WriteHaven

The wonders of modern high-priced fighter sales meant a great deal of customization in the realm of user interface and personal comfort. Instead of spending the hours it would take to get to Bakura staring out into the tumbling brightness of hyperspace Rik decided to polarize the view screen and flatten out the bolsters in his seat. Originally intended so that any size sentient being would be comfortable in the same cockpit Rik found that he could not easily cross his legs and sit in some much-needed meditation without any external distractions.

So Rik sat. And sat. He reflected upon the strange vision he saw while on the mountain top. Sometimes the Force wasn’t exactly clear in what it communicated. Oftentimes it was annoyingly vague. But whatever else it was Rik knew from experience that it was Good. Like capital G Good. And it could be trusted. Time after time on Nexus when he was just beginning to learn and understand the Force he had tried it his own way and failed. But time after time he was drawn gently back to its will. Yes, Rik did have his fair share of burses, cuts, sometimes broken bones but each time he was healed of the worst of it by Master Kaytren and left with the pain of the lesser as a reminder to listen.

So listen he did. All the way to Bakura…

Then he seriously needed to use the bathroom…fortunately for him, his fighter was very well equipped.