"Shall we drink to our success then?"
"Waaaa!" the Hutt supported approvingly.
Only, at that very moment Damask's assistant entered the cabin.
"Dara?" the Muun was surprised, as the girl looked troubled. "Did something happen?"
"Master... I have bad news."
"Well?"
"Shade Aero..."
"What?"
"He has risen."
Clink!
Glancing at the glass that had fallen from the Hutt's hand, the Muun asked imperturbably:
"Explain?"
"I have confirmed data."
"Hm..." returning his gaze to the Hutt, Damask noticed how he broke out in a nervous sweat.
Jabba himself at that moment recalled Gardulla's head in his own hands and mentally pictured himself in its place.
"Jabba, steady. There are no problems; I have my own representative in TNC holding a very high post. Everything will be resolved in the shortest possible time, and this glaring oversight will remain behind. Dara, contact Talia and pass on—that this time she is to guaranteed eliminate Aero. As she wants, but so that he remains dead henceforth."
"Yes, Master," the slave bowed, leaving the master with his guest.
"Hego, are you sure that your... 'representative' will execute the order?" the Hutt clarified, nervously rubbing his neck.
"I am sure. A certain Zygerrian, I think you've heard of him, knows how to educate slaves."
"Oh! Yes-yes, I know, I've heard. So, shall we drink to success?" picking up a new glass, the Hutt saluted the Muun and took a sip.
***
Shade Aero
Somewhere
Oh, this is f*cking bad... Hadiya, Vessira, what were you doing with me yesterday that it's so hard to breathe? Wait. Breathe?! I'm not breathing... Or am I? Or is someone breathing for me? I don't understand, why am I alive?!
Habitually pushing the Force through my body, it dawns on me what I just did. Having "sobered up" a bit, it dawns on me that I'm floating curled up in something viscous and warm. Er... What?! No-no-no-no-no-no! In what sense? It can't be! F*ck, this isn't even funny!
In a fit of panic I push a wave through my body again, forcing it to respond and jerk. Hm... didn't understand again. Did I jerk, or not? I don't understand... I don't feel arms or legs, although everything seems to be there... Something isn't clicking. An attempt to bring the organism to tone through the Force failed miserably; it only got worse, so much so that I even felt the taste of blood in my mouth. The body wouldn't obey, and weakness rolled over me with such force that it almost knocked me out.
Pushing out a sensory wave, I look around. Whe-e-e-e-w, what happiness, I'm in some kind of flask, not in the p... ahem, let's not talk about sad things, God forbid experiencing that again.
Experiencing relief, I'm no longer so actively driving the Force through my body, returning control. The first thing I could do was open my eyes. Some kind of murky goo through which it's f*ck knows what to make out. A mask on my mug through which I breathe, and various tubes sticking out of my body.
Here someone enters the room. A blurred and incomprehensible subject approached the flask directly and placed a hand on the glass. Feeling a mental touch, I feel how they are trying to calm me and plunge me back into sleep. Perhaps this could be interpreted as: "No need for worry... calm down... everything is fine... rest."
Since there was no threat, and the Force was silent, I decide to listen. Closing my eyes, I try to settle my nerves, and don't notice myself how I return back to the cozy semi-darkness.
***
The second appearance in the world of the living I definitely liked more than the first. First, I was no longer floating. Second, I felt my body. Sort of. And almost nothing was sticking out of me, just two IVs, and those from connectors secured in the vein areas on my arms.
Pushing a Force wave, I look around. Ri-i-ight... A small but cozy room, looking like a hospital ward. Opening my eyes slightly, I'm convinced. That it's a hospital ward—fact, only there's suspiciously much metal in it. Either we're on a spaceship, or on a station, or somewhere in conditions unfit for ordinary life.
Somewhere in the background, there, behind the bulkheads, were quite a many living beings, some of whom were well felt in the Force. And felt, to speak plainly—very strangely. As long as I've lived, I haven't even encountered such a thing at home.
An attempt to move reflected in a most extreme weakness; my arms and legs had never been so heavy. Rising slightly, I go up a bit higher and plop back. Op-pa, now that's interesting. A quick inspection of my arms and chest showed the presence of implants. My arms, of course, weren't replaced, which is good, but the number of protruding mechanical devices was alarming.
