Shadows of Bankor

Djanik wasn't exactly a gym dweller, but he did know he needed to keep himself healthy, just to ensure he stayed awake when making high-G turns.

So, as he found time, he tried to slip in some PT.

Jogging along the beach, he noted that he hated sand. It made running so much harder than it needed to be.

Sweating under the Bankor sun, dressed in loose mechanic pants and a short sleeved shirt, he found himself wondering if he could find some shorts somewhere because this was miserable.

Still, it was effective at getting his heart rate up... provided he didn't die of heat syncope.

And there was a counterpoint to his overland miseries, an avid swimmer cutting the ocean's surface in a fierce butterfly stroke, along the shore. Even at a distance and with only a part of the body above water he could easily identify the dark-skinned Zabrak in that swimmer.

Djanik was impressed, and wondered if maybe he was going about this the wrong way.

Finishing his lap, he flopped down onto the sand, looking for his breath.

The swimmer would get out of water eventually. Nothing but loinclothed, he walked out of the ocean like an angry triton who misplaced his fishtail.

Djanik gave a little wave, as he got his breath back.

"You're a machine..." wheeze "I shouldn't have tried to keep up."

Wiping the sweat off his face with one hand, he added, "Where'd you learn to swim like that? I thought..." wheeze "...Dathomir was a desert?"

"Savareen was not." He responded curtly, flopping on the sand to dry up. "And I could well be from Iridonia or any other Zabrak-inhabited world, including this own. Why would you think I am Dathomiri?"

He gestured at his own eyes.

"Vivid eyes... and I'll be honest, after the war, that's just... a feeling I have."

A shrug. "You reminded me of the tribes that lived there - my squadron was in orbit of dathomir for a bit, after the war. Heard stuff from the clones that landed there."

"I clearly was wrong. I guess that's me showing my core world bias - I remember the unusual and forget the likely answer."

Regaining some control over his own breathing, he added, "I mean, Pantorans live other places... but I still assume we were all born on Pantora, wrong though that is."

"I didn't say you were wrong." He mused. "Should I be hating you for what you and yours did to my kin back then?"

"Me and mine?"

He looked surprised.

"I thought the CIS were responsible for the attack on Dathomir - we only ended up there after the war."

A chuckle. "I flew for the Republic. Not that it really matters now, I suppose."

"The Jedi and the Republic were not exactly our friends either." He stretch. "But I'll assume it wasn't you."

He looked at the Pantoran. "So, you're fully committed to all this?" He gestured toward the undersea with a sweeping gesture, meaning the Sword.

"This..."

He laughed.

"This team, this base... not necessarily."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he added, "The war itself? Yes. I've realized, this last month, that I can't just hide from the galaxy forever. I swore an oath to defend the people of the Republic, I have a duty, and I can't just set it aside because things have gone wrong."

"So you're a restorationist of some kind. You want the Republic back." Daunt mused. "Any idea how to address the reasons for its conversion into what we have?"

"I don't know if I want the Old Republic back - it had a heap of issues on its own."

He scratched at his chin. He'd probably need to shave later...

"And as far as I see it... it converted because it allowed itself to make concessions - giving up moral objections in the name of expediency. It may have won a war, but it destroyed itself in the process."

Sprawling out on the sandy beach, he added, "Not that a grunt like me can change it all - but if I can be part of the snow that causes an avalanche of change... that's worth it. I want a galaxy where people of any species get a fair shake... and where you trust the law to be enforced fairly. Where those in power don't burn down villages on a whim, or kill innocents because they're upset."

"You often can't see a dictator in a glorified revolutionary or a bold reformer. But this is where many of them end up. Fixing the situation as it is now with Jedi at your side is like moving a graveyard - can't really get help from people inside. Avalanche is a nice metaphor that puts a pretty picture onto a destructive power it delivers." He shrugged. "I am not moralising. I am anti-moralising. In the end, we're all killers. The questions is whether killing feels like doing the right thing and leads to good mood and self-absolution." He pointed to the sky. "People on the Dictator have families, and some of them were forced into Imperial service. Yes you'd blow them up anyway as necessary causalities."

Djanik listend with an amused look. "You think I don't care about the Imperial forces?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I was one, Daunt. I probably know some of the officers on that ship. If I thought the Empire would stop killing innocent people, I wouldn't be here."

Rubbing one hand across his eyes, he wiped the sweat from his brows. "Yes, I'm killing, but I'm not doing it without purpose. There is a difference between the beast which hunts to live, and the beast which hunts for fun."

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not killing for the fun of it - I've let more than one Imperial go home alive - perhaps that will win them over, perhaps it will only give me more to fight later, either way, I reject the nihilistic view that there is no difference between instigating violence against bystanders and violent intercession."

"The differences you speak of may exist in theory. I'd like to watch them in practice. Now that the Resistance has some punch, we'll see where it ends up landing and whether innocent bystanders will not suffer."

