As the Fireen spoke, Dunnaman had scrambled himself atop the base of his ship with some effort. So far, accidentally, he had done a pretty good job of concealing his abilities. This might be far more good fortune and luck than he could even begin to speculate.

After destroying his own ship, Fury was left in check and so were the Angar Ryllans. It was a stupid move but sometimes it takes an idiot to do a genius's job. His eyes narrowed slightly as that thought ran through his head. It didn't seem like that was wholly accurate, seemed kinda self-depreciative.

What was Fury talking about? Oh, right his memories. What exactly did he remember? Dunnaman's face turned stern for a moment as he tried to recollect the only moments predating his awakening. It was like a dream that you struggle to remember after waking, the whole thing was hazy and confusing. "Wahl, thah fehrst thehng ah rahmembahr ehs one word. One word ehs ahll ah rahmembahr, an' ehts ehn a language nahbodeh ah've met so far spehks."

"Thaht word ehs," For a moment he had to think, the word was like a fart in the wind. Barely detectable, but it was there. "Eht was- Was. . ." For the first time, he dropped the accent. It was different than before, his accent dropped and his voice took on an accent all too familiar to Fury. The one word would strike like a bolt of lightning, "Itaroknos." For just the one word, he spoke in his old native tongue. The language he no longer spoke in favor of a more universal tongue. It was the closest translation of Fury into Pundambayan. "Ehy trahnslahts ter Rahg and Ahgoneh." (I realize Rahg and Ahgoneh might be harder to read than anything so far, it means Rage and Agony.)

"Thaht ahn ah flahsh ehf blue lahght. S'wehl ahs ah burnahn pahn ehn mah chest." For a moment he went silent as he began undoing the right fasten on his chestplate. After undoing the fasten he unzipped the undersuit and revealed the seven pointed star burnt into his chest over his heart. In the spot where Fury had planted his energy bolt in Kanitah. The finishing blow in their battle that had rocked a world for what seemed like hours.

After zipping back up and resetting his armor blate, after the fasten clicked back into place he returned to his story. He told of waking up on a train and meeting a woman whose pistol blew him into space where he lost consciousness again. He told of how he awoke on a planet in an intensive care unit.

"Ehn thar Ah awoke ter seh mah powahs dehvahlop." For a moment his eyes went blank, thinking about what would have happened if they hadn't helped him. Thinking about how he had no control over it. "Ahll tha machehnehreh got dahstroyed. Eht tehrned teh lahght and sucked entah mah chest. Through tha scar yah saw, ah accehdentahlleh devoured theh room. Eht was hahrifahyen."

He paused for a moment and placed his hand over his chest, remember what plans they had tried just to keep him from destroying everything. "Eht took a wahl but theh dehd eht, but yehr wrong about one thehng. Eht weren't a weapon aht fehrst. That were mah decehsion." The mace was raised upwards towards the sunlight, it glistened through the mostly transparent mass of the weapon. "Aht fehrst theh trahd ter ehmplant eht, but ah suggested eht be held aloft. Ehn a connehcted wah, but not part of mah bodeh."

Dunnaman's reasoning for why he wanted it seperate were wholly unclear, even to himself. Maybe it was subconsciously symbollic of his temporary connection to this life. "Theh helped meh ter overcahm mah ordahl ahn ehvehn gahve meh a shehp ter fahnd mah plahce ehn thehs lahf."

For another moment he was in silent thought, fully taking in exactly what has happened to him during this ordeal. He glossed over the name of their race and the encounter with the Angar Ryllans for obvious reasons. "Ahnd now ahm hehr wehth you. Tehllahn you mah lahf stahry, dehspaht tha brehvehty." With his story done, he waited for Fury's response. Thankful that he had waited until the conclusion.

“Itaroknos…” Where have I heard that word before?

The Fireen’s eyes widened as he looked upon the scarred tissue, burned in a pattern he knew all too well. That was his handiwork. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear he’d put it there. Burned it into the creature’s flesh. But this creature was one he had never seen before, and he’d definitely have remembered fighting it. Yet Fury did not only see with his eyes, he perceived something more primal, something far less malleable than the shell on the surface. He felt something familiar. Fury fought frequently, most of his battles were unworthy of note, but they blurred the edges of those that were. It was not so simple for him to make the leap required to understand what was happening. The memory was just out of reach, frustratingly so.