Right on my elbows, a kind of hinges were visible in the joint areas. On the forearm panels were visible, as on the upper parts of the palms, like small shields. On the chest a great symmetry was observed, and in some measure it looked even epic.
One thing bothered me—physique, maybe not the ultimate dystrophic, but a bit more—and I'll start being translucent. Seriously, no fat, skin, bones, and a bit of muscle. I don't recall being like this even after waking up from the coma!
I was distracted from looking at my dear self by a scanner turning on above me. Having prodded and sent a signal, the device turned off, and a "visitor" came to see me almost immediately.
The door leaves slid aside, and a pleasant young man appeared in the passage. Dressed in a synthetic white polo shirt on top, ordinary black pants on his legs tucked into high-tech boots, clearly from some kind of hardsuit or armor set. Some symbol on his shoulder, apparently of two multi-colored crescents. Short red hair, blue eyes, a small nose, dry cheeks, and a "goat" red beard.
It was noteworthy that looking at me, this character was happy. Like really, he looked and rejoiced! And I didn't even have to read his emotions to understand that, just looking into his eyes was enough.
"Where have I ended up?!"
"Hello," the man bowed, using a crooked Tythonian language. "My name is Mayl Onnovor. Do you remember what your name is?"
I didn't answer. First I picked up my jaw, then I digested what I heard. Having opened and closed my eyes a couple of times, I'm still trying to understand—am I hallucinating, am I dead, or is this reality?
"Aero... Shade," I answer slightly sluggishly and hoarsely, examining the strange human.
"How is your well-being?" he approached closer, checking the equipment.
"Unfortunately—still alive. Respected sir, could you please tell me where I am?"
"You are on the ship 'Iskra'. This ship is simultaneously both our transport and our home."
"Um... and who are you?"
"Terrans."
At that moment my picture of the world crashed to the floor with a bang.
"Who?"
"You haven't heard of us?" the man was surprised.
"No, I thought I misheard. Because this can't be; the Terrans were destroyed."
The man began to smile wider.
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it. I looked for any mentions; nowhere is there even a word about survivors."
In response Mayl cited:
"'Terra, do you see the ground squirrel? No? But it's there'," the man already openly laughed. "Those are your words to Terra, right?"
"Yes, I remember, I said that... But how?!" already completely hoarse, I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"We will tell everything; no need to worry so much. Your organism is only just entering work; it needs time."
"Alright."
"Shade Aero, in advance, forgive me for my audacity. I am a little nervous. It is difficult for me to believe myself that the prophecy has come true and you have returned. And all the more, the very thought that I am speaking with you... it is striking."
"In shock myself..."
"May I?" leaning over, the man disconnected the tubes from the special connectors on me and put them aside.
"How did you find me?"
"You mean—how we came upon you?"
"That too."
"It was not easy. We have little contact with the large world for obvious reasons, not to mention any intervention. Но that doesn't prevent us from observing. When a certain someone appeared in the world with the name Shade Aero, and with a non-simple description too, we decided to check, and didn't lose out. You even crossed paths with one of ours on Concord Dawn once."
"Yes, I recall."
"Then, when we were more or less convinced that this wasn't a deception, the decision was made to check everything personally. Then, we asked for a meeting with you. Actually, as agreed, our people flew to Tatooine two weeks later. There we realized we had missed you and we had nothing left but to wait. For quite a long time there were no tidings from you, considered a whole month, but we are in no hurry. All the more so as we knew what circumstances you were in and who you were fighting. However, while you were flying, our people intercepted one very unusual encrypted signal. In the course of its decryption we learned that a trap was being prepared for you using ysalamiri. We wanted to warn you, but didn't have time. The trap snapped shut earlier."
Pausing, Mayl typed something into the computer, after which he sat down on a stool opposite me.
