Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567 
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
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Post by Ander Tagira on Sept 13, 2013 18:19:48 GMT -8
The Forward Observation Station serves as the main hub for the vessel's sensor and combat organization center.
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on Sept 14, 2013 11:43:57 GMT -8
Ander Tagira stood on the Forward Observation deck of the Basterd's Hand, looking out at the blanket of star-speckled space that enveloped the viewport beyond. Around him, beings of all species were mired in their respective work. Communications personnel ran messages back and forth between GALSAF forces and extra-ship personnel. Navigations crews focused on logistics between the Hand and her sister-ship, the Flatterer. Things were happening, and they were happening fast.
It had been months since the first class of GALSAF commandos had been integrated into the 1st Infantry Brigade Commando Team, GALSAF's primary fighting force in their effort to stamp out oppression and corruption in the galaxy. Nearly two years before, Ander had sat in Dex's Diner on Coruscant, with his son, Calo, hashing out the financial details of the organization with a handful of generous benefactors Calo had sought out in the months prior. There, Ander had made his case for GALSAF, and won the support of their wealthy allies. They had money, and money helped, to be sure.
Ander was garbed in his father's Mandalorian armor, a collection of beskar plates attached to a black body suit that provided him the best protection money could buy. For a time, he hadn't felt right wearing the armor, it was foreign to his body, and it took him some time to decide that he had earned the right to wear it. Ander had found the armor stashed away with his mother's belongings on Alzoc III, where he had found her some months after being expelled from the Jedi Order on Yavin 4. She still had no idea who he was, though she had seen it fit to bestow the armor upon him. Sandra Reynolds was standing with him now, dressed in a simple white tunic, sandy brown trousers, and black flats. Her hair, silver now, curled slightly around her ears, and ran no further than her shoulders.
"Quite impressive, Commander." She said suddenly, patting Ander on the shoulder with a gentle hand. Ander looked over at her, smiling softly. "We've worked hard to get to where we are now, but this was the easiest part. It only gets harder from here on out." Ander replied, draping his arm around Sandra's shoulder. It had taken him some time to overcome his resentment for his mother; she had been responsible for his father's, Katarr Tagira's, death as well as Ander's denial of his Mandalorian heritage. Though he had come to love her as he had as a child, their relationship was not that of a mother and her son. She did not know of Ander's relationship to her, nor did she remember the events that led up to her decades-long stay on the medical center orbiting Alzoc III. Ander still hadn't found the heart to tell her, he worried her mind would break upon discovering such knowledge of her past. All Sandra remembered was her final days with the Jedi Order of the Old Republic, and fleeing Coruscant to seek refuge away from the Emperor and his Great Purge. Her abilities remained fairly intact, from Ander could gather, though they had spoken little of her Jedi past. Ander had spent hours telling her of his time with the Rebellion, though he kept his origins a secret from her, to better hide his true identity as her son. It broke his heart to see her struggle with her own past, when he could easily fill in the surface details for her. But what he could not do, what she would need him to do, is fill in the memories of the life they never had together, as a family.
Seven years. All they had together was seven years, the first of Ander's life. He remembered traveling with the Rebel Alliance as a child, both his mother and father serving well in the fight against the Empire. Though Katarr's motivations were for work, not the cause, a factor that had led his parents' marriage to fracture and end. Likewise, Katarr's desire to bring Ander into combat at the traditional Mandalorian age was a point of contention between the two. Ander remembered them arguing over the issue as a child, on board an Alliance frigate. Time and again they would fight over this, until finally Sandra took Ander away from his father, declaring shuk'la riduurok, the Mandalorian equivalent of divorce between spouses. There were no legalities to sort out beyond such a declaration, Mandalorian society had long since disposed of such intricacies. They were a simple people, and despite her not being Mandalorian, Sandra had adhered to them nonetheless.
Not long after, Ander's mother unwittingly killed his father in battle on Vulpter, where she had been operating as an Alliance agent, providing supplies and aid to the people there. The realization of her actions after the battle had ended had broken her mind, and some time after, as she gathered with other Rebel forces near Sullust before the Battle of Endor, Sandra had launched her vessel into hyperspace, losing consciousness during the journey. As her vessel reverted to realspace, it had crashed into a frigate over Alzoc III, and she had spent the next many years comatose, under the watchful eye of the medical organization stationed there. It hadn't been until decades later that Ander had even found out she was alive, and tracked her down to the frozen world. He had negotiated for her release to his own care, and she had been with him ever since.