“What did they look like, then, these people who saved you?” His question seemed far away, as far away as his eyes. Fixed on the past as they were.

"Wahl, thah had thess behg rund ehyes. Much behggar than mah own. Quaht a beht behggar than yers too, most strahnge was thar total lahck er harr ehn thah lahk." He paused to think about it and really scratched his beard up while doing it. There was a little distance between them since he had hoisted himself up and over on top of his ship, so he was talking in a half yell. "Thah whole er thahm were scahly, wehth defferehn cahlers. Bluhs ahn grehns."

Deciding that shouting was not the best way to converse, he struggled a bit to push himself to his feet and trotted over to the edge of his ship and leaped down to Fury. By doing so, he unconsciously revealed his latent athleticism by leaping some-odd thirty feet in a weak movement. After his landing he kept speaking, "Hahd wan er those nahrmal plahnuts. Ahll sahrts eff envahrunmants. Cusheh plahnut, unlahk sahm er thah plahcus ah've got ehn mah vahgue mahmahreh. Oh, eht orbehted wan er tha old stars. Rehd star."

Again he paused, something about what he had just said confused him. "Come ter thehnk of eht, ah don't know how ah know thaht. 'Bout tha star ah mehn." Of all the things he does know, the only thing that was really important to him was his identity. Somehow he had all this knowledge about space, war, and technology. With no knowledge of himself he really had a confusing mix of thoughts that put his situation in a very strange light. "Oh, yah. Sommadehm folks was not so scahly. Naht ehl folks, mahr mahmmals lahk meh and yeh. Mahnes ahn heads er hahr, but nowhare nehr ahs hahreh ahs mah hahd."

He kept going on and on, but by this point it was probably drowned out by Fury's thoughts. He'd accidentally given enough information to pinpoint their planet. Normal Earth Sized planet, orbiting a red/late term Main Sequence star, with two races living on it. If Fury absolutely needed to know where Dunnaman got the Dorirum from, it would be there.

He raised one hand to still the deluge of information Dunnaman was providing. Confusion was etched on his face, but also satisfaction.

“That’s enough.” Fury couldn’t quite understand why someone willing to destroy their own ability to escape in order to protect something would have then volunteered so much useful information in pinpointing his saviour’s location. Perhaps he was blissfully unaware of just what Fury was capable of with the Angar-Ryllan behind him. With such information of the race’s biology, and more importantly the key markers for their solar system, even some of the more average scouts in the Empire could find them. Find them and take this powerful metal for their own. That was beyond Fury’s concern though, for he had asked his question with a far different aim in mind. It was uncertain if he would even divulge the information to the Empire.

This creature before him spoke of a race far different from that which Kanitah belonged to, at least in regards to the reptiles. It was possible the mammals could be related to the warrior’s people, but unlikely now. Which begged the question, if not the tech he was outfitted with, what was this creature’s connection with Kanitah?

His eyes drew downwards, gazing at the brutal mark of a long passed wounding on the creature’s chest. For the first time he really took it in, disbelief etching his features. He had seen it before, he was sure of it. He asked his question suddenly, trying with his stunted empathy to read the creature’s face as he did so.

“Do you know a man named Kanitah?”

The look on his face could have told it all, Dunnaman's eyes widened and his pupils dilated into sideways slits. His mouth hung ajar and his countenance took on a spaced out appearance, as if he weren't wholly there. It was an instant reaction, waves of incredibly vague memories flooding and then vanishing. Like remembering a dream for a split second and then losing it, leaving you with questions and hints of what had happened. An image of a wife, a daughter. Whose? His wife? His daughter? Why was he seeing them?

The memory was lost on him, he forgot as other memories shoved through his brain. A war, power armored soldiers marching on a helpless planet. Memories from his perspective of mowing them down like a scythe through grain. Again, pushed from his head. Making way for other memories that he was only being given a glimpse of.

