Despite the obvious progress, Vokara Che refused to "discharge" me. The Twi'lek declared pretentiously that the healers needed to conduct a few more studies, after which I would finally be "released."
Once again, I underwent several scans, gave several pieces of myself for various tests, then received a strict order to remain in the Temple until Kaila contacted me. The girl promised that everything would be finished in just a couple of weeks.
I didn't dare object — I didn't want to quarrel with the healers, and besides, during the waiting period for discharge, I planned to carry out the Emperor's will.
I didn't have the courage to dispute Vitiate's will and ignore his command — to appear on Yavin 4. And despite the fact that I didn't have a personal ship or a navigation droid — I didn't want to voice these problems to my teacher.
After all, if I can't solve my own problems — why would he need such a worthless apprentice?
Fortunately, the Temple had unlimited access to the HoloNet — the galaxy-wide information network.
In my room, I "surfed" the network, looking for options for my trip to Yavin 4.
Unfortunately, after my initial searches, I realized that flying to the future rebel base would be more difficult than it initially seemed.
And it wasn't even that there were no regular space flights to the planet.
The Yavin system wasn't listed in the available databases at all. As if it had never existed. The final destination point was completely absent. I found no mention of this planet in the HoloNet, which left me stumped.
Making a note for myself — to visit the Archives and search for information there — I began looking into transport options.
For a couple of dozen Republic credits, private carriers were ready to deliver a client to any point in the galaxy. But most of them demanded payment upfront. Such offers reeked of deception, and besides, I didn't have any money.
Of course, there was still the option of using Order ships, but the dispatchers refused to issue a ship since I had no assignment from the Council. And taking a ship with a hyperdrive just to "go for a ride" that wasn't encouraged in the Temple, and it directly threatened trouble with the Council and the Security Service. The option of getting money without accountability also ended almost in a scandal.
The longer I pondered fulfilling Valkorion's errand, the more irritated I became.
Reading books, watching movies and cartoons set in the Star Wars universe, it always seemed to me that the Force accompanied Force-users and always helped them in difficult situations. But in my case, the Force wasn't in a hurry to offer me solutions to my problem.
The decision to head to Yavin immediately had to be postponed. And I spent a couple of days just trying to solve this conundrum!
In the end, I concluded that you have to eat an elephant one bite at a time. First and foremost, I needed to restore my abilities in the Force and in lightsaber combat. After all, very soon I would be leading one of the clone legions. But more on that later.
I wasn't afraid of war. I had mastered Dougan's knowledge, not completely, but enough to not just be dead weight on the battlefield.
My predecessor, like many who died on Geonosis, was a follower of Form VI — "the Diplomat's Form." Average, lacking significant advantages, but not glaring in its weaknesses either, it suited the image of peacekeepers perfectly.
Niman could provide decent defense against blaster fire, but in a battle against a droid army, that hadn't helped the previous owner of my body. Nor had it helped Master Abhira in his fight against Valkorion.
Overall, not the most suitable lightsaber combat form.
I considered adopting Soresu, which Obi-Wan Kenobi had mastered. But I put that thought aside for later — when I obtained a lightsaber.
I had lost mine on Geonosis — as it turned out, a droid had shot through the hilt during the battle. So the saber I'd built at age 14 was now worthless to me. I didn't even have a crystal left from it.
On Aayla's advice, I decided to visit the warehouses.
"You can find anything at the warehouse manager, Tasi Gra," the girl assured me.
We were standing in the docking complex of the Temple District, waiting for the units under her command to board the Acclamators. Secura didn't tell me the objective of her mission, and I didn't ask.
"He should have stocks of crystals from Ilum," she recalled. "And a lot of Padawans get their lightsaber components from the warehouses," she chuckled, patting the hilt of her lightsaber.
"Thanks for the advice, Aayla," I nodded to the girl. "Take care of yourself!"
"Get well soon, Rick!"
