Waking up, I was still hearing what I'd fallen asleep to—Vess's cozy purring—only now it had been joined by someone snuffling against my neck. Peeling my eyes open and brushing hair off my face—both mine and Vess's—I stared up at the ceiling. My head was crystal clear, as if after a draft; thinking felt easier than ever.
Gathering my thoughts, I tried to remember what had happened yesterday. Bad idea. The moment I remembered, I immediately wanted to forget again—or better yet, get drunk. The one consolation was that Vess was lying beside me now, and Hadiya was flying home. In short: "Glitches, glitches, let go, bitches—how am I supposed to forget you now?!"
"At least it finally let me go, and I've stopped generating nonsense. Looks like cats really can heal," I thought, glancing at Vess, and lifted a hand to stroke her head. From my touch the Cathar woke up, raised sleepy eyes to me, then awareness flickered in them and a smile formed on her lips.
Smack!
"Good morning," she purred softly.
"Yeah."
"How did it go yesterday?"
I remembered all that nonsense, the nightmare, the total kriffing disaster and, making my eyes as honest as possible, answered:
"Wonderful! Got some fresh air in my head, I'm calm as a boa, and the sights down there… You could take someone on a date."
"That's good, that you liked it," Vess nodded in a deceptively gentle tone, but anger flared in her emotions.
"Uh… Vess?"
She sat up, and her hands braced cautiously against my chest right by my throat.
"Sweetheart, tell me, is it normal that because of you I almost tore my own hair out over the insanity you ended up in?"
"Uh…"
"Where did you two go, that Grisu had to dunk me in cold water to cool me off?!" Her paws closed on my neck, and Vess was seriously pissed. "I almost had a heart attack when your emotions hit me! Pain mixed with fear, drenched in rage—and so much of it that I nearly climbed after you myself!"
"Vess, Vess, calm down—please don't spark—let me talk," I tried to soothe the Cathar, worked up first thing in the morning to the point she'd started crackling. "We went down, got separated, and I got hit with Force visions. And there was all kinds of—" Leaning forward, I hugged and pulled Vessira close. The anger began to ebb, and fear stepped into its place. "Sorry, miracle—you know I'd never even think of hurting you."
"Why did you even go down there?"
"To look into the future."
"And? How was it? Took a peek?"
"How to put it… As long as I'm breathing, I'll stay the hell away from that future and try to stop it."
"Ugh…"
"Either way, it wasn't for nothing. At least I know what to be afraid of—and maybe I'll figure out how to prevent it."
"Mm-hm. Sniff."
"All right, Vess, hush. I'm here, I'm with you…" and I added more quietly, only for myself: "Just like you are."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, sweetheart. Oh—what's that under your eye?"
"Where?" She jerked back, reaching for her cheek.
"Right there," I touched her cheekbone on purpose. "Some kind of spot, I can't tell."
At a wave of her graceful hand, her little mirror flew in to us from somewhere.
"There's nothing here—what are you making up?" Then she looked at my satisfied mug, which was practically begging for a brick. "Sha-a-ade."
"Just not with your feet," I squinted—and immediately took a light tap to the forehead with that very mirror.
"Idiot!"
"Yeah. And you—what, decided to move in with me for good?"
"Yes! You can't be left alone. And your teacher too—two peas in a pod, she's always climbing into things, and you are too."
"Well—same blood."
"And the same stupidity," Vess nodded.
"All right, all right. I surrender. Peace?"
Letting the mirror keep levitating and folding her arms, she measured me with a hard stare.
"And I'll fulfill one wish of yours."
"Two!"
"One and a half."
"How does that work?"
"Well… I fulfill one, and we write off the other half against the balance, hmm?"
"Shade…"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Unable to hold back the laughter, I grabbed Vessira and started shamelessly tickling her. And I tickled her until the Cathar admitted defeat and agreed to my terms.
In the end, we only got out of the room closer to noon, because the wish she'd agreed to was very interesting—and, importantly, pleasant for me too.
***
We left the temple with Mom full of strength and ready for new achievements. I don't know how she shook off the stress—and, honestly, I'd rather not know—but I was sure she was in a good mood. Right before departure, we gave the guys a lift to Wur Tepe and said goodbye there. Vessira kept trying to come with us—she'd already figured out that leaving us one at a time is very dangerous, and if we're together it's a total disaster—but my arguments and Mom's look (Brrr. Creepy. Want to learn how to do that!) managed to convince her.
While we flew, I was taught ship controls and even allowed to sit in the copilot's seat. They didn't let me merge with the ship through the Force, but messing with buttons and twisting handles—sure. All of it came with a lecture on the basics of piloting and explanations of what does what.
So for the next several days, instead of properly getting back on course, I was learning how to fly. And you know what… the Force is a cheat. A real cheat. It tells you where to press and what to do so you don't crash. On an intuitive level you know what to hit—and when someone explains what this little thingy is for, you also understand why you hit it. Funny feeling… but now it's clear why Jedi were jacks-of-all-trades.
"Mom, your left stabilizer's going to kick the bucket soon," I said, casually.
"What do you mean?" the Togruta turned around. "How did you figure that out?"
"Uh…" I hesitated, realizing what I'd just blurted. Somewhere out there, at the edge, there'd been a presence—alien, but very familiar. "Honestly, I don't know myself. It was just… sudden…"
"Heard it?"
"Sort of, yeah."
"You know Je'daii ships are built with Force crystal elements?"
"Yes."
"A bond forms between a vessel and its owner. Since you're my son, you were able to catch it. There's also a Force technique that lets you sense devices, understand faults, or hear warnings. Any pilot or engineer knows it, and you'll learn it later too."
"Got it."
"All right, Shade."
"Hm?" I turned toward Mom. She'd just put the ship on autopilot.
"I think that's enough overthinking. Come on—let's keep in shape."
"Fight?! On the ship? With you?" I gave her a skeptical look. "Listen—are you sure you're the one who's supposed to worry about my sanity, and not me about yours?"
"Ha-ha-ha—no, definitely. And there won't be sparring. I'll show you another Force technique."
"Now that's more interesting. What technique?"
"Let's say it's meant for interrogation. With it, people break minds and… make others talk. Or break their will. Lots of applications."
"Never heard of it," I jerked my head.
"It's my own development. Come on, I'll show you."
"On me?!"
"Ha-ha-ha—no, Shade. First I'll explain how it's done, then you'll practice on me. Defending against it is far easier than attacking; the main thing is your personal will and Force pressure. You can't hurt me simply because subconsciously you'll avoid it, so don't worry."
"Yeah. Another technique or two and I'll make an excellent executioner," I commented as I followed her. She just got more amused at my jab.
To my surprise, once we sat facing each other, the technique actually drew me in. It was like a branch off "Force befuddlement," a rougher version aimed not at delicately planting a thought or deceiving, but at inflicting very specific pain and then breaking someone. Basically, it could be compared to an express interrogation, because, in Mom's words, the target breaks hard—especially if they're not Force-sensitive. And even a Je'daii won't enjoy an attack like that mid-fight. It won't deal serious damage, but it can distract—and in a fight, any second decides it. So it's a very promising thing.
Busy with the work, I didn't notice we'd reached Nox. The moment we stepped off the ramp, memories hit me at once. Me leaving the spaceport with Irbis, arguing about the local ecosystem, and how, ignoring all the "important" people waiting for negotiations, we'd just sat in a café. Like they say: there are many of you, I'm one—so I'm entitled to a cup of vorka.
In fact, that was exactly where we had to go—one of the cafés. A small building on a narrow street, with an unobtrusive metal sign engraved with the words: "Ashla's Belt." Approaching the door first, I pressed the door-open button with the Force and stepped inside. A small hall, five small round tables plus a bar counter. Everything was arranged extremely tightly, using every scrap of free space.
White lights stretched across the ceiling, imitating stars; paintings of mysterious places hung on the walls, and among them I even found a couple photos from Tython. There were only three visitors in the whole place, plus a bartender droid. Clumsy, built into the wall, moving on a rail.
It's funny: we do have droids, but there are very few of them, especially in cities. You can run into a droid somewhere in the backwoods, in a colony, simply because there aren't enough hands—plus miner droids are normal. But here, in a city, out on the street… they're almost never seen.
"Ashur nar kararat?" the droid rumbled in my native language, asking how it could help.
"Speak Basic."
"As you wish, mistress."
"We've come to the owner of this establishment. He's expecting us."
