Post by Bobbi on Jul 5, 2015 8:18:02 GMT -5
(Solomon and Sadhric come to terms.)
Solomon:
It had been several weeks since he had walked those halls and haunted those corridors. Solomon Tekal had returned with a large, unstable package in tow. He had lost track of Marcus the moment he had been taken at the ramp of the Justicar. He was breathing easier, moving easier. The burn and tightness in his chest was almost completely gone. He had made it to the garden before having had the need to take a break. Slumping onto a bench, Sol leaned forward just feeling his breath as it rolled in and out of his new organs.
Sadhric:
For two hours, Sadhric's droids had been Ghostmapping those areas of the Temple where the attack had been most intense, where the white-masked man had been active, and where the highest concentrations of clones had fought. There had been little enough to see, and The Mechanic had not explained what was going on there. But after an hour, a holo overlay had filled two of the areas. A rich overlay, in full color... subtly changing the dimensions of the space, and populating it with dumb, stiff holos of the clones and their supposed master, frozen in mid-run, mid-slash, mid-dive. They changed positions over time, as the information from the initial Mapping continued to compile, and it was as if the images had been pulled from actual footage, down to every smear of blood, of sweat, of ash. But they could be walked through, around, causing only a slight warping of the fabric of the holo. And the man himself? He'd left before the theatrics had begun, consumed by something and silent. Now, he was far from those Mapped zones. His absorbed wanderings had taken him all over the Temple, and now he found himself in a little-traveled corridor, well away from the bustle of students and seekers. To his left were long windows, letting in the last of the daylight across a crush of green. To his right was sunset, too... but a sunset from a different world.
Solomon:
The garden was not such a peaceful place with those holos overlaying everything. The ghostmapping hadn't been noticed in his initial moments. When he did take note of them, Sol frowned. The faces, the memories....Sol rose and moved on, escaping the nest of graphed information and heading deeper into the temple. There were a few places where Sol knew he could take a breather undisturbed. He had headed himself toward the mural hallway. It would be quiet, secluded. There he would be able to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. He had been looking forward to returning to that corridor. There was work he had left unfinished. What he hadn't expected was to turn a corner and find a familiar form present beside Corellia's sunset. "Shit." He muttered, catching himself against the wall and pausing. He had pushed too hard to get there.
Sadhric:
Not merely beside it. Sadhric was standing there, head tipped back as he took in the upper reaches of the blaze of color there, his face mere inches from the wall. After a fashion, here was a sunset he knew. The curse broke him out of his thoughts and he turned his head. The sight of Solomon down the corridor brought no immediate reaction from him. After a second of watching the man lean against the wall, though, he took half a step back and pivoted a little. He simply watched his one-time apprentice, and his head cocked slightly.
Solomon:
All he had to do was breathe. He put his mind to that until things evened out. That would take a few minutes. When he didn't feel like a walking bag of jelly Sol let go of the wall and turned his attention to Sadhric, "How's the purple?" A small motion was made toward the mural, Solomon hugging the wall as he made his way slowly closer.
Sadhric:
Sadhric didn't follow the gesture to look at the painted wall again. His focus remained on Sol. But he asked, "It's from nira buds, yes?" out of reflex. The question seemed to ride on the surface of things, to be mere filler. The scrutiny that, earlier, he'd leveled on Seddar Jenos' rare book--Jonas Cato's rare book?--was now aimed at Sol. He made a slight gesture of his own--toward Sol himself. "You look wretched."
Solomon:
"I feel pretty wretched. This place is too big for me to be walking about like its nothing," and yet Sol was stupidly doing it anyway. Nine hells, though, he was tired of sitting still. "And yes, the color did come from nira buds," a smile was given despite himself. "You look well."
Sadhric:
The Mechanic didn't budge. "Your lungs?" he asked.
Solomon:
"In optimal condition. I'm still recovering from the surgery," and from having faced off with a Force User in close confines. He'd tell that story one day when he was older, and had grandchildren kneeling around him by a warm fireplace. Grandpa Sol versus The White Knight.