Warmly saying goodbye to the Twi'lek, I headed toward the warehouse manager's office.
As I wandered through the Temple's corridors, a rough list of what I wanted from Tasi Gra formed in my head.
The warehouse manager turned out to be an elderly Nautolan, with a scar from forehead to chin, who listened to me with a slight languor, then scratched the tentacles on the back of his head.
Behind him, from floor to ceiling, stood massive shelving units in neat rows, their numerous shelves practically overflowing with surplus goods. Instruments, comlinks, datapads, blasters, melee weapons, speeders, droids... even ingots of precious metals! I'd bet the warehouse wasn't even limited to just this one huge hangar in the Temple District zone where I was standing now.
"Not bad," he clicked some keys on a terminal, then declared: "Parts for a lightsaber are available, but don't complain — you'll have to look for them yourself. Armor... I don't know why you need it, it just restricts movement, but it's your business. That's available too — but the 'newest' stuff is a thousand years old. The Order hasn't ordered armor since Ruusan. Backpack, a couple of blasters, a set of plasma and ion grenades, a cable, hooks, a couple of vibroblades, a couple of robes and cloaks, a week's worth of rations, power cells, flashlights... You need a ship to haul all this out. Did you already bring an Acclamator to the dock?"
Looking into the laughing eyes of the Nautolan, devoid of whites, I couldn't help but smile back.
"No, I'm still in the healers' hands, so I'll bring an LST a little later."
The Nautolan grinned contentedly.
"Where to deliver it all?"
Here, I admit, I froze for a moment. The Force, which had been pleasantly enveloping me, suddenly seemed to stretch somewhere deep into the endless shelves of the warehouses. Not that it was tearing me away from the spot, but a sucking feeling suddenly appeared in the pit of my stomach, like an old wound reopening.
"Dougan!" the Nautolan called out. "Fall asleep, or what?"
"What?" I asked back. "No, I didn't fall asleep, just something in the Force..."
The warehouse manager waved his hand, making a face. The warehouses belonged to the Service Corps, and there were no particularly Force-sensitive members among them. Except maybe in the researchers... So, all my words about the Force were empty sounds to Gree. I'd heard stories about him. Being weakly sensitive to the Force, he'd found his calling in supply. A real sergeant major from army jokes. He has everything, you just have to ask...
"I'm asking, where to send the cargo? Got an apartment in the city? Or a ship in the hangars?"
"To my room," I said, looking down. "I only recently returned to the Temple — I haven't gotten an apartment, let alone a ship."
"Well, that's a shame," Gree snorted. "You'll clutter up the whole room. Did you just become a knight recently?"
I nodded.
"Shortly before Geonosis. My teacher died in Wild Space, and I returned to the Temple. And then I was sent straight to Geonosis..."
"Sorry to hear that," a shadow of sadness flickered across Gree's face. "I heard things didn't go according to plan there..."
We discussed the Battle of Geonosis for a few more minutes, after which a pair of droids arrived with repulsor carts, which were supposed to haul the items I was looking for out of the warehouse.
"Let's split up," the Nautolan suggested. "You look for lightsaber parts and check out the armor — look in sectors 6, 14, and 22. I'll handle everything else," he rummaged in his pockets and handed me a cylindrical comlink. "Contact me when you're done."
"Well, I'm off," I waved to the manager. The Nautolan handed me a datapad so I wouldn't get lost among the endless shelves, and accompanied by one of the droids, he disappeared into the depths of the warehouse in the opposite direction from me.
Smirking, I pushed the platform in front of me, and, waving for the droid to follow, delved into my search.
* * *
Compared to the Jedi Temple's warehouses, Ali Baba's cave, or the treasures of the Count of Monte Cristo, or any other such things — they're absolutely nothing.
Like a shopper in a supermarket, I wandered between hundreds of shelves, using the sector diagram with explanations on the datapad as my navigator.
Almost immediately, looking into sector 6, I stumbled upon lightsaber parts.