There was a pause for a few seconds, then the droid continued:
"I have just informed Mister Stone of your arrival. Proceed—he is waiting in his office. To the right, up the stairs to the second floor," the droid pointed its drink-pouring manipulator at a spiral staircase on the right.
Letting Mom go first, I followed. The armored figure slid ahead of me and started up. Funny—only now did I notice neither I nor Mom made any noise when we walked. She'd taught me almost first thing how to place my foot properly and, if the terrain required it, to help myself slightly with the Force. Watching her, I compared her movements to mine. Smooth, calm—like we weren't walking, but floating. Funny.
The second floor met us with a short corridor and three doors. Feeling the only source of life straight ahead, we moved forward in sync. Without knocking, Mom pressed the handle with the Force and opened the door inward.
"Good afternoon," a Sullustan buzzed, rising from his chair. Big eyes studied the intruders, and his hanging cheeks trembled slightly, betraying mild nervousness. Though I didn't even need to look to feel how wary this individual was of us.
The Sullustan's office matched its owner. On the right were stacked boxes, on the left were cabinets stuffed with assorted knickknacks; there was a window there too, by which the Sullustan sat at his desk. Directly opposite the entrance stood a brand-new sofa that didn't fit the surroundings. Despite the room being kept clean, dust still showed here and there.
"Aala," Mom introduced herself.
"Shade," I "saluted" the Sullustan.
"Stone Kharar'Atip. I was expecting you, Master Aala, Master Shade." At that greeting, Mom smirked and, glancing at me, winked. "Are you alone?"
"As agreed."
"Then please follow me. I'll escort you to the ship," the Sullustan scurried about, not forgetting to turn off the computer and grab a small brown suitcase.
Silently following him, we left the café. The Sullustan clearly didn't want to chat. Since he was almost a head and a half shorter than us, his fast walk looked very comical.
"Stone, are we in a hurry?" Mom decided to ask.
"No-no, it's just my usual manner of movement. Here on Nox, everyone is always rushing somewhere—that's the rhythm of life here."
"Yeah, I can see that," I said, glancing at passersby who were very much strolling.
We didn't press our guide further. The Sullustan brought us to one of the pads, where a small shuttle was already waiting—used to ferry passengers up to larger ships that usually remained in orbit. Handing us over to new hands—along with the suitcase—Stone immediately left.
"Coward," I muttered as if spitting brakk into the Sullustan's wake.
"Is that his normal behavior?" I asked, looking at the shuttle captain.
"Keeping quiet, being afraid, and doing as he's told. Yes," the Zabrak looked at Mom and me. "Board the shuttle. We're departing."
"Uh…" I didn't rush—neither did Mom. We both grimaced in sync and skeptically examined the shuttle—an o-o-old model. Flattened, elongated, one-deck, wings along the sides, and a tail with vertical and horizontal stabilizers. If you didn't look closely, this miracle reminded me of the "White Swan" from my previous world, whose name I'd already managed to forget.
"Yes, I agree with you. Come on—let's see how this old lady flies."
"Yeah, sure."
Inside, the shuttle was nearly empty. Sixteen of the twenty seats were free. And when we took off, I was surprised to find that despite its age and battered look, it flew very smoothly and gained speed quickly.
"Well, look at that. Flying well," I said, peering through the porthole.
"That's right. Shade, you really will need some sort of technical foundation."
"Hm?"
"You see a machine you're about to ride or fly—feel it out in the Force right away. Many Je'daii died simply because they were too lazy to check their own transport for malfunctions or unpleasant surprises. I'm far from that field, but even I can spot explosives or check the integrity of the parts that wear out fastest. It won't save me from something serious—like a ship-system virus—but it makes life much easier. In the end, your safety is at stake."
"Mm-hm."
Reaching for my notebook, I opened it somewhere near the last pages and added a new note.
"What's that?"
"A list of what I need to take apart, study, understand."
She took the notebook, flipped back a couple pages, and just shook her head.
"Yeah… you definitely don't do things halfway. Don't burn out."
"Nah. I've got two fuses," I smirked.
"What a bug," she nudged me with her elbow. "And who did you take after?"
"You?"
"Hm…" Mom seriously pondered.
"Uh… okay, don't answer. All right?"
"Ha-ha-ha. Fine, Shade."
"By the way, I can see the ship," I said, looking out the porthole and noticing the Sleeper Ship that appeared. Though… there was almost nothing left of the original. There was so much bolted-on junk that it was effectively a different vessel with very familiar outlines—elongated, massive, consisting of three huge sections, each larger than the previous.
"Almost there," Mom sighed. Hearing a small emotional jab from her, I turned and raised an eyebrow.
"Mom?"
"Yeah… don't mind it. Just thought about Dalien."
"Tell me about him?"
"He used to be a quiet, withdrawn guy. Secretive, closed off, distant from any groups. Because of that he gained a reputation as a weirdo. But despite that he was very kind and usually didn't refuse to help when someone asked him."
"Did people ask him?"
"Mmm… other weirdos, let's say. Ever heard 'like attracts like'?"
"Yes."
"Same thing here. From the beginning he felt like a stranger here and often stared at the stars, wondering where we'd flown from. And it just worked out that the same kind of dreamers and outcasts were drawn to him. Then he met Saros and saw a real example in him. Saros was also an outcast in his own way, following his own path—which led him into exile."
"And did that affect you somehow?"
"Of course. But I didn't care—up to the point where I myself was ready to leave the Order. But the members of the Order weren't about to lose a fighter like me—especially since I hold traditional views. So the Council members accepted our relationship and looked the other way when Saros visited me on Tython. But back to Dalien—like I said, he saw a real example in Saros. Your father forged a backbone in him that no one could break. When your father was exiled, Dalien followed without hesitation and left the Order. In that same moment he renounced the Force, considering it a stumbling block and the cause of many disputes both within the Order and beyond it. I remember them coming to family gatherings with Saros—you could say he was family."
"But what happened later?"
"Saros and Dalien were real schemers—they were always plotting something, so the Order kept a half-eye on them. Everything changed when Dalien died… Or rather, as we know now, staged his death. Apparently they wanted to drop surveillance from at least one of them—and they did."
"And the Force? Wouldn't the Je'daii feel his death? Or, on the contrary, that he's alive?"
"Someone who renounces the Force isn't easy to sense, Shade," Mom smirked. "It's a painful process for the one who renounces. All ties are severed, and it's as if they stop existing in the Force. I didn't think of that—though I doubted Saros's words about his student's death, because he didn't look that devastated…"
At those words, we felt a light jolt and a hiss.
"We're here."
"Yeah."
Getting out of our seats, we went to the exit. The first airlock door opened, the second dropped, and a view opened onto a plain metal corridor with a welcoming delegation.
Only I, walking first, froze—eyes wide—staring rudely at the man in front of me.
"Shade, what is it?" Mom called.
I didn't answer. I only stepped aside to let her pass. Because the man in front of me was the very one from the vision—cut diagonally by an ordinary sword. My thoughts scurried around like stung hamsters, one crazier than the next, but shaking off the first stupor, I got a grip. In front of us stood a short, well-groomed man in a captain's uniform thrown over his shoulders, his short hair combed back. He looked fifty, maybe older. Unlike his right eye, his left was completely white. A scar on his left cheek stood out too, tapering down toward his lips.
Beside him stood four people: two ordinary soldiers, and two former Je'daii—now exiles. A Selkath and a Sith were eyeing us darkly, but kept silent, as did the soldiers in sealed armor, armed with blasters.
Unlike his guards, the captain was calm as a boa. I couldn't hear his emotions at all—as if he had none. And in the Force there was emptiness where the man was.
"Hello, Aala," the ship's captain greeted us in a kindly, confident, well-set voice.
"Dalien," Mom ground out, frowning. "I hoped until the last moment that you were dead."
"For what reason, Aala? Are you not glad to see me?"
"I'd have been glad to see you twenty years ago—alive and well—not now, when skragh knows what's happening around us."
"So many years, and you haven't changed one bit," the man smiled. "Still the same fiery fury you always were."
"And you've become a completely different person."
"I had to change," he shrugged. "And you…" He looked at me. "…Shade, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Hm… I see familiar features, but you still resemble your mother more. Have we met before?"
"And what if we have?"
"I have the impression you recognized me. But from where?"
"The Force showed me."
