Light is the left hand of darkness and darkness the right hand of light. Two are one, life and death, lying together like lovers in kemmer, like hands joined together, like the end and the way.
~ Ursula K. Le Guin, "Left Hand of Darkness"
Nobody said that Ku'uar was a foreigner at the space station. After all, they've all heard of the infamous "Whisperer" who was said to be able to tell a story without hearing, but knowing from the person. The gift to see into the person's heart and know what is there. To feel their pain and sorrow, their happiness and joy. To know their fears and to know their true love. A true story teller who can give a story from a simple expression. But his story begins here.
He had spent Five months at the Orinoco Space Station or SS-I290, home of the remnants of the Kreegan Race that bore no more than 100,000 of their kind, They are a race of fierce warriors with a mind of intelligence that exceeds human Expectations. The hearts of warriors beats inside of the Kreegan, bearing no marks of shame as it transitions from being mortal to being a spirit that defines immortality. Ku'uar, unfortunately, was not among the Kreegan.
He was a Shaar'i. The Shaar'i race hails from Space Station Pharos or SS-I113, having 400,000 of their kind to walk among the metal corridors and sleep in bunks with cold nights in space. They were a poor race compared to Humanity, but they were fairly gifted with what they called the Will. It defined their alienistic form besides the rapid growth and the height. They could perform miracles and could do things no man could ever do, like have empathy.
Ku'uar wasn't an Empath. Nor was he gifted at all, which led to his banishment in the first place. He was a very educated man with many Ideals and Philosophies that cover up the fact he has no gift. It was the only way he could live until the age of 40 in the space station before they discovered him out. He was then shipped off to the farthest place they could think of and he was left out in the cold as he watched his little world crumble round him. But he held onto his stories.
He sat quietly at the Heathcliff Bar as he drank from his small glass of Grenin, drinking a livable curse on his lips as each sip, he is cursing his life's work. Several of the Kreegan's noticed the human-like man who sat at the bar, but noted he was not a threat. He sat there as he drank, minding his own business as a man did come along and sit by him.
"I'll have a Drone-3." He told the Bartender. The Bartender acknowledged and went to fix up the Drone-3. He took down a bottle of Vodka, some Wine and an entire thing of Whiskey was poured into the same bottle and mixed together. He then poured it out into Three Cups, giving them each to the person.
Ku'uar inquired upon this and became increasingly curious as to why this man would order such a heavy drink. The man caught the glimpse of Ku'uar and noticed he was thinking. He smiled and said, "Thinking's getting you nowhere, is it?"
Ku'uar grinned and turned for his drink. He put down the cup after taking a sip and said, "You've learned something you want to forget."
"Yeah, what of it? All men drink to forget something. What have you to forget?"
"Life. It burns my mind and turns me black and blue with the misery of hell and earth!"
The man took a sip from his Drone-3 Drink and tried to hide the nasty taste it left in his mouth after the savoring of the great taste. He also tried to hide the memories he was trying to lose. Ku'uar couldn't help but note about it.
"Is it love you wish to forget?"
"The same thing you are trying to lose. I'm hating life and life hates me." He replied. He started tapping the bar with his finger impatiently as if he was waiting for something, but he wasn't.
"What's so bad with your life? What's wrong?"
He snorted. "Ha! Don't tell me you can't see it, Whisperer." He gave away the fact he knew who Ku'uar was and did not like it at all.
"You're right, I can't. You haven't told enough of a story yet."
"Then Can you tell what you know?" He asked daringly.
"Alright, then. Your name is Wera Beaudeclair and you were born on Earth sometime 32 years ago. You recently fell in love with a lady named Sandra and did not falter with your love with her. Each night was a pleasure never so daring to risk. She loved you and you loved her, but it was a love not meant to be as her father tore you both apart. So now you sit and drink your life away as she remains with her father, alone in his comfort."
Impressed, Wera gazed at him with amazement. "Impressive! What do you mean there's not enough of the story?"
"You haven't finished it yet. All stories must have an end."
"And how should I end it?"
"Perhaps you could steal her away like a thief and bring her under your wing as you escape to planets unknown? Or try to fight her father for your love and gain her through a fair fight. It is yours to end, not mine."
"Amazing! You're a natural!"