"There's always more work to do, Ander." Sandra breathed, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were cold. Ander hugged her to him gently, "You should rest, I'm sure the walk alone here from your quarters took its own toll." Sandra arched an eyebrow at him, "I'm not dying, Ander…not yet, anyhow. I can take care of myself." Ander smiled briefly, sadly aware of just how untrue that statement was. "I'm just looking out for you is all." He replied, removing his arm from her shoulder. Sandra looked up at him, frowning slightly, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes wrinkling. "I'm a grown woman, with years of experience beyond your own. I can handle myself, boy." After a moment, her features softened, and she hugged him warmly. "Listen not to the ravings of an old woman, Ander. You'll never get anywhere in life if you let the elderly hold you back." Ander couldn't help but laugh. "You've been more than generous with your advice, Sandra. We all appreciate having you around." Sandra released him, folding her hands together over her stomach. "True, and I must say, the medical bays you have equipped on this starship are impressive. I've truly enjoyed my time serving there."
Ander smiled, genuinely pleased to hear she was content. "You can thank a certain doctor for that one," he told her, thinking back to Doctor Jessop, who had run the medical frigate that had held the data on his mother's location deep within its memory core. He had no idea where the doctor was now, only that he had continued his work traipsing about the galaxy, assisting those in need. The man had served as Ander's initial inspiration for GALSAF, though they had shared no contact since leaving the Ison Corridor some years before. Often, Ander thought of him, and his crew, and wondered how they faired. He resolved to contact the man eventually, and repay him for his generosity.
Sandra shivered slightly, pursing her lips. "I ought to return to the medical bay, surely there are commandos there with runny noses to attend to." She bowed her head slightly towards him, "Always a please…Commander."
Ander felt his jaw tightened, though he forced out a smile. "Anytime…Captain." Sandra turned and took the lift back to the medical bay. He watched her leave, then returned his attention to the viewport before him.
So many stars…so many people. They couldn't all be helped, though Mai Owani would have thought otherwise. Ander had always felt uplifted by Mai's positive outlook on things, even in the most desperate of circumstances. He wondered how she was, having returned to Yavin 4 shortly after they had left Anobis. Mai had been forced to confront her brother on her homeworld, and had been appreciative to have Ander there to assist in dealing with the boy. He had both hated and resented Mai for years after her decision to leave their family on Anobis to serve the Jedi as a physician, a hatred that had nearly spelled disaster for their visit on the world. Thankfully, Mai and her brother had been able to resolve their differences and feel more as a family once more. It had been shortly after, on Coruscant, that Ander and Mai had developed their relationship, though he missed her sorely during the time she spent away from him. Ander had been truly grateful she had tracked him down on Mandalore years after he had left Yavin 4. She had, along with his son, Calo, helped him overcome the difficult emotions of his past that had arisen during his stay at his father's abandoned homestead on the planet. Mai's positive outlook and emotional support had been just what he needed to get through such arduous times.
Spurred by the moment of reflection, Ander generated a short message for Mai on his commlink, sending her his positive thoughts and wishes. She was unlikely to respond in any timely manner, she had a terrible memory for such things and was constantly filling her day with work. But she would get the message, and would read it, and would be happy, which was what counted. Ander shut off his comlink and turned away from the viewport, feeling good about the future and what it would bring.
As he returned to his quarters, however, Ander was unknowingly stepping into a future that would be mired with conflict, despair, adversity, and pain.
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on Mar 25, 2014 0:04:39 GMT -8
"Why I find myself here every kriffing time, I'll never understand." Ander wiped a hand across his face as if it would clear the exhaustion from his heart and mind. It did nothing, of course, merely reaffirmed his belief that the little private rituals and mannerisms people indulged themselves in were nothing more than a smokescreen, a way to trick themselves into believing they had a simple, elegant solution to the struggles that plagued their lives.
