I regained consciousness lying on one of the medical bunks. The lights were dimmed, and most of the room was lost in shadow. I must have slept quite a while, judging by the fact that the station had been switched to night mode.
For ten minutes, I simply lay there staring at the ceiling. My head was crystal clear, devoid of thoughts or anxieties. My body felt light, as if filled with air. It was a strange sensation, feeling like I could leap up and touch the ceiling without effort, yet barely able to bend my fingers.
Gradually, control over my body returned. First the fingers, then I felt the muscles contracting in my forearms and calves, thighs, shoulders, abdomen. My entire body slowly began to stir. At any other time, I might have been frightened by this, but right now, I felt so peaceful that I didn't want to break the spell.
Finally, I managed to bend my knees and smoothly sit up on the bed. There were four other children in the room besides me. Judging by the steady rise and fall of their chests, they were all alive and simply asleep. I couldn't see their faces, nor was I particularly interested in who they were. I was certain each of us would be appearing in this place many more times.
At the far end of the room, a medical droid stood intently studying the readings on some device. Noticing my movement, it glided toward me almost soundlessly. Only the beeping of sensors and equipment broke the silence of the children's snoring.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'll live. How long was I out?"
"Eight hours. Diagnostic scans revealed overexertion, several minor internal injuries, a wound on your wrist..."
"Stop, stop. I get it, everything's a mess. Can I leave the medbay without risking a collapse on the way?"
"You may. I recommend avoiding exertion for the next two days."
"We'll see about that. What time is it?"
"According to the internal schedule, it is 03:00 hours. I recommend returning to your room to rest. Good night."
"I'll keep that in mind. See ya, bolt-bucket."
Lowering myself to the floor, I put on my clothes, which were neatly folded on a nearby table.
Well, I had other plans for the coming day. There wasn't much time left to dig through the archives and find the information I needed. It was time to accelerate.
I didn't risk running in the gloom; if I ran into one of our instructors, it would be all over. I still hadn't studied the regulations; for all I knew, we were forbidden from leaving our rooms after lights-out. But the prize of information was worth it. Over the next two months, we might be so loaded with work that we won't even have a chance to read. I couldn't let this opportunity slip.
Soon, metal doors appeared around the corner, thank the Force, perfectly normal ones this time, and behind them lay the goal of my journey. Excellent. The large room was filled with desks and computers. There were numerous shelves with small sections, which likely housed data chips.
The only ones in the room were me and a few librarian droids standing by the sections, cross-referencing data on their datapads. None of them paid me any attention as I entered. It seemed the place operated on a self-service principle, and you only approached them if something was unclear. That was probably for the best; it would leave fewer traces of what I was interested in.
Spotting a good spot in the far corner, I headed there. It was a very convenient vantage point. I had a clear view of the entire hall and the single entrance, with walls behind and to my side. Anyone wanting to approach me would have to walk around a long table.
This way, none of the other acolytes would see what I was searching for. As for our superiors, hiding information from them was impossible; the best I could do was scramble my tracks and try not to arouse suspicion.
I spent the next seven hours gathering information. I had to read every opened article carefully so that everything looked as plausible as possible. To be fair, most of them were actually useful. For example, the article on lightsaber combat.
The Grand Inquisitor had given me the exact names of the styles I should focus on. However, amidst the heap of information, I saw a description of a martial art practiced only by dark side adepts. It was strange he hadn't told me to study it. Judging by the description, it was well-regarded and created specifically for dark side users. But a Teacher is a Teacher; he knows best.
There was also data on martial arts from various fringe groups. It turns out Jedi and Sith aren't the only Force-users. There were numerous cults, sects, and indigenous religions on isolated planets. On one planet, the aristocracy used lightsabers specifically for dueling, and they had their own system designed for those who weren't Force-sensitive.
If not for the Master's direct instructions, I could have easily gotten lost in all this information. Almost every organization of Force-users had its own martial art; many looked interesting, while others seemed completely ridiculous. One could easily spend a week, if not more, just on a surface-level study of it all.
Still, I decided to concentrate on what my Mentor had mentioned: Jedi fencing techniques. Here, too, the information was overwhelming.
Six main forms had been developed. Some were discarded immediately as they represented pure "Jedi trash."
Take Form I: Shii-Cho. Who needs a fencing style with only a few moves, and those known to every Jedi because everyone learns them? To the Hutt with that! I don't want to play a game of "I know that they know that I know that they know." Besides, most of the moves aren't lethal; they're just meant to disarm the opponent.
Or Form III: Soresu. A magnificent defense that saves you from everything, but it has so little offensive potential. If not for that flaw, I would have studied it without hesitation. But the problem is that Jedi are capable of remaining inactive for long periods, waiting for the right moment. Such a total defense definitely doesn't suit me; I need something offensive, something capable of killing the enemy.
Form VI. They basically just took everything and mixed it together. The result was something vague. If fighting against average or weak opponents, it would be more than enough. However, the Jedi who survived the Purge are likely strong, and with such a technique, I certainly wouldn't survive an encounter.
In the end, I decided to settle on Form II: Makashi as my primary style. It was specifically designed for dueling a lightsaber wielder. This was perfectly suited for my future work. Moreover, the moves I had practiced with the Master turned out to be from this very style.
As a secondary form, I chose Form V: Shien. A decent defense coupled with aggressive counterattacks could be useful against crowds armed with blasters.
There was also Form IV: Ataru, but it didn't suit me either, as it relies on constant movement, jumps, and the like. It's just not for me.
Although my search sounds simple in words, I killed a considerable amount of time. I had to study every aspect of the fencing forms, the main techniques, and their peculiarities to understand what to make my primary and what to make my secondary. I spent two hours studying external combat forms, but realizing the sheer volume of work, I decided to put that off for later. Perhaps it wasn't necessary to go so deep, but it was better not to raise unnecessary questions or suspicions.
Stretching contentedly in my chair, I checked the library on my bracer. Everything important and useful I had found was successfully transferred into this handy device.
After such long strain, my head felt like cotton again. I might have stayed at the computer longer, but I felt physically that I couldn't absorb any more information.
I needed a good sleep. There were more than ten hours until the next general assembly. I had time.
With half-closed eyes, I stumbled to my room and fell onto the bed without undressing.
I dreamed of the underground laboratory, familiar as the back of my hand. The cut-out blast doors lay sadly on the floor. Several people, accompanied by clones, were intently studying the equipment, practically sniffing the technology.
"Professor." One of the soldiers approached an elderly man in a uniform unfamiliar to me. The long, thin figure was bent nearly in half, looming over one of the tables. His pince-nez glinted hungrily in the lamplight; his gloved hands busily inspected one of the instruments. "We've discovered bio-samples on the lower floor."
"Marvelous, my dear boy. Yes, yes, yes, simply magnificent! Everything is as the Lord predicted. Lead me into the bright future, my dear."
Descending below, they entered the very room where dead bodies floated in vats. Wiping his pince-nez with a handkerchief and perching it back in place, the professor approached one of the vats.
"Astounding, simply fantastic! Such preservation of material over more than half a century is phenomenal. If we can locate the other stations and reconstruct the full course of research... it will revolutionize science! My friend, what can you tell me about those who lived here?"
One of the clones, presumably a commander, approached the scientist.
"The system still has reports of computer activations. Technicians managed to track the path; someone unknown viewed all the files. They lived here for about a year, but exact dates cannot yet be established."
"Work, my friend, work and you shall be rewarded. Also, begin slowly searching for the missing inhabitants; we cannot leave..."
The dream began to fade; I felt as if I were falling into a deep well, drifting further and further away.
The first thought that occurred to me was quite philosophical. Now what? It would be very difficult to track my path from my home planet to here, but not impossible. The Emperor is unlikely to simply get rid of a future Inquisitor with good potential. Still, this represents a certain threat to me. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I sensed it vaguely through the Force. So what to do?
Betray the Lord and try to flee? I certainly wasn't going to do that. Tell him about the information in my hands? But there was so little of it; there was no question of coming forward with something like that. It seemed I could either ignore it or try to find out everything on my own. Yes, that's what I'll do, and the archive will help me. How much time do I have left? Right, three hours. Well then, onward to gnaw at the granite of knowledge.
I practically flew back the familiar path, so eager was I to begin my search. The thought that finding the necessary knowledge would help me stand out to the Emperor warmed me. Forward!
Fortunately, there was no one there again; apparently, in this world, libraries aren't particularly popular among children and teenagers either. Sitting in my place, I activated the search engine and... froze. I had an unexpected problem. Where exactly should I start? A search for "secret laboratories search" was unlikely to be successful.
After five minutes of intense brainstorming, a single useful memory surfaced: Master Lyman Jay Curra. This sentient was my only lead. Let's hope the local archives contain much more information than other sources.
As it turned out, my hope was not in vain.
Trying to maintain at least some secrecy, I first searched for presumably surviving members of the Jedi Order whose names weren't marked with a short "deceased." Then I moved to the list of those missing in action over the last hundred years. Despite their flaws, Jedi are mostly long-lived, so I'd have an excuse just in case.
Out of curiosity, I decided to study the biography of some rank-and-file member of the Order. Not much, but far better than the knowledge I had managed to scavenge. It described significant missions the Jedi had been on and their Force-aptitude in general terms. All in all, a great professional resume, exactly what I needed.
I spent the next two hours studying random Jedi, slowly but surely closing in on those who disappeared during the period I needed. Finally, my efforts were rewarded; the name I sought flashed on the screen. Trying to contain my emotions, I brought up all the information on this sentient.
Well, he turned out to be quite an interesting individual with his own views on life and the galaxy. As it turned out, he was expelled from the Order for preaching the doctrine of the Unified Force, where a Jedi could use any side of the Force depending on the situation.
The Jedi Council evidently didn't approve of such an approach and cast out the black sheep. Given that his last missions were listed as failures, it wasn't surprising. There was absolutely no information regarding the life of the sentient Lyman Jay Curra after his departure from the Temple.
The question was: at what point did this Jedi begin visiting the laboratory? Unfortunately, I didn't remember the date on the file with his name. But it was logical to assume it happened after his exile or in his final years.
Up to a certain point, his profile indicated that Lyman was an exemplary Jedi with strong Force abilities. He was even considered for a seat on the Council, but his candidacy was rejected due to his Force leanings, which were condemned by the Order.
Well, let's hope the information about his missions will give me some understanding of what happened. But that will be for later; I don't have much free time left. I need to grab a quick bite and head toward the common hall.
The "quick bite" didn't happen. In the cafeteria, they were already waiting for me. There was no orchestra, but there were five grim-looking boys and one cheerful girl. This group was waiting for me right at the entrance. Two stood by the door, while the others sat around a circular table, occasionally glancing at those entering.
Right, I'd completely forgotten I was supposed to meet them. Honestly, I didn't care; I was fresh and alert now. If it came to it, I could fight them off. If not for my state last time, I doubt I would have agreed to this meeting at all. Still, I didn't want to start a fight, so I'd have to talk.
"You didn't show up." One of the boys, a Zabrak with small horns, stared at me as if he wanted to burn a hole through me.
"Things happened, but as you see, we crossed paths anyway. So, what did you want to talk about?"
"I'm glad to see you!" The Twi'lek girl smiled softly and moved closer to me, which drew venomous glares in my direction. "We want to form our own group. If future trials are anything like the last one, acting together will be easier. We can help each other or stand against a strong enemy."
"And why would I want that? I'm one of the strongest; you'd just be dead weight pulling me down."
"You're right, but how long will you stay among the first? Do you really think we aren't training? Believe me, in the next trial, everything will change drastically, I can feel it."
"Is that a threat?"
"Not at all!" She even waved her hands so much she nearly hit her bodyguard standing behind her. "How should I address you?"
"Set. So what are you saying?"
"Alright, Set. I'm sure you already know I used to study at the Jedi Temple." After waiting for a nod of confirmation, she continued. "I know for a fact that besides those of us here, about thirty more people were captured. There were sentients older than us, stronger than us. And where are they now?"
I understood what she was saying. If even half of them came here, the balance of power would shift abruptly, and I could easily be displaced from my second-place spot.
"And what are you proposing?"
"Unite and stand against a common enemy. We'll teach each other, help each other. It'll be easier for everyone."
"And you'll be the leader, of course?"
"No, of course not. We'll all be equals."
With that phrase, she finaly solidified my decision. All equals, but some are more equal than others, and something told me she would be the "most equal."
"Thanks for the offer, but I refuse." From the boys' side, I felt a palpable wave of the Dark Side. "I prefer to act alone."
"Ah, and I hoped we could come to an agreement. Then I suggest we maintain neutrality."
"Your group doesn't interest me as long as you don't touch me."
"That's enough for me. Thank you for your time, I hope you change your mind. Our doors are always open."
"I'll keep that in mind. Enjoy yourselves."
Rising silently, I headed for the food. Until the very last moment, I expected something to be thrown at me. But surprisingly, I managed to eat in peace and leave the cafeteria. Apparently, the punishment had been effective enough to quiet them down.
Time to head toward the common hall. I didn't have much time left to wander the floors aimlessly.
I arrived just in time. Most of the children had already scattered throughout the hall, tending to their own business or simply resting on the floor. For a few minutes, nothing happened, then the blast doors slammed shut, and a hologram appeared in the center of the hall once again.
"Greetings, acolytes who have retained enough of their sanity to consciously move between floors. I am very glad for you; I must confess, the number of survivors is greater than I anticipated.
"Now, to the point. Each of you has been sent a class schedule. Whether to attend them or not is your choice, but passing the proficiency standards is mandatory. I repeat: those who occupy the bottom two spots in the rankings twice in a row will be disposed of. The Emperor has no use for such weaklings who cannot push themselves enough in training. I truly hope at least half of you survive until the first proficiency check..."
Our list of subjects was extensive: lightsaber combat, Force manipulation, politics, economics, mechanics, warfare, and a host of narrower specialties.
They hadn't lied; no one forced anyone to do anything. There were a couple of acolytes who locked themselves in their rooms and never came out. The rest moved actively across the floor from one classroom to another.
Lightsaber combat was taught by a former Jedi who had left the Order even before the start of the Clone Wars and was later recruited by the Emperor. A stern man in his sixties, he did not forgive mistakes. Almost every one of us practically crawled out of the hall. After his classes, half the students were forced to spend time with bacta patches, and some required full immersion in a healing tank. But despite the harsh teaching style, I felt my skills beginning to grow rapidly again.
The beauty of the fluid transitions, lunges, and counterattacks of Form II was mesmerizing, as was the power of Form V. I never once regretted choosing these styles for study. Granted, I lacked flexibility at first, but by pushing through the pain, my skills progressed.
For some reason, we weren't pitted against each other, only dueling against droids or the instructor. Both the former and the latter surpassed nearly everyone. Only the former Temple members and I could offer any semblance of resistance; the rest only tried to avoid painful blows and somehow defend themselves with their blades.
The droids were far superior to those we fought on the memorable day of rank assignments. No one could defeat them, only resist. But every time, it ended with a painful strike.
Frequently, after a heavy blow, an acolyte would fall and be unable to rise. Broken arms, legs, ribs, none of this was a rarity in these classes. Fortunately, medical droids were always on standby nearby, promptly whisking away the injured.
But that was only at the beginning. After a month, they vanished. Now we had to look after ourselves, defending through the pain or trying to flee the hall. Few succeeded because the Teacher almost always caught those who tried to hide. But if by some miracle you managed to break out of the hall, no one pursued you.
If someone fell and couldn't get up, they were beaten with particular cruelty until they lost consciousness or stood up. No pleas for help worked.
Force training was no less brutal. The Sith cultist who had mastered the mysteries of the Dark Side was merciless. There was no "do or do not, there is no try." You simply had to do, there were no options. Otherwise, Force Lightning would pierce your body, leaving you writhing in pain.
Terrible burns covered those who were weak in the Force. Even bacta tanks barely helped with them; only meditation or the occasional prize, the ritual of the Priestesses, who followed our every move outside of training like burgundy shadows.
Always at the edge of vision was a figure clad in red; they only vanished during classes, in the archive, or on the meditation floor.
To meet the requirements, one had to dive deeper and deeper into their emotions, drawing Force from them. The Dark Side began to consume each of us more tightly.
Some began to fall into a state similar to the one I was in after my mother's death. But not me; such training increased my concentration, allowing me to simultaneously plunge into the Darkness and direct it. For now, it was only a small stream in a turbulent torrent, but it was growing little by little.
I had to admit that in raw power, my abilities lagged behind some acolytes. Number Seven, who had joined Tifa's group, managed to lift a massive stone weighing about three hundred kilograms in a fit of rage, before shattering it to pieces.
I couldn't replicate that no matter how hard I tried; I couldn't lift more than a hundred and fifty kilograms. But my control was the best. At the limit of concentration, until my nose bled, I could control six small spheres and make them spin, each in its own orbit and at its own pace.
The only class where I didn't suffer was robotics. You could just sit and sort through plates, hinges, and bolts. Look for the blueprints and assembly diagrams you needed. I wasn't going to build a droid, but as for making a few cameras to monitor particularly interesting spots on the base, why not? Everything that isn't forbidden is allowed.
Life began to take on the quality of a routine. The same training, the same faces, the same room. I even managed to get used to the constant pain during training. Time collapsed into a point; sometimes I couldn't tell what day it was or what I was supposed to be doing.
Acolytes didn't really communicate with each other. Only the established groups held secret meetings and talked about something. During these two months, I had only exchanged a few phrases.
Kamma, with whom my relationship had improved at the start, was always missing. I rarely saw him during training, and simply crossing paths on this enormous floor was practically impossible. Finding him once a week was considered lucky. Sometimes I began talking loudly to myself or to X. My mind was starting to slip. I was desperately lacking simple human interaction.
This continued until two momentous events shook us all.
Two months had passed since the first trial, and the time for a new one had arrived. We stood waiting for the Rector's orders, and then the hall darkened. An enormous hologram appeared, the same mask, the same cloak, and that raspy voice.
Nervous tension enveloped our group; everyone felt something subtle in the Force. But no one could understand the cause. The disturbance was weak but came from everywhere. The unknown was frightening and made us look around warily.
"Greetings, dear acolytes. As you know, today is the day of the second trial. Something has changed, though the conditions remain the same: the last one standing will be Number One. But simply forcing you to fight is boring; the outcome is predictable. And there are fewer of you now. Some dross couldn't survive these months, well, worse for them. And to add a bit of intrigue to this evening... meet your new friends!"
The floor slid open, and a platform rose. In the gloom of the hall, only general silhouettes were visible, but it was enough to realize that the entire platform was packed with children and teenagers.
Thirty pairs of eyes, filled with molten gold, stared at us. The Dark Side flooded from the strangers in a wave, forcing us to instinctively step back and prepare for battle.
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