Remarkable Recurrence

[Fromikeable]

The Ishi Tib were paradoxical in their nature. Ecologically-conscious by nature and stringent in their allowance for technology on their planet, the race was nevertheless one of the best when it came to managing business and the dealings of the galaxy around them. Their skills for organization were renowned, and yet their history was marked with dictators, tragedies, and the rise and fall of tyranny. Perhaps they had become so meticulous so as to prevent the cycle from repeating. Perhaps the cycle repeated because they had become so meticulous.

Rahse couldn't say. He was an archaeologist, not a psychologist.

What the good doctor could say was that their planet was absolutely stunning. From the natives' coral cities to their great aquatic beasts of labor, the civilization that the ocean world had fostered represented it well. Reefs as big as continents rose and fell out of the seas, currents strong and weak flowing through them like wind. Every color imaginable could be seen in the fauna and flora, all of which slipped their ways through the warm waters like knives through the clearest butter. Rahse even swore that they tasted unique, many of the dishes he'd been served thus far being noticeably sweeter than other fish and seaweed he'd eaten.

Perhaps it had just been the view he'd had through most of those meals, looking out at sun glinting off the tides. Nevertheless.

Such distractions had been stowed as his research had concluded. He'd come to the planet for a simple reason; the Ishi Tib had a mystery in their midst, and solving it would benefit them both. Weeks' worth of studying their records, their museums, and their histories hadn't provided any answers, but had at least delivered a clear question.

Where was Surivo Grota, The City of The All-Sea?

To the Tibrin government, it was a matter of conservation. To Rahse, it was a matter of yet another clue to be found.

Thus he worked with his commissioned sailors as they loaded a large beast of burden, a large toothless shark, with provisions and tools for the journey ahead. The docks of the coral city of Isri Tob bustled as the fish people around him moved with practiced precision, hauling empty boxes ready to be loaded with artifacts, seismographs to map ruins, small underwater scouting droids, and even paper and pens for old-fashioned cartography. Rahse was left alone in the duty of loading oxygen tanks, diving equipment, and his rebreather; he would be the only one on this expedition incapable of breathing water.

Pausing in his work as the last of it all was loaded, he removed his hat, wiping his forehead with his arm. He looked the part of a man working in the tropics, his shirt long-since removed, his diving shorts just as red as his skin. He would be changing into a diving suit soon enough as it was.

As the sailors got to work securing what they had loaded, their captain, a particularly squat Ishi Tib man with a small bone pipe, approached the Zeltron with a wave. "We're just about ready to shove off."

"Brilliant." Replacing his hat, Rahse grinned with satisfaction, savoring the site of their expedition. "Let's hop to it. It should only take us a few hours to reach the dive point."

"Can't yet. Waiting on our last member."

That earned a cocked eyebrow from the professor. "Who?"

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Seated on a float palette beside her crate of equipment, Lidah lingered overlong at the beach, bare toes dipped in the pink coral sand. Places like Nar Shaddaa left her soul starving for places like this, rich in natural splendor. Tibrin was idyllic even, if one could ignore the Ishi Tib themselves. She was paying for that luxury, and rather inelegantly at that. It was hard to finesse someone that didn’t want anything from you. So brute strength it was. An extortionate sum in Republic credits later, and here she was. If Locke had been there too then she might be getting her money’s worth. Alas, he was called elsewhere. It wasn’t smart, this running off on her own for a week or two. Slipping her own security net with nothing but a terse after the fact message to notify Vance that he was in charge. Lidah pulled the floppy sun hat a little lower over her face, torn between self-satisfaction and professional irritation. It wasn’t her edge that she needed to worry about; Hertz and Lovelace should have done better. Her chrono beeped urgently, a cheap waterproof specimen acquired a few standard hours ago from a shop on the boardwalk. Time to go or she’s miss her ride. Lidah silenced it with an impatient tap and slid her feet back into her sandals. Dragging the float palette along, Lidah grinned as she spotted Rahse first. Still rabbiting off after historical treasures on obscure planets … Honestly she couldn’t imagine him otherwise for long, Rahse-the-Professor be damned. Hard to say how he’d feel about seeing her again, though. Who? ”Lizzy Carden. It’s been too long, Dr. Jones.”

