The Holo-Journal
By Jay Young
Posted 3/8/2007
“Cyrus Remington secure holo-journal entry, stardate 6987.138.”
“How do you go back to a normal life once you have wielded the power of the galaxy at your fingertips?” Sigh, “You don’t. You can’t. I have seen so many people pass away in my lifetime I could fill a cemetery with my own memories. Diana, Heather, Arcanna, Vector. Now Tiroga and Celia. Sometimes I wish I could be with them. At least I still have Roxy and Merrick.” Cyrus leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, “Then again, Merrick is married to his dream girl and lives in another star system, and Roxy…well, she’s still addicted to crystal meth. She says she’s quit, but I can tell. The makeup hiding the circles under her eyes may be expensive, but it still shows if you’re close enough.”
Long pause.
“I’m thinking about resigning my commission. After everything that’s happened, Admiral Ackbar doesn’t deserve the heat that he got from what happened at Sluis Van. I don’t want media coverage of me fanning the flames. I can’t wait to get out of this place anyway. Kain is spending nearly all of his time with Luke and Athena, training, I guess. I’ve hardly talked to him in a month.”
“What’s happened to us? Six years ago after the Battle of Endor, everything seemed like it was going so well. Now, those of us who aren’t dead hardly ever talk to each other.” Cyrus gets up, grabs a glass bottle off the table, and walks over to a picture window overlooking a large city lit up at night. Air speeders whiz by in the skylanes below as he gazes thoughtfully out the window. He takes a drink from the bottle.
“Now I know how truly meaningless all of our lives are, and the only consolation I have to get me through the day is an eighteen-year-old drug addict.”
There is the sound of a door opening. Light spills across the floor from the side of the camera. A short, dark-haired girl wearing a black miniskirt walks into view. “Cyrus, you need to put on your uniform. The hearing is in an hour.” Cyrus turns to face her. She glances down at the bottle.
“Are you drunk?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, I guess I’ll clear out and let you get dressed. Good luck in there.” The girl turns to leave.
“Hey, Roxy.”
“Yeah?”
”Do you think our lives have a purpose?”
“Well, uh, I don’t quite know what you mean, but yeah. I mean, look at you, you’re the youngest admiral in the New Republic. Get dressed, they’ll be expecting you.” She smiles at Cyrus and leaves.
Cyrus looks slowly around the room. “Not for long.”