At my answer, the Sith snorted quietly, the Selkath flared with distrust, and Dalien smirked.
"The Force, the Force… a frightening thing. So much sorrow because of it. But why are we standing in the passage? Be my guests—come."
Falling in beside Dalien—boxed in by his bodyguards—he continued:
"How are you, Aala?"
"Great. Flying, working, raising my son."
"Yes, there will always be work for the Order's executioner," Dalien nodded seriously. "And you, Shade?"
"Studying."
"Judging by what I see, you're planning to follow in your mother's footsteps, yes? That's right—family business should be continued."
"Dalien," Aala grimaced. "You're not the one to talk about executioners. You yourself stand at the head of a decidedly not-peaceful sect."
"Everything is known by comparison, Aala. We work for an idea. You work for money. And don't look at me like that—are you saying you share the Order's views? Seriously?!"
"I prefer to look at it as taking out the trash. So consider me just a janitor."
"A 'janitor' won't slaughter an entire village," Dalien countered.
"Mom?"
"Tsk."
"Oh! So she didn't tell you? Boy, you don't even know who you live with!"
"Dalien…"
"Yes, Aala?"
"Don't push me."
"How could you think that? Never crossed my mind!"
"In that village there weren't civilized sapients. They were wild beasts."
"They thought the same of you. Kh—" Dalien wheezed under a light Force pressure.
"I said. Don't push me."
"O…kay…"
The pressure lifted, the man inhaled fully, and his guards slowly lowered their weapons.
"On Ska-Gora they once found a group of outcasts living in the trees," Mom began explaining to me, drilling Dalien with her eyes. "You can't settle on the planet—you know that, Shade." I nodded. "My friend, whom I often worked with, went to resolve it peacefully. She'd just finished training—moreover, she wasn't a fighter. In our pair I handled the force operations. But at the time we had to split up. Nothing suggested trouble. The only snag was that the settlement had existed long enough, its people didn't use electronics and carefully hid their activity, so no one knew about them for a long time. I worried about my friend, and when Ska-Gora's authorities lost track of her, I flew there myself. And after what I saw, I didn't care who they were, who for, who with. I cleaned them all out."
"Note that it was the settlers who made first contact. Or rather, part of them," Dalien added, "who wanted to return home."
"And I don't care. Inaction is also a choice."
"Hm… and if I say I also want to return home—to where my ancestors came from. Would you cut me down too?"
"No. But if you dare raise a hand, there won't be anyone left on this ship," Mom looked at him coldly.
"Yes… you really haven't changed," the man smiled.
As we walked the corridors, I saw the ship's sparse crew—and, oddly, a lot of droids, apparently used to compensate for the small staff. We came to an elevator, and after pressing the call button, Dalien looked at me.
"And you, Shade? Do you agree with your mother?"
"Completely."
"How bloodthirsty you are. I always knew your teacher had poor self-preservation instincts."
"Hah!"
"For the record, he was far kinder than you, Aala."
The elevator opened and we entered the car. While we rode—judging by the feel—up, Mom continued talking with Dalien about the past, but in a much more peaceful tone. All that was left was to hang my ears and listen to revelations pouring, by coincidence, right from the ceiling.
When we ended up in a guest hall—turns out this ship had been outfitted like a small town with all amenities—Dalien changed the subject:
"Drinks? A bite?"
"No."
"Then all right. So—what brought you to me after all these years?"
"Questions, Dalien. Answers only you know."
"Oh! Interesting. Very interesting," he stroked his chin, looking at a tea table. "I'll gladly answer them—but allow me to be curious as well. How did you manage to reach me?" Seeing we weren't hurrying to answer, he added details. "You see, I was very surprised when a notification came from one of our points. Someone very informed—someone who knows far too much about my organization—wanted a personal meeting with you. And… this someone left me no choice, hinting at possible problems for my organization. I know you, Aala—you're not capable of pulling something like that off. And your son doesn't look like a genius tactician. So I want to ask—who is this genius?"
"A close friend," I snorted.
"Mmm… pity. I would very much like to speak with him. So to speak, to avoid misunderstandings."
"Relax. Finding out anything about you was my request. He doesn't give a damn about you from a high bell tower, as long as you don't get underfoot."
"Even so… Thank you, Shade—you've comforted me. Otherwise, you know… I'd have to find him, then remove him—well, you know, for safety."
Frowning, I only shook my head. Now, it seemed, I understood why he'd been lying at my feet in pieces…
"But! That question is settled, so we can return to yours. So—what interests you?"
"The hypergates."
Whoa. One word—and so many emotions. Dalien's cheek twitched, and paranoia flared anew in his guards. Interesting—did they even teach them to hide their emotions?
"Sorry… what did you say?"
"Don't make that face, Dalien. You understood perfectly."
"Uh… no. Explain? What are you talking about?"
"Fine," Mom nodded, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. Only, despite the visible calm and emotional emptiness, her eyes turned yellow. "We all know the legend that somewhere in the Old City there are working hypergates. Saros sometimes didn't sleep at night chasing the dream, but then—as I thought—cooled off. I was wrong; he didn't cool off, he found them. And he told you. What happened after that—I want to hear from you, Dalien."
"Hm…" The man leaned forward and measured us with an entirely different look. "Given that you came to me to talk… you didn't tell the Council anything? No, you didn't. Otherwise this conversation wouldn't be happening. Looks like even after so many years, you still trust me, Aala."
"It's not my idea."
"And still—thank you. I understand I don't deserve it, but thank you anyway."
"Then maybe you'll share your secrets so I stop tormenting myself with the question of whether to kill you now or later?"
"Heh. All right. In short—you're right. The Teacher really did find the hypergates. And most importantly—they're undamaged and truly functional. That's when we came up with a plan stretching across many years. I died and began acting in secret, while Saros, on the contrary, stayed in the open and at times deliberately diverted attention from my actions. We took readings, studied the hypergates; we even managed to partially start them to pull out at least some data. And that was enough to form the picture and understand what to do. First of all—we needed an energy source. We extracted the schematics; more than that—we had a working sample taken from the portal itself, but it was empty. Understanding its design, we were able to charge the battery using enormous stockpiles of marionium mined over twenty years. That should be enough to start the gate and test its functionality. To avoid tragedy, we didn't even charge the battery to a quarter."
"For some reason it feels like that quarter is enough to destroy Tython," Mom said.
"You're right and wrong at the same time. The system includes safeguards for exactly that situation. If something goes wrong, a backup system on independent—and still functional—power sources will divert all that energy into hyperspace. Yes, there'll be a storm, there'll be anomalies, but no one will be harmed. Our goal is to activate the gate and find a safe exit from here, not to destroy the system," Dalien gave a bleak smirk. "Even if some members of my organization relate to the matter too fanatically—what can you do, secrecy demands sacrifices."
"But why? Can't you explain the situation and come to an agreement somehow?" I couldn't hold it back.
"Shade, I don't want to call you blind, but you don't see the obvious. Je'daii are conservative. The teaching wants to keep us on Tython to comprehend the Force. But they don't see that the system is gradually growing, and since ships can't fly out from here, we need another exit. They're fine with life on Tython; they control order in the system—but how many are satisfied with that order? No—I'm not talking about rebellion. More than that: the way our order is arranged suits me perfectly. But I understand it won't last long, and sooner or later there will be war. Je'daii have elevated themselves too high, moved too far from ordinary people, and the time will come when this swamp catches fire. The gate can solve this problem. With it we can develop new lands; with it we'll get a new breath of fresh air."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"Then we'll have to fight it. If there's anyone left to fight. I understand the danger of this undertaking and I'm aware, but if you do nothing, nothing will change. Shade, you've walked Chicago yourself. Tell me—how do they look at you?"
"…," I looked away, remembering those moments. People really do see Je'daii as something lofty—greedy, even.
"Exactly."
"I understand your plan, but then why did Saros leave?" Mom asked.
"Because to activate the hypergates, you need two points," he raised his hands, index fingers extended. "Entrance—and exit. And vice versa. We know where the second one is—it's in a neighboring system. And per the plan, Saros must activate it. If anyone can take a ship through hyperspace anomalies, it's him. We loaded the vessel with marionium, with the expectation the gate would function for at least one hour. In theory. And there was the possibility of delivering new cargo for further recharging through the gates themselves. If we haven't made mistakes anywhere, if the calculations are correct—Saros is still alive and is now on the other side, waiting for us to turn on the transition."