[Fromikeable]

Rahse turned to face the voice that greeted him, one hand on his hips in a small sign of irritation, the other raising to his hat, intending to lift it for them. They were late, after all; professional courtesy aside, he had a right to dislike them holding up his expedition. Just who exactly did they thi-

For the first time in a while, Rahse's face dropped into an expression of pure shock, eyes wide, hand frozen lifting his hat. Eyes as green as emeralds studied her face, as if running down a checklist of everything he knew about it, appraising it like one of the many pieces of history he hunted after. Was the age correct? The make? The style? The figure?

The more he looked, the more sure he became. And the more sure he became, the wider his smile grew. It wasn't long before it stretched ear to ear.

"... Ms. Carden." Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Rahse let his hat drop back down to his head before pulling it back, making sure it didn't obstruct his view. His eyes continued their appraisal of her face, but judging by his sudden lack of breath and giddy look, he seemed like he'd just been suckerpunched.

Only in the most wonderful of ways, that was. One only had so many people they could call a true friend in this line of work.

"I thought you might turn up." Barely biting back the urge to chuckle loudly, the Zeltron settled on a wide, knowing grin instead. "Though I never suspected you would be quite this late." He couldn't find the will to be mad though; after seven years, he was honestly just glad to see her alive.

The holos of her dead at the new Empress's feet had upset him more than he'd ever say.

[Neology]

Lidah began to relax, by tiny fractions. That smile was surely genuine, a good place to start. Likely better than she deserved or should hope for. Perhaps the hurt and betrayal would come later? Though she was forced to admit that Rahse had never really seemed the type to hold grudges. Well, maybe with one exception. Was that blue bird fellow still around, she wondered? Seven years seemed like a long time for an active rivalry, but her own point of view was undeniably flawed. The Sith experience tended toward the short and deadly, a shade that colored everything since. Even still. ”Did you?” Her smile turned sheepish. ”No one believes what they see on the news anymore, it seems like.” Locke had. But that was just different levels of access to information at work. This late. Lidah glanced away at that and started moving her equipment over, a handful of sealed crates. She hadn’t known exactly what to bring – the cargo manifest for the expedition had not been clear, without context, on what was required and what was specialist equipment. So she’d packed one of everything reasonably man-portable. Better to be over prepared than under. At least in this situation, concerning literal ancient history. Caution over speed. ”Yeah. I’m really sorry about that, actually.” Various excuses came to mind and some of them even had the ring of truth. Secrecy had been paramount, at the time. Still was, though to a lesser degree now that she was established and thus exponentially harder to uproot. ”Something happened lately. It kind of … Well, it showed me that disappearing on you, the way that I did?” More or less right out of his bed and off world – not, perhaps, her proudest moment – and that soon followed by her very public execution a few short weeks later. ”That was a really shitty thing for me to do.” Lidah met his eyes only briefly, shoulders slightly hunched. The over sized hat offered a thin kind of cover, spoiled by their relative heights and her position on the pier. The high ground left nowhere to hide. ”Do you think we could we still be friends, Rahse?”

[Fromikeable]

"When you study the past, you learn very quickly that history is written by the powerful." The news of the death of Darth Novus had been sensational, especially when the reasons cited had been her involvement with the tragedy on Taris. For the Republic, it had been seen as an immense power struggle, with the newly-crowned Empress putting an end to what few rivals she had still contended with. In the Empire, the news had been far more glorious and dramatic, praising the Empress for her swift and decisive punishment to the woman who had turned a once prosperous city-planet (and possible Imperial holding) into an absolute no man's land.

Rahse was sure that the truth was somewhere in between. Perhaps Renata had simply exiled her in an attempt to save face? Or perhaps the Empress truly had tried to kill her.

If anyone could outsmart a Force-user god-queen, it would have been Lady Novus.

The apology killed his smile, replacing it with an expression somewhere between surprise and consideration. Her departure had been a rarity in his life. He had never simply been left before; if anything, he had rarely been the leaver. Rolling over in his bed that morning, it had been a genuine shock to find nothing but cold sheets beside him. He had tried to downplay it, of course, but questions had plagued him like a bad rash. Most of them met abrupt, answer-less ends weeks later as he'd stared at a holovid screen with barely-contained pain in his eyes, the grandeur of the execution a stark contrast to the very private night they had shared.

When it occurred to Rahse that a lump had formed in his throat, he made an immediate about-face. Swallowing lightly, he shook his head, doing his best to shake off the line of thinking as well.

"It's all water under the bridge." She no doubt had enough problems without hearing how her actions had made him "felt". Those discussions were not worth the permanent, perhaps grave effect they would have on their friendship. Then again, they could have been, but Rahse wasn't willing to bet on it.

He valued spending time with her far too much to take any risks.