Sitting beside him, a datatablet in her hand, was Ander's mother, Cassandra Reynolds. The tablet rested on her knee, and every so often when he spoke, he would hear her fingertips tapping the digital keys on the screen. She was taking notes. She always took notes. Just like any medical professional would when a patient divulged the contents of their mind.
"But you're not just my doctor, you're my mother." Ander wished he could say it. Sometimes the urge to do so nearly overwhelmed his caution.
"Maybe there's a part of you that feels safe here?" Cassandra speculated. Ander wrung his hands together, his fingertips running over the rough, cracked skin of his knuckles. He felt the hairs there turn and slide between the two surfaces.
"Maybe." He admitted. To Ander, this woman was Mother. But in Cassandra's mind, to Ander, she was Doctor Reynolds, Mental Health Professional and GALSAF's Senior Physicians Coordinator. Ander hated their professional relationship, though he knew it was the only one they could have.
"What are you thinking?" Cassandra asked, resting her chin against the smooth-skinned palm of an aging hand. Ander looked up at her from the viewport, where countless stars burned as dim pinpoints against a black curtain.
"I don't know." He replied. "I know...I mean, I feel, that I can say whatever I need to here."
"And you can." Cassandra replied, her tone soft, compassionate.
"But I can't." Ander retorted, his jaw clenching. And it was true. He couldn't, though Cassandra would never truly understand why that was.
"I understand you cannot divulge the details of your operations to just anybody. But we are all equals here, as our charter demands. You will break no security restrictions by talking to me." Cassandra's response was textbook, perfect. And it would have been accurate, were she not treating her own son.
"You don't..." Ander's voice trailed off, faded. "There was a woman, about a month back. Alexis Karidian. And then there were Jedi. And we were back on Yavin Four. I..." Ander's words failed him again. Cassandra waited patiently.
"I didn't handle things properly." He confessed. Cassandra glanced down at her datatablet and made an entry, then returned her gaze to her patient, to her son.
"And what does that mean? I read the reports, no one was hurt." Cassandra stated plainly. She was trying to absolve him of his guilt. Ander's lip curled, as if he'd ever be free of it.
"The Jedi, I mean. I didn't handle things properly. They're up in arms against whatever it is they think we stand for, what they think we've done." Ander clarified. It certainly wasn't the root of the matter, but it was as close as he could get without an entirely new vocabulary to employ.
Cassandra crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "It's hard, operating as we do, without greater authority to call us to heel. It makes those who do have others above them uncomfortable...afraid." She said. "I understand that you bear the burden of this organization's actions. Both it's mistakes and it's successes."
Ander shook his head, running a hand through his hair. The action calmed him somewhat, one of those private rituals or mannerisms that people indulged themselves in. The irony of his actions contradicting his own views was not lost on him. He'd been called a hypocrite innumerable times.
"There's never any real success, you know." He muttered. "There's always something new. Another slaver, another rogue Sith, another corrupt politician." Ander sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands and looking down at the steel floor below. "How can I build an image on such senseless evil?"
Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This was a moment every therapist experienced at one point or another with a patient. A moment where their reply was no longer inference, but suggestion. The addition of an idea not generated from what they knew of their patient. It was the inception of an idea of the physician's own creation.
"Perhaps you can't, Commander." Cassandra replied carefully. For several long moments, neither of them spoke. Cassandra must have taken that as a sign that her idea had been positively received, and continued with her thoughts. She leaned forward, resting her arms on her thighs. "Maybe there is no final goal. Maybe the goal is to do what you can, while you can."
Ander felt his brow furrow. "I've considered that." He muttered. "But every time I do, I'm reminded of my time in the Order, when my life had an ascribed purpose. Meaning was given to me."
Cassandra tilted her head slightly to the side, her expression pensive. "Such a thing is weakness, Commander, is it not?" She leaned back once again, gesturing to the vessel surrounding them. "If purpose is devised for us, then life has no true meaning. What is destined to occur will occur, and we are merely pawns in someone else's game. Spiritual slavery, it is called."
Ander looked up at her, his jaw relaxing somewhat. "And no being should live in chains. That's a Sith ideal."
Cassandra scoffed. "You say it as if it were a value judgment. But you and I both know that a man's ideas do not determine his worth, only his actions. Sith ideals hold great value, as do those of the Jedi. And look at both groups of individuals. They've been locked in endless conflict since their inception."