Dalien fell silent and the room went quiet. I looked at Mom and felt a real storm igniting inside her, but not a single facial muscle twitched.
"Dalien…"
"Aala, we didn't want to tell you—so as not to feed you hope and burden you with anxiety. It's better to accept a loss than to dream about an impossible wish. Besides… you stayed in the Order. That's extra attention. You were already being watched. And to bring you in too… no. We couldn't risk it. Especially since our plan is pure авантюра, stitched with white thread. But if it works… if we succeed… it will change everything. I don't dare give you hope that Saros is alive. But… he must be alive. He has to be. I believe it."
Looking into the blazing eyes of that man, it suddenly became clear: he would do anything for this goal. He would be ready for any sacrifices and to overcome impossible obstacles just to activate the hypergates. And those he'd gathered around himself… now I understood where the fanaticism came from.
"Now you know what we're trying to do. What do you say?"
"You're lunatics," Mom exhaled, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands. "You're complete lunatics. I'll kill him myself if he's alive," she growled, rubbing her temples.
"Heh."
"And you," she opened her eyes and looked at Dalien, "so you don't get any ideas."
"May I take your answer as agreement to participate?"
"No. I won't participate," she looked at me. "But I won't interfere either. I don't like it, but… I hope you succeed."
"I understand. For us it's a one-way path—everything or nothing. I understand your reluctance to ruin your son's life, because in that case the whole Order would hunt you."
Watching Mom and Dalien, I noticed a tear run down Mom's cheek. There were no emotions—she'd shut herself inside again—but it was all written on her face. She was being torn apart.
"And still, a pity," Dalien leaned back. "Your help would be useful. My sister managed to put fear into the Council, so most likely I won't even reach the hypergates."
"And you'll go anyway?"
"Yes. I can't do otherwise. Not now. Not with such a price at stake."
And that's when it hit me. The first link. He was the first to die. And after him, the rest followed. Did that mean… if… he survives, then everything will be different?! My thoughts didn't scurry anymore. Sweating, at the limits of perception, I was frantically reasoning and analyzing what I'd seen, what I was hearing now, and what to do with it all. Maybe… maybe it's not a passage to new lands, but a backup exit? If… or when a great disaster comes, we'll have a back door?
"Dalien," I swallowed a lump and clenched my fists, cutting in.
"Yes, Shade?" He measured me with his eyes and frowned. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No-no, it's just… something else. Could you give us a few minutes? I want to talk to my mom."
"Oh! Of course. I'll stretch my legs," Dalien rose, stretching his arms to either side. "Ah! I'll be back in ten minutes. And yes—drinks are in the blue cabinet, snacks in the fridge," he pointed at the cabinet and the refrigerator.
With that, Dalien left with his guards, and the room sank into silence.
"Mom," I touched her shoulder, feeling her trembling. "Mom, I want to talk."
"No, Shade. Our road ends here. We won't go farther. I can't risk you for an ephemeral—even if beautiful—goal."
"Just listen to me, okay?" I interrupted her sharply. Mom looked into my eyes in surprise, but seeing my determination, nodded.
Sitting more comfortably and sinking into meditation, we established a mental link. It's much easier to speak that way, and much harder to hide emotions. And you can't forget about eavesdropping, if there is any.
"Mom, I already saw Dalien. There, at the bottom of the gorge, among the visions. He was lying on the road, like in a cave, never reaching his goal."
"Why didn't you say so right away?"
"I'd never seen his face before!" I nearly shouted from nerves. "Even Hadiya didn't give me any photos, and she was digging with her nose in the ground. At home, by the way, I didn't see photos of him either. But that's not important. Mom, we need to вмешаться now. You know what awaits them in the Old City. They'll all die there, without even reaching the gate."
"He has bodyguards…"
"They're street LOSERS, not bodyguards—they walk like logs, younglings who failed training and got thrown out of the Order. Or left themselves—it doesn't matter. They won't protect him!"
"Shade…"
"Mom, I'm saying this not even for Dad. My gut is screaming, the Force is hitting me over the head—no, no, we can't let him die! And no one can ensure your safety better than you. More than that—I went all the way to the bottom of the gorge and passed through the Chaos veil!"
"What?!" She snapped out of trance, staring at me. I came out too and continued aloud:
"There's a device down there. I've never seen anything like it. But maybe if I try to understand Dalien's work, I'll figure out what's what."
Pressing her down with the Force, looking into her eyes, I continued speaking telepathically:
"We need him. Need him like a drowning man needs air, because he's the first link that can lead us to something horrible. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that bastard survives!"
The link weakened and we were left alone again with our own thoughts, drilling each other with our eyes. Then she exhaled, and her eyes returned to normal.
"Fine. Have it your way," she nodded—and I felt relief bordering on orgasm. I wanted to just melt into a puddle. One problem less. At least, I truly hope so.
After lying like that a moment, I heard her question.
"So what's your idea?"
"No idea. A task. We'll beat our heads against an implementation together," I sighed.
"And I'm still against your involvement."
"Mom, forgive me, but if anyone's not going to stand aside—it's me. The only question is whether I'll be in the open, or in the shadows."
"When did you get such a sharp tongue?"
"Irbis trained me. And Hadiya doesn't exactly keep words in her pocket. Usually."
"Not sure whether to be happy or scold you," she shook her head. "Hope you understand what you're doing."
"I sure hope so."
"Sha-a-ade," Mom leaned back, pressing her hands to her face and tilting her head up.
"But seriously—I believe it'll work out. Besides, we'll ask Hadiya for advice. That genius in a skirt will be able to suggest something, somehow."
"First sensible thought today."
Smirking, I got up and threw a Force enhancement over myself, because my body wasn't listening at all from nerves. Walking to the blue cabinet, I scanned the drinks. Some with alcohol, some without. Pulling out a bottle of light "Golterveitra"—ugh, you'd break your tongue—produced on Ska-Gora, and two glasses, I returned to Mom.
Pouring out half-and-half, I handed Mom the second glass—but instead of the glass, she pulled the bottle in and…
"Uh…"
I just stood there watching her drain the bottle in one go.
"Whew. No, Shade, you'll send me into the Force early," she glanced at me. "First the Old City—I'd already given my soul to the Force then. Then your adventures on Tython. Then the gorge—though I led you there myself. And now this?!"
"Sorry, Mom…"
"And scolding you is pointless—my blood is in you," she continued grumbling.
"You forgot Dad," I reminded her, laughing.
"Just wonderful—an entire cocktail of recklessness and авантюрность mixed in one vial."
"Thanks for not saying 'shaken.'"
"Yeah…"
The door opened and Dalien came in.
"Am I interrupting?"
"No—you're on time," I shook my head.
"Oh! Is that for me?" He took the second glass from me. "Thank you. And I see you haven't changed your habits either," he looked at Aala.
"Rakhsh atrakhan!"
"How long it's been since I heard that… music to the ears," he winked at me.
"Dalien, why are you provoking Mom?"
"Just remembering old times, nothing more. So many years have passed, and Aala still hasn't lost her fire. Teacher was so lucky with her!"
"Hmph!"
"But why did you suddenly feel like dipping into my alcohol?"
"To relieve stress."
"From what?"
"None of your business. What does concern you is that we're going to help you."
"What?" Dalien froze and slowly turned to Mom. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. After discussing it with Shade, we concluded it's easier to help you than to deal with the consequences later."
"That's wonderful!" Dalien beamed and lightly clinked his glass against mine before taking a sip.
"Well, depends how you look at it," I glanced at him. "We just didn't see another way. Nobody wants you dead—and the Old City's mined, you know…"
"Khe-khe-khe… wh-what do you mean, mined?!" Dalien choked, coughing and shifting a shocked look between me and Mom.
"Thanks to your sister, the Council tried to find the hypergates. I participated in the search," Mom massaged the bridge of her nose, tired. "We never found the hypergates, so the decision was made to mine certain sections, set up several special traps, and hang signal contours in case you appear there."
"Uh…"
"Dalien, make your face simpler," I snorted and finally took a sip. Mmm. Not bad. A bit sweet, but not cloying—refreshing.
"That… complicates things," he said, thoughtfully looking at the Sith.
"Really?" Mom looked at him like he was an idiot.
"Ahem. And what do you propose?"
"Nothing yet. We'll gather, look at your plan, refine it. I'm also going to consult one smart girl."
"The one who reached me?"
"That's her."
