked the halls of the ship while laughing or dutifully doing repairs. There were no destinations with promises of danger or treasure, no crew to huddle up with a talk about a next move. There, in that empty room, the truth came out as he stared at the half-empty glass.
Ayden was alone.
For a man who had one ruled over almost a fifth of the galaxy, it was an unusual feeling. For almost a decade, he had a hard time finding time to be alone. There was always a meeting that he had to attend, some foreign dignitary to greet and discuss plans with, or an ill-tempered negotiator to put in his place. But now here, at the end of it all, Ayden found that he disliked the silence that solitude brought. The cold was an ill comfort and he wanted nothing more than a trusted companion to sit beside and lay out his fears with.
It was stranger still for him to feel such pain while being along as he had spent the better part of four hundred years alone. The only brief interruption he had in those long periods of quiet were when he pulled Sarge Potteiger out of cyro storage. Even then, such moments were fleeting as the man was turned into Ayden's personal weapon and assassin's tool. He would then be sent off to some far off planet to perform any number of apparently random actions. Then the silence would return, for weeks or months at a time. And when Sarge came back, it was with a report and then back into the cryo tube; no undue conversation. At best, Sarge had been a trusted lieutenant to Ayden. At worst, he was a tool useful only as long as he continued to live and succeed.
For four hundred years Ayden lived like that, if one could call that living.
And then he met Cira on Fondor. This time he went with Sarge to meet the woman. It was all part of his plan. It had been a rather interesting meeting, but one that ultimately went in favor of furthering his plans. He had access to materials, goods, and manpower. His machinations could proceed further. For the first time in centuries, Ayden's plans began to bear true fruits. Worlds were restored and stabilized. Economies were rebuilt from the dust and goods sent to all corners of the galaxy. He established connections with a number of wildly influential characters like Jorus Merrill, the man who could fly blind across the galaxy but who couldn't move a pebble with his mind, or Aaralyn Rekali, a woman out of her time and the Sword of the Jedi.
In the end though, what did he have for it? The government he had helped found and ruled for almost a decade was destroyed. A pale imitation had risen in its place and worked to stabilize the region once more, but it wasn't the same. Sarge had long since left the rings of Ayden's influence, having found companionship with the same woman who had once dangled him out of a window more than three hundred meters off the ground. Every other person whom he had met and befriended, if they would ever go so far as to call Ayden a 'friend', was either called up for one moment when he needed them, and then left to the winds for months or years at a time.
He had no friends, no companions to share in his travels.
He had no family. They were more than four centuries dead.
Ayden suddenly screamed, lashing out in pain and grief. The glass went flying across the room and smashed harmlessly against the wall. Shards of glass tinkled softly against the durasteel floor, but the sound was drowned by the angry hissing as his lightsaber flew to his hand. He spun and slashed at phantoms, each slash carving great hunks of wood out of the table to be sent clattering to the floor. The walls bled molten metal as he cut into them and moved on without a notice. Eventually even his lightsaber was hurled against the far wall where it abruptly shut off and fell wordlessly to the floor. Ayden slowly sank to the floor and curled inwardly as he began to cry softly for the first time in many years. He didn't even hear the AI that dutifully informed him that they had arrived in orbit and that [member="Lorelei Darke"] was expecting them.
What did he have?
Ayden was alone.
For a man who had one ruled over almost a fifth of the galaxy, it was an unusual feeling. For almost a decade, he had a hard time finding time to be alone. There was always a meeting that he had to attend, some foreign dignitary to greet and discuss plans with, or an ill-tempered negotiator to put in his place. But now here, at the end of it all, Ayden found that he disliked the silence that solitude brought. The cold was an ill comfort and he wanted nothing more than a trusted companion to sit beside and lay out his fears with.
It was stranger still for him to feel such pain while being along as he had spent the better part of four hundred years alone. The only brief interruption he had in those long periods of quiet were when he pulled Sarge Potteiger out of cyro storage. Even then, such moments were fleeting as the man was turned into Ayden's personal weapon and assassin's tool. He would then be sent off to some far off planet to perform any number of apparently random actions. Then the silence would return, for weeks or months at a time. And when Sarge came back, it was with a report and then back into the cryo tube; no undue conversation. At best, Sarge had been a trusted lieutenant to Ayden. At worst, he was a tool useful only as long as he continued to live and succeed.
For four hundred years Ayden lived like that, if one could call that living.
And then he met Cira on Fondor. This time he went with Sarge to meet the woman. It was all part of his plan. It had been a rather interesting meeting, but one that ultimately went in favor of furthering his plans. He had access to materials, goods, and manpower. His machinations could proceed further. For the first time in centuries, Ayden's plans began to bear true fruits. Worlds were restored and stabilized. Economies were rebuilt from the dust and goods sent to all corners of the galaxy. He established connections with a number of wildly influential characters like Jorus Merrill, the man who could fly blind across the galaxy but who couldn't move a pebble with his mind, or Aaralyn Rekali, a woman out of her time and the Sword of the Jedi.
In the end though, what did he have for it? The government he had helped found and ruled for almost a decade was destroyed. A pale imitation had risen in its place and worked to stabilize the region once more, but it wasn't the same. Sarge had long since left the rings of Ayden's influence, having found companionship with the same woman who had once dangled him out of a window more than three hundred meters off the ground. Every other person whom he had met and befriended, if they would ever go so far as to call Ayden a 'friend', was either called up for one moment when he needed them, and then left to the winds for months or years at a time.
He had no friends, no companions to share in his travels.
He had no family. They were more than four centuries dead.
Ayden suddenly screamed, lashing out in pain and grief. The glass went flying across the room and smashed harmlessly against the wall. Shards of glass tinkled softly against the durasteel floor, but the sound was drowned by the angry hissing as his lightsaber flew to his hand. He spun and slashed at phantoms, each slash carving great hunks of wood out of the table to be sent clattering to the floor. The walls bled molten metal as he cut into them and moved on without a notice. Eventually even his lightsaber was hurled against the far wall where it abruptly shut off and fell wordlessly to the floor. Ayden slowly sank to the floor and curled inwardly as he began to cry softly for the first time in many years. He didn't even hear the AI that dutifully informed him that they had arrived in orbit and that [member="Lorelei Darke"] was expecting them.
What did he have?