"It's only what I do, Wera." Wera and Ku'uar took their sips from their respective drinks and began another conversation with each other.
"So what's your story?" Wera asked. He looked At Ku'uar with curiousity as to his story, hoping for an answer.
"Me? I am merely living. I am a storyteller who, banished by his own race, was left to survive with a few good stories and a plenty amount of space to fill."
"But what's your grief?"
"Plenty, but the biggest is recent."
"Then do tell! I want to hear a story. Is it a good one, though?"
"Indeed! Let me Tell you of The End and The Way.
Ispent my recent years on the Planet of Mars, working as a Recorder for the Martian Monarchy. I also served as a Messanger, a Scholar, and a Poet. I had time to think over my many problems and to hear many stories from the court, bearing no remark, though. I was slanted with whatever I said about these things, but I only questioned and never was answered. But I broke the law once there. One story told me I HAD to record it. Only this one was so different from the rest. It was the story of a Young Woman who God Spoke to. I had seen her thrice, but I only recorded what she told the exocutioner before her death. She told her life and her life was long, but I only could question her on her campaign.
"Would you mind to tell me of the campaigns you told of? Maybe about Lincoln's Hill?" I asked my first question to record. It was a terrifying moment for me to try and break a very sacred law, to hold the person responsible for their own words and not mine. But it had to be done or else.
"It scarred my flesh and soul, leaving me breathless at mention of the place." There she began her story.
I rode to the hill on a Stallion of Red over the Martian Deserts that remained from the beginning of the Terraformation of Mars. The Desert heat was beating down on me and the Lush Enviroment was thanks to a cooling in the air, but it burned still. I had worn my suit of Armor, wearing a bulletproof vest, a War Suit and the boots of war. Marching alongside my most trusted soldiers, we made way over rocks and hills to the city of Lincoln sitting on Lincoln Hill. The skies were warm red, knowing of blood staining the ground the night before. Our scouts returned from scouting the land and have brought news that would displease myself.
"Madame Jade! Madame Jade!" I heard the scout rushing up the hill, waving a paper in his hand. Continuing upward, he stopped to catch his breath from a long run.
"Well? What of The Scout?" He still tried to catch his breath, but spent more than a minute. "Well? Is there a Bunny or a Dragon over there. What's going on?"
He looked up at me and smiled, almost to say, "It's done."
"Madame Jade. A Funeral is taking place as we speak."
"Captial Hill. It was the President of Lincoln's." I was surprised. He said it as if it were anticipated, but I did not want it at all. The game pieces moved wrong as the city began to crumble. War was inevitable and they needed a new leader. What was I to do? I finally caught a glimpse of the future and saw what I saw. A god which has given me flight since day one to find this army has commanded unto me:
"Jade. Rise up and bear the Standard of Leadership and wave for war. Defend the people and bring justice unto the land for behold, a star is born again."
I listened and prepared my army. "Rally The Troops! Ready to defend the city! I will take my Squad forward while the rest shall set up camp out here!" She took two flags from off the ground: The flag of the Kingdom of Mars and the Standard of Leadership, a Red and gold flag with the stigma, "Prevail, we shall", written on it. She rode on ahead a little and turned to face the troops. She rose the Standard and dropped the Flag of Mars onto the ground and said, "In Higher order, what have you? Bear no marks with Mars because Mars is not the Grace of God. The Evils of Man is caught in Mars, but we shall prevail onward. As the saying goes, Prevail, we shall!"
They divided the army and they set up camp there. We rode on to defend the city of lincoln and bore with us the Standard to rally their troops and to protect the people.We had no fears then, but I did wonder to the fact that not many rode alongside the armies of Mars, but it had to be. We made it a Day's ride to the city, not in a rush to be anywhere else. We finally made our way to the city gates, but as we prepared to ask for entrance, a voice began to sing.
It was that of a young boy, no older than eight years of age. He began singing,
The Owl Flies by night and the Eagle Flies by Day
But both of them are taking The End and The Way
And Captain's voices sways us, as we begin to pray
Let it Lay
Let it Lay
Then The town joined in for the next verse, but sang it softly as we listened from the other side of the gate.
The old men would weep while the children would play
And other Weary Travelers seek a place to stay
We'd follow to the dawn, nary to say nay
Let it Lay
Let it Lay