The Seeds of Friendship

[Bobbi]

Geraint arrives on Hapes, and runs into Sol. They take some time to catch up.

Sol:
A shipment had come in, and it had given Solomon full reason to head into the city. Crates were waiting for him, stacked in a holding facility at the main local port. The cases were heavily lined, and sealed with touch pad panels which listed their contents as "perishable" along with thermal controls and the lightly glowing insignia of the Galactic Agriculture Alliance. Looking at the cases there was not much to them that would give away their contents beyond what was listed on the panels, and they were currently under inspection. One of the crates had cracked during the unloading from their transport ship, the touch panel showing that the internal temperature was suffering. The inspection was a matter of course and protocol for the port leaving Solomon to wait for the shipment to be cleared for removal from where it was being held. The damaged crate, he knew, would be destroyed along with its contents and he was already on his comm with the shipping company while wandering the port area to file a complaint. The report he had been given showed no indication on when, exactly, the crate had been damaged leaving the blame to fall between the port itself and the shipping company. The blame didn't matter much, what was a concern was the loss of plant life he had paid a great deal to get to Hapes.

Geraint:
The Aisa was a little more battered than it had been in the past, but the Kilkari fighter still handled like a dream. Given clearance, it was landed. Some minutes later, the man climbing down from it with a pack over one shoulder grinned with surprise when he recognized the lady coming up to give the ship its once-over. It was good, after so long in the unknowns, to know faces and languages and even this starport.

She, at first, had not recognized him. He'd grown a beard, and looked a bit dustier than usual. The Hapan said that his smile gave him away, though, and cleared his ship to be berthed where it sat in the public area.

Boistered by that unexpected reunion, Geraint felt optimistic as he headed down the concourse. And lo and behold if he didn't have another flash of recognition when he heard a familiar edge of a voice and traced it to a man focused other than in the port where he was walking.

Sol:
"--Well, then figure it out! I lost a portion of my shipment because someone screwed up, and since it was your people moving the crates, I'm coming to you with my complaint. Figure it out, or refund my money." Solomon didn't wait for an argument to come back toward him from the other end of the line. He didn't wait for the sniveling response that might have come from someone who was just trying to do their job. There had been enough excuses in that conversation that he just needed to end the call and let them deal with the red tape they needed to go through. More than that, the call was ended because he had caught sight of a familiar face coming down the concourse through the crowd of people. There and then gone, and then there again, Solomon slipped his comm away and made his way toward Geraint.

Geraint:
By that time, Geraint was easing to a halt, one hand up to grip the strap of his pack at his shoulder. Aside from the beard, and a slightly darkened skin tone, he looked generally as he usually did. Layers of all the colors of dust and soil, wrapped or laced up, as if he'd been formed right out of a slice of desert strata somewhere.

"I could believe in coincidence!" he laughed when Sol was close enough that he wouldn't quite have to shout it…

Sol:
"There is no such thing, though," Sol was looking better than he might have when they'd last seen each other, more settled around the edges with a bit of weight put on. It was the kind of thing that was the difference between looking like -life- as opposed to -death-. HIs loose fitting shirt was of a greyish tan, and his pants were black and well worn around the knees with spots that looked as if they may have been caked with mud or dirt at one time and for so long that the color would never truly be black again. There were work clothes, meant to be worn in warm environments while still being protective and lightweight enough to not be stifling to the body or movement. Solomon smiled in return and closed the distance easily, "It's been a pretty long time, how have you been?"

Geraint:
Geraint extended a hand. "I've been... exhilarated. And you? We're a match, I think...."

Sol:
The handshake was met with more strength than there had been the last time they may have shaken hands. It was just the force of the grip that had increased, less tremor in Solomon's fingers, "Better than I have been in a long time. Its the country air, I think. Are you going to be here long?" His gaze shifted toward the sack slung over Geraint's shoulder. He hadn't known the relic thief to travel heavy, and that pack was the heaviest he'd ever seen Geraint carry.

Geraint:
With the clasping of hands, Geraint pulled Sol into a back-clapping hug just long enough to make it count.

Sol:
With the tug came the ease of movement. He was pulled forward, toward Geraint and into the brief hug and then it was over and Solomon was chuckling and tugging down at the lower edge of his shirt with his left hand. That simple and quick touch to Sol's back would reveal the feeling of a light brace worn beneath his shirt, over his shoulders and reaching about mid-way down his back. It was something so smooth that it showed not a bit beneath the clothing he wore.

Geraint:
Having felt it under his hand, when Geraint pulled back his brow was tightened with a little concern. 'A little' because, otherwise, Solomon looked healthy. Healthier than he had every other time Geraint had laid eyes on him.

Sol:
Solomon caught only a shade of the faint concern on Geraint's face, being forced to sidestep a little tot as the boy managed to wriggle his way free of his parents' hands and stumble toward Geraint and Solomon, a hand reaching out to quickly edge Geraint out of the child's path. Caught easily just shy of running into them, the boy was scooped up by his father and swung up onto stout looking shoulders. "Sorry about that," the Hapan male said before turning to rejoin the woman he had been walking with.

Geraint:
Geraint, pivoting, stepped back, met the father's eyes, and then--past him--the mother's, and then it was done, and he looked sidelong at Solomon again. "Hurt your back?" he asked, "or does digging in the dirt necessitate the brace?"

Sol:
The couple met Geraint's eye and then went on their way, indulging themselves and fussing over the boy and his need to watch where he was going. Sol watched them for just a moment longer before shaking his head and looking back at Geraint, "Its actually a stabilizer. I've been getting help to make my right hand stronger, the stabilizer is just part of the treatment. What about you, what have you been up to?"


Geraint:
"Ah. Traveling," Geraint said, "... though... considerably more slowly than usual. --You looked busy. Do you have time to talk? I can meet somewhere at a better time, if need be."

Sol:
"Nah, it's alright. Just a shipping dispute, nothing really important. I got time." He offered a smile, "Find anything interesting out there?"

Geraint:
Eyes unfocusing slightly down the way, Geraint raised his brows and nodded quickly. "Oh yes. Very interesting." He snapped out of it. "Where would you like to go? The less crowded, the better."

Sol:
It took a moment of thought before Solomon was answering that question. Since having come to know Geraint, and of the things that Geraint could search out with the Maht he didn't know what to expect from Geraint's answer. Having been out of the galaxy for a while, the prospect of 'very interesting things' quickened something in him. Curiosity was growing. "Any objections to my ship? I'd say a cantina, or a cafe, but I can't promise that any of them would be empty."

Geraint:
"Oh--'empty' isn't a requirement. But your ship would be fine! Is it still the same one?" Nothing about Geraint's demeanor suggested real tippy-toe sneakiness was going on. His smile was almost constant, though it changed breadth from time to time, and genuine.

Sol:
"Mhm, I know I should get something more geared toward family comfort but I just can't part with it." With a small wave, Sol was turning and meaning to guide Geraint back through the concourse toward where his ship was settled. "Though, I use it for transport mostly these days. I don't see much of the stars anymore."

Geraint:
"'These days.'" Geraint laughed a little, matching Sol's pace to walk beside him. "You make it sound like it's been years."

Sol:
His own smile grew, "Sometimes it feels that way, like everything else is years behind me. Sometimes I don't even know what day it is anymore, and I'm not sure if thats good or bad!"

Geraint:
"How can you not be sure? You don't look like a shadow anymore!" Geraint hitched the pack a little, but walked at ease, enjoying seeing people everywhere again despite what he'd said about wanting a place uncrowded.

Sol:
"I can tell you that I don't feel like one either. Stepping out of it and settling down was a good choice, the days just bleed into one another. It makes the prospect of time feel [i[old[/i]. It makes me feel old, like I should be sitting somewhere with a cup of tea and a cane or something...."

Geraint:
Full of laughter, Geraint chuckled some more. "I can't picture it," he said, theatrically squinting as if he were trying hard to manage it.

Sol:
"Exactly," Sol's smile widened into a grin, "That's why I'm not sure if its a good or bad thing. I don't want to become one of those old guys."

Geraint:
"I don't know. What if they're all happy?"

Sol:
"I would think it’s a good thing, and probably a very well earned happiness. I just don't want to get there before my time, that's all."

Geraint:
“To happiness?" Geraint grunted, amused. "Funny, isn't it, when that's treated like it means you're done."

Sol:
"No! I'll take the happiness, I just don't want to be an old man before I'm an old man. Hell, I'm pretty damn happy with where I am and I'm not planning on doing anything to ruin that -- I just -- you know they say retirement ages you? I don't want that to happen."