He paused. "And as a hunter I can tell you, hunting to live and hunting for fun are not too far apart. Because living is not just about survival, but also fulfilment."

Djanik glanced at the man.

"Enjoying the hunt doesn't change its purpose - if you were to go and kill a dozen beasts, just because you were able, and then left them to rot..."

He gazed at the clouds scooting across the sky. "That would be different than enjoying a hunt you needed to complete. I enjoy flying - I enjoy the rush of the dogfight, but I wouldn't go out and shoot down a passenger transport or passing freighter... I'm a soldier. I fight for a purpose, not merely out of a love of fighting."

"And I am no longer a solider. Because the so-called purpose became a shallow slogan and following orders meant an even greater betrayal."

He looked at Djanik with an empty stare. "Killing is killing, no matter what story you attach to it. In your example killing would feed the scavengers and make living things lower in the food chain than those felled beasts take a breath. Would feeding their meat to sentients be a better rationalisation? This is what I've been doing for a time, but do alms like that lead to good outcomes? If you look at Rygor's Slums you can say that overpopulation is making people miserable."

He frowned. "You think this fight is for a better galaxy, or against those who make it worse. It's a nice story a good number of people is believing in here right now. Doesn't make it any more true or accurate than any others though."

Djanik shrugged.

"At the end of the day - if you don't view any life as having value, I guess it doesn't matter what we do."

Resting his arms on the sand where he had flopped, he listened to the waves crash for a long moment.

"I don't, however, share that view. Perhaps it is a delusion - but I believe there is moral value attached to my actions - whether I inflict harm or alleviate it, whether I striving for a more or less free galaxy. I think sentient beings are valuable in themselves - unique."

Closing his eyes, he felt the heat of the sun, baking him, as he added, "I would also argue that it is not natural to kill without purpose - wild beings have the sense we sometimes forget - the acklay hunts because it is hungry, not for idle amusement. Those who slaughter for amusement are simply trying to fill a need - one that no amount of bloodletting can ever fill - exerting power to try and hide from their own fears."

"I don't deal in absolutes. I attribute value to some lives, and prioritise them over others, protect them. I kill in their defence and for their benefit. And I don't begrudge those who'd do the same, it's a test of strength between me and them. It's how nature works. When you start speaking about universal morality, you're necessarily slipping into justifying violence for and against people you don't know or care about. I prefer my killing to be personal on both levels."

He pulled on his fingers until they clicked. "Hence I don't use projectiles. They are what severs the link between the killer and the victim, makes death feel like fancy visuals. If you're not ready to be drenched in the blood of your enemy, if you're not ready to give them a fighting chance by exposing yourself to that contact, that's just another form of cowardice. Like those CIS defoliator tanks who eradicated my people. It will end with someone making weapons that kill planets at a pull of a trigger."

Djanik nodded. "I can understand that sentiment, and I pray you are wrong on that last count."

Holding up one hand to block out the sun, as it slipped out from behind a cloud, he added, "If you ever were to dogfight, you'd find it's very personal as well. You have to learn your opponent, understand how they think. Only once you do that are you able to kill them."

With a faint shrug, he added, "I personally stand by a universal morality - society cannot function without one. We all have to agree to some basic rules - do not murder is a common example - if we cannot enforce even that basic principle, then society will be by nature simply a pyramid upon which the most ruthless killer sits."

A small crab clambered over his foot, drawing his gaze. "If those in charge of enforcing that principle violate it themselves... then it becomes the duty of the people to replace them - or give up upon any hope of a better society."

Twitching his foot, he watched the little creature skitter away onto the sand, clacking pincers at him.

"Perhaps that is idealistic of me, but I believe that a better future is possible. It keeps me getting out of bed in the morning."

"Such society will always tolerate those powerful enough to get away with violating those norms, those who'd play hidden predators toward all the nerf-like flocks of common citizenry. Crime lords, bankers, senators. They will keep killing with impunity through proxies or just with stranglehold over key resources, while others will delude themselves with an ideal those same abusers would propagate to them. But you're within your right to think that a wider society with common rules is possible. Hard to find some multiplanetary precedent though. The Republic was not one. The Confederacy was not. The Empire is not. The Hutt Space is not. What else is there to inspire such belief?

He was tempted to kill the crab. He restrained himself. "No, I haven't been in a dogfight."

"Well, if you ever are, you will find it... more personal than expected."

Djanik sighed. "The Republic was better than nothing - but I suppose it is true that the dream of a truly just government is unobtainable, on that I agree."

"While I agree there are degrees of unjust. But if I can insulate myself from being swept up by the wave of idealism, I will, and adjust to the world that this idealism creates on my own terms." He sat up. "I support your fight against the Empire. I just think it'd be better in if the theocratic bullshit didn't have an impact on it."

"I don't know about theocratic bullshit, but I'll take what I can get."

Djanik laughed.

"We're liable to all hang together, in the end."