"And you spoke of her in the masculine."
"There was less trust in your mug."
"And what changed?"
"Consider that the Force itself is on your side, Dalien," Mom answered for me.
"Funny. The one who betrayed me, whom I hate, and whom I ultimately renounced—on my side? A funny joke, Aala." Mom only shrugged. "And seriously?"
"We don't have a lot of options," I shook my head. "There are two prophecies. The Council believes in one; Mom and I believe in the other. In the first—you die. In the second—you seem to live. Which do you choose?"
"The second! Definitely the second."
"We came to that too. And, Dalien."
"Yes, Aala?"
"Don't disappoint me."
No Force pressure, no threatening glare. Mom was just looking at him—and for some reason it was far scarier than if she'd been angry. Even I shivered; it felt like a demon was sitting next to me. A demon who, praise the Force, was on my side.
"Ahem. Where's the long-range transmitter?" I changed the subject.
"Hm?"
"I want to make a call."
"Oh, all right. Talion—escort him."
"My lord Dalien, are you sure?"
"Yes. Besides, if Aala wanted me harm, we'd already be dead. There's no point in not believing them."
Mom only winked at the Sith. After hesitating, he gestured for me to follow. We walked in silence; the Sith had no desire to talk, radiating contempt and distrust, while I thought about what I'd say to Hadiya.
"Sweetheart, everything's kriffed and we really need you. We're helping cult lunatics now, but don't get the wrong idea—we're not with them, we just really need them not to die. Could you help us with that?" Yeah. That'll be funny.
"Here," Talion pointed to a room. Lots of sensors, cameras, a holoprojector in the center—top-class setup.
"Will you leave me alone?"
Measuring me with his eyes, the Sith still stepped out. After standing a moment, I approached the terminal and entered the alphanumeric address of the terminal on Hadiya's ship.
"Strange. For Hadiya not to answer?!"
After trying a few more times, I confirmed: silence on the other end. Thinking I was an idiot, I sent a signal directly to the clan. There, I got an answer:
"Good day. With whom do I have the honor of speaking?" A Twi'lek appeared before me.
"Shade Aero. Could you pass word to Hadiya about my call?"
"Yes, sir. Of course. Now."
Pulling a chair closer with the Force, I sat down and, throwing my feet up on the panel, stared at the image—still empty for now. While something rustled and flickered on the other side, I managed to pull out and eat half of a "Sweet Joy."
"Shade!" Hadiya appeared on the screen. Slightly rumpled, a bit sleep-deprived, but still lively.
"Hello to the Chicago tyrant," I saluted with the bar.
"So you finally decided to call me?"
"Something like that."
"Where are you right now? I can't track the signal…"
"You could say on Nox," I smirked.
"Ah. Got it. How did the negotiations go?"
"Great. We sat, talked, and came up with a new idea."
"Which is?"
"Why don't we combine efforts for a common goal?"
"And from this point—details."
"Only in person. It's not pleasant, Hadiya, and honestly I need your help. Really need it."
"Funny. I wanted to ask you for the same thing."
"Something happened?" I twitched, seeing her smile droop.
"You could say that. There have already been two assassination attempts on me."
"Nothing new," I snorted. "And who's the suicide? Is his stuffed head already in the entryway?"
"No, Shade. This time it's more than serious. A professional worked, and moreover—I don't know who it is."
"Seriously?"
"I'll tell you more: they're Je'daii." I frowned and leaned forward.
"Oka-a-ay. Details!"
"In the relatively near future, through my and Father's combined efforts, I have a very important meeting planned. So important that, if everything goes the way I planned, Clan Ryo will cease to exist, and my clan will gain significant strength. I'm willing to swear some people will do anything to prevent this meeting, and so I want to ask for your protection."
"Ugh… how is everything so badly timed," I leaned back, pressed a hand to my face, and rubbed my forehead.
"You have problems too?"
"Hadiya, you have problems. We have kharad."
"Oh…"
"I don't even want to think about what happens if everything goes wrong."
"Sorry."
"Forget it. You did well to tell me—I'm flying to Chicago today."
"And…"
"So you don't stick your nose out of the fortress without me!"
"Fine," she smiled on the other side.
"Mom will stay here and cover the rear from new surprises. By the way—if I'm flying to you, we'll also discuss my problems."
"Mm-hm."
"Anything else to add?"
"No."
"Then talk soon."
"Talk soon, sweetheart."
The screen went dark, leaving me in the room's half-gloom, alone with my thoughts.
"Oh… Great Force, am I really asking so much of you…" I grumbled, rubbing the bridge of my nose. With another sigh, I rose from the chair. "Now I understand where Mom gets so much 'love' for the world…"
Chapter 24
When I got back to the room, I saw Mom and Dalien calmly talking, reminiscing, and sipping something nonalcoholic. The bodyguards—or assistants, I'm not sure what they are to him—were no longer there.
Explaining quickly that I needed to fly to Chicago, Mom and I began coordinating actions. First—we postponed all activity around the Old City. Second—we concluded we needed to finish first-priority tasks. For me, that's the pilgrimage—and now Hadiya too. Mom has her assignments weighing on her as well. Dalien was given new input; he was to revisit the old plan and present a new one by the time we return—one we'll build from. And until we clear what's already on our plate, no active steps!
Before leaving the ship, I wheedled a portion of hypergate data out of Dalien. I'll study it later when I have time.
looked into the notebook
Kriff. That won't be soon. I'm that hamster who drags everything he can reach—but instead of material valuables, I hoard intellectual ones. Good thing the notebook isn't paper but electronic; otherwise I'd have to carry a whole library. This way—you carry a small tablet, a couple holocrons, plus a flash drive for backups. Beautiful.
Finishing with the data, I was the first to leave the indecently fanatical society of Stargazers and went first to Nox, and then from there, on a cargo ship, to Chicago. Settling in comfortably, I returned to self-control training. The ability to survive decompression or lethal levels of radiation exposure is worth a lot. If only the technique didn't need to be rebuilt for yourself—it would be perfect…
Alongside self-control training, Force control was developing too. More precisely—micro-control. For that, Je'daii are given a pouch of sand. Your task is to control every grain and give it chaotic motion—and the more grains you control at once, the better. Early on this technique literally makes your brain leak out your ears, because you have to parallelize your consciousness. At this stage I can control up to half the pouch, and even then not without help from intuition and the Force itself, while Irbis can easily manage the whole pouch.
It was a clear demonstration of the difference in our levels. Yes—I'm stronger than him in brute power, but he's more skilled, and he set the training bar by his example. Sigh… I wonder how he's doing.
Catching on that thought, I decided not to put it off and—interrupting my training—went to the comms center.
"Good health," I nodded to the operator sitting there. "May I use the equipment? I want to send a query to an old friend."
"Only with me present."
"Of course."
The operator was understandable. The practice of taking on extra passengers may have paid off, but if such a passenger is a plant from competitors, he can easily leak the ship's current location for interception. Like they say: just business, nothing personal.
Sitting in the second chair, I entered my teacher's identifier. Hope he hasn't changed it…
"Are you really Je'daii?" the guy sitting next to me suddenly asked. A normal human, about my age, with fiery red hair and a bored look. I was already used to ordinary people feeling mild dislike toward Je'daii and not always wanting contact. When they learned who they were taking aboard, contact with me also fell to a minimum. So the fact he decided to speak was truly unexpected.
"Yes. Why?"
"I don't want to offend you, but can I ask a couple… questions?"
"Of course. Ask—don't be shy."
"Thanks. I've run into Je'daii only a couple times myself, and only in passing. Far more often I heard things about them. And I heard that all Je'daii are arrogant. That because of your connection to the Force, you all stick your noses up and look down on everyone else…"
The guy's voice got quieter and quieter until he fell silent. Smirking, I picked up the thread:
"That's true. Many really do look down. But 'many' doesn't mean 'all.'"
"Then why don't you leave your cabin?"
"What's the point? Your mates avoid me, and I have things to do."
"I thought it was unpleasant for you to be among us."
"Listen… what's your name?"
"Hard."
"I'm Shade, Hard. And let's use first names, okay?"
"Okay," the guy brightened, relaxing.
"Hard, the main thing you need to understand about Je'daii is: they're the same as you. They can make mistakes, they can love and hate, and they're not free of the same vices you are. The only difference between us is that we have the Force, and you don't. That's not good or bad—that's just a fact."
