THE FRACTURED WORLD: ARRIVAL

[modormenace]

 

A

rrival for some goes all but unnoticed. It's a sudden shiver, the sensation of being watched... and then nothing at all. Life continues serenely as it always has. The only indication of any change comes with sleep, wrapped in dreams: vague and distant echo imagery of another life, melting away in the morning.

 

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or others, arrival is a sharp jolt. In the space of a single blink, they find themselves in an unfamiliar world, surrounded by the trappings of a life they have not lived. They are replacements, spirits taking possession of bodies belonging to people very much like themselves...

 

A

nd for the rest, arrival is a procedure. Routine. Those ported in to the Fractured World wake hazily in the comfortably dim light of the Porter room, laid out on an exam table. Their wounds, if they remember having any, have been healed— and even those who remember their own deaths find themselves miraculously restored. As they regain consciousness, an automatic audio-visual presentation is triggered. Regardless of their backgrounds or physiology, all imPorts 'see' and 'hear' this message as if in their own language:

"Greetings, imPort."

The voice is calm and gently authoritative, almost certainly selected by committee.

"On behalf of the Synod and all imPorts it represents, we welcome you to the planet Earth."

A decidedly non-humanoid robotic arm holds out a palm-sized device and rather insistently demands the new arrival take it. This is the imPort's comm, used for accessing the Porter's database of information, as well as the communications Network— though it won't receive communications from outside the Porter building until carried through one of the many Gates set up in a long, crescent-shaped array on the far side of the room.

As each Gate is approached, information about the faction it leads to flashes up on the comm device's screen. Which will you choose?

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Comments

[faithfulson]

"My wisdom?"

Luke paused, leaning back in his seat and eyeing the count. There was always a double meaning behind words, and he suspected this was also a case of that. He was silent, listening to the Force and letting Dooku stew a moment, before he finally replied.

"My wisdom, or my abilities, Count?"

[dun_moch]

Patience is a trick the Count learned a long, long time ago, and he is still and placid while waiting for Skywalker to speak again. When he does, Dooku responds at once.

"The two are closely linked, are they not?" He asks rhetorically. "Let us speak plainly, Your Majesty. Other may not be able perceive what your abilities have done for this Empire, but to me, it is as though this territory has a sweet song constantly flowing through its air, a song that calms all chaos. What your power has achieved is truly remarkable. Yet... you need not be the only one to wield this strength."

He raises a hand, palm-up, inviting. "There are others strong enough to learn this potential of the Force... if only they were taught."

[faithfulson]

Luke was silent for a long moment, keeping a measured gaze on Dooku. He wasn't surprised this was happening, if he was honest; Ezra had called him out on the power he was using ages ago, and he suspected that just about any other Force user could pick it up easily enough. Part of him had just been hoping it would have been anyone but the former Separatists leader.

"This is not a simple ability, Count," he finally spoke up. "It's draining, even for me, and you're hardly the epitome of youth."