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Origins 2002 short story by Louis Turfrey Thirty-eight
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Extract from
letter addressed to Jedi Master Blake De’Athe I know who I am. I am the composite mind of Tar Ranth, former bounty hunter and Jedi and his blood son Tarr Ranth, trained combatant, ex-mercenary, bounty hunter and Jedi Knight. Confused? Me too. It’s not easy being in two minds about things Literally two minds that is. I am a designer soldier, built using clone technology perfected before the rise of the Empire. I am as old as I look though, having been birthed after a normal gestation period. I grew up without a mother, with a father who I barely knew. Until recently I was a mercenary and a good one too. Using the assumed name of Arak Glime, I trained and fought with the best. Then I received that fateful message, the one telling me my father had died. The one I had been waiting for most of my life. I was brought up in the same way as my father, taught the meaning of justice and the value of life. However, I was never allowed to be a bounty hunter, which was the choice my father made for me. Strangely enough, until recently I never wanted to be one either. Then the message arrived, accompanied by a man named Li-Tur. At least he looked like a man. He turned out to be one of the most advanced humanoid robots I have ever encountered. Li-Tur introduced himself as a friend of my father, and handed me a message. The message was a choice. Unlike my grandfather, my father didn’t believe that I should be forced into carrying out the duties of a Lord of Mandalore and as such he never involved me in the training or even mentioned it, except as a history lesson. However, he still felt it was his duty to give me the choice. However, the job came with a price. My father had regular engramatic imprints taken of his mind. These were a recording of his memories and as such were intensely painful. The process has been used in the past as a means of torture, but my father’s duty was to leave a legacy and he did this with some aplomb. The final recording was made just before his last mission, just before he died. His idea, should I choose accept the role, was that I become him. His memories would integrate with mine. I would know who he knew, what he knew and have full knowledge and access to his skills and abilities. It was a dangerous choice that could send me into psychosis, or worse. For me though, it was just another challenge and affirmation that my father respected and loved me. I told you it gets confusing with two sets of thought patterns in your head. It’s a long process and it required a neural link to be created. That in itself is a painful process and required several months of retraining my mind. When it was complete, a biochip was implanted and the memories were slowly transferred. There were problems, and on several occasions I was semi-psychotic but I pulled through. Then something else happened. I had a visitation. My father, or rather a ghost of my father that existed within the Force, came to visit me. I was unsure what to do; in front of me was…myself, or certainly an older version of myself. He told me he wished me well and hoped I would be happy with the role I had chosen. We talked more then than we/I had ever talked. However, as time went by, his image became unstable and he seemed to fade. It was then that he explained he could only visit me one more time, and that I should only call him when I/he needed me/him. I had no idea how to do so, but he smiled and said that we would know when the time was ready. Very confused and slightly dumbfounded I went back to training and prepared to contact a man named you know, a man named Ryath Centaur. Centaur is himself an enigma, an ex-Imperial-turned-mercenary leader. I had long admired his outfit and their efficiency in battle. They fought like a team, not just a group of hired soldiers. They were in all ways a fully integrated private army, more efficient even than the Imperials in their ability to work together. He agreed to my request and we met on his private cruiser. It was then that I retrieved the armour I now wear. The armour is what made Tar Ranth and his ancestors what they are. Designed in the fashion of the Mandalorian Warriors it is fearsome to behold and is a major psychological advantage when facing an opponent. I freely admit, the first few bounties that I took were lucky. I might have had the knowledge but my ability to use it was somewhat impaired. The suit saved me on more than one occasion. It was the last bounty, before I took on the Brotus contract, which was the decider. I had badly miscalculated the odds against me and was finding it difficult to pin down my opponents. There was a flash to my right and I realised that they had worked around me. The concussion grenade exploded five metres away from me, lifting me off the ground and propelling me away from my would-be targets. I landed hard, very hard, breaking my wrist and injuring my ankle. My one weapon was ten metres away and the electronic release on the other was jammed. All suit systems were temporarily off line. I was in a fix that I knew I couldn’t get out of and I wished, for one brief moment, that my father were back with me, advising me what to do. I imagined I could hear his voice in my mind. “My son, I can help, but there is a likelihood your mind may be damaged and that my spirit will cease to exist in the force.” What choice did I have, my mind screamed out yes! Suddenly there was blackness. When I awoke, my targets had been eliminated and I was sitting with a splint on my wrist. I do not know how it happened and I do not know what happened to my Force spirit. All I can tell you for certain is that I am Tar Ranth, former Jedi Knight and once more a bounty hunter. I am changed, and have become the sum of two men’s souls. I know you as both my cousin and my friend Blake, and I hold a genuine affection for you in my heart. I also know Centaur, Lomona and several other colleagues as if I had only seen them yesterday. Memories, feelings and knowledge have been integrated and the sum of the whole is now functioning at nearly one hundred percent efficiency. Given a few more months of getting to know how this new body responds and you will once more know the Ranth of old. I am not entirely sure what I will be doing. If I will continue to be a bounty hunter or rejoin the Jedi Order. Either way, I can feel my Force powers returning a little bit each day. Part of me dreads it, not wanting to immerse myself in that world again. I can no longer be bound by its rules, for I have killed without mercy. Will I turn to the dark side? I don’t think so; I enjoy being a good guy too much. If I do, then I trust that it will be you that takes me down. Besides, I would love to see anybody else try. In the meantime, I have a lot of repair work to do. Brotus fought hard and trashed my armour. At least I have Li-Tur here to help me, and he has promised to incorporate a few modifications. I owe Brotus and I mean to collect. Until we meet again, your good friend. Tar Ranth. Origins 2002 short story by Louis Turfrey Thirty-eight
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Told entirely from the
viewpoint of the returned Tar Ranth, this letter to his cousin Blake De’Athe
explains much of what happened to this clone of the dead mercenary/bounty hunter/Jedi Knight.
Cast of Characters Tar Ranth |