Sadhric:
With a twitch of his mouth, Sadhric nodded once and took another step back to eye the mural. "Well." A breath. "I'm glad you found assistance."
Solomon:
"I did," he gave a small nod, "It wasn't my first choice," he told Sadhric with a quiet tone, "You were busy, and I've pissed you off enough to last for ten life times."
Sadhric:
Sadhric sniffed, and now that he was back to studying the mural he kept right on doing that. "This is yours, then?" Somehow in the stiff formality of his tone, there was a note of surprise.
Solomon:
"It is," another small nod, "And Naboo further down," he had turned and stepped away from the wall to look at the mural as well. He smiled looking it over.
Sadhric:
It wasn't that the artistry was superb. To Sadhric's eye, it was clearly not the work of a professional artist. It didn't really have to be: he hadn't expected to find anything like it around the austere Temple. And what the mural--even unfinished--lacked in refinement, it made up for in a sort of enthusiasm. Its boisterous color had been enough to catch his eye and snap him out of his thoughts, to make him stop and study for a moment. He'd seen the sunrise up the hall, but now he didn't look at it. It instantly lost charm for him on a certain level upon being named Naboo. So maybe he was pondering that, that petty reaction, while he wasn't saying anything for the next long moment. When he did speak, it was to say, "I had no idea."
Solomon:
"No idea?" Sol had backed himself up enough to a point where he could use the opposite wall for support.
Sadhric:
"That you had anything like this in you."
Solomon:
He sat, folding himself carefully to the floor. It could have been the compliment that took him, however it was more likely that his legs felt like rubber. "Thank you, Sadhric," From where he now sat, Sol could easily see the mural as a whole. All the bright colors of the skyline in the fading light of day, the blended colors of the wildflowers as they waited eagerly for night to fall. In his mind it was perfect.
Sadhric:
The Mechanic brushed fingers down ribbons of hardened paint. He was very still otherwise. "You were empty for so long." His hand stopped moving, still pressed to the wall. "Too long. And too empty--for something like this to come from you."
Solomon:
"I wasn't empty," he shook his head a bit, "I was overwhelmed."
Sadhric:
As if he hadn't heard him, he moved away, to take a slow step further up the hall, the hand trailing along the wall, as if he could read the colors through his fingertips. "I can mend your bones and I can kill your enemies," he said. "But they'd put too many gashes in you that ran too deep for me. You were draining away through holes I didn't even know how to begin to close."
Solomon:
"The holes weren't yours to close," he said from where he sat, watching Sadhric as the older man moved. The job of closing those wounds had been Sol's. "I...was too wrapped up in my own world to see what it was doing to you."
Sadhric:
The Mechanic backed away from the wall, letting his hand drop to his side. "Did you paint this because they told you to? Am I looking at Jedi therapy?"
Solomon:
"No, I painted it because I wanted to. They had nothing, at all, to do with it." It had been Sol's choice. He could have walked out on Tanshinou the moment he had encountered the painter at his task. Sol had stayed. He had chosen to start something beautiful, and he had chosen to finish it. He had chosen to put so much of himself into the mural that day, and everyday after, that it had become just as much a part of him as he was of it.
Sadhric:
Sadhric took another step back, and another. Soon, his back was to the window, and he was sliding down to sit opposite the mural, only a few yards from where Solomon was. He sighed a little, eyes on the colors.
Sol:
Turning his head, Solomon was watching Sadhric. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, so many things he wanted to say. Should he? For once they weren't arguing. For once they were together without Sadhric looking like he was ready to throttle Sol. If that was how it was to be, he'd take it. He could handle this kind of silence over the angry kind. It was weird, though, to be so close to The Mechanic and not be able to sense the raging storm of thoughts that his mentor typically carried. That was why he studied Sadhric. He just wasn't sure if Sadhric seemed more volitile without that sense, or not.
Sadhric:
The Mechanic didn't seem to be waiting for anything from Solomon. The silence wasn't anticipatory. If anything, he just seemed tired, and his focus drifted up and down the length of the mural for a little while. "I guess you never were a droid I could shut down to fix when I had the time," he said.