Ander took a moment to himself to think. His mother's words were a reflection of his own inner thoughts at times. While she did not know it, the cause of the phenomena was in the fact that she had helped raise him. A parent's ideals made lasting impressions on the developing minds of their children. But Ander could only let her assume the connection was due to sound psychiatric practices. Were Ander to be honest with her, he would admit the reason behind their continued meetings was that he craved time with his mother.
Ander laughed, a dark, perverted sound that betrayed his own inner turmoil. At nearly sixty years old, he was still seeking the love of his mother. Sometimes, when the nightmares plagued his dreams, she was dead, and his life was easier. Sometimes he believed anything would be better than having her so close, yet so far from him. He wanted her to hold him, whisper to him that his pain would fade in time.
"What of this woman? Karidian, you said?" Cassandra asked abruptly, pulling Ander from his thoughts.
"Alexis, yes. She was Man'Sell's padawan learner, before he...died." Ander said, biting back the fresh pain of his past as a Jedi. "She found me here, after the rest of the Yavin Order disappeared. We drank, and mired ourselves in the silver-lining of nostalgia that came with our mutual depression." Ander found himself fighting back tears. The pain of losing those he had most loved before he had the chance to repair their family was getting to him. "Neither of us had the chance to say goodbye. They were simply...gone." Cassandra remained silent, her lips pursed as she listened intently. Ander wiped his face across his eyes, drying them. "We spent the night together, and then she left. I saw her again on Yavin, some days ago. It didn't go well." The woman seated across from him breathed deeply.
"You sought solace in your shared pain. That is nothing to be ashamed of." She told him, making another entry into her datatablet. Ander shook his head. "I'm not ashamed for what we did do, I'm ashamed for what I didn't do." Ander bit out, his voice choking subtly.
"And what did you not do?" Cassandra asked.
"When I saw her again on Yavin, I all but wrote her off. I was so...so focused on what we were doing there. I could see in her eyes it negated everything we'd shared before. I felt that even the idea that her purpose might be to rebuild the great school was somehow a farce..." Ander's voice broke off for a moment. "When the Jedi arrived, things did not go well. I was unaware Man'Sell had finally submitted the Praxeum to the authority of the greater Order. It was their land, their facilities. But my pride...I was lost in memory, memory of my time on that world, spent in the company of my fellow Jedi. What these Jedi are are not something I ever wanted to see the Order become. They're brash, quick to judge, and diplomacy is a last resort to them, not a first. They've become...me. What I was. Arrogant, foolhardy. It made me so...angry to see that the home I once built had fallen into the hands of beings I found...unworthy."
Cassandra waited several moments, leaving room for Ander to add to his thoughts. When he did not, she nodded. "I can understand the frustration. Seeing something you built being metaphorically torn down in your eyes can be hard to suffer. But you must remember that this is your perception. Our organization passes judgment, yes, but only on those who are harming the lives of those around them. You may see these Jedi as misguided, but your primary responsibility is to remain objective. And from an objective standpoint, these Jedi, while different from how you would have them be, are not acting against the interests of those around them. You are both two sides of the same coin."
Ander mulled the thought over in his mind longer than he needed to know it was true. In order to preserve the memory of the family he'd lost, he had to let such resentment go, or he would be forever consumed by it. "I understand, though it will be sometime before I truly feel that way."
Cassandra nodded. "But of course, Commander. Changes comes slowly, if at all." With that she smiled warmly, keying a final entry into her datatablet before stowing the device away in her satchel. "Get some rest, Commander. I understand we have operations commencing on Felucia. In the meantime, consider what you think you ought to say to this woman, Alexis, when you next see her, if you do. Think not only about how you might best repair whatever damage you may have done, but also how you might help pave the way for a better relationship in the future."
Cassandra collected her bag and stood. "And I don't just mean that last part to be about this woman. It's to be about everybody with whom you cross paths in life."
Ander nodded. "Thank you...doctor." He replied, remaining seated in his chair. Cassandra nodded down at him before stepping behind the periphery of his vision, her feet clipping the durasteel floor in increasingly fading steps as she left the Observation Deck.