Hilts, emitters, lenses, power cells, wiring, buttons and regulators... By my estimation, from all this, you could assemble several hundred, if not thousands, of sabers.
In assembling a lightsaber, one of the key points is precisely fitted components. A slight mistake — an explosion, and your brains are on the nearest wall. I didn't particularly want to die, so I decided to take spare parts — you never know, something might need replacing during assembly.
After loading a couple of boxes of mechanisms onto the platform, I started searching for armor.
In sector 14, I didn't find anything suitable. Jedi robes with light armor elements on the chest and stomach. Cuirasses of the Judicial Forces. Police equipment. Several sets of armor from unfamiliar regions of space. Nothing that would interest a Jedi about to go to war.
But in sector 22, I found a couple of interesting specimens.
Like the clone armor, the Jedi armor from the Ruusan era I found was based on a bodysuit made of reinforced fabric. The bodysuit itself could withstand a few blaster shots. And the additionally attached armor elements — chest and back plates, greaves, bracers, gauntlets, thigh plates... together, all this provided decent protection for its wearer.
But after a thousand years, most of the electronics had already failed, so it would need to be replaced.
Scanning the countless warehouse shelves with my eyes, I dismissed the fleeting doubts that I wouldn't be able to find suitable parts to repair the armor.
The next item on my list, and the last, were the crystals.
The rarest, and yet the most accessible part of a lightsaber in the Temple, I'd left for last.
I found the crystals in a special repository, back in sector 6.
In several huge metal containers, like multicolored dragees, the crystals mined generations ago lay before my eyes. Jedi from across the galaxy had brought them from their travels. Particularly valuable and rare specimens were kept in the residential part of the Temple. Before me lay crystals from Ilum, Adega, Dantooine — perhaps not so rare, but still immensely valuable on the black market.
Directing the Force at them, I felt only a weak response. The crystals held absolutely no power in the Force, and were unlikely to impart any useful properties to my lightsaber.
I scooped up a handful of stones, let them scatter back into the container, admiring the play of light. However...
I oriented myself on the map and headed toward sector 14. According to the codifier, there was ammunition and equipment for light excursions. Finding a sealed metal-plastic backpack, I returned to the containers and filled it with several handfuls of crystals.
Even if these crystals held no special value for the Jedi and lay here for the needs of the weakest, who didn't even fly to the mines, these colorful little stones would bring me far more profit than they would to the Order's members.
"Dougan, you still here?" the comlink suddenly came to life.
"That's right," I confirmed, placing the backpack on the repulsor platform.
"Perfect," I could tell from his voice that the Nautolan was smiling. "I think I've solved your ship problem. Head to sector 24, we'll meet there. Give the platform to the droid — have it roll it back to my office."
I admit, Gree's words piqued my interest considerably. Solving the ship problem would make my life many times easier. And I'd wanted to get my own ship for a while...
After getting lost twice in the endless shelves, I finally arrived at the designated sector. Estimating the Temple's layout, I realized we were now almost on the border of the ziggurat and the Temple District.
The Nautolan was waiting for me impatiently by the shaft of a cargo turbolift. The platform, which could easily fit a small speeder, had an enclosed cabin with several frosted windows.
"Come on," the warehouse manager waved his hand and was the first to step into the cabin doors, which slid open as he approached. Without a word, I followed. The cabin rushed away with a soft whir.
Obviously, it hadn't been used for a long time. An unpleasant whistling sound from the high-speed ride invaded my ears.
"The Docking Complex is planning to expand now," the Nautolan announced without preamble, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. "They're decommissioning old facilities, from back in the wars with the Sith. Part of them are storage, so all the rarities there fall under my authority..."
I only half-listened to Tasi's words, attuning instead to my sensations in the Force. The unstable call, which had disappeared when I entered the zone full of Force-resonating crystals, had returned. And from the looks of it, we were heading toward the source of the call.