"But that's unfair! Why do some have it and others don't?"
"Hard, the Force doesn't mean something special the way you think. Everything has a good side and a bad. So does having the Force—it imposes a number of limitations."
"Like what?"
"First and foremost: the Force is your greatest ally—and your greatest enemy. It can help you, and it can easily kill you. From the inside. The light side lulls you. The dark side corrupts you. It's like two presses constantly crushing toward each other, and you're between them. And if you slip, you'll lose yourself. Yes, you hold enormous power—true. But that power is first and foremost dangerous to you. We spend our whole lives comprehending the Force and learning self-control—at least so we don't lose our heads. Some Je'daii fear that energy so much they voluntarily renounce it. The procedure is very painful, but that's how they remove the burden of responsibility they were born with."
"Wow…"
"And when did you get so smart?" came a familiar voice—a Nogri's.
"Irbis…" I turned to the grinning teacher. "How long have you been listening in?"
"Just now. You're lucky I'm on a ship."
"Still traveling by hitchhiking?" I tilted my head.
"No. This time I've got a ship."
"And why wasn't it with me…" I sighed.
"So you wouldn't расслаблялся!"
We stared at each other, and then, unable to hold it, we both started smiling.
"Hi, Irbis."
"Shade." Noticing movement beside me, I saw Hard rise from his chair.
"I'll stand outside the door."
Nodding gratefully, I returned to Irbis.
"How are you?"
"Same as always. Traveling, acting as a witness, signing contracts… in short—everything's the same. But on my own ship, and in the company of a new apprentice!"
"Oh!"
"Yes-yes, Shade. And you can't imagine how happy I am. I'm practically resting next to him. Unlike you, he's calm, quiet, and diligent—a lad who can listen, and most importantly, obey his elder! You know, after dealing with you, I think that even if they give me a hatchling rock lizard, I'll make a Je'daii out of it."
"Well tha-a-ank you."
"Always welcome," the mentor bowed playfully. "Where are you now?"
"On one of the transports. Flying to Chicago."
"Hadiya?"
"Her."
"And the pilgrimage?"
"Given everything that's fallen on me, I'm kind of not up to it."
"You never change…" Irbis sighed, shaking his head.
"Hey now! Right after Chicago I'm going to finish it."
"How many temples are left? Four?"
"Two."
"WHAT?!"
"Let's say we didn't linger. And also, instead of running around Tython, we used a starship."
"Shade…"
"What?"
"I understand you don't care about a lot of things. But at least pretend you respect the traditions!"
"I'll think about it."
Irbis and I talked for about half an hour. Remembered the past, discussed the present, sketched the future. Irbis eventually called over the new apprentice and showed him to me on camera. After looking and chatting a little with him, all I could do was sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. Because the man doesn't understand where he's ended up. Calm, restrained, he tried to match the ideal Je'daii image embedded in that word. Where it was embedded was obvious too—you could tell by his face: monks are evil.
I asked Irbis if I looked just as "balanced" as his apprentice after finishing training at Akar Kesh. Hearing a yes, I made a mental note to keep away from the Talids.
That ended the call, but the conversation with Hard continued. Answering a couple more questions, I left the guy on watch and went back to my room—to keep learning the Great, kriffing Force. But who would've guessed it was only the beginning? Somehow, by what means or what body part, Hard found in me not only a listener, but a wise mentor to consult. Every day he came to either vent, ask for advice, or just talk, distracting me from work. At first it was amusing, then it got irritating, and when other crew members started coming too, I began quietly swearing.
No—you could tell people to kriff off, but then reputation suffers, and I'd sort of shown myself in a positive light. But I honestly tried to explain that meditation is enormous, painstaking, extremely important work. Alas, a non-Force-sensitive won't understand. To them, you're sitting on your ass and doing bullshit, and there's nothing you can do about it. Sigh… life is pain.
So when the ship arrived at Chicago, I was happy like the first time I came here. Freedom! Freedom, normal fresh food—and an abundance of even bigger morons you want to stab. Especially when the first shop tries to shortchange you just because you're a "visiting sucker." But there I didn't hold back: lifting the merchant by the scruff with the Force, I politely asked, "Which one of us is the sucker?" After he confirmed it definitely wasn't me, they handed me something like a shawarma and even gave me change. Sigh… they don't understand nicely here. Not the first time.
So, eating breakfast, I walked down the street, looking around—and I liked what I saw less and less. There was too much security, both ours and чужой. The air felt tense, and armed representatives of different clans looked at each other without anything resembling love.
At the same time, on the other hand, I didn't hear shouting in the streets, didn't see thieves—everything was far calmer than before. There wasn't even ordinary street punk scum, which is a real non-sense. But the changes weren't only physical—they were emotional too. Walking among ordinary citizens and listening to their emotions, I got lost, wondering if I'd even flown to the right place. People had actually gotten… kinder, maybe? There was no rage in their looks; townsfolk didn't show open hostility and didn't shy away from clan fighters. The defenders themselves didn't беспредельничать; they more resembled real militia that cared not only about clan power, but about order on clan land.
I even rubbed my eyes when I saw one patrol break up a drunk argument and try to resolve the conflict peacefully. Can't say it worked, but they tried—and blades and knives were more like decorative motivational props. I even helped a bit, using the Force to scare the drunk guys into being more cooperative and not trying to show off for the clansmen.
But I hadn't gone far when that same patrol recognized me as Hadiya's (future) husband and, catching up, politely offered its services. Because how could such an important person be without security? Even formal security. Measuring them with my eyes and making sure they didn't give a damn about me personally but genuinely cared about their mistress's honor, I gave the go-ahead. Five minutes later, an aircar was provided.
Hadiya's palace, which they drove me to, was more like a small pyramidal fortress with towers on top and a huge supply of assorted surprises for intruders of all types—flying, crawling, running. In the center of the fortress, right on its peak, stood a heavy laser emplacement, plus several more in the city. So even if someone brought a cruiser here, it wouldn't be pretty. One glance at all this splendor was enough to appreciate the girl's approach to her own security, and remembering the situation in the city, I begrudgingly admitted the measures were relevant.
When the car flew into the hangar, I got a surprise in the form of two lines of soldiers standing in the corridor. And at the end, right by the entrance, stood a happy Hadiya. Or rather—I saw her as happy; she was practically glowing. Outwardly, though—icy calm and a severe look.
"Welcome back, Shade. I'm glad you flew in so quickly," Hadiya nodded restrainedly as I approached.
"Hi, Sunshine. You could've put down a red carpet too," I sighed and, not giving a damn, put an arm around her waist and, turning her toward the door, led her with me. Confusion mixed with surprise and incomprehension behind us was an excellent reward. The soldiers, taking note of their mistress's fleeting gesture, began to disperse to their duties, leaving us alone.
"Shade, how many times have I told you to behave more restrainedly in front of subordinates?" Hadiya hissed, shooting me an angry look, nevertheless not trying to pull away.
"Well I am restrained. What's wrong? If you want, I can stop restraining myself," I said—and kissed her forehead, which was level with my nose.
"Uh… fine. I believe you—better let it be like it is," the Twi'lek said, flustered, interpreting my words in her own way.
"Well then? Who dares offend my future Queen?"
"Your current one," she put an arm around me. "For Chicago I'm still future."
"As you say."
"And who offends me… I'm handling it."
"Want help tracking them?"
"Unlikely. Shade, just cover me, and I'll handle the rest."
"As you say, Sunshine—you know best. But let me уточнить: when is the meeting?"
"In nine days."
"Are you going anywhere before it?"
"No. Like you said, I sat here and didn't stick my nose out. And I'm not so confident in myself to play games with a Je'daii."
"And how do you know the attacker was Je'daii?"
"Attackers. Several—I won't say exactly how many. I figured it out from the security recordings."
"And how did you fight them off?"
"First time the killers didn't expect that my A-security wears isolation suits and could react so fast—then I managed to fly out. Second time the attack was on my fortress, but one attacker fell into a poison gas trap. After that it was quiet."
"Can I see the body?"
"Of course. It's here."
"Does the fortress have a morgue?" I even stopped.
"More like a lab with a corpse section."
"I don't think that existed two years ago."
"Like many other things," Hadiya nodded. "My home is my fortress—and I'm working on it."
"Heh. Got it."
"Shade, please forgive me…" She bit her lip and guilt flared. "…but I really need to run right now. A lot has changed here, so I'll call you a guide," she raised a wrist with a bracer comm and pressed a few keys.