Sol:
"No," Sol's gaze shifted back to the mural, "I was never a droid, all though I tried to be," He leaned forward a bit and winced as he let a deep breath roll through him for a sigh, "You're an exhausting man to follow after. I guess I felt it was the only way I could keep up. No distractions, no emotion, follow programing...I tried so hard to be like you, Sadhric. And I shouldn't have. It just felt safer."
Sadhric:
"I didn't take you on as a student so that you could be like me," he said, looking sidelong at the stretch of floor between them rather than at Solomon, his brow tensed.
Sol:
He gave a nod, still observing the mural no longer seeing the colors as they were, "I know," he was thinking back to those first god awfully awkward weeks he had spent locked in a secluded room on Sadhric's ship. "I haven't been living up to my end of this. I haven't been a very good student." He turned his head toward Sadhric, eyeing Naboo further down the hall from where he sat. Those colors, from this distance, seemed wrong. Their shades were off.
Sadhric:
Sadhric rested the back of his head against the window, and his arms across his knees. "Stop doing that."
Sol:
He smiled, returning his gaze to Corellia, letting it go. "Alright," he gave a shallow nod. He fell silent, studying the lines of his own work. "You know," he cast a glance toward Sadhric, "All those years ago, when you took me on? I was intimidated by you."
Sadhric:
That got an amused, rueful grunt. "I had no idea what to do with you."
Sol:
"And I didn't know how to react to that," he smiled again, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. "If we had to do it all over again, knowing it would lead us to this moment, would you still have taken me on?" That, perhaps, was a dangerous question to ask. The answer to that could very well be a solid 'No.' Sol, himself, wouldn't have changed a moment, not even the excruciatingly difficult times had value to them. "Do you regret any of it?"
Sadhric:
Sadhric looked at him. "Does it matter?"
Sol:
"No," he shook his head, rocking it against the wall, "I was just curious."
Sadhric:
With a sigh, The Mechanic relaxed against the window and thought about it. "'Save one,'" he said after a moment, as though the words were a joke.
Sol:
His head came forward, away from the wall, and his eyes opened so he could look at Sadhric, "Just -one-?" His smile was lopsided.
Sadhric:
"Just one," he agreed distantly.
Sol:
"Works for me," his head returned to resting against the wall.
Sadhric:
The change of tone made Sadhric shake his head and move to get back to his feet.
Sol:
The shift from Sadhric had him shutting his eyes, "Where do we stand, Sadhric? I'd rather be working with you than against you, or without you."
Sadhric:
"Have we been working against one another?" he asked, standing now and eyeing Solomon down one shoulder.
Sol:
"No, but I feel so disconnected. It's not a sensation I relish." He opened his eyes and looked up at The Mechanic.
Sadhric:
"Disconnected." He turned a little. "You have your business. I have mine. Isn't that how it should be?"
Sol:
"I suppose that is true." He frowned just slightly. It was probably better that way. It wasn't just the business, though. It was the companionship. After so many years of being on Sadhric's wing, it was weird to be flying solo.
Sadhric:
Sadhric was watching him intently. "I've been disrespectful," he said, "to you, the person I'm most proud of. You're not one of my droids. You were justified in choosing severance over sleep. You had every right. Even though I wish you'd chosen my way." He grimaced and shrugged, and passed a hand through the air. "I can't keep hauling you around with me, expecting you to stand where I tell you to stand, sit when I tell you to sit. But I can't have you with me, doing whatever you want, exploring and trying things the way you must do, out of control, because everything has to be kept in perfect balance, and having someone around...." His lip curled. "... being human, skews it all."
