Gort sat in the quiet and the dark on Valaar V. On the table in front of him, a ghostly figured gave lessons on the nature of the Force, the philosophy of the Jedi order, and basic tenants of meditation. Gort wasn’t really listening – he could recite the entire holocron word for word – but the quiet peace of the speaker instilled in him a sense of serenity and sadness for the days past.
In his younger days, flying the lanes in freighters, he had envied the glory and power of the Jedi and yearned to join their ranks in protecting the galaxy. But, day after day went by, riding the same outer rim spaceways, growing older, traveling with other people’s goods to make a living. Then the entire galaxy changed.
The Republic collapsed and the Outer Rim, already mostly ungoverned, became the haven for those seeking respite from the tyranny of the Empire. The difficulties the dispersed, unaffiliated worlds presented turned into an unexpected blessing.
Still, the reach of the Empire was long and it didn’t take long for the legal jobs to dry up. Smuggling was the only option and, by chance, Gort found the right man to follow.
Then, out of nowhere, in a seedy pub, on a far out colony, he found the Holocron. He had heard tales and could barely contain his excitement as the backwater locals puzzled over the overly generous bargain he made in exchange for the parts he needed and the curious cube.
It had been painful to see it back then. The slaughter of the Jedi had passed some years ago and a grave despair had settled in across the galaxy. The dreams of his youth, lost in the daily grind of work and survival, coupled with that gnawing hopelessness had driven him to tears.
Still, so many years later, he carried the cube everywhere. He couldn’t admit that he hoped it might be of use, that it might be a part of something bigger. The holocron: a dream made solid.