.".. The workers opened up a few old warehouses, and there's ancient equipment in there," Gree continued. "I checked the archives — they mothballed ships that are probably four thousand years old. There are some newer ones too, but still — they're all being sent for scrap."
"And why are we going there?" I didn't understand.
Gree blinked his huge eyes silently for a few seconds.
"All the ships that are there — and there must be a couple of hundred at least — are going up for auction. Maybe some neutrals or remote systems will want to buy discounted Order ships. The money, as I understand it, will go towards buying new ships at the Rendili shipyards."
"You think they'll all sell?" I asked skeptically.
"I think they won't even take them for free," the Nautolan waved his hand. "As it is, they all have one path — to the smelter under the disposal program," he began to explain. "Old inventory lists are impossible to find even with a searchlight, so they'll have to be created from scratch, based on the actual discovery of everything that's there..."
"Aaaah," I drawled. "Now I get it... That's a fantastic offer, Gree!"
"Well, what did you think," the warehouse manager grinned. "But this stays between us, okay? And I'm counting on a decent show of gratitude from you."
"Without a doubt, my friend!" I extended my hand for a handshake. Tasi looked at it with bewilderment and didn't move.
"You need to shake my hand," I explained. "On my planet, a handshake is a symbol of having no ill intentions toward each other."
"Some kind of barbarism," my companion said, and shook my palm with his left hand.
* * *
About ten minutes of travel, and there we were — in the heart of the Temple District.
Once, when the Jedi Temple was first built, the Republic's leadership handed over an entire adjacent district to the Order. For necessary technical and other needs.
The district had many names — the Jedi Temple District, the Temple Zone, the Temple Precinct. But it was all the same thing.
After the Great Hyperspace War, the Republic placed the Sacred Peak, north of the Senate District, on Coruscant at the Order's disposal. The Republicans expected the Jedi to build a fortress on this mountain, similar to the one they had on Ossus and in several other places across the galaxy.
But instead, the Jedi initially built only small meditation buildings. However, then the Four Masters, whose figures now adorn the main entrance to the Temple, took steps to build an entire academy on the planet. The territory around the Sacred Peak passed to the Jedi. I don't remember how many years they spent building it, but I clearly remember that in the district, it was forbidden to build any structures higher than the Temple itself, except for mooring towers.
Then came the Sith invasion of Coruscant. The Temple was plundered, catastrophically damaged. After the peace treaty was signed, the Republic had no funds for the Temple's reconstruction, and the Jedi withdrew to Tython. Closer to the New Sith Wars, the Jedi returned to Coruscant and rebuilt the Temple.
The Temple District became a concentration point for the Jedi's docking complex, hangars, and logistical bases. The constructed Mooring Tower allowed for the landing and takeoff of large starships.
Since the last wars, most of the District had been neglected. The number of Jedi had decreased, wars no longer shook the galaxy, so the District's vast warehouses filled with the numerous equipment of Jedi who had laid down their mantles as warriors.
But now that war had once again come to the galaxy, there was no choice but to decommission the old facilities.
"I bet a Jedi hasn't set foot here in a thousand years," said Tasi, watching the massive doors of the mothballed hangar-warehouse slowly slide open.
"Just imagine how many relics are in there," I said dreamily. "If only we could take them all..."
"Who needs this junk?" Kodos Pyp, the foreman of the work crew from the Hangars assigned to clear out the old hangar and carry out repairs, said through his teeth. "They make ships much better now than before. And the engines, hyperdrives, electronics — everything's better and more efficient. Just repairing all this junk," he jabbed carelessly toward the massive hulls now illuminated by numerous lights, "would cost a fortune."
"Get the lighting hooked up in here," Tasi grimaced, turning to Kodos. "We'll take a walk in the meantime..."
I don't know how to describe my feelings... Immersion in history? A ship graveyard?
Dozens of ships of the most varied shapes and makes lay in eternal berth. Freighters, speeders, fighters, frigates, landing craft... they'd all seen better days, but had still found refuge in this mass grave...