"Already being halfway to Concord Dawn, we received a message that you were alive but in critical condition. It didn't become easier for us because of that; not only do you have enough enemies who will gladly take advantage of that weakness, but ysalamiri are lethally dangerous for you. We understood that the Mandalorians, for all their desire, were simply not capable of providing you with the necessary medical help. Even without taking into account that we have many times higher quality equipment," Mayl ran his hand over the apparatus, "you needed the help of a Force-sensitive. Extraordinary measures had to be taken, and that pushed us to your kidnapping. Forgive me for that, and for the inconvenience caused," the man guiltily lowered his head. "We understand how much we risked, especially transporting your body, but as it turned out—the measures were justified."
The man paused again, looking somewhere to the side and frowning.
"Besides us, dark assassins and Jedi also set out after you. A real race began, but fortunately, we made it first. Having eliminated the threat, we substituted the body and took you off the planet. Yes, it was risky; moreover, this incident worsened your already deplorable state. My wife had to work as a Force donor for you the whole way just so you survived the flight. When you were delivered to the 'Iskra', we realized everything was much worse than we assumed. We had to literally assemble you in parts, replacing missing bone fragments with implants... and not just bones. Lungs, stomach, intestines, kidneys, all this had to be replaced with biotechnical implants. Your neck, by the way, was almost completely changed. The trachea, esophagus, they are also replaced with a biotechnical analog, plus vertebrae."
Mayl paused, catching his breath and nervously surveying my stunned mug.
"On the plus side, now even without the Force, my neck can't be snapped just like that," I joked quietly, feeling my throat.
"That is true," Mayl nodded, not having appreciated the joke. "We reinforced the whole spine very seriously, while the ribs are almost every other one completely artificial. Your heart remained your own; we only reinforced it a bit and built in a defibrillator. In an extreme case, the system will force the muscle to work artificially."
"Could have just transplanted the brain while you were at it," I whispered.
"We thought about it," Mayl nodded seriously. "But decided to refuse. We needed as much of your native flesh to remain in you as possible."
"And what for?"
"Forgive me for such words, but you are marinated through and through with the Force. Given that you were de-materializing alive, and the body, essentially, acted as an anchor, the chances of survival in specifically your native body were significantly higher for you. Therefore we tried to use implants to a minimum."
"I see. And how long have I been lying here?"
"Six months."
"Six months?!" I actually jerked.
"Yes. Please, calm down. Besides your physical injuries, because of the ysalamiri natural processes in the organism were disrupted on an energy level. I'll say right away for the future—it is strongly not recommended for you to stay in an environment with a blocked Force current. Especially for you, as one who grew up in an environment with, on the contrary, a high Force background."
"What could happen?"
"There is a probability of death. In that fight with Khan Vizsla you suffered a real energy shock, which led to such... disastrous consequences and long treatment. We restored the body quickly, but not letting you depart from it—that was not easy, but thanks to your techniques."
"My techniques?"
"We keep all the records and all the techniques that have reached our days at all. Including your holocron."
"Interesting... Iehe," rising slightly, I groaned.
"I ask you, be careful."
"Leave it, Mayl. I'm not made of plywood," I lower my legs to the floor, and laughing add: "But of paper. Oh," I grimace from a rolling tingling wave.
"Um..." the human didn't appreciate the sense of humor.
"Mayl."
"Yes?"
"Give me clothes, please."
"Mine?"
"Ptooie. Just bring clothes."
"Ah... yes, right away."
"He's lagging a bit... Or is he that nervous? Why would he be?" a thought flashes as I look at the man's back.
As soon as the man left me alone, I closed my eyes and sighed heavily, feeling a slight taste of something unusual. As if someone had just painted the inside of my lungs.
"Alright, Shade. You're no stranger to surprises; we'll survive. Now they'll bring you clothes, and we'll calmly sort everything out with you," the thought flashes. I've reached the point where I'm talking to myself.
Opening my eyes, I stare with a blank look at the floor, remembering the latest events. Khan... you really were a prick. And yet I believed in you until the last, wanted to resolve it with peace. I wonder how mine are doing? Wait. Mom...
Clenching my hands, I close my eyes. Khan... it's your luck that you're already dead!
Here the door opens and Mayl returns to me, carrying a new set of clothes in his hands.