Geraint:
The younger man looked thoughtful. "I'd never even heard of the notion of 'retirement' until after the war. I don't think I'd ever been much of anywhere where people ever stopped working."

Sol:
"Not everyone does it. Here, it's a pretty big thing. They see it as a reward for so many years of hard work put in. 'You did blah for so long, now it's time to sit back and relax!' I think it just makes people more tired, but I could be wrong." The port around them was as any port would be in its business with people coming and going. There were traces of aliens here and there, but not many.

Geraint:
Geraint couldn't say whether Sol was wrong or not. The concept, though not brand new to him, puzzled him. He wasn't sure he liked it. "... Interesting. Where did it start, I wonder? Huh."

Sol:
"No idea," he confided while leading Geraint toward an off-shooting branch of the concourse toward the pad where the Justicar sat.

Geraint:
Geraint, who liked a good ship, fell quiet for no particular reason, and could pick the aft silhouette of the Justicar out even at a distance. He was quite content to walk that stretch eyeing the ships and people and letting things be mellow.

Sol:
From there it was only a matter of crossing the pad ,and weaving past several other ships along the way, to reach the Justicar. The ship sat out in the open, still black and angular, still looking very much as Mandalorian as it could. Work had been done on it, though. He'd gotten new engines put in, and upgraded some of the more internal components but those were minor. Whatever had been in the ship graced with the Buffton tech name had been erased and repaired so not a stain of the past was present. The security panel at the ramp was keyed, and the ship opened wide for them with just the softest of audible hisses from the hydraulics that controlled it. "After you, make yourself comfortable."

Geraint:
"Thanks." Geraint went up, in, and found a place to stash his pack that didn't look like it would smash anything of Sol's.

Sol:
Not much had changed about the inside of the ship. The black grated decking was still there, as were the blue running lights. In the cabin where Geraint would find himself, though, the giant bed that a certain StJames had installed was gone and replaced with something more suitable to the size of the ship. He'd had the cabin bed installed and mounted against one of the cabin walls with supports and frame work to keep it stable while still being usable. This opened up the floor of the cabin and new grating was present where the old bed had been. There weren't many personal effects present, the entire thing looking pretty spartan aside from the sonic shower which was right where it had been before. On his way up the ramp, Sol closed up behind him. "Do you want some water or anything?" It felt like an awkward question to ask, but seemed to be the best one. It had been a long time since any one he knew aside from Trinity had seen the inside of his ship.

Geraint:
"Water is great," Geraint said without looking at him, distracted by the act of unlacing the top of his pack and digging carefully through the contents. "I've just been to Jurai," he noted, still focused on the contents of the pack. "They say hello."

Sol:
"Yeah? How's everyone out there doing?" While Geraint went through the contents of his pack, Solomon opened a panel of grating and pulled a small crate of rations and food supplies up from beneath the decking. A bottle of water was retrieved and set aside so he could replace everything.

Geraint:
Geraint looked up--at wall--and thought for a moment before deciding on, "About the same," with an easy shrug and sideways nod of his head. "They do drills and meditate, and explore the meld."

Sol:
"That's good," He turned over his knee briefly to look toward Geraint, "I should really call out there, myself. Did you get the chance to see Kabel while you were there?"

Geraint:
"I did." One fist came up with a small sealed pottery jar roughly the size of an apple, secured with rough twine. Geraint shoved the pack until it balanced without him, and then finally returned his attention to Sol. "She and hers are all well! I think Jurai was a lucky find for them. A way to step out of the flow of things for a while, as you said."

Sol:
In just those few seconds that Geraint was getting the bag to sit on its own, Solomon had picked up the bottle of water and stood to make way for the cabin bunk where he sat at the edge while listening to Geraint speak, "I'm glad they found some peace. I'll have to call them soon." The bottle of water was offered toward the thief, "Sorry, its not cold."

Geraint:
"I'm not sure how to forgive that," Geraint said wryly as he reached for it.

Sol:
"I know, atrocities of atrocities." The bottle was let go once Geraint had his hand around it, "Where else have you been?"

Geraint:
"B'Sta," Geraint said simply, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and accepting the water with his free hand. His eyebrows rose again and his mouth opened and he shook his head a little. "Your once-teachers are strange men."

Sol:
"So, he actually let you set foot on it? That's surprising, even more so that you made it out to tell the tale. How did you manage to talk him into it, or was it Cato's doing?" There was a downturn to his smile just at the corners of his lips that hinted at a small frown.

Geraint:
Geraint's expression was more bemused, but when Solomon suggested he'd persuaded anyone he laughed like the idea was absurd. "Oh no! No--definitely wasn't me. I'll admit I'm still a bit confused by how it worked out. I don't think Tlin wanted to go there at all, but Cato did, and I was with him, and Tlin apparently wanted his goodwill enough that he eventually--mostly--shut up about it and determined to ignore me as much as possible."

Sol:
"Why in the nine hells would Cato want to go all the way out there? -- wait, you were with him? With Cato? I thought he'd fallen off the face of the galaxy to take care of Jonas!"

Geraint:
"I was--yes--Which--" Geraint closed his mouth with a look of amusement at his own thoughts and breathed for a beat or two before beginning again. "Master Cato... He said we should know what it was that Tlin had created. He feared sentients there would be left adrift when Tlin lost interest. He hoped--hopes--to offer them access to the greater galaxy and all it has to offer." He paused. "They argued. Quite a lot."

Sol:
Solomon sat quietly for a moment before shifting on the bed by pulling his shoulders back and flexing his right hand, "It's a mistake -- Cato wanting to give them access to the greater galaxy. They aren't ready for it, or at least they weren't when I was there. Introducing them to the rest of the galaxy will be painful for them. Best to just leave them to adapt on their own and seek us out when they are ready. It's too dangerous for them."

Geraint:
“Tlin's argument," Geraint said quietly with a nod. "Cato's retort would be that any suffering averted trumps the risk. It was his retort. I wasn't sure at first they might not come to blows. --Both of them use the word 'friend' to describe the other, but it seemed to me that they've got an odd sort of friendship if that's what it is."

Sol:
Weakly, Solomon smirked, "Tlin doesn't have friends, Geraint. He has people he tolerates, and Cato has very much the same. Cato's ideas on the matter of B'sta may be grounded in good intentions, but its best they stay that way and not brought into reality. I really hate to agree with Sadhric in this, but I have no choice if common sense has anything to do with it. "

Geraint:
"'Reality,'" Geraint echoed quietly, tasting the depth of that word. "Interesting word choice. I can understand the caution. Master Cato understands it. He's still there. Tlin left before I did, weeks ago. I'm not sure if they ever came to any sort of agreement. Tlin nearly never talked much about it when I was around, but I know they talked when I was off."

Sol:
"Well, if I know Cato -- when he -does- manage to get himself off of B'sta, he's going to do what he feels is right Sadhric be damned. Sadhric will go into damage control, and find a way to make Cato sorry for messing with the place. Any idea where Tlin went?"

Geraint:
"None," Geraint told him. The bemused look had shifted to one of thoughtfulness. "Not heartened by the fact that they didn't try to choke each other….?”

Sol:
Shrugging, Solomon shook his head, "If they were going to harm each other, they'd have done it a long -long- time ago. And even if they hurt each other now, it'll be more a game of tit-for-tat. Sadhric leaving Cato there was a kindness, a nod toward the tolerance that he feels toward the Jedi Master."

Geraint:
Geraint nodded again and was quiet for a moment. Then he turned the little jar in his hand with a twitch of his thumb and smiled faintly again with some dismay. "You may not want to accept your present."

Sol:
Solomon's gaze dropped to the jar and he eyed it for a moment before presenting his left hand, palm side up, "Well, that depends on what's in it. It's not blood sucking parasites, is it?"

Geraint:
"Noooo...." Geraint dipped his head a little with the word. He put the jar in Sol's palm. Gestured to it with two fingers. Solomon would find it heavy, with weight that shifted more like sand than like water. "Some care involved, though. I'm positive Tlin would not like me bringing these. But I was given them, and I figured with the way you know plants you'd know how to keep them well, and keep them from spreading, and how to handle them thoughtfully."

Sol:
The jar was weighed, his left hand bouncing up and down slightly to feel the contents shifting within. "Seeds?" He guessed, bringing it close and carefully opening the little container, tilting it toward the light above them just enough to see if he could glimpse what was inside.