"Just look at that," Gree pointed toward several rows of compact, wedge-shaped fighters. "Those are Aurek-class fighters! The attack ships the Jedi used before the Ruusan Reformation! And that? That's a corvette! A whole corvette..."
But I had already stopped listening to my companion.
The call had become almost tangible. I could literally see a thin thread stretching from me into the unlit depths of the hangar... Guided by the Force, I grabbed one of the handheld flashlights and headed in that direction.
The hangar that Gree was supposed to clear out, scrapping the old equipment, could easily have fit a small town in Russia. Stretching for several dozen kilometers, it was packed to the brim with numerous ships, some even without visible damage, most of which I'd seen in games set in the Old Republic era.
After half an hour of wandering between the massive starship hulls, I finally reached the object of my Call. A massive shadow, weakly lit by a single flashlight, had such familiar lines — a hammerhead bow section with five forward-facing viewports...
"Defender-class," I murmured under my breath.
The Corellian Defender-class light corvette. A ship designed for Jedi Guardians and Jedi Consulars, in that memorable game about the conflict between Vitiate's Revived Sith Empire and the Old Republic.
These ships were developed by the Corellian Engineering Corporation specifically on order from the Order, as base vessels for Jedi special missions. Besides being designed for a small crew, though it could be operated by a single pilot, the ship was equipped with several rapid-fire cannons, missile launchers, and proton torpedoes. For the crew's convenience, it had its own recreation compartment — a mess hall, a conference room, a space with a large holoprojector...
The ship's ramp was predictably lowered. But the main hatch was sealed. I rose in a single breath, placed my hand on the control panel. With a soft click, the hatch locks released, and I watched with reverent awe as the massive armored door hissed aside, inviting me aboard the ship.
So familiar to me from many hours of gameplay, the corvette beckoned me inside with its dark maw. The Force screamed, literally physically pulling me onto the ship. But in my brain, a thought beat stubbornly — that something was wrong. As if I was being lured in here. I could almost feel the emanations of the Dark Side of the Force on my skin.
Without a lightsaber, or any weapon at all, I was an easy target. But on the other hand, my consciousness insisted — something threatening to Jedi couldn't be hiding for a thousand years right under the Order's nose.
I called upon the Force, wrapping myself in it like a cocoon. Calming my mind, I opened myself to the Force again, letting it flood the ship's compartments.
I found the Dark Side source in a far compartment where, as my memory suggested, the storage was. There, in the game, I'd stowed away items I didn't need — things my inner hoarder refused to let me sell.
Carefully, meter by meter, I made my way through the corvette's compartments toward my goal, not forgetting to keep my head on a swivel.
A fight had clearly broken out on the ship — the walls had scorch marks from blaster fire in places. Several chairs on the bridge had been ripped from their mounts and left lying there. The instrument panels, covered in a layer of dust, showed no damage. I didn't bother wandering through the cabins — there'd be time for that later.
I knew that this ship, and no other, would be mine. The Force had led me aboard it. I didn't think it could be called a coincidence. Anywhere — just not in this universe.
The storage greeted me with a gentle emanation of the Force. Muffled, like light from under water, it came from the entire room. It felt as if the place was soaked in it.
Along the storage perimeter, numerous cabinets with locked doors lined the walls. In front of them, about a meter away, closer to the center of the room, sat chests — floor-level containers that also served as storage.
The thread of the call came from one of the central cabinets. I walked over to it, listening to my sensations. Beyond any doubt, the Dark Side of the Force emanated from the artifact behind those doors. But I felt it as muted, as if thinned by time. Not dangerous.
I opened the doors and lost my speech for a moment.
Dozens of small transparent boxes, firmly fixed into the cabinet's walls, held nearly a hundred crystals of the most varied colors and shapes. The Force within them seemed to sleep, but as soon as I took one of the boxes — containing a pearl from a Tatooine krayt dragon — and opened it, I felt the concentrated Light Side Force emanating from it. I closed the box and put it back. A real treasure trove of lightsaber crystals! You could buy several battleships for a couple of them — and that's just a rough estimate.