"Mayl, you said you depicted my death, is that correct?"
"Yes, that is correct. It was done to secure both you and your comrades from encroachments from outside. And that they would have been there, we are not only sure, we know it."
"Alright, you tell me—is anyone aware I'm alive?"
"No. Absolutely for everyone you are considered dead. I understand what you might think, but millennia of life in the shadows have taught us to play it safe. It's difficult when the whole galaxy is against you."
"No... I understand everything, it's something else here. Are they alright?"
"Yes."
"Good. That's enough for now."
"The only thing is, we had to beat your comrades a bit during the kidnapping. Your friends are very stubborn individuals and wouldn't have just given you up to us."
"Heh, that's true. No matter, a couple of bumps will be useful for them."
Pulling the suit to me with the Force, I unfold it and continue to be quietly stunned. The suit Mayl brought me didn't look like "ordinary clothes" at all. Mayl himself looked very proud.
"Right. What kind of 'vampire lord' cosplay is this?"
"Ah... what's wrong?"
Looking at this character with suspicion in my gaze, I realize he's absolutely serious. What is wrong with him?!
"Mayl... Please bring simple, the most ordinary clothes. The same as you wear yourself, alright?"
"Alright..." the man was lost, leaving the cabin.
"Where to?! And the clothes?" the thought flashes, but Mayl has already vanished. "Right."
Examining the suit again, I shake my head. I recognize the style of Hadiya in her last years, by the way. At least there are no questions about where the roots of this "masterpiece" come from.
Setting the clothes aside, I scan the room briefly again. Equipment, a whole lot of medical technology, and such that I haven't even seen. An abundance of diverse manipulators; here too is an empty container, apparently for filling with bacta or its analog, though horizontal rather than vertical.
Feeling unusual vibrations in the Force, I shift my gaze to the doors. Strange... someone is approaching. Someone standing out from the general picture, but at the same time, judging by the sensations, someone close to me. Here the doors open, and in walks...
"Ah..." I catch a stupor for the second time, just looking at the "face."
"Good morning, Shade," my mother's soft voice sounded.
In the passage stood a tall figure, as tall as me. A closed dark suit, fabric armor. Biomechanical arms and legs with synthetic muscles... Though, from the look of it, the body consists entirely of synthetics. A long cape descends from the shoulders, and on the face is a T-shaped mask, with the predatory patterns characteristic of my mother.
"M... Mom?!"
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she demonstratively walked through the cabin, showing off the body. I got the impression as if this shell was assembled by hand, with the use of the Force, so delicate was the assembly. No visible fastenings, no defects. On the arms and legs—perfectly carved and painted patterns, the kind she had in life. It felt as if someone had worked on the body like a work of art.
"..."
"I'm not alive yet, of course, but I'm not a discarnate spirit anymore either."
"But how?!" a cry of the soul escaped.
"You mean the mask? Don't let it bother you; I long ago crossed that threshold when there is a need for an anchor. Remember when I first appeared as a spirit?" I nod. "Well from that moment it no longer played such a role. So I was a free strong spirit... Unlike you!" I was looked at with an obvious reproach.
"Sorry. But how are you in this body?"
"When these guys swiped you," a nod back, "I was next to you. They felt my presence, and then we had a conversation. I told them things that aren't written down and that dispelled all doubts about our origin. After that they made a body for me; it works entirely on the Force, on my Force. In my chest instead of a heart is built-in a particularly strong Force-conducting crystal," she tapped her finger on her chest in the heart area. "I am connected with it now—yes, and it's better not to break that connection. Nevertheless, this practice is considered constant with them, so there are quite a many such 'cyborgs' on the ship," she smirked and, coming to me, sat nearby, putting an arm around me. "How long I've waited for this."
Being in a state of abstraction, I slowly come to my senses, digesting the news that has fallen on my head like snow on a summer day. Here something clicks in my head, because of which I look askance in her direction.
"Mom, did I imagine it, or are you somewhat irritable and biased toward my daughter's followers?"
"You didn't imagine it."
"Hm?"
"How should I put it..." I was released, and she looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "They are difficult to talk to."