Sol:
The statement Sadhric had made almost had him.faltering. Proud? Sadhric was proud of him. He had to shut his eyes and take a moment, keeping himself aware of the dull.throb in his chest where muscles were still strained. It made sense. Sadhric was a man who had everything weighted and balanced. The Mechanic's entire operation relied on circumstances and situations playing out a certain way. The pieces that Sadhric moved, the information that he dealt with, it was all sensitive. It all had its place, it all had its time. And the way Sadhric had learned how to juggle it all required The Mechanic's all on an almost constant basis. That was the business of Sadhric Tlin. It was a balancing act, fine tuned to the edge of a sharpened vibroblade. Paper thin and razor sharp. "Its friends, then." his eyes opened, he swallowed, and he looked up at Sadhric with a small smile. Good gods it was painful, but it was for the best. They were stunting each other, and that was too risky. It was too bloody of a battle and there would be no victors to come from it. They would both lose if things continued the way they had in the past. It would kill what was left of the relationship they shared. Sol wasn't willing to sacrifice that much just to have a wing to fly by.
Sadhric:
Sadhric couldn't help but wince a little. "Keep that to yourself," he said after a moment. "But feel free to let Akir know you're not my student anymore." He paused, cocked his head. "That way, when he treats you like a two-credit whore, he doesn't get to think he's got a line on me, too."
Sol:
That got Sol to tense, "The job ties into what happened here," He told Sadhric, "And, I have my suspicions that what happened to him, his reasons for cloning, the break in at his facilities -- I believe it can all point to The Sith and manipulation through The Force."
Sadhric:
"Oh? Not arrogant idiocy and a sense that he can do as he likes because his 'soul' will return to any body he manufactures in that third-rate facility of his?"
Sol:
"Not wholly," he shook his head, "He knows he isn't untouchable. He described the way it felt to him when it happened. He said it felt like someone was pushing him to the back of his own mind, trying to take over. The facilities show all the signs of having been tampered with. His apparent death, the clones -- every last one -- it stinks of distraction. Even the blockade at the borders of the unknown region... The Chiss are making small movements. If they were going to push for war, they'd have done it already despite the Mandal show of force."
Sadhric:
Sadhric grunted. "Maybe," he said. It certainly fit in well with Caedmon Cato's conspiracy theory--and, in fact, the patterns that were becoming evident to The Mechanic himself. "Whatever the case... working with Akir is your mistake to make. But I'll say this: the more often you are seen cornered into bad deals, the more people will feel they can try that with you. And the more you acquiesce to such banthashit, the more you, inside, will be ready to bend and kneel to whatever those fuckers think they can push you in to. It's erosion. It will gradually wear you down."
Sol:
"I'm not working with him, or for him," was Sol's response, "I'm working for the galaxy. I'm working for myself. The information he gave me will benefit everyone, not Akir alone. I'm retired. I plan to stay that way. Akir knows this. I made it loud and clear."
Sadhric:
"Leaders have a way of conveniently forgetting the loud and the clear," he said, before adding pointedly: "After all, you retired once before."
Sol:
He'd have to stand his ground, then. He wasn't some brain for hire. Solomon wasn't a slave of a digital nature. His talents were his to use, his to commission. It was alright to say no and stick by it. It was -his- choice. "I did. And I made the mistake of going back. I'm not repeating that mistake." With the mandals, or anyone else.
Sadhric:
It sounded final enough that Sadhric nodded, ready to let it go in the spirit of Sol not being his responsibility any longer. But he didn't believe it. And so long as Akir thought he had a hook in The Mechanic's apprentice, it would in fact continue to be Sadhric's business as a matter of reputation. "Very well," he said. No, he hadn't forgotten that Solomon had asked for his help, first. He had, in fact, been quite bogged down... but the refusal hadn't been for lack of resources to spare. It had been a matter of principle. Painful, painful principle. He gave a little nod.
Sol:
Slowly, carefully, Sol pushed himself up, using the wall as counter balance to help support his weight as he stood. "Thank you, Sadhric, for the opportunities you gave me. I appreciate every last one of them." He offered his marked right hand a bit hesitantly.
Sadhric:
Sadhric eyed the hand. He clearly did not want to do any hand-shaking for any reason. Sometimes, though, formality had its uses, and he forced himself to take Solomon's offered hand.
Sol:
The shake didn't last long. Just long enough for contact to be made. He was quick to release Sadhric's hand, and was then turning to leave the hallway at his slow pace.