In the main part of the cabinet, secured on mounts in similarly transparent, Force-shielding containers, lay numerous lightsaber hilts. Dozens of lightsaber hilts — single and double-bladed, light pikes. There were even a couple of bulky light pikes!
Some of them felt vaguely familiar to me. Others were entirely unremarkable.
But my attention was drawn to only one hilt.
About thirty centimeters long, black matte metal called phrik, as my memory told me, decorated with inlaid threads and elements of aurodium — at the top and bottom. A small clip at the top on the emitter kept hands from sliding on the hilt, and a pair of buttons hinted at the ability to adjust the blade length.
As if in a trance, I removed this hilt from its container, settling it comfortably into my right hand. The hilt seemed to resonate with my Force, simultaneously focusing me and relaxing me. That effect made me think that specific crystals had been set into the hilt's slots.
Finally, the pad of my thumb pressed the activation button.
With a characteristic hiss, a yellow blade, filled with sunlight, emerged from the hilt. As the blade hummed monotonously, a scene from a trailer for an online game expansion appeared before my eyes. Arcann, one of Valkorion's twin sons, kills the second one, Thexan. Cut in half, Thexan drops his sword — identical to the one I was holding in my hand — and falls to his knees, struck down by his brother's blade, which had crossed Thexan's torso horizontally.
My entire being filled with a power my body could barely contain. Yellowish lightning crawled along my hands, sparking on contact with the blade.
I held in my hands the blade of Thexan, the murdered son of Valkorion, the Immortal Emperor.
I felt the resonance of the Force's imprint in the sword's crystals with my own. The blade, like an extension of my hand, obeyed me without the slightest effort. With calm resolve, I could charge into an attack right now and emerge victorious. The resonance refreshed in my memory the techniques and rituals that Valkorion had awakened in me. Dark and Light, they intertwined into a threatening knot that I hoped to use in the future.
Suddenly, I seemed to plunge into my memories. My life on Earth rewound backward, from my youth to my childhood. There I was at 15, then 10, 5, 3, 1…
Suddenly, I slammed headlong into a blue-violet wall that appeared in my path. The vision dissipated the same instant, but I seemed to see, with my infant eyes, the ghostly figure of Valkorion standing next to the obstetrician holding me in his arms.
* * *
"You okay?" Gree looked at me doubtfully. "That wreck is over a thousand years old!"
"Actually more than three thousand," Kodos grumbled. "Everything that could break on it is already broken. Better go and pick up any Tatra — better armed, more solid. And clearly in much better condition. You're a Jedi — you could even register a Hammerhead for yourself."
"No," I shook my head. "The Defender."
"Your call," Gree shrugged. He quickly leaned over the terminal, entering my name into the ship's registry. "Well, that's it. Your Defender is officially registered. You can own it."
"Thanks, Gree," I smiled. "Find anything for yourself?"
"Me and Kodos's guys will take one of the ten Thrantaclass corvettes," Gree pointed to a luxurious corvette gathering dust with its sister ships in a neighboring hangar. "There's probably not much demand for them, but it's better than nothing." With those words, the Nautolan winked at me.
Meanwhile, having received a datapad with the registration documents for the Defender, I couldn't help but look at the proud corvette being lifted by a loader from the hangar's depths.
"My guys will check it out," Pike offered. "It might not even fly yet."
He and his team headed toward the dusty corvette.
I looked around. We were standing on the vast surface of the Far Warehouses — that's what the two dozen extensive warehouses were called, similar to the one where we'd found the Defender. Rectangular metal boxes, they had numerous cargo lifts bringing stored equipment to the surface. And judging by the many ships being raised from the warehouses' depths, there was plenty of equipment stored there.
Mostly Republic. I couldn't find a single large Sith ship.