"Come now. You have signed on for an expedition, after all." Reclaiming his smile, he nodded at the seabeast. Grabbing the last of her equipment, he helped with its loading, whistling at the squat Ishi Tib man once again.

"Shove us off, Mr. Cosb!"

"Aye sir!" With a bit of yelling and a rush among the sailors, the sea beast let out a low groan. Moorings were undone, places were taken, and with a slight shudder, the creature began to swim away from the docks, bobbing across the sea's surface gently.

As the sea spray began to lick at his nose, Rahse seemed to fully relax once more. Smiling at his newfound companion, he couldn't help but reminisce. "Just like old times." A rich chuckle made him shake his head.

"Pardon the nostalgia. How has chance treated the unsinkable Lizzy Carden these last few years?"

[Neology]

Water under the bridge. Strange brush off, that. Seven years was such a very long time … And why then was she even here? Flipping over this rock, with an audience. Unworthy of her, perhaps. Unresolved on his end, a breath of winter down her neck. Lidah’s gaze flickered to Rahse’s left hand, briefly. Nothing could be the way it was. Darth Novus was well and truly dead, a ghost raised only for select performances. A cautionary tale for the young and foolish. ”If you say so.” She climbed aboard the curious beast and took a seat, watching as her belongings were lashed securely into place. Most cultures eventually phased out beasts of burden and it was fascinating that the Ishi Tib had not. Lidah’s eyes fluttered closed, a passive examination of the animal, the slow trickle of its thoughts and the sensation of the waves against rubbery hide. Calming. ”Oh, I do well enough for myself. Independent, though that’s restrictive too in its way. Sensitive sort of business, can't get much into it now. Not much opportunity for travel.” She sniffed at that, wondering how things would be now, back home. Hertz and Lovelace climbing the walls, maybe. Most of the time she tried to pay a little more care to her poor security team. ”So. What are we looking for here, Professor? I’m afraid I may have just skimmed the briefing. I missed your perspective more than the work. But I’m here for both.” Surely Rahse could still be depended on to provide a good lecture. Lidah adjusted the brim of her hat and settled in to listen.

[Fromikeable]

"All the more reason to enjoy the travel you achieve, then." Independent, eh? Rahse could see that easily. Novus had never struck him as the dependent or patriotic type, never bound to some ideological oath to the Empire. He could easily see her going it all alone as... well, as many things. His best guess might have been crime, but he was sure that regardless of its nature, it was a business of secrets.

She excelled with those.

"We search for The City of the All-Sea, Survio Grota." Leaning back in his seat, Rahse hooked his thumbs on his belt, resting his hands on his sides as he stood. "The Ishi Tib are secure in their reputation as logistical masterminds, but dissidents dot their history. Some, you can imagine, were rather off put by the tenants of communal society and reproduction." Motioning out at the sea before them, the professor cleared his throat, his voice shifting to the singsong rhythm of a lecture.

"As these individuals tended to be insufferable in most schools, they often departed them to live as nomads, either by choice or by force. Many were satisfied to enjoy the open ocean and more independent, survivalist lifestyles, but a scant few proved to be moderates, wishing to strike a balance between their more self-centered thinking and the unnervingly selfless societies they left behind. The answer was the City of the All Sea, more commonly known to the other schools of the age as Hadra Zuno, or "The Reef Of Madmen"." Finally sitting on a box opposite his companion, Rahse smiled and rolled a hand.

"It was, in truth, somewhere in between. One could compare it to many of the early pre-Hyperdrive utopian settlements many core worlds tried. It was a city of people that detested the sacrifices of personal liberty for security, but detested the idea of living alone ever more. Much like those utopian experiments, it ultimately failed thanks to its own contradictory history, never reaping the benefits of collective civilization nor affording its citizens the liberties they felt so alienated for demanding."

"Other schools paid it little mind, and when its traders stopped coming, few cared why. As such, it faded from Ishi Tib history, long-forgotten by most. Until today, of course." Reaching over to a weathered brown satchel, Rahse undid the clasps and produced a series of notes written on photocopies of documents. Within them, he nabbed a small holoprojector, turning it on and holding it aloft. A holographic rendition of Tibrin flickered to life, with annotations in Rahse's handwriting pointing to numerous points on the planet.

