The End and The Way

''Light is the left hand of darkness and darkness the right hand of light.  Two are one, life and death, lying together like lovers in kemmer, like hands joined together, like the end and the way.''

~ Ursula K. Le Guin, "Left Hand of Darkness"

Part 1
Nobody said that Ku'uar was a foreigner at the space station. After all, they've all heard of the infamous "Whisperer" who was said to be able to tell a story without hearing, but knowing from the person. The gift to see into the person's heart and know what is there. To feel their pain and sorrow, their happiness and joy. To know their fears and to know their true love. A true story teller who can give a story from a simple expression. But his story begins here.

He had spent Five months at the Orinoco Space Station or SS-I290, home of the remnants of the Kreegan Race that bore no more than 100,000 of their kind, They are a race of fierce warriors with a mind of intelligence that exceeds human Expectations. The hearts of warriors beats inside of the Kreegan, bearing no marks of shame as it transitions from being mortal to being a spirit that defines immortality. Ku'uar, unfortunately, was not among the Kreegan.

He was a Shaar'i. The Shaar'i race hails from Space Station Pharos or SS-I113, having 400,000 of their kind to walk among the metal corridors and sleep in bunks with cold nights in space. They were a poor race compared to Humanity, but they were fairly gifted with what they called the Will. It defined their alienistic form besides the rapid growth and the height. They could perform miracles and could do things no man could ever do, like have empathy.

Ku'uar wasn't an Empath. Nor was he gifted at all, which led to his banishment in the first place. He was a very educated man with many Ideals and Philosophies that cover up the fact he has no gift. It was the only way he could live until the age of 40 in the space station before they discovered him out. He was then shipped off to the farthest place they could think of and he was left out in the cold as he watched his little world crumble round him. But he held onto his stories.

He sat quietly at the Heathcliff Bar as he drank from his small glass of Grenin, drinking a livable curse on his lips as each sip, he is cursing his life's work. Several of the Kreegan's noticed the human-like man who sat at the bar, but noted he was not a threat. He sat there as he drank, minding his own business as a man did come along and sit by him.

"I'll have a Drone-3." He told the Bartender. The Bartender acknowledged and went to fix up the Drone-3. He took down a bottle of Vodka, some Wine and an entire thing of Whiskey was poured into the same bottle and mixed together. He then poured it out into Three Cups, giving them each to the person.

Ku'uar inquired upon this and became increasingly curious as to why this man would order such a heavy drink. The man caught the glimpse of Ku'uar and noticed he was thinking. He smiled and said, "Thinking's getting you nowhere, is it?"

Ku'uar grinned and turned for his drink. He put down the cup after taking a sip and said, "You've learned something you want to forget."

"Yeah, what of it? All men drink to forget something. What have you to forget?"

"Life. It burns my mind and turns me black and blue with the misery of hell and earth!"

The man took a sip from his Drone-3 Drink and tried to hide the nasty taste it left in his mouth after the savoring of the great taste. He also tried to hide the memories he was trying to lose. Ku'uar couldn't help but note about it.

"Is it love you wish to forget?"

"The same thing you are trying to lose. I'm hating life and life hates me." He replied. He started tapping the bar with his finger impatiently as if he was waiting for something, but he wasn't.

"What's so bad with your life? What's wrong?"

He snorted. "Ha! Don't tell me you can't see it, Whisperer." He gave away the fact he knew who Ku'uar was and did not like it at all.

"You're right, I can't. You haven't told enough of a story yet."

"Then Can you tell what you know?" He asked daringly.

"Alright, then. Your name is Wera Beaudeclair and you were born on Earth sometime 32 years ago. You recently fell in love with a lady named Sandra and did not falter with your love with her. Each night was a pleasure never so daring to risk. She loved you and you loved her, but it was a love not meant to be as her father tore you both apart. So now you sit and drink your life away as she remains with her father, alone in his comfort."

Impressed, Wera gazed at him with amazement. "Impressive! What do you mean there's not enough of the story?"

"You haven't finished it yet. All stories must have an end."

"And how should I end it?"

"Perhaps you could steal her away like a thief and bring her under your wing as you escape to planets unknown? Or try to fight her father for your love and gain her through a fair fight. It is yours to end, not mine."

"Amazing! You're a natural!"

"It's only what I do, Wera." Wera and Ku'uar took their sips from their respective drinks and began another conversation with each other.

"So what's your story?" Wera asked. He looked At Ku'uar with curiousity as to his story, hoping for an answer.

"Me? I am merely living. I am a storyteller who, banished by his own race, was left to survive with a few good stories and a plenty amount of space to fill."

"But what's your grief?"

"Plenty, but the biggest is recent."

"Then do tell! I want to hear a story. Is it a good one, though?"

"Indeed! Let me Tell you of The End and The Way.