Solomon:
It had been several weeks since he had walked those halls and haunted those corridors. Solomon Tekal had returned with a large, unstable package in tow. He had lost track of Marcus the moment he had been taken at the ramp of the Justicar. He was breathing easier, moving easier. The burn and tightness in his chest was almost completely gone. He had made it to the garden before having had the need to take a break. Slumping onto a bench, Sol leaned forward just feeling his breath as it rolled in and out of his new organs.
Sadhric:
For two hours, Sadhric's droids had been Ghostmapping those areas of the Temple where the attack had been most intense, where the white-masked man had been active, and where the highest concentrations of clones had fought. There had been little enough to see, and The Mechanic had not explained what was going on there. But after an hour, a holo overlay had filled two of the areas. A rich overlay, in full color... subtly changing the dimensions of the space, and populating it with dumb, stiff holos of the clones and their supposed master, frozen in mid-run, mid-slash, mid-dive. They changed positions over time, as the information from the initial Mapping continued to compile, and it was as if the images had been pulled from actual footage, down to every smear of blood, of sweat, of ash. But they could be walked through, around, causing only a slight warping of the fabric of the holo. And the man himself? He'd left before the theatrics had begun, consumed by something and silent. Now, he was far from those Mapped zones. His absorbed wanderings had taken him all over the Temple, and now he found himself in a little-traveled corridor, well away from the bustle of students and seekers. To his left were long windows, letting in the last of the daylight across a crush of green. To his right was sunset, too... but a sunset from a different world.
Solomon:
The garden was not such a peaceful place with those holos overlaying everything. The ghostmapping hadn't been noticed in his initial moments. When he did take note of them, Sol frowned. The faces, the memories....Sol rose and moved on, escaping the nest of graphed information and heading deeper into the temple. There were a few places where Sol knew he could take a breather undisturbed. He had headed himself toward the mural hallway. It would be quiet, secluded. There he would be able to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. He had been looking forward to returning to that corridor. There was work he had left unfinished. What he hadn't expected was to turn a corner and find a familiar form present beside Corellia's sunset. "Shit." He muttered, catching himself against the wall and pausing. He had pushed too hard to get there.
Sadhric:
Not merely beside it. Sadhric was standing there, head tipped back as he took in the upper reaches of the blaze of color there, his face mere inches from the wall. After a fashion, here was a sunset he knew. The curse broke him out of his thoughts and he turned his head. The sight of Solomon down the corridor brought no immediate reaction from him. After a second of watching the man lean against the wall, though, he took half a step back and pivoted a little. He simply watched his one-time apprentice, and his head cocked slightly.
Solomon:
All he had to do was breathe. He put his mind to that until things evened out. That would take a few minutes. When he didn't feel like a walking bag of jelly Sol let go of the wall and turned his attention to Sadhric, "How's the purple?" A small motion was made toward the mural, Solomon hugging the wall as he made his way slowly closer.
Sadhric:
Sadhric didn't follow the gesture to look at the painted wall again. His focus remained on Sol. But he asked, "It's from nira buds, yes?" out of reflex. The question seemed to ride on the surface of things, to be mere filler. The scrutiny that, earlier, he'd leveled on Seddar Jenos' rare book--Jonas Cato's rare book?--was now aimed at Sol. He made a slight gesture of his own--toward Sol himself. "You look wretched."
Solomon:
"I feel pretty wretched. This place is too big for me to be walking about like its nothing," and yet Sol was stupidly doing it anyway. Nine hells, though, he was tired of sitting still. "And yes, the color did come from nira buds," a smile was given despite himself. "You look well."
Sadhric:
The Mechanic didn't budge. "Your lungs?" he asked.
Solomon:
"In optimal condition. I'm still recovering from the surgery," and from having faced off with a Force User in close confines. He'd tell that story one day when he was older, and had grandchildren kneeling around him by a warm fireplace. Grandpa Sol versus The White Knight.