Geraint:
Geraint smiled. Seeds. The varied scents wafted out as soon as Sol opened the lid. It wasn't only seeds, though. Weighty little homespun bags had slender tags attached, covered in one side by alien writing, and on the other by space-cramped Basic translations written with some smudgy ink. "Some are medicinal--used by the humans and Shai there. Most are just ornamental. Some wildflowers. I got help with the information on them. Annoyed no few good-natured locals."

Sol:
He was very tempted to sift through those little bags, but he put it off. If he pulled them out right there in his ship he had no guarantee that there would be no spores of pollen that would make it out of the ship on their clothing or shoes. Not knowing how the plant life would thrive and mingle with what was indigenous to Hapes kept him from following the urge. He did smile, though, and carefully replace the jar's cap. "I -- don't know what to say, Geraint. Thank you. " It was heartfelt sentiment, "I will be careful with them."

"How are the locals there fairing? Are they doing alright for themselves?"

Geraint:

"Never a doubt that you would be," the younger man said, relieved and pleased by Solomon's reaction. Then: "They would say, 'Yes, of course we're doing well.' They were finding their feet all over. Apparently, B'Sta was a very different place not long ago. They seemed astonished constantly that it was safe to walk outside cities, or at night. Told me all kinds of tales. Haunts that would come out of nowhere; magic."

Sol:
"Yeah," The word was blown out in a breath, "When I had been there the place was upside down. It was still growing, still forming, and its ecosystem was upset because of that. The people there were an accident, that they'd found the place at all was amazing, and terrifying. The wraiths were -- a byproduct of the system Sadhric had built trying to correct itself, and the variable of inhabitants thrown in unexpectedly. I'm glad to hear they are doing well."

Geraint:
That had come up, that explanation. Geraint nodded like he knew. "They are doing well. They would be doing better if they had access to some of our medical technology, for example. Some of our learning. If you measure life for life, suffering for suffering."

Sol:
"I don't doubt that, and I'm sure that was part of Cato's argument. They'll figure it out the same way the rest of the galaxy figured it out, I'm sure. It might take them longer, but no longer than it took the rest of us. Still, I am very glad to hear they are doing well. I had wanted to check in on them when I was at Origin, but it was off limits."’

Geraint:
Geraint watched him before nodding slightly. He accepted the tonal change Sol wanted to make. "It was a complicated time," he said softly. "Anyway. Do as you will with those. They are a gift. If you decide to plant or destroy them, it's all fair. --Should you decide to try to grow them, where I could I either listed where I'd found them (briefly) or asked someone."

Sol:
His hand closed around the jar as much as it could, and he smiled, "It just so happens that I have a greenhouse set up for this kind of growing. I'll have to division off a section, though, but that's no problem and wont take me long to do. I really appreciate it, Geraint. I don't remember much about the plant life there, so this is pretty exciting!"

Geraint:
"I hoped it would be something you'd like." He laughed a little. "And I hoped things were going well for you. They seem to be! How is your daughter? How is your son?"

Sol:
"They are doing well," His smile was back, "we are having some trouble with Ureala, though. The growth hormones that Vikas used on Angel have affected her. She's growing and developing way faster than Zachory, but they get along well. I don't think they could be without the other now that they are both under the same roof."

Geraint:
"Ureala? Pretty name. What does it mean?"

Sol:
"Honestly," Sol gave a soft chuckle and shook his head, "I have no idea. I stole it from the big book of family names -- it had belonged to my sister."

Geraint:
"Ah," he said. He caught the past-tense of belonged. "A lovely name. Well-chosen."

Sol:
"It suits her well, I think, much better than what I had been calling her before. It's been nice having her home with us. I didn't think I'd adjust to it so quickly, but here we are!"

Geraint:
“I'm glad you let her in, Solomon," the younger man said, touching his hand to his heart.

Sol:
He sat still for a moment before giving a shallow dip of his head, resting the jar he held against his leg, "Yeah, I am too. Trin's still warming up to having her around, but I can't blame her for that."

Geraint:
"I'd like to meet her," Geraint said, raising his eyebrows.

Sol:
Surprise hit him and he found himself eyeing Geraint, "You would?"

Geraint:
"Yeah," he laughed, "why wouldn't I?"

Sol:
"I don't know. I guess I just assumed -- well, I'm not sure what I assumed." He laughed a bit, "I think I had assumed that you had already met her somewhere along the way, or something."

Geraint:
"No, never," Geraint said. "And I think I'd like to meet your family."

Sol:
"Right now, Trin has the kids at the palace. She knows some of the aides there, and they've been asking about the kids so she took them by today. How long do you plan on hanging around Hapes?"

Geraint:
"As long as it takes," he said, "but not more than a few weeks. I need to return to Master Cato."

He paused. "What do they say--the palace physicians, about Ureala?"

Sol:
He rolled his shoulders again, bringing his right shoulder forward just a bit before shifting it back to its natural position, "They tell us she's healthy aside from the quick development, and there isn't much they can do about that unless we want to stunt her growth completely. I'm not sure I want to put her through that considering how she came into the galaxy."

Geraint:
A nod. "What about other healing techniques?" He frowned a little. She's healthy. Would healing techniques recognize such a thing as something to heal? He supposed it would depend on the technique.

Sol:
"I meditate with her daily," Sol offered, "that's about as far as other techniques have gone. I'm hesitant to introduce her to anything that could curb her growth one way or another. She's not a mutant or anything -- nothing like a baby stuck in a fifteen year old's body or anything gruesome like that. She's just talking and walking early, and bright as a damn glow stick in the dark! Hells, Zach is just learning how to crawl!"

Geraint:
The description poked through Geraint's concern enough to let his expression brighten. "You sound certain that all that's going on is hormones. If you are, I promise I'll leave it."

Sol:
Nodding, Sol said "With the way her growth had been explained to us, it's all due to the growth hormones Angel had been subjected to while Ureala was in utero. Whatever the compound was that Vikas had used to hasten the pregnancy has caused Ureala to be an early bloomer -- that's it. She's in no real danger genetically or otherwise. She -might- be more vulnerable to illness as she grows, but that's a wait and see kind of thing. We don't know that for sure just yet. She's been perfect since being here with us on Hapes."

Geraint:
Geraint felt it out quietly, but there was nothing behind Sol's words that he could sense. "All right," he said with a nod and a lightening tone. "I'm relieved. She's been through a lot, that little one. You all have."

Sol:
"She's good, we all are. There are days when I think this little peaceful, happy bubble of our's will pop and the galaxy will sweep in to show us how wrong we were to take a breath and be happy, but those days are not nearly as many as they had been before. I've stopped looking over my shoulder, and I don't feel bad about it at all."

Geraint:
"It's not a bubble, though, is it? It's just as much a part of life as the other. I know it hasn't felt that way...."

Sol:
"It hasn't felt that way at all. At first I felt like I was hiding from the galaxy by being here, by letting myself relax into domestic life. Now, though, it just feels like there is a wall between me and everything else. You know, beyond my brother, you are the first familiar face I've seen in quite some time."

Geraint:
Surprise was there, but after a moment Geraint nodded. "Perhaps the others think you want or need space."

Sol:
"That is a good possibility. I haven't put forth much effort in keeping contact either, though. I want to, but then it seems like I'll be inviting trouble to come visit and then so I don't."

Geraint:
"What kind of trouble?" he asked mildly.

Sol:
There was a roll to his shoulders, just an easy slump that brought them forward as much as the brace would allow, and a line through his features that spoke of contemplation. He was formulating his words. It was just a brief moment because he was then saying, "I have no idea what form it might take. Its just this idea that sits in the back of my head. I've settled in, I have a routine. I feel better than I've felt in a very long time. My family is happy here, and I'm getting there. I'm happy with them and I'm making Hapes as much a home for me as I can and that thought at the back of my head tells me there are still monsters out there, and that the moment I reach out beyond what I have here is the moment those monsters will notice us and they'll come just as they always have before. And I'll have to fight again, and become that shadow that you first met. I don't want to do that."

Geraint:
"After what you've been through, I guess it's natural to think it might be that 'all or nothing.' But it's not. Even if you had to fight someday, you don't have to be the shadow."

Sol:
"I know. I'm trying to be careful about falling into old patterns, I guess. Being the shadow was so easy. It was easier than anything else, even if it was more harmful in the long run. All I had to do was disconnect, just shut-off and go for it and then deal with the aftermath. If I wind up fighting, I might get lost in that again. It's a fear I have not just for myself, but for Trin and the kids. I hurt her, Geraint, and I don't want to hurt her ever again. I don't want to hurt the kids, either. They all deserve better than the shadow."