"A lot of equipment?" I asked Gree. The Nautolan checked the list.
"Almost a whole squadron. We've only just started, and we've already found five Hammerheads, ten… correction, nine Tatra corvettes," the Nautolan grinned predatorily. "A hundred Aurek fighters, old shuttles, frigates. Hangar six is completely packed with ancient ground vehicles — they won't even recognize them, straight to the smelter — nothing intact. Looks like they gathered all the junk during the Temple's restoration after the Sith attack on Coruscant and shoved it in there. Scrap metal, basically. But we've only opened a third of the hangars while you were crawling all over the Defender. How much stuff is in the rest — I don't even know."
"Well, it'll be worth a lot of money," I cast the line.
"Probably not," Gree grimaced. "Who needs them in such a sorry state? They'll patch them up just enough to lift off the platforms, and then they're off to the orbital scrapyard. In their current condition, I'd value what we have now at about fifty million credits."
"That's still a lot," I whistled.
"That's pocket change," the Nautolan snorted. "The Temple's budget for a couple of months. The issue here isn't profit — it's freeing up space for them as fast as possible." He nodded toward the Temple Docking Complex, where another unit of Acclamators was being loaded.
The triangular hulls of the Star Destroyers stood out with their bizarre protrusions above the technogenic zone around the Temple.
I stood there, watching as another trio of ships lifted into the air, carrying thousands of clones to war against the Confederacy's droids.
Somewhere out there, the first battles were already flaring up, and the first Jedi were dying. In just the time I'd been at the Temple, they'd brought in about a dozen knights, masters, and padawans. Burned by blaster fire, injured by exploding munitions — they were inexorably filling the beds in the Halls of Healing or the funeral pyres.
Strangely enough, my conscience didn't torment me for not telling the Council what I knew about the galaxy's future. I owed nothing to the Order, and I'd never exactly shone with altruism…
If anything, I had a debt to Valkorion, and I shouldn't put off repaying it.
Gree promised to deliver my things to the corvette and let me know when it was ready. Not forgetting to hint that he had connections at the local Corellian Engineering Corporation office. I replied that I wouldn't forget about it and headed back to the Temple.
Modernizing the corvette was desirable but by no means necessary at the moment.
On board, I ran a ship diagnostic that gave me the full inside story of the Corellian product. Since its last activation, the circuits responsible for lighting and powering a number of non-critical systems — like the holoprojector in the conference room and the crew showers — had been damaged. None of this affected the ship's controls or its ability to fly to Yavin 4.
The navigation computer, which hadn't crumbled to dust over thousands of years, was, surprisingly, working fine and ready to take me wherever I wanted. Just pick the coordinates.
The navigation computer was exactly what I needed to figure out in the near future.
The thing was, its memory contained all the information about the previous owner's movements across the galaxy. Including into Sith Empire space. And even into Wild Space. But the data in the navigation computer was three thousand years out of date.
Celestial bodies have a habit of changing their positions in space. So the coordinates for Yavin 4, which were almost four thousand years old, would at best lead me to empty space. At worst — into the depths of a star or somewhere else.
The simplest solution would be to buy a new navicomputer or update the data in this one. Such a procedure cost literally a couple of hundred credits, which I even had lying around in my pockets. But that would completely erase the old database preserved in this computer's depths. It's like overwriting one file with an identical one with the same name. One replaces the other. And the first one disappears.
That definitely didn't work for me.
As I'd already realized, many planets in this galaxy had either been forgotten by now or deliberately removed from most databases. Yavin 4 itself wasn't even in the Temple Archives. Not to mention the coordinates for Zakuul, Nathema, Tython, and many, many others. It was as if the Jedi had painstakingly and meticulously deleted information about these planets, wanting to forget the sad pages of their Order's history associated with them.
A Jedi helped me solve this dilemma, strangely enough.
While the corvette was undergoing inspection and minor repairs, I took the opportunity to visit the infamous Archives.