"... I don't understand."
"Wait, I'm thinking of how to formulate it. You know I don't have a gift for gab."
"Yes, you always speak with a sword," I smile.
"Exactly... well, in short, if I speak straight—they pray to Terra."
"O_o"
"And you are her father. And I'm here too... in short, they are very difficult to talk to," despite mother's face not being visible, I felt with my back that I was being looked at with a veeeeery sympathetic gaze.
"But wait. Mayl didn't seem like that to me."
"You haven't seen the others," she crossed her arms on her chest.
"Ah..."
"No, it's not all that bad! It could be much worse, for starters. And it's even possible I'm exaggerating. In two words, Terra's followers like the Je'Daii revere the Force. However! At the same time, if they don't hate, then they despise all adepts using only one side of the Force, calling them 'scraps.' This has been the way since the days when the Je'Daii Order split into two camps and arranged a galactic-scale fight. Terra, in their eyes, is the one who laid the foundation of the order, the one who paved the way for the rest. And you are the one who opened that path altogether. So be prepared for all sorts of... oddities."
"..."
"How are you?"
"In shock, that's how. No matter when I wake up, every time I'm stunned by where I've ended up."
"Be glad only six months have passed, and not another couple of millennia," Mom laughed.
"Hic. Never. Wait. 'Scraps.' And youuuuu..." I look at mother, and she understands my question correctly.
"No, things are a bit different with me. If you don't take into account that I'm your mother, they treat me with sympathy. Before your appearance, Unifying Force adepts didn't exist in principle. At least, among us. So your appearance in some measure divided history into 'before' and 'after'."
"I see."
We were interrupted here. Mayl appeared in the passage.
"Sorry for the delay... oh. My apologies."
"Everything's fine," here Mom catches sight of his burden. "Shade, aren't you hurrying too much? You should rest."
"I'll rest in the next world..." I look at her. "And even that's not a fact."
"Alright, my active one. Walks are useful for the sick," Mom smirked and slapped my back. "I'll be waiting for you outside the door."
Watching her leave, I switch to Mayl standing in a stupor.
"Why are you standing? Come on."
"Ah, certainly."
"And, one-two-three!" I say to myself mentally, rising from the bed. Vainly. Muscles and vestibular apparatus were not prepared for this, which is why the floor tilted sharply and Mayl had to catch me.
"Mr. Aero, careful..."
"Thanks. Everything's fine, I'll be okay now," releasing the support, I push the Force through my body, bringing it to its senses. "Just need to get used to it a bit."
Walking through the room, with leans here and there, I stretch my stiff limbs. Due to the express course in restoring the organism's operability, a company of builders with hammer drills started thundering in my head, and here the Force wasn't helping.
"Anything for the head?"
Standing like a statue, Mayl nodded and took a box of drugs from the table. Emptying two pills onto his palm, he looked at me with doubt in his eyes, after which he emptied another three.
"Thanks."
Drinking the painkiller, I continue walking through the room, trying to understand what's wrong with the body.
"A strange sensation. As if I've become heavier."
"That's because of the implants. In total, you weigh about five kilograms more than before, just on their account."
"That explains it then."
While I was dressing, the pills took effect, removing the builders from my head.
Leaving the cabin, I run into Mom chatting with someone. Her interlocutor was a tall man, looking about forty years old, also a Force-sensitive. Unlike Mayl, he was dressed in a kind of dark jumpsuit-hardsuit with protective inserts. A black cloak descended from his shoulders, and intersecting crescents were depicted on his back. A helmet was secured on his belt, and laser swords on his hips. The unknown's face was pleasant, without any scars or distinctive details. The only thing was, he had a very clear iris of gray eyes.
What else caught the eye was the presence on the chest and "collar" of distinctive signs originating back in my time.
"Admiral?" the thought flashes at the sight of the badges. "Interesting..."
At my appearance the conversation dies down; mother and the admiral turned to me.
"It doesn't suit you," Mom shook her head, cheering up.
"I'm not going to wear that rag," I throw the answer without being at all shy.