Geraint:
Slowly Geraint nodded, thinking about it. "I see nothing wrong with taking a step back. I don't have any argument with letting yourself enjoy some peace, either." His smile was back, faint but real. "You sound good, Sol. Sound good, and look good. I think you may have won. More than anyone--you and your family. Don't think about that too much--" He drew back, starting to laugh a little. "--but this might be what triumph feels like."

Sol:
At the left edge of his mouth a smile cracked lopsided, "If it is, in this galaxy I'll take it. Every last bit. But what about you? Is the --" He paused to lift his right hand up, fingers running down his chin to mine a beard, "chin hair staying?"

Geraint:
The grin widened fantastically and Geraint reached up to mirror Sol's gesture and stroke the grizzly beard. "Mm. Hadn't thought about it. Should I get rid of it? I'm trying to see a Queen."

Sol:
"I suppose it depends on what you are wanting to see her for," He laughed just a bit, "and the look you are going for. It makes you look older, I think."

Geraint:
"Going for...?" Geraint blinked at him.

Sol:
"Yeah, you know...professional versus anything else..."

Geraint:
The younger man blinked. Before this turn of the conversation, it might have been clear that it hadn't occurred to him much to compose how he looked other than cleaning up. Still, even something in that struck him funny. "'Professional.' What profession? Professional Jedi? --The beard grew because I didn't shave. I don't have bugs or anything."

Sol:
His right hand came up, and he chuckled, giving Geraint a placating wave of that hand, "I didn't mean to imply that in any way. And there have been Jedi with beards over the years, I'm sure. So if you like it, keep it." He dropped his hand and shrugged, "It's not any of my business really, I was just curious."

Geraint:
In a vague way, Geraint understood the way any adult did that appearances mattered. Rarely had he ever had to think about that in concrete terms, beyond cleanliness. Thinking about it now, he decided that he did not care to start. If one day he decided to shave, he'd shave. If he didn't bother, the beard would linger. If a Queen couldn't talk to him because face fur bugged her, it probably wasn't a Queen he should be dealing with.

He nodded--more at his own dismissal of concern than anything else.

Sol:
"Well, in any case -- do you have a meeting time with her set up yet? I don't want to keep you, but if you have the time you could come by and see the house? Trin and the kids should be home before too long." He let the topic rest, and rolled on to another. It was an idle curiosity, one that didn't need to be nagged at.

Geraint:
"No--I'd just arrived when I spotted you. Haven't been to the Palace yet at all, and I want to go in person to talk to someone first." There was a point behind that. "So I'd enjoy coming to meet them."

Sol:
"Alright," he pushed himself forward and rose from the cabin bunk while saying, "I can bring you back into the city then, if you'd like to ride out with me. I'll have some things here at the port to resolve, and a shipment to pick up if they can ever get their stuff together."

Geraint:
"That would be great, thank you," Geraint said, leaning back a little. He didn't quite know what to expect, but since when was that a problem for him? "You said Darien has been here. How is he? Where is he now, do you know?"

Sol:
"He's alright, I think. The last time he was here was a few weeks ago. He came to drop off Ureala, and then left. He didn't stay too long. I think he's working on finding his own children. I don't think he and Ava are on good speaking terms right now -- but, that's just a guess based on how he was acting."

Geraint:
"Ava. --Did you know that the children on Jurai call her 'Master Azalee'?" Geraint smiled but shook his head.

Sol:
His eyebrows rose with his surprise and he shook his head, "Do they know? That's really... unearned..."

Geraint:
"She tries to stop them--only... not so effectively, as it turns out. Evidently, this has gone on for some time." He tilted his head. "It made me confront some conflicting reactions I wasn't expecting to have within myself. I didn't think I cared about ranks or titles. I'm not sure that's what this is... Instead, I think I care about the word 'Jedi.' Suddenly. Who knew?"

Sol:
In the course of him standing there Solomon had turned to look down at Geraint, leaning against the upper supports that helped keep the bunk stable during flight with his left shoulder, "That's the part I have a problem with, too. I've come to realize that being so far removed from everything -- I've had a lot of time to figure some stuff out. Ava's just as much a Jedi as I am, and I'm no Jedi. Wanting it doesn't make it so. Having the training and knowing the words doesn't make it so. They can call her the 'master' of whatever they wish, but that doesn't mean it's true. I am, however, glad to hear that she tries to stop them, even if they don't listen."

Geraint:
"They should listen. --But I also wonder how much of my reaction comes from spending time with Master Cato. None of these things should matter, yet they do."

Sol:
"They should," he agreed with a nod, "But what leadership do they have to really compare to? When the order was settled on Coruscant it was easy to see the chain of command and know who was at the top, so to speak. What they have been left with is a few who've been trained but are still struggling just as much as they are. I can see why they don't listen. She's experienced, and so in their eyes she's someone to turn to. It makes sense, oddly enough. She's still no Master Cato, though. That you are spending time with him is a good thing, I think. There aren't many like him out there. Is he training you at all? Making you lift rocks while doing handstands?"

Geraint:
Geraint felt the same way: it made sense. It also, however, made him feel separate. He'd always felt separate, not being a Jedi, but now... Now he actually was apprenticed, formally, and feeling separate from the people who'd helped him come to that choice felt strange. He left those thoughts for a moment, laughing a little. "No. Why should he? Those are my strengths!"

Sol:
"There's always room for improvement!" He exclaimed with a light laugh, "Its one of his staples, sometimes while reciting the code and sometimes not. He'll also make you do it while he flicks pebbles at your head and talking to you at the same time. At least he did for Jeryndi and I."

"He might have changed his ways since then."

Geraint:
Grinning, Geraint said, "Or he doesn't dare."

Sol:
Laughing a bit more, Sol nodded, "Or that," and then he was asking, "How is he, beyond fighting with Sadhric?"

Geraint:
"Strong, in some ways. Not so much, in others. He'd hate knowing I think that. He seems sad to me. Determined, yet at the same time battling a sense of futility."

Sol:
A small thoughtful noise came from him right then, "I'm sorry to hear that. I think, in his own way, he feels the weight of this galaxy and isn't quite sure what to do with it, you know? He follows where The Force calls, but doesn't really feel like it matters. Does that make sense?"

Geraint:
"Yes, but I'm not sure I agree. He knows it matters. I think he wants it to matter more. He's seen a lot. He's seen twice my years or more. I think seeing wars and corruption and few strong voices for good--and for leadership--keeps him wondering who will step up when he's gone."

Sol:
"I hope that's some years off yet," Sol conceded, "him being gone. It will be a sad day when he meets his end, I think. I can see how that would weigh down on him, though."

Geraint:
The younger man nodded and said quietly, "He didn't talk about it, but Darien warned me about him. I can now see why the warning--but I'm not sure it counts for me. I'm not a lost little boy anymore. Nor am I from a great Jedi lineage. I went to him for a reason, and my reason still exists. I don't know, actually--" Here he laughed again, a little self-deprecatingly. "--whether he's pleased with me or not. He never really gives that away. But that doesn't matter, either. I'd like his approval, but even that isn't why I'm trying to learn from him."

Sol:
Oh, you'll know if you displease him," Solomon's voice deepened slightly with both knowing and the small laugh he held back in order to speak, "He'll pinch his nose, and cut you off at every word, every chance he gets. His temper can be very short with those that he is displeased with. Even if his approval isn't what you are aiming for, do you mind if I ask why you went to him?"

Geraint:
Geraint watched Solomon's face. He was thinking he had a different relationship with Cato than Solomon had. And that made sense. They came from different places, and were at different points in their lives. But it meant that Darien's warning and Solomon's memories were almost from a different reality. "I want to be of use," Geraint told him flatly. "What was I, in the war, but just another martially trained sensitive? --Until I was part of a group with a mission. --Until we went after Ureala. Then I was worth something."

Sol:
From Solomon came a nod, his face full of unspoken thoughts, "I think you stand a good chance of finding your use. The lot of us that had been calling ourselves Jedi -- we didn't know what it actually meant. We were shown how to fight, and told what it was to be a Jedi -- but it was all just one big battle, I think. I think that if anyone could make it, it would be you. I see the potential in Darien, too, but he's gotta keep his head on right and stay away from the bottle. You've got a good chance, Geraint, I'm glad you're going after it."