This time it brought him to a strange world of web and stone, the man who stood before him was there. Aflame with a blue light and they were clashing, others were there. A man of ice and a man in black. Soldiers and ships were in the vague distance. He fell to his knees and another memory struck him, knocking this one aside.

He was in a hospital, wounds were being treated. His skin had been blown away in spades, metal wires were being surgically removed from his body. The pain was remembered and very real, it was agonizing, but he could not scream. The body that he was in felt numb, distant, like it was not his own. Why weren't these memories staying? Why couldn't he keep them? Whose memories were these!?

Another, kissing the wife and daughter as he left home again. He looked down and saw no scars. Dunnaman's eyes welled with tears as he fell forward, his elbows instinctively caught him as he prostrated before Fury. Unmatched sorrow filled him, a regret with no name. Why did these women's faces make him feel so? Why did he regret walking out of a door that he had never seen before?

Another, he was leaving again. Kissing only the wife, the daughter was gone. He had looked down and seen the scars this time, why was the girl missing? Why did he care?

The next, on a peaceful planet not unlike this one he sat on a stump. An empty bottle of liquor was near his feet. The sound of a crash and explosion was remembered, the visage of blue was seen as his eyes jerked towards Fury once again. Why was the man here?

"Manadar Rane." They were talking, fear and sorrow had blinded his judgement. He'd made mistakes, he was afraid of Fury. He was afraid of himself. Had he let himself die? Was it not his choice?

"Poda kuwana chisa, Itaroknos. Chi ho rana soma ohk bohr ka oda mani iyah." Were these his last words? All he could remember was what came next. Fury, standing over him. A spear of that wicked blue flame held firm in his hand, thrust through his chest. And the memories stopped. That flash of light, that one word. He remembered those from when he first awakened on that cosmic machine.

They drifted away from him, leaving him with only vague recollections. Dunnaman's face returned to normal, his eyes narrowed again and his pupils widened to the thick blocks they were. Panting and sobbing, with no real understanding of why. He sat there, prostrate before Fury. Fear alight in his chest but no will to stand, no will to flee.

Dunnaman was left with answers, but those few answers he received left him with an infinity of new questions.

The man was shaking, that name, Manadar, only two knew it. Could it be a coincidence? The lightning bolt that shocked his body when that creature uttered it and the horrible feeling of familiarity from its subsequent words, the look upon its furred face, these facts were growing undeniable. The truth was growing undeniable. There were still possibilities though, the creature could have been watching, the meeting could have been recorded somehow. Perhaps it made its home on that planet? Fury dismissed these things immediately, he was not such a sceptic. He knew what he felt.

His eyes drew down to the creature on the ground before him, and for the first time in his life he had no idea what to do. As if the weight of it all had brought him low, he too dropped to the ground, on one knee. Disbelief was written on that grim visage, and as Fury struggled with what to say, or do, or even how to understand, his instinct took over.

“You’re Kanitah, aren’t you?” He looked down as he said it, but then his head rose and his eyes briefly burned. "But I killed you..."

Face down towards the dirt he groaned, tears still streaming from his face. Pooling on his nose in long drops before falling to the ground. Fury stood over him, he had him totally aat his disposal. Without any resistance he could have killed him, he could have destroyed this problem before it drove questions into his brain.

But the seed of questioning had already been laid, in his stupor he had muttered the name. "Manadar. . . Manadar Rane." As much as Kanitah had stunned Dunnaman, it had stunned Fury. Brought him to a knee and brought a question to his lips, a question that was harder than it should have been.

"You're Kanitah, aren't you?"

In silence he sat for a good few moments before bothering to speak. "Gods ah' don't know. Ah' know tha nahm, ah' fehl eht ehn mah heart an' core." He shook his head and ran his right hand's fingers through his hair, dirt fell from his hand as he raised it from the ground. He had grabbed a handful of earth and crushed it in that strange flash.