"Oh come on, Shade. You have to match the status!" Mom teased me, laughing. And again, the absence of a physical face didn't prevent me from literally seeing her fun. "They tried for you, after all!"
"Tch."
"Heh-heh-heh-heh..."
"My apologies," the man bowed, finally coming to his senses. "We took the design..."
"I know where you took it from," I interrupt, sighing. "Hadiya repeatedly tried to dress me in that. Но it's im-prac-ti-cal!"
"We'll keep that in mind," the man nodded seriously, as if I'd told him news of primary importance. Right, now I understand what Mom was talking about.
"Who do I have the honor of speaking with?"
"Yes, sorry. Admiral Donovan Enchwork. Captain of the ship 'Iskra'. It is an honor for me to speak with you," the man bowed.
"Don, since you're here, then maybe you'll give me the tour?"
"With pleasure! Come along."
Leaving the medical block and leaving Mayl behind, we walked through the ship's corridors. There were more than enough people in the corridors; at my appearance everyone immediately stepped aside, respectfully saluting. To keep from being swept away by emotions, I had to set a barrier, but even that didn't help much. Seeing me, the people rejoiced like at the coming of a messenger from above, no less. Some individuals altogether fell into a faint; others couldn't restrain a burst of feelings, which reflected in excessive activity.
"The tour has started well!" I mentally shy away from such a reaction. And here Mayl's words about the prophecy surface in my head.
"Donovan, Mayl mentioned a prophecy. Could you please tell me exactly what it's about?"
"Your daughter, Terra, believed in your return until the very last. She left behind these words: 'I have heard more than once or twice that my father died. That he will not return. Even my mother tells me so. But it is not true. I know it. I have seen it. He will return. He will return when he is most needed. Not earlier, and not later. We can only wait.' And then those words gave us hope for many thousands of years."
"What happened after the fall?" exiting into one of the side corridors, I stop at a panoramic window behind which was endless space.
"Genocide. We showed what we were capable of, and therefore we were destroyed wherever they could. Ships like this one became a real salvation; our distant ancestors tried to hide in deep space, but it was useless. A century didn't pass before a planet was found. So colonization attempts were abandoned. Constantly in motion, constantly on the run. At most—find a suitable planet, grow a crop on it in a couple of years and thereby replenish supplies, then back on the path. But despite that, we did not despair. Hope remained even in the darkest days. We continued to learn the Force, discovered new technologies," the man indicated Mom with his hand, "gathered data on planets, on new Force sources. Periodically we sent reconnaissance ships to battlefields to collect the warring parties' military technologies. Some we took for ourselves, some we saved in the archive. In the end, we simply began to be forgotten."
"So that means there is someone else besides you?"
"No. We are the last."
"How did that happen?"
"The last turning point happened four thousand years ago."
"The Mandalorian War?"
The Admiral nodded:
"Yes. Despite the isolation, we still made contact with both the Republic, and the Sith Empire, and Vitiate's Empire... with all of them. Showing more and more activity, we watched what was happening, grew stronger. And then word reached us that Mandalorian clans were going to be used in an internecine war. It was clear what for; they were simply decided to be written off for their own purposes. But the Mandalorians had been our friends for a very long time, since the days of the genocide. They had already suffered because they fought on the Hadian Empire's side, and here... In short, the decision was made to intervene. We didn't want war; we tried to make it so this slaughter bypassed our comrades, but it didn't work. We were found out. A certain Revan conducted negotiations on behalf of the Republic. He found out about us, reported to whoever was needed, and it began. Warnings? Negotiations? What are you talking about, an ancient threat had crawled out from under the stool!" the man flared up, hitting the glass with his fist. "My apologies..."
"What happened after?"
"Nothing. Our ancestors decided that the time had come and, since everything was leading to it, it was time to show themselves. The Mandalorian War began, which lasted two hundred years. For twenty thousand years Sith and Jedi had been devouring each other, but at that moment those dogs became best friends. In our archives photos of cities on Mandalore are preserved. Official history won't tell this, but the Mandalorians had to re-settle their own planet. Well and we... we went back into space and since then have tried to return what was lost. This ship was built with a calculation for a reactor working on the Force, but because of that war we lost both the reactor and the technology. The ship was completely redone in accordance with general technologies."