Sadhric:
With a twitch of his mouth, Sadhric nodded once and took another step back to eye the mural. "Well." A breath. "I'm glad you found assistance."
Solomon:
"I did," he gave a small nod, "It wasn't my first choice," he told Sadhric with a quiet tone, "You were busy, and I've pissed you off enough to last for ten life times."
Sadhric:
Sadhric sniffed, and now that he was back to studying the mural he kept right on doing that. "This is yours, then?" Somehow in the stiff formality of his tone, there was a note of surprise.
Solomon:
"It is," another small nod, "And Naboo further down," he had turned and stepped away from the wall to look at the mural as well. He smiled looking it over.
Sadhric:
It wasn't that the artistry was superb. To Sadhric's eye, it was clearly not the work of a professional artist. It didn't really have to be: he hadn't expected to find anything like it around the austere Temple. And what the mural--even unfinished--lacked in refinement, it made up for in a sort of enthusiasm. Its boisterous color had been enough to catch his eye and snap him out of his thoughts, to make him stop and study for a moment. He'd seen the sunrise up the hall, but now he didn't look at it. It instantly lost charm for him on a certain level upon being named Naboo. So maybe he was pondering that, that petty reaction, while he wasn't saying anything for the next long moment. When he did speak, it was to say, "I had no idea."
Solomon:
"No idea?" Sol had backed himself up enough to a point where he could use the opposite wall for support.
Sadhric:
"That you had anything like this in you."
Solomon:
He sat, folding himself carefully to the floor. It could have been the compliment that took him, however it was more likely that his legs felt like rubber. "Thank you, Sadhric," From where he now sat, Sol could easily see the mural as a whole. All the bright colors of the skyline in the fading light of day, the blended colors of the wildflowers as they waited eagerly for night to fall. In his mind it was perfect.
Sadhric:
The Mechanic brushed fingers down ribbons of hardened paint. He was very still otherwise. "You were empty for so long." His hand stopped moving, still pressed to the wall. "Too long. And too empty--for something like this to come from you."
Solomon:
"I wasn't empty," he shook his head a bit, "I was overwhelmed."
Sadhric:
As if he hadn't heard him, he moved away, to take a slow step further up the hall, the hand trailing along the wall, as if he could read the colors through his fingertips. "I can mend your bones and I can kill your enemies," he said. "But they'd put too many gashes in you that ran too deep for me. You were draining away through holes I didn't even know how to begin to close."
Solomon:
"The holes weren't yours to close," he said from where he sat, watching Sadhric as the older man moved. The job of closing those wounds had been Sol's. "I...was too wrapped up in my own world to see what it was doing to you."
Sadhric:
The Mechanic backed away from the wall, letting his hand drop to his side. "Did you paint this because they told you to? Am I looking at Jedi therapy?"
Solomon:
"No, I painted it because I wanted to. They had nothing, at all, to do with it." It had been Sol's choice. He could have walked out on Tanshinou the moment he had encountered the painter at his task. Sol had stayed. He had chosen to start something beautiful, and he had chosen to finish it. He had chosen to put so much of himself into the mural that day, and everyday after, that it had become just as much a part of him as he was of it.
Sadhric:
Sadhric took another step back, and another. Soon, his back was to the window, and he was sliding down to sit opposite the mural, only a few yards from where Solomon was. He sighed a little, eyes on the colors.
Sol:
Turning his head, Solomon was watching Sadhric. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, so many things he wanted to say. Should he? For once they weren't arguing. For once they were together without Sadhric looking like he was ready to throttle Sol. If that was how it was to be, he'd take it. He could handle this kind of silence over the angry kind. It was weird, though, to be so close to The Mechanic and not be able to sense the raging storm of thoughts that his mentor typically carried. That was why he studied Sadhric. He just wasn't sure if Sadhric seemed more volitile without that sense, or not.
Sadhric:
The Mechanic didn't seem to be waiting for anything from Solomon. The silence wasn't anticipatory. If anything, he just seemed tired, and his focus drifted up and down the length of the mural for a little while. "I guess you never were a droid I could shut down to fix when I had the time," he said.