Geraint:
"I have some thoughts about the martial side of it," Geraint said, but he was nodding, and after a second he rose, too. "--Thank you, Solomon. I think the key focus I need--personally--is to not get lost in thoughts of the future. I used to live in the present always. --Well. Mostly always." One corner of his mouth pulled back wryly. "When I was flawed, it was because I was dwelling on the past. I think Cato dwells on the future. Staying useful now, any given minute, is what needs to be my focus."

Sol:
"Do you think it's like learning to ride a swoop -- staying focused in now?" The question was asked innocently, "I've always had problems with that. I know how to focus on the past, and on the possible future which can be -really- overwhelming, but I never could really focus on the now part of things. Not for very long anyway."

Geraint:
“But here on Hapes...." Geraint made a little gesture.

Sol:
"I'm learning. Not every day is easy, but I'm getting there I think. "

Geraint:
Agreeing readily to that, Geraint reached out to clap him on the arm. "In that case... Shall we? Leave this seriousness aside for a little while, and have good company."

Sol:
A smile crept back onto his face, and Solomon gave a nod while pushing himself away from the support of the cabin bunk, "Sounds good to me! Controls are this way..." It would be just a very short walk to the cockpit. Given the size of the ship it was really only just a couple steps to get from the ship's only cabin to the flight controls through a small passage that ended at a small room with two flight chairs and the brand new controls he'd had installed not too long ago. Not a bit of this tech looked Mandal-made, but it did show its newness in that all the dials still gleamed and there was not a smudge of use to any of it. Even the flight chairs, themselves, looked new.

Geraint:
"Ah! You upgraded," Geraint said, delighted, looking it all over once they were up front.

Sol:
"I did," He confessed with a chuckle, "I couldn't take working with all that Buffton tech. It just didn't suit the ship the way I felt it should." He was slipping into the pilot's seat, and indicating that Geraint should take the other. "Truth be told, I think it flies better now."

Geraint:
"I bet it does," said the younger man, sliding into the other seat like he was born to it. "I never knew ships. Just mine, and the ones I could use to scavenge for parts every now and then."

Sol:
As Geraint spoke, Solomon began getting ready to take them out of the port with the jar he'd been carrying slipped into a compartment just on his side of the console, right next to the blaster he had stashed there, "How many have you had through the course of your years?" He asked that shooking a side-glance Geraint's way briefly while continuing to warm the ship up.

Geraint:
"Had-had? Just the Aisa. I've used several... Like the one you all went to save." He coughed. "I apologize again for that."

Sol:
He smile, and then laughed, and shook his head, "Water under the bridge, Geraint. That was a long time ago."

Geraint:
“It was and it wasn't," he said taking up the lighter tone. "I still think about it."

Sol:
"You do?" Another glance came Geraint's way before Sol settled in to calling the flight advisor of the port to get his clearance for take-off. That wouldn't take long to get.

Geraint:
"Every now and then. I think about the meld... how that felt. How I'm not sure I could have conceived of that kind of cooperation back then. Not that I was against cooperation, it just wasn't a habit."

Sol:
"How -did- it feel? Roland described it to me once, but I couldn't achieve the level of focus needed at that time to experience it."

Geraint:
That took some consideration. Geraint had described it before (or tried), and it had never felt adequate. "It requires less... focus... and more... faith. Faith that the meld itself will not betray you or anyone who is a part of it. When that is there, you are aware of how you and your companions are more than you thought, and that there is a harmony that is a connection to the Force, untouchable by the corrupt powers."

Sol:
"It must have been amazing." The ship was moving at Solomon's whim, following the exit path that he had been given by port authorities. The ride was smooth, the rumble from the engines minimal, as he aimed them for the sky. "You'd never experienced anything like that before then?"

Geraint:
Geraint glanced at him, smiling with just a wry hint. "I had. Just not... Well. It's hard to explain. Yes... and no.... Alone, when I move--" He motioned with his hand, a kind of swimming movement. "--it feels like that. I'd never experienced it with others."

Sol:
"I have to admit that I'm fascinated by that. I don't know if I'd ever been so deep into faith that it felt like that, and if I have -- it was when I was so young that I don't remember it now. Have you done anything like that since -- in a group, I mean?"

Geraint:
“Yes... on Jurai. We explored it some. But, honestly, there's not much to it. Not much to explore. Any 'terrain' to navigate is within yourself--your own barriers--and not a product of the meld. When we went for Ureala, the meld was weakest, or broken, when doubt pushed us away from it. And fear. Though I find they seem to often be much the same things."

Sol:
"They can be very much related," Sol agreed. Below them the city was passing by quickly, the ship having passed up above air lanes that had been cleared for in coming and out going ships, "I'm still very grateful that your group was able to overcome those obstacles in order to get her back for me."

Geraint:
"We know you are," Geraint assured him. "We're grateful it worked and she's safe." He paused. "And loved."

Sol:
"I held her in contempt for a good long while, blamed her just as I blamed her mother and Vikas. I cared for her, but it wasn't really love -- not the kind of love that it should have been. She was alive, and that's what I had cared for. She was in danger, and that's what I was concerned about -- not necessarily that she was my daughter through all of that, but just that she was a living being caught up in something beyond her control and choosing. But now," He smiled and nodded softly, "Now she's mine."

Geraint:
Geraint sank back into the seat. "Darien knew."

Sol:
"He did?" An easy glance went toward Geraint, and way far beneath them the city was thinning toward its edges.

Geraint:
"That it needed to happen. And maybe even that it would."

Sol:
"Well, if he hadn't come banging on my door, she'd have been out there for a while longer. I didn't think I was ready for her to come home, but he really didn't give us much choice in our timing."

Geraint:
It got a chuckle from Geraint. "He's a good brother. You're lucky to have him."

Sol:
Smiling widely, Solomon agreed by saying, "I wouldn't want any other." The ship was being angled down, taken in a wide arch toward a field that was open wide next to a house surrounded by flowers at its front, and trees at its rear with a duraglass building sitting beyond the trees, at a fair distance from the back of the house. The house, itself, was made of painted duracrete in cream and light blue. It was a tall two story building with windows designed to bring in sunlight during the day. That field next to the house was wide enough for the ship Sol was flying, the small light freighter that already rested there, a speeder and another ship roughly the size of the Justicar with some room to spare.

Geraint:
Craning a little, Geraint observed the house and land and finally the-- "That's a lot of ships for two people," he said with raised brows. "Or do you have help?"

Sol:
"Nah, it's just Trin, the kids, and myself. The little ship, there, is a project I'm working on for Trin. I'm fixing it up and restoring it for her. The freighter is another project. I want to turn it into more of a family friendly ship, but its going slow." Lined up just then, Sol was bringing the Justicar down to land. The surrounding area of the house was nothing but open fields of native growth, cut down short closest to the landing field and toward the space that the house, yard, and greenhouse occupied. There were other houses out there, but they were spaced far enough apart that they really could not be considered neighbors. Most of the other houses that could have been seen along the way were bigger, more state-of-the-art looking while Sol's was pretty simple by comparison.

Geraint:
The view captured Geraint while Sol landed the ship. Still strapped in, he nonetheless scrutinized what he could with a pleased surprise. Before the ship was even down, he murmured: "I bet it smells good."

Sol:
The little comment from Geraint brought forth a smile of pride in Sol. "All of the plants surrounding the house are native to the planet, and this climate. The trees all bear some sort of fruit, and flower with the changes of Hapes' seasons. It's one of things helping me find a home here."

Geraint:
Clearly happy with what he saw, Geraint nodded, quiet as he took it all in.

Once the ship was down, he reanimated, unstrapped, and got up after Sol to grab his pack--though, on second thought, he asked if he could leave it aboard. There was nothing in it that needed to be lugged around, now that Sol's gift was given.

Sol:
Sol had taken the time, once landed and settled, to retrieve the jar Geraint had given him leaving the blaster where it was. Permission was given to leave the pack where it was, and then Sol was leading the way down the ramp. At the bottom he spared a moment to just listen. There was a light breeze that rustled the tall grasses, and swayed the branches of trees, and with that breeze was carried the sweet and varied smells of flowers from the front of the house. Beyond that the world around them was peaceful. It permeated everything, and in that peace was the feeling of bright and thriving life within The Force.

Geraint:
Geraint would have paused on his own had Solomon not, once they were down from the ship with their boots on solid earth, but Sol beat him to it. With that, he wound up watching Solomon rather than the landscape. The sounds came to him; he studied how they seemed to come to Sol. The scents came; he saw Solomon taking them as if they were new to him. It left Geraint smiling wide. A lot of things left him smiling these days more than in the past. It was not that everything was so much better than it had been (though that was also true, with the War immediately behind them), but that he looked a little differently.