Ander remained behind for some time, thinking back on everything they had spoken about. At times he felt anger or resentment. Others he felt relief, even a modicum of satisfaction with their talks. But still the worries remained. The constant nagging and anxiety biting at the back of his mind like a starving sand-panther, begging for its next meal. His insecurities wanted him to succumb to their power, and it was all Ander could do to refuse them every waking moment of his life.
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 19, 2014 1:38:08 GMT -8
Ander was seated across from Cassandra, as he always was, leaning his chair back so far the front legs lifted off the deck plating below them. He rocked it back and forth like an impatient child might, waiting in silence for the woman to finish an entry into her datapad.
"Apologies, Lord Commander, there is much business to attend to these days." Ander waved a hand dismissively. "No worries, I appreciate you taking the time." He said, looking away from her and out to the stars through the viewport, as he often did when they held their sessions. Cassandra shook her head. "The mental health of our soldiers is my most intimate priority." She replied evenly. Ander brought his gaze back to her, the rank insignia pinned to the shoulders of her uniform glinting softly in the light of the observation deck. He'd given her a commission some weeks prior, feeling that her position as GALSAF's Chief Physician warranted such. Cassandra Reynolds was now Major Reynolds, the last rank Ander had known her to carry as an officer of the Rebel Alliance, so many years ago when he was still a child.
"You wear the rank well, Major." Ander said suddenly, prompting the silver-haired woman to tilt her head slightly in inquiry. "I have you to thank for that, Commander." It was Ander's turn to shake his head. "It suits you, and your prior service to the people of the Galaxy. Why I didn't commission you sooner is beyond me." Cassandra arched an eyebrow. "You yourself have said that rank means little in the makings of an individual."
Ander smirked. "True enough, I suppose." He drew a hand down across his visage, feeling the rough forest of stubble that covered him from his ears down to his neck. Cassandra let the silence reign for several moments as she glanced down at her datapad, then looked back up at him. "So, where would you like to start?" She asked, her tone professional, as always. Ander frowned somewhat. "I didn't think finding out Korra was my daughter would change anything, but I find that it does." He admitted, not entirely comfortable with the revelation that had come to him days before. Major Reynolds had run their blood personally, and had been smiling as she told the two of them they were in fact father and daughter.
"How so?" She asked, to which Ander was unsure how to answer. "I can't rightly say...For years I wanted a flesh and blood family of my own. Ksandra was barren, unable to conceive. That's why I left her, to be honest. I couldn't bear the thought of never having children of my own." Ander sighed, parts of him were still angry with himself for abandoning his former lover. It had been years since he'd last spoken with her, but he'd never been able to forgive himself. It made him feel shallow, to leave the woman at the alter on the day of their wedding, only to end up under Darth Caedus' captivity, and later leave Ksandra for her inability to conceive his children, even after she helped rescue him from the clutches of the Dark Lord.
"The irony is that after I left Yavin Four and sought out my heritage as a Mandalorian, I grew to accept the notion that family was more than blood, that having children of my own loins didn't matter. Calo, my son, I adopted after the Mandalorian fashion. If only I could have reached that realization before abandoning Ksandra, we might still be together, happily." Ander grimaced, his jaw tightening as his mind considered what might have been. Regret had become a motif in his life, and one he did not enjoy living with.
Major Reynolds made a note in her datapad, then lifted her eyes to Ander once more. "You seem to carry burdens you cannot possibly ever shirk, Commander." Ander felt his lips twitch. "What do you mean?" He asked. "What I mean is that Ksandra is long gone from your life, from all existence, for all you know, and yet you still tear at yourself over your past transgressions." The woman who had once been his mother leaned back in her chair, eyeing him thoughtfully as he waited for her to continue. "It may sound crass, Commander, but with the Jedi Praxeum of Yavin all but scoured from the history books, you have no reason to continue tearing yourself down. Your responsibilities to that world vanished when you did. Their success or failure as long since been out of your sphere of influence or onus. And yet you keep it with you, like a sort of self-imposed incubus. You chain yourself to the past, when you have the future staring you in the face."
Ander considered Cassandra's words for several long, dark moments. His thoughts were ever on the future these days, and yet he felt he made little progress at making the most of that future. Perhaps she was right, and letting go was his only chance at emotional redemption. There were none left alive to absolve him, save for himself.
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