• He looked up at his custom star cruiser, not even bothering with shielding his eyes from the glare. The hangar lights over head cast a pale gloom over everything in the Temp-Spat Station, but that was usual. Most everything here was rather bland and gloomy at times. Only in taste did the rigid discipline of set standards waver, and none more so than in the kerusu that he drank. Kerusu tasted like everyone's favorite taste, so that might explain why the Overdins allowed it at all. Strict was their rule, but for good reason. If the Overdins didn't keep a firm hold on those left, more of the people would leave on missions and never return... Not even death would prevent an Observer from coming home, so the only reason would be forsaking their sacred, ancestral duty to live out their false lives in the other worlds..... Finally, he would get to show that he wasn't weak-willed like those others. Finally, he would be able to prove his worth to the Overdins, and most especially, to his father, Overdin the First. Speak of the devil, to use an ancient phrase....or is it a future phrase? In the Station, time had no meaning except what was given to it by the Overdins, and the First was the one who saw to it that it was perfect, like everything he wanted. Standing at an exact 6'4, with his hair at the perfect short-yet-not length, with a touch of gray that was expected of an older leader, his father strode toward him at a purposeful pace. The steel look in the First's eyes softened as he approached his son, obviously still protective of the boy. That was actually a misnomer, seeing as how the so-called 'boy' looked to be around 25 or so, and he had been on the station, aging at a predetermined pace, for approaching 498 standard years tomorrow. That coincided with his launch time, as all first missions did. Even the great First couldn't change that law to another perfection, no matter how protective of his only son he was. Once he got within a stride of his son, the First stopped, always annoyingly correct in the distance he should be from a family member, his only family, since the boy's mother had left... The young man looked into his father's lightning blue eyes, his eyes matching only slightly. His were darker in their color, but shocked through with a golden zig-zag in a close circle around the pupil. He was told by some of the more kindly people on the Station that his mother had golden eyes... He couldn't remember, she had left when he was only 48 standard years, only a babe, really.... Every time his father looked into his eyes and saw that ring, pain and sorrow would flash for but an instant. That pain, and his father's enduring desire to make sure his child wasn't harmed in any way, only confirmed the fact that he had to escape. He had to strike out on his own, separate for a time from his father and those others who only saw a child of the First. Everyone of them expected great things, whether success or failure, and he meant to prove them right, if only to make himself be seen as more than the First's boy.... The first's eyes looked down at the armored suit the son wore, the black paneling designed to be much more durable than the armor used in his mission universe. Not even a raised eyebrow at the insignia on the left pectoral plate, a swirled dragon standing out proudly in red, crossed his face, distant that the First was in this moment. They both knew the internal systems of the armor had to calibrate the day before, making sure that it would respond almost immediately to any situation, so there was no need to comment on it beyond the aesthetic look. He had designed the look himself, wanting to distance himself from the image his father had of him, that the others on the station had of him. Some of the younger ones had thought that the color scheme was cool, the cape with red on the inside, black on the out, the clasp opposite of the the insignia seemlessly attached to the armor. Others went with the stream-lined helm, looking like an ancient motocross helmet, with a full chrome-colored visor as the best part. Himself, it was the fact that he had designed it himself. Nothing else on the station, besides his ship, was completely his down to the smallest degree. And the ship was tied for the same position, being of a black matching the armor, twin dual-cannons on each of the forward-swept wings, the canopy seamless against the hull. Being of Station tech, it was linked to the suit biometrically, letting him control it over vast distances with just mental projection. Not only would this keep him from ever being separated from it, it would be a vast help in any space combat. Looking him up and down, his father grimaced sadly. This would be the last time they would see each other like this, for the father, but a few days, the son, it could last years, even decades. That was the price they paid for their duty, ancient and demanding. Theirs was to watch the timelines, eliminate anomalies and paradox, keep the lines running smoothly and balanced until they reached the joining