Tatooine Bad Boy

Kaz 1.1b

I didn’t hear Kari approach. The waif like figure stood there for several seconds before I realised I was staring at her, just as she was at me. I dropped my gaze back to the floor and said nothing. I’d pretty much got used to seeing her like this- stood staring at something inconsequential. Occasionally that thing was me. It had freaked me out the first few times, but after a few weeks I’d come to see her as just another part of the ship. It sounds cold, but I had a feeling that’s how she saw herself too.
I looked up again as she held out a crude, off the shelf communicator. The spoils of a visit to the market, I assumed. Well, at least someone had made it through the day without jepoardising the entire mission.
“It’s a communicator. We’re on channel six”
I nodded slowly, lacking the will to reply, and reached out for the device. A delicate thing, easily crushed in a clumsy moment, just like… I stopped myself. This was ridiculous, I knew deep down that whatever had come over me was temporary, some bad vibe I had unwittingly picked up on, but the knowledge did nothing to help overcome the feeling of hopelessness. Why couldn’t I just control this? Since I found out that this hypersensitivity might be something I inherited from my father I’ve had hope that maybe I could learn to control it, to block out the negative emotions and perhaps refine it into something that could actually help. But now… this… the tide of sorrow that had swept over me brought new definition to the nagging sense of inadequacy that was my constant companion. I couldn’t control this any more than I could halt the winds on Bespin, and if I couldn’t control my feelings what hope did I have of taking control of my life?
“What’s wrong?” Kari blurted out, startling me from my mental spiral of self recrimination. “I mean…uh…”
I stared up at her once more as her face reddened. I knew she was uncomfortable around me, and this was probably the most she’d said to me since I came aboard her ship. This wasn’t some automatic, mechanical response. Kari had clearly stepped out of her comfort zone to reach out to a fellow human being. It was enough.
“Do you ever wonder if there’s even a point? I mean…what’s it all for?” Vague, meaningless, inadequate words, the condensation from a fog of raw emotion, unprepared for speech. I searched in vain, tried again and again to come up with words to somehow express the futility of it all, but nothing came. That slight chance, that momentary, barely spoken connection had nearly been enough to bring me back to reality, but when I looked up Kari had gone.



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