––––––––
On a distant planet, a man was walking towards his apartment through the usual dense mist that came down to the city during this time of year.
In spite of his business taking him very far away, he always came back to his apartment. It was the only home that he had now, and he did not want to get rid of it, even when he was virtually never near that area of the galaxy.
He had already lived very many years, and had seen more than any man ought. He had not cut his hair for some time; he no longer found any reason to do so. Its silvery colour gave testimony to his age. The wrinkled skin around his eyes, a grizzled and unkempt beard, in addition to his ragged clothes, were evidence of the little importance that the man gave to his appearance.
In spite of his age, he was still very agile. An athletic build. The muscles on his arms were well defined, product of the incessant training regime that he maintained. He did not speak with many people, but when he did, he revealed his friendly and carefree character.
He was bringing some suitcases with him. He walked up to the apartment block containing his residence. He took the lift to his flat, and when he was in front of the door, he smiled, pleased to be back.
He put his finger on the door panel and lined his eye up with the sensor. ‘Welcome home’, came the voice of the computer, as the door was opened. He took a few steps inside and searched for the light switch to illuminate the place. After seeing that everything was still as he had left it, he went back to smiling.
He immediately made his way to his bedroom to leave his suitcases. He went into his room and, the same as before, looked for the light switch; upon activating it, he discovered the intruder who was to be found calmly seated in a chair at one end of the bedroom.
The man was surprised. Could he possibly be one of his many enemies? Perhaps. It was a few long seconds before he finally asked:
“Who are you?”
“They call me many things now,” said the intruder, in a serene voice. “I’ve left behind my real name... I suppose you can call me Dasslak. Everyone else does.”
It was the famous assassin. He had been waiting for Galo Vooras in the darkness of the bedroom with one of his revolvers in his hand. The wait had not been long, but just as he had been told, it had felt eternal. It no longer mattered; it was over now. It was the end of the road.
The man recognized that name immediately. Everybody had heard of Dasslak, but he had never seen him up front or in any image. He had never imagined, until that moment, who was the bearer of that legendary name. Not until he spoke. In that instant he recognized him. It had been a long while, since the last time they were in front of each other.
“So you’re still alive,” said the man. “Who could have imagined that it was you who was the legendary assassin. It’s a wonderful surprise, Kani. You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” he said, and smiled at him with affection, in a way that was so honest that it even managed to confuse Dasslak.
“I already told you. I abandoned my old name; nobody calls me Kani anymore,” replied Dasslak. There was no emotion reflected in his face, always so serious and calm. “It hasn’t been easy finding you... I’m happy to see you too.”
The man could not avoid looking at the revolver that the assassin was holding in his right hand. Without becoming frightened in any way, he returned his gaze to Dasslak’s face and continued with the conversation:
“I always held on to the hope that you would be alive... I’m a little tired from the journey, I need to sit down.”
“Go ahead, it’s your home,” responded Dasslak, pointing with his revolver at the other chair in the bedroom.
The man placed the suitcases on the floor, walked up to the chair, and sat down. He took a cigar out of his pocket and lit it.
“I still smoke. I haven’t been able to quit,” he told him. Dasslak watched him passively; after his long wait, he was no longer in any kind of rush.
“Tell me,” continued Galo, “what’s life been like for you?”
“I’ve survived,” responded Dasslak. “How about you?”
The man smiled at him again.
“It’s a long story, you seem in a rush.”
“I might make some time to listen to it.”
“I’ve been hunting.”
“Really? And how’s that going?” asked Dasslak, in a sardonic tone.
“Better than expected; I’ve killed many, and gotten answers. Now I have a lead for finding the King. Just where the twin suns sink behind the lake and strange moons turn through the skies.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If I’d known that the legendary assassin was you, I would have asked for your help... I suppose that my work has come to its end. You’ll have to finish it yourself, Kani.”
Dasslak did not really understand what the man was talking about, but nor was he going to try to wrap his head around it. At this point in the game, he did not care, he had only gone for one thing. Before Dasslak could say anything, the man began speaking again:
“You know, I’ve had some strange dreams, I couldn’t understand their meaning. Now that you’re here, everything makes sense.”
“Dreams? I’ve been having some as well.”
“And what is it you see in them, Kani?”
“It’s a strange thing... I find myself in a familiar place... very familiar. I am in front of a man. He is not a friend. In his hand he carries my sword. That sword,” he said to him, pointing at the legendary weapon at his side. “It’s my sword! I don’t know if you know how I got it, but it’s mine. I earned it fair and square.”
“I’ve heard the story.”
“Then you know what it means to me... In the dream, I’m very bothered by that; this man has in his hand what rightfully belongs to me. So I go up to him to snatch it off him, but every time I take a step towards him, he moves away from me. I start running towards him, but he moves away faster than before. That’s when I feel frustration and desperation... It’s a feeling I don’t usually have in the real world. That’s why I hate dreams; in them, strange feelings come to me.”
Galo Vooras was watching him, entertained. He wanted to hear more.
“What happens next... in your dream?” asked the man.
“You know... it’s my sword, so I keep trying to reach him, but the man keeps moving away, and I can never do it. That’s when I feel something different. Something I haven’t felt for a long time... Terror.” Dasslak cocked the hammer on his revolver, leaving his weapon ready to fire. The man did not appear to react. He was still intrigued by the dream.
“Go on, please,” Galo eagerly asked the assassin.
“I’m very afraid, I’ve lost my sword, and everything is darkness,” continued Dasslak. “I can’t understand why, but the terror takes control of me. It’s there, in the middle of the darkness, about to become lost forever, when I feel a protective arm that sends all my fears away. Suddenly, it’s no longer dark, I’m no longer afraid. Somebody was protecting me...”
The man was very moved. On his way home, it never crossed through his mind that he would experience such a thing. Over the last few days, he had been having confusing visions, and in spite of the way they ended, they made him feel very happy. What he was experiencing now was no vision. Somehow, part of what he had seen had become reality. He would have loved to say many things, but he knew that he did not have time for that.
“Somebody was protecting you?” asked Galo. “Who, Kani? Who was it?”
“It was you, dad... you were the one doing it.”
Touched by this, the tears began to run down the man’s cheeks whilst his son told him that dream. Dasslak, however, was calm, as always. He raised the revolver and aimed directly at his father’s heart.
“And then, son? What happens next?”
“I don’t know. That’s where I wake up.”