point of all universes. That joining point was their goal, a goal that must be reached for the purpose of the creation of the final universe, the final evolution. That goal, that duty, was now in his hands. "So you have your mission..." The deep, commanding voice of the First was low and barely audible to the boy, even in the empty hangar. So many slots, so many of the Observers out on their missions.... He smiled sadly at his father, a knowing look in his eyes. "Don't worry, father... I will not fail you..." "Bah," the First scoffed at the notion, looking away now and examining the ship that would see his son to the farthest reaches of the multiverse. "You and I both know you won't fail, none of us fail when we go out. Not even..." His silence was understandable, and words not needed. Not even the Deserters, those infamous Observers who went out and never returned, those like the boy's mother.... Shaking his head slightly, he cleared his mind of such distracting notions. This wan't going to help him convince his father that he would be fine. He had to speak now, and not let the words reflect negatively on the past. His father must se that he wasn't to be coddled, but one to be seen as the person he was. "How is the interfacing? Is it as we had hoped?" The First glanced from the side of his face, looking at his son as if he was afraid he would disappear right then. "More so. It is almost finished, if my lessons have stuck with me any." He moved up next to his father, almost shoulder to shoulder. This was the closest physically they had been in weeks, if not months, not to mention emotionally. They both were silent for a long moment, each on his own thoughts. Clearing his throat, the First was the one to break. "So, have you found out the name you will be under in this place? It needs to be like theirs, yet singular, you know...." The names are selected for those that left by the omni-computer that dealt with most of the things on the Station, and it was always randomly selected but no two were alike. "Not yet, father, though I suspect that the ship's computer will let me know when I jump into their line." The First nodded as if he expected that, which he may have. This was not a day he looked forward to, but he would see it through. The hour was late and he figured the boy would need rest and contemplation before launching. He turned toward his son and stuck out his hand, intending to be the stolid figure he had always hoped he was for the boy, no, the man. The young man turned partially toward his father and took the hand, then after a brief hesitation, pulled him into a fierce hug. Surprised at first, the father melted into the embrace, a soft smile on his face breaking through the grim exterior he usually showed. "I love you...Dad....." A single tear fell from his cheeks to his father's crisp uniform before they released each other. Stepping back, the First saluted the newest in a long line of field Observers and then turned to march away, disappearing from sight. The man watched as he went, wondering if he would see his father the same way once he returned. A beeping issued from his armor, signaling that the new day had begun and the mission's parameter was almost upon them. Climbing swiftly up the side of his cruiser, he snagged his helm off of the console and slipped it into place. Read-outs activated telling him that all systems were nominal. Various calibration sensors rolled on screen as the canopy set itself down to lock seemlessly into place. After adjusting himself, he slipped his armored hands into the ship's auto-sensor array, giving him a dizzying sense of seeing in all directions at once. His entire conciousness spread throughout the ship's internal systems, waking t completely. It rumbled softly, almost a silent purr in the white, sterile hangar. No one stood to watch in person, as the hole in the space-time continuum would most likely tear them apart, if they were lucky. But that didn't mean he wasn't observed, by his father and the rest of the Overdins in the small, windowed box high above the staging floor. This was the moment of truth, the moment he set out for his destiny and the destiny of an entire universe. Text flowed onscreen, giving him his mission parameters: 1: He was to locate and protect one Jaina Solo. 2: He was to keep all technology from the Station out of the other people's hands. 3: Keep surveillance on one Jacen Solo, the twin of Jaina Solo. Various other details scrolled across, including the name he was to live by his entire stay in this new universe. A blinding flash and a crash like a thousand tearing steel girters echoed throughout the Station, signaling the gateway between worlds being open. Activating his comlink for the first time, and the last time for a long time for him to speak to the Overdins, he couldn't help but smile broadly. "Ralyk Ebonstar, en route to Universe 86-3A904, mission code name: Solo Guard. Entering vortix. See you on the far side!" With a final glance up to his father, Ralyk slipped into the white light....