Sol:
"No," Sol's gaze shifted back to the mural, "I was never a droid, all though I tried to be," He leaned forward a bit and winced as he let a deep breath roll through him for a sigh, "You're an exhausting man to follow after. I guess I felt it was the only way I could keep up. No distractions, no emotion, follow programing...I tried so hard to be like you, Sadhric. And I shouldn't have. It just felt safer."
Sadhric:
"I didn't take you on as a student so that you could be like me," he said, looking sidelong at the stretch of floor between them rather than at Solomon, his brow tensed.
Sol:
He gave a nod, still observing the mural no longer seeing the colors as they were, "I know," he was thinking back to those first god awfully awkward weeks he had spent locked in a secluded room on Sadhric's ship. "I haven't been living up to my end of this. I haven't been a very good student." He turned his head toward Sadhric, eyeing Naboo further down the hall from where he sat. Those colors, from this distance, seemed wrong. Their shades were off.
Sadhric:
Sadhric rested the back of his head against the window, and his arms across his knees. "Stop doing that."
Sol:
He smiled, returning his gaze to Corellia, letting it go. "Alright," he gave a shallow nod. He fell silent, studying the lines of his own work. "You know," he cast a glance toward Sadhric, "All those years ago, when you took me on? I was intimidated by you."
Sadhric:
That got an amused, rueful grunt. "I had no idea what to do with you."
Sol:
"And I didn't know how to react to that," he smiled again, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. "If we had to do it all over again, knowing it would lead us to this moment, would you still have taken me on?" That, perhaps, was a dangerous question to ask. The answer to that could very well be a solid 'No.' Sol, himself, wouldn't have changed a moment, not even the excruciatingly difficult times had value to them. "Do you regret any of it?"
Sadhric:
Sadhric looked at him. "Does it matter?"
Sol:
"No," he shook his head, rocking it against the wall, "I was just curious."
Sadhric:
With a sigh, The Mechanic relaxed against the window and thought about it. "'Save one,'" he said after a moment, as though the words were a joke.
Sol:
His head came forward, away from the wall, and his eyes opened so he could look at Sadhric, "Just -one-?" His smile was lopsided.
Sadhric:
"Just one," he agreed distantly.
Sol:
"Works for me," his head returned to resting against the wall.
Sadhric:
The change of tone made Sadhric shake his head and move to get back to his feet.
Sol:
The shift from Sadhric had him shutting his eyes, "Where do we stand, Sadhric? I'd rather be working with you than against you, or without you."
Sadhric:
"Have we been working against one another?" he asked, standing now and eyeing Solomon down one shoulder.
Sol:
"No, but I feel so disconnected. It's not a sensation I relish." He opened his eyes and looked up at The Mechanic.
Sadhric:
"Disconnected." He turned a little. "You have your business. I have mine. Isn't that how it should be?"
Sol:
"I suppose that is true." He frowned just slightly. It was probably better that way. It wasn't just the business, though. It was the companionship. After so many years of being on Sadhric's wing, it was weird to be flying solo.
Sadhric:
Sadhric was watching him intently. "I've been disrespectful," he said, "to you, the person I'm most proud of. You're not one of my droids. You were justified in choosing severance over sleep. You had every right. Even though I wish you'd chosen my way." He grimaced and shrugged, and passed a hand through the air. "I can't keep hauling you around with me, expecting you to stand where I tell you to stand, sit when I tell you to sit. But I can't have you with me, doing whatever you want, exploring and trying things the way you must do, out of control, because everything has to be kept in perfect balance, and having someone around...." His lip curled. "... being human, skews it all."