The more he thought about the memories that were as fleeting as floaters in the eye, every time he focused on one it drifted from him. "Ah'm not sure, eht fehl's lahk Kanitah was a drehm. Lahk a lahf ah lehved for a tahm and now ah've woken up." The burning behind his eyes was too much and he shut his eyes before leaning back onto his knees. Putting himself at the same face level as Fury. "Ah'm not sure thah memorahs are mah own, but ah must ahsk. What mahd you kehll Kanitah? Whah dehd you hunt hehm? Whah dehd you kehll hehm?"

On this strange eve of thoughts, the thoughts that lingered from the old mind of Kanitah crept through the mind of Dunnaman. Questions he would have never asked before, as Kanitah. The prideful old warrior was a memory, Dunnaman was the confused young man.

Questions were all he had.

Fury still wondered that himself. Had he really fought Kanitah to seize his Machine? Had he done it out of some bizarre notion of pride? Did he do it for any reason at all?

“I don’t know why I fought him. That is the truth.” Fury replied, after another lengthy pause. “But I killed him because he had something I needed, it’s as simple as that.” He made no apology for his actions, if the creature before him was Kanitah then killing him had not had the usual consequences anyway. Despite everything though, Fury couldn’t quite accept the man before him was the one he had killed. Maybe in body somehow, but not in spirit. To the Fireen that was often more important.

Eventually, he stood, momentary weakness subsiding. He had learned what he came to learn here, but he suspected it would matter little in the end. His fate lay before that skeletal figure that he would destroy or be destroyed by. Manadar suspected it would be the latter. The question was, what to do with Dunnaman? In truth, it would make more sense to destroy a potential enemy in his infancy, but that same feeling that there was nothing in his future beset Fury. It was like a predator too long in the tooth. Impending doom has a tendency to make a man rather reckless, or apathetic, depending on their personality.

“I have no fight with you, regardless.” He said. “I no longer care what happens to the Empire, to tell you the truth. I have something I need to do but it does not require me to take your life, so do as you will.” Fury made to turn, and then remembered the man’s ship was absolutely fucked.

“You can come with me if you wish. I will make the soldiers with me release you somewhere… better than this. If you do not trust me then remain here if you will.” The Fireen seemed ready to leave.

It was a great moment before Dunnaman could recover himself long enough to stand again, Fury had already turned and begun to walk away. All he had said on the matter was that he lacked the 'Why' he had killed Kanitah. If he were in fact Kanitah, and these memories weren't just strangely convergent hallucinations, then shouldn't he have latent resentment for Fury?

Yes, still he couldn't bear looking Fury in the eyes. Even now, he had a distinct latent fear of the Fireen. Other thoughts clouded his mind, the lingering frantic panicked final thoughts of Kanitah.

The man's daughter, how his wife would life without him, if Pundambaya would remain safe and stable. Every one of these thoughts was of others, not of himself. A suicidally reckless old man's final thoughts were not of his own mortality, and there was something to be respected in that.

Was Dunnaman more concerned with his own life, or was he more concerned with recovering who he was?

Now that he had these memories of another life, did he even want them? Emotional attachments to individuals and an entire race that he had never even heard of before this. The only connection he had with them was his language, which now he knew its source.

It had been fortunate that he had snapped out of his thoughts in this moment, for Fury had begun talking again. He spoke of the Empire and how he no longer cared for it, how Dunnaman could find passage on an Empire Vessel. It was an offer he couldn't refuse now, since he had destroyed his only method of escape. "Wahl, ah suppohse ah cahnnot sah no to yer offer. But uh, ah' wonder ehf thar'll beh a lahnguage bahrrehyar."

He finally rose to his feet again and began following after Fury.

Fury looked mildly amused at that final comment.

“There probably will be. I’ll speak for you.” He walked away from the ship as Dunnaman chose to follow, secretly pleased the creature had taken him up on his offer. If he could turn back time, Fury might have well looked for some alternative to his problem, there was always another way. He had killed many to achieve his aim, but none before had bothered him like Kanitah. He had always been able to justify his actions, the ends and the means, petty talk. Regardless, in some small way aiding Dunnaman felt like making things up to a man he shouldn’t have killed. Not many get that chance.