"The city's exact location isn't so much a mystery few can solve as much as a mystery few have wished to. But after a lengthy dialogue with the capital's government, they've agreed to at least fund this expedition to confirm the city's existence." Zooming the holograph into a specific point, a path became apparent from Isri Tob out into the seas. "As it turns out, they didn't have to look far. Assuming my research is without error, the ancient city's coral bed was mere hours from Isri Tob. Whether or not the city remains there is what we shall determine today."

He flashed a grin as he turned the projector off. "In short, I hope you're familiar with diving."

[Neology]

Rahse was always a pleasure to listen to, so long as one didn’t mind the exceedingly obscure subject matter. A lost city of political outcasts – minus any strange or lurid practices to really grab the imagination. A failed utopia, too bad about that. And whatever else this Survio Grota was, ancient must be foremost among them. It had been the better part of a decade, but she still remembered Rahse’s specialty: pre-hyperspace civilizations. So when he wondered whether the city remained there, it was probably less a question of habitation and more to do with preservation. Lidah adjusted the brim of her hat, peering up at the holoprojection. ”That close, huh? Well, I think we can take finding fabulous riches and the secret of life off the list.” She could only speak for Sith tombs, but looting was terribly commonplace. And one had to assume that the Ishi Tib were uncommonly familiar with their oceans, so they surely had the means. Maybe it was simply a difference in culture. Practical and communal, perhaps it was felt that they had no use for this past failure. Eh. It didn’t matter – and building a story in her head without the evidence to back it up was dangerous. Or would be if she was actually any kind of historian. Lidah shrugged her shoulders. The last time she’d dived … Had to be eight or nine years ago, searching a flooded ruin for a Sith artifact, racing against an trandoshan Jedi master. Hopefully it was one of those things you didn’t forget. ”You just want to find it. That’s really all?”

[Fromikeable]

"The secret of life can be found in any ruin, Ms. Carden. It is that time turns all deeds to dust." How many incredible civlizations had progressed the collective progress of sentient-kind only to trip and fall? How many scourges and madmen had risen to power and exacted their wildest fantasies only to be deposed and stricken from history? As far as Rahse was concerned, every piece of history ended the same way; with an old piece of life abandoned to decay in some forgotten corner of some forgotten planet. How much time was needed for it to be forgotten could vary; a week, a year, a century, a millennia, and even longer, such as the institutions the galaxy faced today. But they all met the same fate, eventually.

No one, great or small, could contend with the mighty force of the ages rolling past them.

”You just want to find it. That’s really all?”

Faking a scoff, Rahse pressed his fingers to his chest in mock offense. "What sort of cur do you take me for? History is its own reward!" He didn't attempt to hide the rampant, guilty grin that spread across his face as he committed to the stance, standing in a practiced huff. "To think that I would not merely be satisfied with restoring the history of the proud Ishi Tib..." His voice lingered on the last word as he walked over to one of his bags and stooped into it for a second, his hands busy until they produced a small frame.

Turning and presenting it, Rahse looked down at it with a curious fondness. The image was akin to a painting, but made of far more wax-like material. Created on a canvass more akin to rock than cloth, the artwork assuredly looked formidable in its age, less so in its size. About the size of a small box, it depicted a peculiar scene; two Ishi Tib with looks of outrage, both of each's hands clinging desperately to an object hard to make out through the twenty fingers. Pointing at it, Rahse's voice finally returned.

"... particularly this bit. The Survio Moda, or 'All-Sea's Eye'." Propping the painting carefully against the bag, Rahse returned to his seat beside her, motioning at it as he spoke.

"Being the comparative anarchists that they were, the denizens of Survio Grota had particular methods of selecting leaders. Sometimes they voted, but they tended to prefer contests of merit, often designing new ones whenever vacancies in their government appeared." A red finger leveled exactly at the object in the fish-peoples' hands.

"This painting depicts one such contest, the Great Wrestling of the Eighty-Seventh. The city was at war with one of its neighbors at the time, as you can imagine, and it was the consensus that their ruler should be chosen by contests of strength. Their logic was to pick their strongest warrior to lead the war." The finger rolled with a shrug. "As you can also imagine, it worked out horribly, as the woman on the right there, Isil Robt, had the approximate military intelligence of a five year-old, but I digress."

"When she took the position, she was awarded that object as her badge of office. The city agreed that it represented authority due to its origin." Finally dropping his hands, he hummed. "'But wait', one might ask. 'How does a city full of anti-authority exiles come to a unanimous decision about what endows ones of them with authority?' The answer is simple; it must be something that bears no prior association, being a blank slate in comparison to the rest of Ishi Tib society."

A finger pointed upward. "In short, it quite literally fell from the sky."