Sol:
The statement Sadhric had made almost had him.faltering. Proud? Sadhric was proud of him. He had to shut his eyes and take a moment, keeping himself aware of the dull.throb in his chest where muscles were still strained. It made sense. Sadhric was a man who had everything weighted and balanced. The Mechanic's entire operation relied on circumstances and situations playing out a certain way. The pieces that Sadhric moved, the information that he dealt with, it was all sensitive. It all had its place, it all had its time. And the way Sadhric had learned how to juggle it all required The Mechanic's all on an almost constant basis. That was the business of Sadhric Tlin. It was a balancing act, fine tuned to the edge of a sharpened vibroblade. Paper thin and razor sharp. "Its friends, then." his eyes opened, he swallowed, and he looked up at Sadhric with a small smile. Good gods it was painful, but it was for the best. They were stunting each other, and that was too risky. It was too bloody of a battle and there would be no victors to come from it. They would both lose if things continued the way they had in the past. It would kill what was left of the relationship they shared. Sol wasn't willing to sacrifice that much just to have a wing to fly by.
Sadhric:
Sadhric couldn't help but wince a little. "Keep that to yourself," he said after a moment. "But feel free to let Akir know you're not my student anymore." He paused, cocked his head. "That way, when he treats you like a two-credit whore, he doesn't get to think he's got a line on me, too."
Sol:
That got Sol to tense, "The job ties into what happened here," He told Sadhric, "And, I have my suspicions that what happened to him, his reasons for cloning, the break in at his facilities -- I believe it can all point to The Sith and manipulation through The Force."
Sadhric:
"Oh? Not arrogant idiocy and a sense that he can do as he likes because his 'soul' will return to any body he manufactures in that third-rate facility of his?"
Sol:
"Not wholly," he shook his head, "He knows he isn't untouchable. He described the way it felt to him when it happened. He said it felt like someone was pushing him to the back of his own mind, trying to take over. The facilities show all the signs of having been tampered with. His apparent death, the clones -- every last one -- it stinks of distraction. Even the blockade at the borders of the unknown region... The Chiss are making small movements. If they were going to push for war, they'd have done it already despite the Mandal show of force."
Sadhric:
Sadhric grunted. "Maybe," he said. It certainly fit in well with Caedmon Cato's conspiracy theory--and, in fact, the patterns that were becoming evident to The Mechanic himself. "Whatever the case... working with Akir is your mistake to make. But I'll say this: the more often you are seen cornered into bad deals, the more people will feel they can try that with you. And the more you acquiesce to such banthashit, the more you, inside, will be ready to bend and kneel to whatever those fuckers think they can push you in to. It's erosion. It will gradually wear you down."
Sol:
"I'm not working with him, or for him," was Sol's response, "I'm working for the galaxy. I'm working for myself. The information he gave me will benefit everyone, not Akir alone. I'm retired. I plan to stay that way. Akir knows this. I made it loud and clear."
Sadhric:
"Leaders have a way of conveniently forgetting the loud and the clear," he said, before adding pointedly: "After all, you retired once before."
Sol:
He'd have to stand his ground, then. He wasn't some brain for hire. Solomon wasn't a slave of a digital nature. His talents were his to use, his to commission. It was alright to say no and stick by it. It was -his- choice. "I did. And I made the mistake of going back. I'm not repeating that mistake." With the mandals, or anyone else.
Sadhric:
It sounded final enough that Sadhric nodded, ready to let it go in the spirit of Sol not being his responsibility any longer. But he didn't believe it. And so long as Akir thought he had a hook in The Mechanic's apprentice, it would in fact continue to be Sadhric's business as a matter of reputation. "Very well," he said. No, he hadn't forgotten that Solomon had asked for his help, first. He had, in fact, been quite bogged down... but the refusal hadn't been for lack of resources to spare. It had been a matter of principle. Painful, painful principle. He gave a little nod.
Sol:
Slowly, carefully, Sol pushed himself up, using the wall as counter balance to help support his weight as he stood. "Thank you, Sadhric, for the opportunities you gave me. I appreciate every last one of them." He offered his marked right hand a bit hesitantly.
Sadhric:
Sadhric eyed the hand. He clearly did not want to do any hand-shaking for any reason. Sometimes, though, formality had its uses, and he forced himself to take Solomon's offered hand.
Sol:
The shake didn't last long. Just long enough for contact to be made. He was quick to release Sadhric's hand, and was then turning to leave the hallway at his slow pace.