I didn't speak. Silently listening to the ship's captain, I stare at space with blank eyes.
"Since then we haven't intervened in their squabbles, going about our business."
"For example?"
"Hung a chain of relay satellites for constant and secure communication with scouts. Re-discovered many technologies, found new planets. The galaxy doesn't know, but in the unknown regions there are very many inhabited planets. Flying between them and the outer regions, we update the gene pool, recruit new adepts, replenish supplies. That's how we lived until your appearance."
"I see. Well, Don, I congratulate you, I've returned. And I don't intend to leave everything as it is."
"I know," the man smiled sincerely. "Time to return has come?"
"Yes. But carefully. The galaxy has forgotten us, and that's good. I've already started acting, gathered resources and gradually prepared the ground for a new state. The only thing—I lacked hands I could rely on."
"We are at your disposal," the man sank to one knee, bowing his head, and seemed even to have cried.
Here I noticed that quite a solid crowd had gathered around us, and following the Admiral everyone else bowed.
"Donovan?"
"Please forgive me... I cannot restrain my emotions. I cannot believe that you have returned... That we will finally be able to return."
"Stand up."
The man rose.
"Don, does this mean you'll follow me?"
"We are entirely at your disposal," the Admiral straightened. Right, fanaticism—one hundred ten plus. I'll say jump—they'll only clarify where. Well, we'll be re-educating-s; I'll certainly try to do well for us at everyone else's expense, but I definitely don't intend to rule.
"Alright. Let's leave that for now. Don, tell me what this ship is. You said it's from ancient times, right?"
"Yes. This ship is called 'Iskra'. Designed and built back in the days of Great Terra. Length—one and a half kilometers, width—four hundred meters together with the wings, height—two hundred fifty. Two hangars on top, main and secondary, connected to each other by a special conveyor passing through the warehouse. Maximum crew—thirty thousand people, although currently only twenty-seven are on board."
"Thought you'd say more. Usually vessels of this size carry up to fifty thousand."
"Correct, but such is the specificity of specifically this ship model. Come to the bridge, I'll show its image."
Moving, we walked through the parting spectators. Damn, stop looking at me like that, I'm uncomfortable!
"First of all, this is not a combat vessel," Don began. "Of course, it can't be called defenseless, but nonetheless. Ship models like this one were intended primarily for long-range expeditions. Initially the ship's autonomy was calculated for fifty years minimum. That was possible precisely because of the ship's reactor and engines. Но because of the last global conflict the reactor had to be replaced with simpler analogs, as were the engines. Nevertheless, the vessel still remains the pinnacle of technical thought."
"In what way does that consist?"
"For example, in that the vessel is piloted by a single person."
"Er... wha-a-at?"
"Despite not having a Force reactor, we were able to combine the old technologies of your time and the new. Though, already not so new... Or old forgotten new? Anyway, four thousand years ago the Sith figured out how a ship can be controlled alone. We brought that system to its senses and adapted it to all our ships. Essentially, the ship serves as an extension of the pilot. The condition is one—the pilot must be Force-sensitive. The ship itself is almost completely automated, and the participation of crew members is reduced to a minimum."
"And what does everyone do then?"
"Various things. Essentially, we have a minimum fixed staff; that is—five hundred crew members. A thousand soldiers, five hundred pilots of escort ships. Eight thousand people in the scientific department, and a thousand engineers and mechanics. Those are the ones who are always on the ship. There is always some work going on here, so it's not boring. The rest combine related professions. Separately stands reconnaissance; they are almost always either somewhere in the Republic, or flying ahead of us, or flying parallel to us, seeing what's in the neighboring systems."
"And these are all humans?"
"I'll say more, absolutely everyone has a connection to the Force."
"What?!"
Apparently something like that jumped out on my face, because Don cheered up and continued:
"Our technologies are Force-based. Naturally, to use them, one must possess it. And for that we long ago found a way to endow a non-adept with a connection to it."
"And in what way?"
"The first process is natural. Both parents must be adepts; in that case the probability of a Force-user child appearing is very high. If only the father possesses the Force, the probability, on the contrary, is very low. If only the mother—it's tolerable. While the child is in the womb, it is under the constant influence of the mother, as if becoming saturated with her Force. Thus whole dynasties are formed. Но if suddenly a child after birth doesn't have that same stable connection, it is given an injection of a solution based on a theta crystal. That spurs the process, creating a stable connection. There will be a gift in any case and, possibly, not a weak one."
"Does this work with non-adepts too?"
"No. If you inject theta solution into an ordinary person, they die."
"And how have you not been felt until now..."
"Maybe we have been felt, but who will find a constantly wandering ship? Besides, the 'Iskra' in the last four thousand years hasn't entered even the expansion regions, not to mention the central worlds."
"I see."
"Our luck that during the times of colonization many planets were settled specifically by human races. We recruit new representatives of other peoples with the calculation that a biological conflict won't arise. Therefore, we are all in one degree or another humans, just with different evolutionary... features. This also led to the fact that there are simply no pure-bloods on the ship. That's for me to tell you so you aren't surprised if you suddenly find very strikingly differing representatives of the human people."
Here we passed by bowing blue-skinned red-eyed representatives of... apparently, humans. Right.
"Returning to the ship. 'Iskra', by our efforts, is its own shipyard. We don't need to fly anywhere; it's enough to have not even parts—raw resources, to re-process and print those spare parts we need, and then install them where needed."
"With such a setup, you could have gathered a huge force long ago."
"We did gather it. Four thousand years ago."
"Ah..."
We went out onto the ship's bridge. A small bridge, only three chairs. A small but very thick observation window, closing with protective armor panels. Three chairs, two of which were currently empty, and in the third sat, actually, the pilot. A hermetic armored suit, on the head a closed helmet connected at the back to the chair. Breathing tubes approached the cheekbones; hands were buckled to the armrests.
"Does he hear us?"
"Affirmative," the speaker replied.
"The ship—is an extension of the pilot," Don reminded me.
"Farewell," I comment slowly, shaking my head.
So, walking through the ship, I looked at the life of my... followers. Don clearly took pride in the impression made. The man practically said with his whole look: "Despite everything, we haven't shamed our ancestors' honor!" Yes, I admit, they really haven't. In the combat sense too. Yes, they switched to ordinary lightsabers—after all, if you have a weak gift, it's very difficult to swing a Forcesaber—but even so, there remained guys of the "old school" who were trained by methodologies accumulated over millennia.
At my request a training sparring match was conducted between two adepts. Neither was that strong, average Jedi, if one can say so, but damn me, such a thrashing I'd seen only during training in Stav Kesh, the martial arts temple.
What else pleased me was the general policy. While Jedi thumped Sith and vice versa, Terra's followers quietly and peacefully learned, improved, accumulated knowledge, not only their own but others'. Honestly, I even get scared of what was four thousand years ago. But now it's clear why the Republic and Sith united; such a force will give anyone a thrashing.
When the tour came to an end, and I was led to a dedicated cabin, I looked... depressing.
"Now do you understand?" I suddenly hear my mother's calm and serious whisper from behind my back. "They were preparing, believing and waiting."
"Now I understand that even more responsibility has just fallen on my head," I answer in kind. "It scares me. They are... they are unhinged. All of them! Mandalorians are sweet dandelions against their background! Mandalorians!!! This is f*cked! Those have honor and a code. They won't shoot a child; they won't shoot an unarmed person unnecessarily. These guys would crack a planet and ruin a star if I gave such an order."
"Only in the event that it was your order. Но in other cases, they are quite normal. For four thousand years they've wandered in the unknown region, and nothing. They've gone wild, of course, but they haven't become beasts, like some from the Senate."
"True enough. Alright... I understand them; I've caught myself more than once thinking I want to burn the galaxy to f*cking hell."
"Not a bad thought..."
"Mom!"
"What?"
"You're too bloodthirsty."
"Said the one who a second ago mentioned..."
"Enough, enough, changed the subject... and anyway, not all of it, just half."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha..."
***
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