After a moment, he said, "You and Trin picked a beautiful spot. Or it picked you."

Sol:
Geraint's words brought him out of his stillness, Sol shaking his head and motioning toward the house, "It needed a lot of help when we found it. The wild growing weeds and grass had choked out a lot of nutrients from the dirt. It did not look nearly this good when we first settled. It took me some few weeks to figure out what was needed, but -- look at it now." The pride hadn't bled away as he spoke. "The only downside is that the weeds like it, too. I haven't figured out how to keep them out of the flower beds yet."

Geraint:
"Even wild," Geraint said, meaning the deeper beauty, the richness of the place itself. There was much to commend about what Solomon's efforts had made of it, though. "I see I gave the seeds to the right man."

Sol:
His smile slid sideways and started for the house, clapping a hand against Geraint's closest shoulder, "Come on, I'll show you the rest of it."

Geraint:
Mute, content, Geraint went with him.

Sol:
Solomon led Geraint toward the front of the house where a walkway was set down in duraplast, looking like textured stone against the green growth around it, "The house had been abandoned during the war. The family that had lived here had fled to a different city hoping to get as far from the fighting as possible. The building wasn't in as bad shape as the ground around it," he begun telling Geraint, "But we are fixing up some problem areas and I am hoping we'll be completely self sufficient within the next two years." On the ground the flowers were brightly colored, and moving closer to their beds would bring an even denser scent on the breeze. There were signs that weeds were taking root where small dark green blades were pushing up through spaces between plants.

Geraint:
Geraint listened as he walked with Sol. It was beautiful, and the work on it was evident, but he was admiring where Solomon was now. He was so different from the man he'd met on Jurai. To hear him talk about the next two years made the younger man beam silently. At one point, he asked, "Are these flowers ornamental, or do the plants have uses? --I'm not knowledgeable about such things the way you are, but I'm trying to be! One of the things I realized is that, if I'm going to make myself useful, I should get to work learning about a million things...."

Sol:
Pleased with the question, Solomon's smile widened and he pointed out the beds furthest away from the front of the house, as they passed "The ones set out here are ornamental. The ones in the flower boxes at the windows are more medicinal. I made sure that none of them are lethal to living organisms before planting. This one," a flower with wide petals that were dark purple at the tips and light pink toward the center, "Is a bit of both depending on the season. It's buds can be crushed to make a paste for the treatment of burns and cuts if caught right at the beginning of the growing season. The leaves on its stem can be used to make a potent tea that locals say help with headaches if clipped near the end of its bloom, however the petals themselves are bitter and best left on their own."

Geraint:
"Where do you pick this stuff up?" Geraint asked, crouching to touch a petal lightly with a finger.

Sol:
He stood close by, watching Geraint casually, "I found some resources during an on-going restoration project I started on Corellia that gave me the chance to make contacts within the Galactic Association of Agriculture. I spent some time not too long after we bought this land asking questions and pretty much driving them up a wall until I was given some names of cultivators here on Hapes. They helped me pick the plants out, and how to organize them for optimal growing. -- I still don't know what they are all called scientifically, but I do know some of their common names. That one you're touching is Hapan Sunset after the purple hue of the sky at dusk -- it matches the petals."

Geraint:
"Hapan Sunset," Geraint echoed, rising again. He nodded, ready to move on, enjoying himself immensely, though he was no longer surprised to find Sol in such a good way. It seemed to fit together, his whole new picture.

Sol:
And onward they would go, Sol pointing out various flowering plants along the short path, and naming those he knew for Geraint. The scent at the front of the house held a more wooded quality to it. The plants in the window boxes were more green than flowering, and here Sol paused to snap a thick round stalk free, the leaves of which were stubby, soft and silky looking bulbs. He offered it to Geraint, "This one," he said, "I've been told helps sore muscles. You tear open a bulb and spread the contents across the affected area. Its supposed to numb the skin and loosen the muscles beneath. I've not had a chance to try it yet."

Geraint:
"Smells earthy," Geraint said after he'd sniffed it. "I'm not sure how I'd pictured Hapes beyond the city, but it wasn't quite this. I'm not sure why."

Sol:
"I didn't either," Sol had turned toward the door and keyed their entry on the pad, causing the door to swish open, "I think that's because of how overdeveloped everything seems to be everywhere else. Places like this are disappearing on developed worlds." Into the house he went, stepping into a common room that was comfortably furnished and with a wave of his hand over a sensor by the door the lights of the room came up. The place looked actively lived in, and across the floor here and there were children's toys. There were also some storage crates sitting open at various spots. In front of the conform-u-couch sat a short table on top of which sat two datapads, a cup of dark liquid, and a stylus.

Geraint:
"What does Trin do these days?" he asked, looking around. "You garden, she...." He left the blank to be filled in.

Sol:
"She's an aide in the palace," Geraint would be told as Sol continued further into the room to pick up one of the datapads, "With my exoneration she was pardoned by The Queen and her court and given the chance to return to her station. She chose something with not quite so many demands on her time."

Geraint:
"Ah. And what does she think of the new Queen?" That was of interest to Geraint. While he was largely ignorant of nuanced politics--for now--he did know the sketchy outline of Maxima Buffton's arrival and... obviously... the fact that she was a Buffton.

Sol:
"She misses Kara, I think, but doesn't really complain about Maxima so that's good, right? I try to stay away from conversations about Hapan politics in general and Trin respects that."

Geraint:
"Understandable," Geraint said quietly. "I shouldn't have asked anyway."

Sol:
"Nah, it's alright." He tapped the datapad against his thigh once "I don't mind that you asked." There Sol stopped to clear his throat softly. The peace that had occupied the space outside of the house was present within it as well. It made the place feel comfortable, safe and loved even with the signs here and there of them still settling in. "Anyway, I'd show you the upstairs, but that is where most of the work is being done, so instead -- how about the backyard?"

Geraint:
"Wasn't all of what I saw 'back yard'...?" Geraint quirked a brow at him.

Sol:
"Some of it," he said with a grin, "The trees give good cover from the sky."

Geraint:
"Lead on." Geraint was about as close to tourist mode as he could get. He'd stroll wherever Sol wanted to take him, ask questions, and generally enjoy himself.

At one point, he came right out and said, "This is the most relaxing day I've had in awhile."

Sol:
Geraint would be shown the rear of the house from both the inside and out. This is where Sol was planning to put the generator, That was there they moved in. Geraint would learn that Sol had plans to harness solar energy for most of the house's functions with the goal being to live as waste free a lifestyle as possible. Solomon would answer questions as they came, and overall Geraint would find the backyard to be much like the front. It was an oasis of carefully culled life that was growing and bearing its own fruit. In the backyard, the garden was more haphazard and wove its way between trees and around a central sitting area of white durasteel chairs, and a durasteel table with a clear top to it. Overhead was a white canopy that glowed with the daylight around them. When Geraint's comment came, it caused Sol to stop and look the other man's way, "You've been spending time with Sadhric and Cato, its fully understandable."

Geraint:
Geraint laughed outright and shot him a look. He'd nailed it right off. "Exactly! How did you deal with it?"

Sol:
"I didn't," was Sol's short answer to that and he continued with, "I learned how to let Sadhric win, and how to get under Cato's skin. I don't recommend either solution...." there Sol smiled, but it wasn't genuine. It was more trouble maker than kind.

Geraint:
"They don't sound very productive, no," Geraint said carefully.

Sol:
"They aren't," he agreed, "And it was a hard way to live. If I were to give advice on that I would say take them both in small doses. Spend a little time here and there with Sadhric and Cato together, or apart. But only just small doses -- few days of that's your limit -- and let them be the rest of the time. Particularly with Sadhric. He likes to be right, and he likes to be in control."

Geraint:
"I noticed. Even before B'Sta. As for 'small doses'... I am Cato's apprentice...."

Sol:
"Then, you're doomed," he held his expression for as long as he could before it broke into a full grin, "It's not really all that bad. Just -- remember to take time if you need it like you're doing today. Cato can be reasonable, so just be direct with him if you do need a break."

Geraint:
"I have been. My coming here was my idea, no mission of his. I think there's a part of him that would like to pretend Hapes isn't the pivotal place that it is at this time."