"No problem. I get it."
"I promise we'll talk this evening. And… thank you," she hugged me tighter, burying her face in my neck.
"Nonsense. How could I leave my charge, especially in time of need?" I stroked her head and, taking advantage of the fact Twi'lek lekku are very sensitive, I ran a careful hand along her left lekku with a slight touch of the Force.
"O-oh!" Hadiya exhaled in a trembling voice and jolted. "Shade!!!"
"Sorry. I couldn't resist." I kissed her frowning nose.
"That's it! You stay here—someone will come for you—and I… I need to go. Yes."
And wriggling out of my arms, turning sharply, Hadiya walked down the corridor with long steps. I didn't have to wait long; less than a minute passed before someone ran up behind.
"Oh. Familiar faces," I smirked, looking at one of Hadiya's close people—someone I'd once personally sifted out from the general crowd.
"Greetings, sir Aero," the Zabrak showed sincere respect with a slight bow. "And where is Lady Hadiya?"
"She went to handle business. You were called for me."
"Oh!"
"Take me to the laboratories."
"Then we need the elevators. They're on the third floor."
Following the Zabrak, I questioned him about the changes that had happened while I was gone. For example: where there used to always be someone walking somewhere in the corridors, now they were empty, save for occasional patrols. Turns out Hadiya had rather harshly divided the fortress into segments, and people worked right where they lived. Instead of one living block, there were several small ones on each floor. The warehouses moved down, soldiers were concentrated on the first floor, the command center and Hadiya's personal quarters moved into the heart of the fortress. Instead of ordinary sliding doors, heavy bunker shutters were installed.
And that was only the beginning. Listening to the full list of changes, I got the impression this place was preparing not just for war, but for nuclear war—seriously. After that, I reevaluated Hadiya's paranoia and asked what she rode in. I figured an armored car, but no. Hadiya either flies on her personal cruiser with escort, or rides in a wheeled tank. I even asked again—was it really a tank? The Zabrak admitted they called it that among themselves, because while the thing is officially classified as a "personal armored vehicle," it rides on eight wheels and weighs around twenty-five tons. No big cannon; instead, a powerful engine, repulsors, boosters, and lots and lots of armor.
So by the time we reached the lab, I had several very, very urgent questions for Hadiya. That I would definitely ask. In the evening. For now—the lab.
After explaining why I'd come, they provided me… what was left of the corpse. Turns out the filth the would-be killer fell into had not only a toxic effect, but also a corrosive one, so even if I'd wanted, I couldn't have identified a face.
"Did you identify him?"
"No, sir. We checked the DNA database—nothing."
"And the Je'daii?"
"They said they would conduct their own investigation."
"Clear. Then I'll ask differently. Did you dig up anything at all?"
"Yes. We managed to determine the group the man belonged to. Antaris. A group specializing in the elimination of competitors for a moderate fee. They're convenient and extremely honest with clients, which is why they still exist, and they're also very meticulous about completing jobs."
"How did you learn that?"
"Equipment and gear," they showed me a half-corroded face mask.
"All right…" Taking the mask, I examined it. In theory it should've covered the whole face, leaving only eye slits. Pity I don't know how to read an object's past… "How did the killer operate?"
"What do you mean… with the Force."
"Not that. Throwing things, shooting lightning, waving a saber—how did he work?"
"He used lightning, was armed with a laser rifle and a pistol of our manufacture, also threw objects and… seemed able to freeze. At least, we have footage of him putting a hand to a door, freezing it through in seconds, and shattering it with a light tap."
"Cryokinesis…" I drew out thoughtfully, weighing the technique. Not exactly rare, but difficult. I never managed to adapt it to myself. "Did you track the weapons?"
"Tried. Clean. But interestingly, we extracted from under the skin an implant with poison," they showed me a capsule. "We believe it's poison in case the target is taken prisoner."
Taking the tiny ampoule, like a pill, filled with dark green liquid with white flecks floating inside that reeked of the Force, I examined it closely.
"We tried to analyze it, but the equipment malfunctioned, and to take a sample, the ampoule must be opened. Lady Hadiya forbade us to do that before your arrival."
"And she did the right thing," I frowned at the Selkath. "It's not poison. It's an alchemical compound made with the Force. You can't make that kind of filth on your knee. You need a serious lab, Force mastery, and the knowledge."
"Does that mean we can open it?"
"Don't even think about it!" I hid the ampoule in my fist. "I'll handle it myself. Anything else?"
"No, sir."
"All right. You're dismissed."
Leaving the lab and closing the door behind me, I looked at the ampoule again.
"Sir, do you know what it is?" the Zabrak asked curiously.
"No. Not the slightest idea."
"Then what will you do with it?" I looked at him. "Sorry…"
"Where's the comms center?"
"This way."
Two levels up, they brought me to the main sensor node. After clearing the room and entering an identifier, I waited for an answer. Five minutes later the screen came alive, showing Mom's face.
"Hi, Shade!"
"Hi, Mom. Why are you so happy?"
"Just learned a couple new secrets. Nothing special."
"Yeah. Listen, Mom, I'm calling about something."
"What now?"
"I found a dead Force-user with an implanted ampoule filled with green alchemical solution. Serious stuff—looks like some kind of Force concentrate. Do you know what it is?" I held up the ampoule.
"Uh… y-yes," she hesitated, leaning back from the camera and rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "It's a stimulant."
"A stimulant?"
"About ten years ago or so, we had a 'genius'"—she made a face—"who figured out how to increase Force sensitivity through alchemy. And he really did get results; the substance increased sensitivity many times over."
"Let me guess. Side effect was falling to the dark side?" I smirked.
"No. The side effect was madness. I don't know what exactly was in it—I wasn't involved in those proceedings, I was busy with you. I only know from Tsikuna that those who took it imagined themselves gods and did sarlacc knows what."
"Did they kill them?"
"No need. The body can't withstand that load, and as far as I know, it tears them apart from the inside."
"So it's a 'last resort' thing when there's nothing to lose?"
"Basically, yes."
"Great. And what did you do with that research?"
"Nothing. We archived it and put it in the library for the future. The topic is interesting."
"…"
"Shade, what's going on there?"
"Well, you see… Hadiya managed to poison an assassin, and he had this filth inside him. So here's the question—where did it come from?"
"You mean there's an alchemical lab somewhere on Chicago?" Mom frowned.
"That's the most logical explanation," I shrugged.
"I'll inform Tsikuna. Let the Council deal with the headache."
"Then also tell them the dead man belonged to some outfit called Antaris, and that Hadiya is actively digging into them."
"Understood. I'll warn them."
"That's all from me."
"Oh, Shade…" She looked at me reproachfully.
"What?"
"You'd better get out of there sooner. I don't want to answer the Council's questions about what my son is doing on Chicago during a pilgrimage."
"As soon as I can," I smirked. "Talk to you later, Mom."
"May the Force be with you."
The screen went dark, and the room fell silent. After standing there a moment and staring into nothing, I pulled out the ampoule. I should stash this thing somewhere more reliable than a pocket. Turning and leaving the long-range comm room, I met the waiting Zabrak's eyes.
"My lord?"
"Take me to security. I want to look at the cameras."
"Yes, my lord."
So, getting the recordings, I locked myself in my room to watch television. What do we see? Three attackers: one lead, two assistants. Dressed the same, they shoot security accurately, and they break doors well, too. The team is clearly coordinated. What else? They don't even think about secrecy, which means the task is straightforward—eliminate by any means. During the fight, one of the "students" dashed forward and fell into a trap. Feeling their colleague's death, the remaining pair didn't start breaking doors; they preferred to withdraw.
Over and over, replaying the footage, I watched their movement—how they used the Force, how they used weapons. What bothered me was how brazenly they operated. Where was the cover? Where was the backup? And what if Hadiya escaped again, like last time?
Requesting the cameras from the outer walls, I started checking those too. And for good reason: there was backup. Four inconspicuous trucks were parked in very good positions, in case someone decided to leave the fortress via the roof. Remembering the rocket launchers Hadiya once bragged to me about, for some reason I figured the enemy had definitely prepared something like that too.
"Ugh… Hadiya, who did you pick a fight with…" I rubbed the bridge of my nose, pausing the footage. Reaching for the snack basket, I was surprised to find it empty.