Sol:
"Why do you say that?" It had been some time since Sol had even gotten the chance to speak with the Jedi Master, and their last conversation had abruptly ended on Cae's end of things so it was no wonder that talking to Geraint about the man in question poked at Sol's mind and begged that he find out more.

Geraint:
"No specific reason, aside from a notion I have that he'd have checked in here otherwise. On some level." He realized that he may have given the wrong impression. "He didn't say anything one way or another about Maxima Buffton or Hapes. Sorry if I made it sound like he'd voiced a negative opinion."

Sol:
"No," he gave a shake of his head, "Not at all. My conversations with him are just few and far between, and they are really unproductive. I think that he'd rather not hear from me at all to be honest. I was just thinking maybe you had caught something in a conversation between you both or something."

Geraint:
"No." Geraint shook his head. "Nothing like that. Just a feeling I got."

Sol:
"I see," Sol grew quiet for a second, "Well, it might be for the best at any rate, but I don't know. Hapes seems to be doing alright for itself right now. Maybe he just doesn't see any need in getting involved." A shrug, "maybe that's all it is...."

Geraint:
"Could be. Sol--I didn't mean to make it sound like a big thing. I don't know what should be normal for Master Cato, but I know he's genuinely concerned about the people of B'Sta. Whatever his thinking, he's at work there."


Sol:
"I know. I'm just thinking I wish my relationship with him was in a better state. I don't really know him anymore. But that's neither here, nor there really. It's just a wish."

Geraint:
"Hard to improve a relationship if you don't know what's wrong with it." He glanced at him the shade of the canopy. "Do you?"

Sol:
"I have my ideas, and it's not a very short list. He told me once that The Jedi as a whole, and I, would be better off if I had just stuck to being a librarian. And on another occasion -- on Origin actually -- he told me to get my head out of my ass and act like a Tekal."

Geraint:
Slowly Geraint moved to sit in one of the cool white chairs. He was thinking the whole time, and once relaxed into it he sniffed slightly before asking, "What would that have been like? --Not your head being in your ass, but the librarian thing. Was that ever a possibility? I was under the impression that there wasn't even a library until the Rifts."

Sol:
"There hadn't been," Sol stated, moving afterward to join Geraint at the table, slouching back against his chosen chair, "But before Sadhric took me on I was a bookworm. I didn't really socialize at all beyond the people my brother knew, didn't have many friends. The prospect of 'other people' was pretty scary to me. If I had stuck to that I think my life would have been pretty lonely, but perhaps a lot safer."

Geraint:
"A different kind of usefulness," Geraint mused, "and a different kind of happiness--maybe. I don't know. The hurt aside--do you think he's right or wrong? The essence, not the insult."

Sol:
"I don't know. It's hard not see the life I've lived, and to imagine it being any other way. He might have been right, but I can't say if I ever really enjoyed living like that. I remember being very lonely and wishing I could take the steps to be more like Darien so I could talk to anyone and make friends so easily, not that I think I would have been friendless as a librarian. It just would have been more difficult to achieve. I do think I wouldn't have become such a liability for The Order if I had stayed sheltered, and maybe my faith wouldn't have been shaken so bad. But it really is hard to say."

Geraint:
"Would it be useful to ponder? Not that you don't seem content here! With your family, and all the work you've put in." He smiled, trying to ease away from some of the tightness of topic.

Sol:
"Not really," His smile returned, "I wouldn't want to change anything. Not if changing anything brings the possibility that I'd be somewhere else right now. Cato's a blind man if he still feels the way now that he did back then."

Geraint:
"He didn't say. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say he feels worse about not being able to spare you pain than about any choices you did or did not make."

Sol:
He sat up, pushing his back against the chair just enough to be upright and not lounging, "Really?"

Geraint:
Geraint blinked. "What--that's surprising? You were his student."

Sol:
"It is surprising. I guess it just never struck me that it was more concern and less judgement. I just had it in my head for a long time that he just didn't like me and I felt I'd done nothing but try to make him proud."

Geraint:
"I guess I should ask: did you ever think he 'liked you'? To hear you and Darien talk about it, that seems... unlikely...?"

Sol:
"When Darien and I first came fully into The Order, it did seem so. I can't remember exactly when it changed, but I think it happened slowly. It's been so long."

Geraint:
"When was the earliest you recall feeling this way--or that kind of sense from him?"

Sol:
"He was in and out a lot during my training with him so it's not easy to pinpoint. I was in and out a lot, too, busy with Sadhric and ...things... so it never really felt like we had the kind of bond I could see with other Masters and their students. Maybe that's where it came from. When I could manage to seek him out, he'd be there and we'd train but before it felt like I was learning anything concrete he'd be gone again. Sadhric was a more stable presence, and so that's the way I went."

Geraint:
"Stable? That's an interesting word. He seems to be on fire somehow or other when I see him...."

Sol:
That made Sol laugh, "Its a loose term, I promise! He gets like that at times, like a storm with a billion things going on at once. I learned quickly to stay out of his way when it happens."

Geraint:
"Wait--who was teaching you first? I assumed it was Cato...."

Sol:
"Cato," Sol gave a small nod, "I was spending more time with Sadhric then, though. I wouldn't consider any of that time as having been taught by The Mechanic in any strict sense of the words. Sadhric kept me around and we went places, but I wasn't formally being taught anything. I kept my eyes open and picked some stuff up, but most of those early days were spent dodging blaster shots, or locked up in a corner of his ship."
There he paused and frowned before adding "He'd kill me if he knew we were talking about him like this."

Geraint:
Geraint squinted at the words 'locked up,' but whatever he might have said went derailed. "Why? Nothing harmful in this."

Sol:
"He's done a lot of things in his past, and not all of them are on the up-and-up. He's got an image he likes to uphold, and that image is meant to keep people from prodding I think. Me talking about him is me giving away weaknesses and bringing the man out from behind the mask, at least that's my guess. I never had the balls to ask why he didn't like being mentioned in conversation, it always seemed like the kind of question that would land me on the wrong side of his temper. I just always took it with some trust that he had his reasons, and so I went with it."

Geraint:
"So why talk about him now?"

Sol:
A moment was taken to think about that. Why now? A little wave was sent Geraint's way, "I think maybe because you've spent time with him. You've seen him interact with Cato and others, and have gotten to see how he can be. I guess maybe it feels safe because its not like you are a stranger to him or anything."

Geraint:
A nod. "He's influenced you. Your instant reaction about B'Sta was his. I wouldn't say 'word for word,' but close."

Sol:
"Well, it's hard not to be influenced by someone when you've spent as much time with them as I have with Sadhric I would think. But, regardless, my reaction to B'sta was from my experience and time spent on the world. I'd jumped in head first thinking I could help them find stable ground, and I was wrong. Now, granted, I'm not Cato and he may fare better, but that possibility doesn't change how I feel about it."

Geraint:
"You cited 'common sense,' but it's not common sense, is it? It's not 'common sense against emotion,' or even 'common sense against morality.'"

Sol:
"No, I suppose not. It just seems that by introducing them to the advancements that we live with, we rob them of the possibility of figuring it out on their own. There's something to be said about achieving those accomplishments rather than having them handed over easily. I don't think the humans, or the Shai, would benefit very much from not figuring it out on their own. I don't think it would mean as much, or hold as much value to them. To take that away just seems like a waste of potential growth. Now, this is all me talking from what I knew the state of the place to be like a few years ago. It's a different place now, but I haven't been back there since my first visit."

Geraint:
"So whose good are you looking out for?"

Sol:
"Before I answer that, let me ask if they are in any foreseeable danger with how they are living now."

Geraint:
"Without our medical techniques? Not unheard-of for them to lose people to infections from broken bones and skin punctures, to disease. Mothers to blood loss in childbirth. They lose a tooth, it's gone forever. A hand, the same. A knee goes out, an eye dims: forever. Born deaf? Stay deaf."

Sol:
"Was it not the same for us at one time in our history? We can be proud of those advances because we made them count. Science advanced, and so did technology, but not without work. I' m not against sharing it with them, Geraint, really I'm not. I think they should just be given the chance to make those steps toward figuring it out themselves before we step in and say 'Hey, we've already done that so here you go.' "

Geraint:
"So, for you, possible--but not guaranteed--future pride is more important than the current, concrete health and survival of the individuals who are trying to live there now. And not just as a matter of individuals surviving or not. But as a matter of parents watching their children ail or die, or neighbors seeing each other crippled. Right now. While we talk about it in your sunlit garden."

Sol:
"No," Sol shook his head and reached out to tap at the table's surface, "I'd like to see them get the help in figuring it out, but not -handed- to them. They are a smart people, Geraint, and that's why they should be given the chance to learn it all for themselves. Its a fine -fine- line for me, one that I toed up to before and got utterly burned by. So, that's where it comes from."

Geraint:
"But what you just said--and what he says--is that the people who die between now and then don't matter as much as what you think they should value in the future. So: not 'No.' Yes."

Sol:
Solomon turned quiet, letting that play through his head. Was that really how he felt about it? Five standard minutes ago he was sure. Five standard minutes ago, it seemed so clear. Was he questioning it now because of what Geraint was pointing out to him, or was he questioning it because he know knew how close he had been to Sadhric's response to the same situation? "Is there fault in that?" He asked after several seconds, but he didn't look toward Geraint. His eyes were on the tabletop and the way the light shifted between tree leaves to reach the table's surface.

Geraint:
"If Ureala or Zachory were dying before you, and there was a way to save them immediately that came from an alien culture, would you quibble about wanting to invent the means yourself?"

Sol:
"No, if I knew about the cure I'd get myself on a ship and go get the cure. No question, no doubt. No hesitation."

Geraint:
"That's the flaw, in Cato's view. And mine. You and Tlin care about those people--I believe that of both of you--but your caring is detached and intellectual. It ignores the lives being lived right now. I heard somewhere: 'You can't play chess and care about the pawns.'"

Sol:
"Whoever you heard that from is right," There he did look up and across the table toward Geraint, "The pawns aren't meaningless, but they can get in the way if you want to win. Sometimes it's better to sacrifice them in order to reach the end of the game. How would you solve the situation, then, Geraint? How would Master Cato?"

Geraint:
"Originally, Master Cato claimed he'd let them know he was from offworld right away, but it seems he was playing Tlin. He kept it secret while I was there, so he is wrestling with a solution himself. It's complicated--but how awful would it really be if someone did go to them with the truth?"

Sol:
"I don't know how far they've come since I was there last, so I can't say one way or another. It's easy for me to imagine the worst case scenario though. I can imagine an upset to their society structure, and a break from what they held as fundamental knowledge to their existence which can be shattering for some. I just don't know enough about how they are now as a people to speculate that, not even enough to make an educated guess."

Geraint:
"Does it matter? Change happens. Who's to say someone might not somehow arrive there by accident tomorrow? No matter how careful you are, you can't seal the universe out. Who is the most cautious person you know?"

Sol:
Ruefully, Sol shook his head and said "Sadhric" with a bit of a half-smile.

Geraint:
"With all that caution, I guess he's never taken by surprise." Subtle sarcasm; gentle point.

Sol:
"I know," The look was shed from his face as he nodded, "Point taken. No one is perfect. So, no. It doesn't matter. Not really. I guess, in light of that thought -- that it could be anyone -- would it not be better to come from someone like yourself or Master Cato than from someone who just happens to land there out of the blue?"

Geraint:
"That is the issue. Tlin cited the possibility that they might be taken advantage of. But surely there are people who could help? The Will of the Force is not blind to B'Sta. It never has been."

Sol:
"That, the possibility that they could be taken advantage of, is why I would like to see them remain sheltered. They aren't defenseless, but they don't have anything that could stand up to what the galaxy could throw at them. As for help, I would point my finger toward The Jedi, or toward missionary groups. There is a part of me that wants to say 'keep it strictly in the hands of trusted people'. But that is the protective part of me who would rather it not happen at all because of the damage that might be done to them."

Geraint:
"And your ego isn't involved the way Cato thinks Tlin's is. He's protecting something he thinks of as his. But it isn't his."

Sol:
His shoulders rolled back, and with the motion Sol was letting the back of the chair take the weight of his shoulders and back, "Knowing Sadhric as I do, I don't think Cato is too far off on that. B'sta was an experiment of Sadhric's that grew beyond what Tlin was predicting, from what I remember. To him, that makes the planet, the wildlife, the plant life, and everything else on it his."

Geraint:
"He split from us before he let us know he was leaving the planet. Don't know what he was doing. I can talk to you about B'Sta for the same reason you say you can talk to me about Tlin: you're already involved. Other than that, I'm not giving away any secrets. Just a few gifts."

Sol:
"I appreciate that, Geraint. But Sadhric didn't say anything at all about what he was doing, or where he was going?" That wasn't too surprising on its own given how Sadhric operated. What caused his concern was that Sadhric had left Geraint and Cato alone on a world that Sadhric was wanting to protect from being exposed when exposure was what Cato was suggesting.

Geraint:
"Not to me. Master Cato didn't seem to know, either. I suppose they might have their secrets."

Sol:
"I'm sure they do." He went quiet again at that, looking thoughtful. How much of what he was thinking could he share with Geraint knowing how Sadhric felt about the relic hunter? It was that question alone that kept him from continuing what he wanted to say.

Geraint:
Geraint watched him. The shade was pleasant. The whole place was pleasant. The topic didn't stress Geraint terribly, and he watched for signs that it put Solomon into distress. Unreasonably so. He knew that quiet, though. Ava practiced it, too. He wondered if it was natural to them, or if they'd picked it up from their elders.

Sol:
The leaves above them rustled with the breeze, and he found himself listening to that more than the thoughts in his head. He found himself leaning into the peace of the world around him, as well. And then it dawned on him that Geraint was watching him. Sol cleared his throat softly and then said "When he and I last spoke, he mentioned a breakthrough he was anticipating, and a time frame he needed to be aware of. I'm not sure what it was pertaining to, but his departure may have had something to do with that."

Geraint:
"Unrelated to B'Sta...?" Geraint's eyebrows rose.

Sol:
"I don't know. I didn't get any details from him beyond that he thought it was close to completion. He told me not to worry about it, though, and to focus on what I have here."

Geraint:
Another nod. After a thoughtful pause, he looked squarely at Sol and said, "We can change the subject if you'd prefer. I really didn't mean to bring all of this here."

Sol:
"It's alright. I'm just now wondering if I should try to get a hold of him or not -- either way, are you hungry or anything?" He drew back the sleeve of his left arm just enough to check the chrono he wore there, "Trin and the kids should be home soon."

Geraint:
"I can wait for them," Geraint said, waving a hand. "Do what you need to, Sol. Know that the topic... kind of came up on its own. So much for my developing Jedi foresight and equilibrium. But I'm working on it."

Sol:
"If it will help any, I can keep your name out of it when -- if -- I do decide to call him. And, uhm, don't him to Trin, alright? She knows there's a connection, but I still haven't told her much about it, or him. "

Geraint:
"Keep my name...? Solomon." Geraint smiled crookedly and shook his head. "I don't have a preference either way. His reaction to responsible people--one of them once his student--discussing his public actions should be held to the same reasonable standards as anyone's. And if he can't be reasonable about it, that's a new road."

Sol:
"Well, then," he cracked a smile and it grew into a grin, "Bets on how fast it takes him to hang up on me?"

Geraint:
The younger man squinted an eye and grinned at him. "I knew that 'when' was your honest word, even when you switched it to 'if.'"

Sol:
Laughing, Sol's expression loosened further, "Saw right through that, huh?"

Geraint:
Geraint shrugged lightly. "Didn't realize anything there required 'seeing through.' It was the first thing out of your mouth."

Sol:
"Good point. I've been wanting to call him for a bit now, but haven't for the same reasons I mentioned earlier. That, and he's not the kind of guy to talk domestic bliss with."

Geraint:
"Could he identify it if he saw it?" Geraint laughed a little and shook his head, looking out down the rows of tree-thrown shade.

Sol:
"I don't know. He's pretty married to his work. Does that count?"

Geraint:
At that point, Geraint just shook his head and let it go. His sense of Tlin as a disruptive force wasn't as judgmental as it might have been; it seemed to be self-evident, for good or ill. He did know that those he had come to know gave the man considerable leeway, and he didn't quite understand that. In quiet, rather than breaching that topic, he hoped that the disruption wouldn't prove dangerous to Solomon's life if Solomon chose to reconnect with it.

Sol:
Solomon, himself, was left to wonder just what a call to The Mechanic would mean. He had a good thing going, and was working at keeping it that way. Would bringing Sadhric back into his life mean a derailment of what he and Trin had achieved? It was in the quiet that followed what Solomon had asked that a noise rose above the rustle of the trees. A speeder was approaching. The noise seemed to break Sol from his thoughts, causing him to blink and focus on the yard around them. He checked his chrono again and told Geraint, "I think she's home."