While I went to the kitchen to restock and brew vorka, Hadiya came into the room. Throwing the door open, she strode in like a valkyrie and slammed it shut just as sharply.
"Trouble?" I leaned out from the kitchen.
"Ah!" the Twi'lek actually jumped, drawing a pistol.
"Easy—you'll kill me, and who's going to guard you then?"
"Shade…" She exhaled in relief, holstering the weapon, and came up to me.
"What is it?"
"Just… nerves got shredded."
"Maybe you'll at least tell me in broad strokes what's going on?"
"I will, right now," she said, snatching a few chips from my basket and tossing them into her mouth. "Crunch-crunch-crunch."
Following her and setting the basket down on the bedside table, I sat beside Hadiya, who'd collapsed onto the bed.
"Well?"
"Basically, it all started relatively recently," she said, lacing her hands behind her head and tucking her legs up, looking at me. "You already know Father is gradually shifting responsibility for the clan onto my shoulders. And though officially he's the leader, at this moment I'm the one running the clan. Already. And as you know, I wasn't going to stop, and I'm not going to stop now. Right now our interests have collided with Clan Ryo—essentially, I'm taking power from them. I have more people, more influence; their territory is already being patrolled by my fighters. I can do this at any moment," she snapped her fingers, "and Clan Ryo will cease to exist. But I don't want extra blood, so I offered them an oath to me. What's more, everyone stays in their posts; I won't even touch their structure—why meddle with a working mechanism?"
"But they didn't like that."
"That's putting it mildly," Hadiya nodded and reached toward the basket, wiggling her fingers in a very clear 'hand it over.' Snorting, I pulled the basket closer with the Force. "Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch. Basically, now they're stirring the pot, trying to set literally every clan against me. Crunch-crunch. The others don't dare do anything—or even talk. They fear me, but if they manage to unite, there'll be war. But! Clan Ryo is second only to mine. Crunch-crunch. And if it joins me, the others won't even dare think about getting in my way, because Clan Ryo will be the second clan I've absorbed. Note: not without your help. Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Who beheaded Clan Shi?"
"Oh. Right."
"In the end, I got the biggest piece. And now I can digest an entire clan."
"And they'll just agree like that?" I raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"And where will they go? The clan head died in a 'random' landspeeder crash, and his eldest son tried to avenge his father for a made-up reason, and ended up paying with his life. Now the little brother sits there, and he's very much in favor of submitting to me. Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch."
"Yeah. Politics? Why politics. A gun to the head is more reliable," I sighed.
"With a kind word and a blaster you can achieve far more than with just a kind word," Hadiya winked. "As for the killers, I sent them a message. Either they stop and I'll forget our disagreements, or I'll burn their entire organization out by the roots. What they decide—we'll find out soon enough."
"Something says they won't even spare a nuclear charge for you."
"You flatter me, Shade," she said, pushing the basket aside and dusting her hands off. "But yes, they could hit from a cruiser, so I don't even walk the city without air cover."
"You're paranoid."
"A living paranoid!" She raised a finger importantly and, grabbing my vest, pulled me closer. Snorting, I lay down beside her and she immediately draped a leg over me like she owned the place.
"A living paranoid who uses a wheeled tank as personal transport, plus a special forces group as a bonus."
"Yeah, yeah."
"I'm losing my mind over you. You might as well hand out chips to your people so you can kill them if needed."
"Hm…"
"I was joking!!!"
"But it's a good idea!"
"Hadiya, that's too far. Your own people will put you on a stake."
"All riiight. I'll entrust my safety to you, then."
"…"
"So. What about the body? Find anything interesting?"
"Something like that. If I say you're in trouble, will you be surprised?"
"I'm always in trouble. That's not new," she shrugged.
"No—this time it's big, even by my standards."
"Hm?"
Looking at me, she propped herself up and, placing her elbow on my chest, rested her cheek on her palm.
"So?"
"First, you were being watched. If you'd tried to run, they'd have shot you down."
"Not news. That's why there's a fortress."
"Second, the Force-users who attacked you are definitely not Je'daii. Most likely exiles—but they never finished training. Their Force skills give them away. Otherwise they would've gotten you."
"And that's not news either," the Twi'lek grunted condescendingly.
"But they've been on Chicago a long time; it was a coordinated team. The guys knew what they were doing. Where they miscalculated was your paranoia."
"And you still scold me."
"Not scolding—surprised. That's what forced them to retreat. Without that, they would've reached you and beheaded you."
"Is that all?"
"No. Did they report the 'poison' they found in the body?"
"Yes. And?"
"It's not poison. It's an alchemical last-resort solution. If it gets into the bloodstream, it boosts Force sensitivity many times over for a short period. In the end you'll die, but right before that you'll burn very brightly. And neither your poisons nor your bulkheads will save you. You got absurdly lucky that genius didn't have time to break the ampoule!"
"Well… he clearly had other things on his mind," Hadiya tried to joke. She didn't show it outwardly, but I could clearly feel in her emotions how hard it hit.
"Now you understand?"
"Yes. Shade… can you handle it?"
"In theory—yes. Raw power is an argument, but skill matters just as much. And they don't have it. At least from what I saw."
"Then everything's fine," she sank down and put her head on my chest, while my soul dropped into my heels.
"You amaze me…" the thought slipped out.
"With what?"
"With your faith in me. You can't just do that."
"I can. I'm allowed. I'm allowed everything," she rubbed her cheek against me and pressed closer.
"If you say so."
"Shade, and what problems do you have? The ones you didn't want to talk about over comms."
"Hm? Oh—pff, it's nothing. Basically, either someone's going to eat our system along with all its inhabitants, or it'll get sucked into a black hole, all of it, the whole thing. And Mom and I are thinking how to prevent either."
"(O_O)"
"That's the short version."
Blink-blink.
"But not necessarily," I said, reaching for chips and, crunching one, continued. "It's just that Mom and I, for the love of the Force, cannot allow Dalien Brok to get himself killed on Tython. So we're going to help him activate the hypergates and, essentially, go against the entire Order and its prohibitions. And if something goes wrong, we'll be enemy number one. And if everything goes really wrong, instead of Tython there'll be a black hole."
"Shade…"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me you're messing with me… please."
"Unfortunately, Sunshine. We have two contradictory prophecies. In the first, one kind of disaster. In the second, another. And we're in the middle. If we do nothing, we get option two. If we do something, maybe… only maybe—we get option one."
"How?! How did you get dragged into this???" She grabbed my vest.
"Better not ask. That's actually why I wanted to ask for your help. We need to deliver to Tython—covertly—a group of soldiers and scientists, plus equipment. Dalien has equipment, Mom can help on Tython, but we don't know how to get in quietly."
"Just load everyone onto a ship and send them as cargo. What's there to think about?!"
"Right! You have contracts with Tython."
"Exactly! And I'll provide people," Hadiya actually rose, straddling me.
"No, we've got fighters."
"Soldiers, Shade. Professional soldiers. I don't think the Stargazers have people with sufficient qualifications. And my guns will be far better than fanatics'."
"Heh… thanks, but it feels like you shouldn't get more involved than necessary. This is… a very dangerous gambit."
"So what? I'll level all of Tython if they dare stand between us!" she blurted, eyes blazing.
"Not doubted. But let's not get heated, okay? Task one: deal with you, here. Task two: think through a covert insertion plan. Dalien is already working on it—it's worth cheering him up with new inputs. Task three: plan an exit route in case everything goes sideways."
"Mm-hm."
"There, there, cool off—or I swear it looks like you're about to drop a nuke on them right now," I pulled her gently to me, pressing her to my chest and stroking her head.
"I have one."
"Khh… wh-where did you get it?!"
"Well, just in case."
"Great Force, who did I get involved with…" I threw my head back and closed my eyes.
"With the future Queen of Chicago."
"Yeah…"
"Shade."
"Hm?"
"Could you continue where we stopped? You know… in the corridor."
Smiling, I slid my hand down from her head along her lekku, lightly touching the Force. I felt Hadiya tremble, her breath catch, goosebumps run over her skin. Gripping the front of my vest, she didn't move, enjoying the sensations.
I watched and listened to this slightly curled in, tense, trembling little bundle and couldn't believe who she was outside this room. So what if we tried to stir up that other Hadiya, just a little?
Catching her, I laid her back on the bed, and ended up above her. Seeming to understand something, Hadiya winced slightly.
"I don't want to. Let me be weak. Beside you."
"As you wish…"
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan