Tersik
1 DBY, 4th Month
Rain drummed on the roof of the living module in a quiet, monotonous rhythm. Alex sat at his desk, studying the archive of documents left to him by Luthen. Months had passed since he received a message from one of the agents with an encrypted data chip, but only now did he decide to open the most personal files.
He had studied the work documents back then—reports on reconnaissance operations, analyses of Imperial policy, resistance plans. But the personal message... he hadn't touched it. It was too painful to read the last words of a man who was no longer there.
Outside the window, a gloomy Tersik autumn was turning gray. The lake, usually sparkling in the sun's rays, now looked leaden and somber. The trees had shed their leaves, revealing black branches that reached towards the sky like pleading hands.
Alex activated the datapad and opened the file marked "For Alex Korren. Personal." The first lines made him freeze:
Alex, my friend.
If you are reading this, it means the continuation of our work falls to you, not me. I have gathered here everything that might be useful specifically to you—a person I met twelve years ago and who saved both Kleya's and my lives.
Do you remember our first meeting on Valorin? I mistook you for an ordinary smuggler then. Only later did I realize I was wrong.
You were too educated for a simple smuggler, too interested in politics. When I told you about the Empire's atrocities, a fire lit up in your eyes, but you quickly hid it. I understood then—you have your own history, your own reasons for fighting.
But most importantly—I saw in you what I myself lacked. The ability to move forward without constantly looking back at the past. The skill to build, not just destroy. You became a bridge between my thirst for justice and the real possibilities of changing something.
The rain intensified, and Alex stood up to make some caf. The house was quiet—Verena had gone to the administrative center on cultural program matters. The solitude lent itself to memories, to reflections on the past.
Returning to the desk with a steaming mug, he continued reading. Luthen moved on to his story—not dry facts from a dossier, but a personal account of who he was before the war.
"My real name is Lir Kaen. I was born on Valorin, into a middle-class family in New Valo..."
Alex put down the datapad after reading Luthen's account of his life and walked to the window. He pictured a young officer, standing before a choice between blind obedience and conscience.
But further on was the information for which Luthen had written this message.
"Alex, I remember why you originally came to Valorin twelve years ago. You were looking for manufacturing facilities for hyperdrive motivators. You couldn't reach the necessary locations then—war, chaos, destruction. But now I understand that this knowledge is for you. Only you can use it correctly. I think I know where this equipment might be.
Before the final bombardment, when it became clear that the planet was doomed, all strategically important equipment began to be moved to underground complexes. Secret cities capable of withstanding orbital bombardment. I know many of these places—I myself looked for locations to place them."
Alex felt his heart rate quicken. Could it be that Luthen knew what he had been searching for all these years?
"Particularly important is the complex in sector 7-Gamma, coordinates 847.231 by 156.789. The main motivator plant of the 'Valorin-Tech' company was located there. The entire production line was moved underground—machines, documentation, everything needed for production. I participated in planning the transfer of production underground."
If the complexes survived the bombing, they might contain everything necessary for independent production. Valorin hyperdrives were the best in the sector. Technologies that could form the basis for autonomous production.
I would never be able to return there. Not out of fear of radiation or Imperial patrols. I was afraid of what I would find—proof that I could have changed the course of events if I hadn't run. But you don't carry my burden of guilt. You can finish what I couldn't.
The message ended with a request Alex had expected:
And one last thing—take care of Kleya. She is my daughter not by blood, but by choice. The only family I have left after Valorin. She is strong, but pain makes people dangerous to themselves. She needs a purpose worthy of her abilities. Something more than just revenge.
Your friend and comrade,
Luthen Rael (Lir Kaen)
Alex closed the datapad and sat in silence for a long time, listening to the rain drumming on the roof. Now he knew what to do next. The expedition to Valorin was necessary—but first, he had to fulfill his friend's last request.
Contacting Kleya proved difficult. She constantly changed her location, avoided open communication channels, and trusted only verified contacts. But Alex had his own channels—through his uncle Garrek, he maintained contact with various resistance cells throughout the galaxy.
"She's here, on Yavin. Your ships regularly deliver supplies to Yavin-4," Garrek said during an encrypted conversation. "The rebels know and trust you. If you say you need to find Kleya Marki, they'll help pass on the message."
Indeed, a few days later, a response came. Kleya agreed to a meeting—but only on Yavin-4, in a safe place, under the protection of the rebel base.
A week later, the "Wanderer" dropped out of hyperspace in the Yavin system. A massive gas giant slowly rotated in the rays of an orange sun, with numerous satellites orbiting it. The fourth moon—the very one where the Rebel Alliance base was located—looked peaceful and calm amidst the endless jungles.
"Receiving a signal from the base," Verena reported from the co-pilot's seat. "They're expecting us. Kleya is already here."
"A frequency well known to you," she added with a smile. "Your supply deliveries are valued here."
Alex nodded, guiding the ship towards the moon's atmosphere. Working with the rebels was an important part of their job. Medications, spare parts, food—everything that could help in the fight against the Empire.
The ancient Massassi temples rose above the jungle like silent guardians of a forgotten civilization. Alex landed the ship on one of the platforms, where several rebel transports were already parked. The place was bustling with activity—technicians serviced starfighters, soldiers stood guard, officers studied holographic maps.
Kleya was waiting for them at the entrance to one of the temples, accompanied by a rebel officer. She had changed in these months—become more withdrawn, cautious. Dark clothes, short hair, the watchful gaze of someone accustomed to danger. But when she saw Alex, her face softened.
"Alex," she approached him, and warm notes sounded in her voice. "It's been so long since we last saw each other."
They hugged—not formally, but genuinely, like old friends who had been through a lot together.
"Too long," he agreed.
"Kleya!" Verena also hugged the girl. "You look... tired."
"Tired," Kleya sadly agreed. "Very tired. But work doesn't wait. You said you had something from Luthen?"
Pain sounded in her voice—deep, poorly concealed. Alex saw how she tried to hold on, not to show weakness, but the loss of her mentor had hit her harder than she was willing to admit.
"I do. But let's talk first. How are you? What are you doing?"
"Working with various cells. Helping coordinate operations, passing information between groups. What he taught me," she looked away. "But it's not the same. Without him, everything is... different."
Alex understood her state. Kleya had lost not just a mentor, but her only family. The person who had saved her, with whom they had gone through hell together. Now she was alone, and this loneliness made her vulnerable.
"I have a message he left specifically for me. But it also concerns you," he handed her the datapad. "Do you want to read it here or in private?"
"In private," she took the device with trembling hands. "Wait for me."
Kleya walked away into the depths of the temple, where ancient stones held the silence of millennia. Alex and Verena waited, talking with rebel officers about the current situation in the galaxy.
When Kleya returned, her eyes were red, but she held herself steady. She clutched the datapad in her hands as if it were the last link to her fallen mentor.
"Valorin," she said quietly. "He wants you to return to Valorin. For what you were looking for twelve years ago."
"Not just me. It concerns all of us—those who continue his work."
"I'll go with you," there was no doubt in her voice. "It's my homeland too. And if there really is something there that can help in the fight against the Empire..."
"Kleya, I have a proposal," Alex took a step forward. "Luthen asked me to take care of you. Not as a child, but as a professional. I have a task worthy of his memory."
She raised her head, interest flashing in her eyes.
"I need a planetary intelligence service. Something more than just local security. A network of agents capable of operating throughout the galaxy, gathering information that could be important for the planet, coordinating the actions of intelligence cells. The work Luthen did, but on a larger scale. The rebels... Their work is important, but likely doomed to failure. I have a more reliable option."
"You're offering me to lead intelligence?" there were lively notes in her voice.
"Exactly. You have experience, connections, an understanding of how the underground works. And most importantly—you know what it's like to lose everything because there wasn't enough information in time. I already have intelligence, but managing it isn't quite my forte. You'd be perfect. So, what do you say?"
Kleya was silent for a long time, looking at the ancient stones of the temple. Around them, the life of the rebel base was in full swing—missions were being prepared that would one day lead to a decisive battle for the freedom of the galaxy.
"And the expedition to Valorin?"
"It will take place in a few months, when I have prepared everything necessary. If you want to join—you will be a welcome participant. But first, we need to create a structure that will outlive us all."
"Alright," she nodded, and for the first time in a long time, there was something akin to hope in her eyes. "I accept the offer. But I have one condition—complete autonomy in choosing methods and people."
"Theoretically, I agree, once I understand that our understanding of personnel policy aligns."
Two days later, they landed on Tersik. Kleya silently looked out the porthole at the growing city, at the construction cranes and new buildings, at the intelligent beings of various races working together for a common goal.
"Impressive," she finally said, and surprise sounded in her voice. "Luthen was right—you know how to build the future."
"We do," Alex corrected. "It's the result of the work of tens of thousands of intelligent beings who believed in the possibility of a better life."
When they disembarked, they were met by a small group—Marvo, several council members, representatives of various services.
"Welcome to your new home," he said quietly.
1 DBY, 7th Month
Alex stood in the main hangar of the shipyard, looking at the massive silhouette of a "Consort"-class cargo ship. The two-hundred-meter giant towered on supports, surrounded by scaffolding and cranes. Dozens of technicians were working on its modernization, turning a regular freighter into a specialized vessel for travel to a dead planet.
"The 'Rebirth'," Marvo said, approaching him with a datapad in hand. "A good name for a ship that will go for the remains of a dead civilization."
"I hope it proves prophetic," Alex studied the technical schematics on the screen. "How is the radiation protection installation progressing?"
"The deflector shields have been reinforced. Additional kinetic barrier generators have been installed around the living quarters. The air purification system has been modernized using ion filters."
The modernization of the "Rebirth" began three months ago, immediately after Alex read Luthen's message. A regular cargo ship was being turned into a specialized vessel for operating in radioactive contamination conditions.
They took the lift to the cargo bays. The main space had been reconfigured for the transport of heavy industrial equipment—reinforced anti-gravity platforms, cargo stabilization systems, sealed containers for particularly sensitive components.
A separate compartment housed equipment for earthworks. Industrial laser drills for cutting through debris. Plasma cutters for working with metal structures. Anti-gravity lifts for moving multi-ton wreckage. An automated tunneling complex capable of digging a passage several meters in diameter through any rock.
"And what about the droids?" Alex asked.
"Sixty units of various purposes," Marvo activated the control panel, and rows of droids came to life in their charging niches. "Twenty construction droids for working with debris and clearing. Ten reconnaissance droids for exploring dangerous zones. Ten specialized droids for dismantling complex equipment. Twenty of your IG-88 security droids."
The construction droids looked like powerful work machines with multiple manipulators and built-in tools. The reconnaissance droids were smaller and more mobile, with repulsorlift engines and advanced sensors. The specialized droids carried precise tools for the careful disassembly of complex mechanisms.
"They can work around the clock in conditions lethal to organic life forms," explained the chief project engineer. "While the team rests, the droids continue clearing and dismantling."
Alex nodded, but felt no joy. All this preparation was needed for a journey to a world that was once home to billions of people. Now, only radioactive ruins remained, and possibly, technologies buried under the rubble.
Two days later, in the conference room of the administrative center, Alex met with the only candidate for the expedition who was truly necessary. Dain Koro—a middle-aged man who had arrived on Tersik as part of the last group of refugees.
"Dain Koro, forty-two years old," Marvo read from the dossier. "Born on Valorin, worked at 'Valorin-Tech' until the start of the war. Specialist in industrial power systems and production lines. After evacuating the planet, he hid his origin."
Alex looked at the man sitting opposite him. Dain looked tired and older than his years. Gray hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, strong hands but covered in old scars. His gaze held the pain of a man who had lost his homeland.
"Why did you hide your origin?" Alex asked.
"Survivors from Valorin often became targets of Imperial intelligence," Dain replied quietly. "It was thought we might know something about military technologies. It was easier to pretend to be a refugee from another planet and forget the past."
"And now?"
"Now I've learned that you are planning an expedition to my homeland," deep sadness sounded in Dain's voice. "If anything really remains there... I know the location of the industrial complexes better than any map. I worked in sector 7-Gamma for three years before the war."
Alex saw how difficult this decision was for the man. To return to the planet that had become the grave of everything he loved. But without him, the expedition would be almost impossible.
"The motivator factory was the pride of the company," Dain continued, looking out the window at the gray sky. "Fully automated production. If the underground levels survived... everything should be there—machines, assembly lines, warehouses of finished products."
"Do you remember the layout?"
"Every corridor, every workshop," Dain closed his eyes. "I spent the best years of my life there. We created the future, built technologies that were supposed to make Valorin a prosperous world. And instead..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Alex understood. Instead of prosperity, there came war, destruction, death. Technologies created for peaceful purposes became the object of military conflict.
"Do you agree to join the expedition?"
"Yes," Dain nodded. "It is my duty to those who died. If their work can serve the cause of freedom... they would have wanted it."
The following weeks were spent in preparation. Dain spent long hours with the technicians, reconstructing the layouts of the industrial complexes from memory. His knowledge was invaluable—he remembered not only the official layout but also informal passages, service tunnels, hidden warehouses.
"There was an emergency exit from the main production workshop here," he showed on the holographic schematic. "Disguised as a ventilation shaft. If the main entrances are blocked, we can get inside through it."
Alex listened and understood that behind every technical detail lay human lives. People who worked in these workshops, lived in these cities, dreamed of their children's future. Now, only the memories of a lonely engineer and radioactive ruins remained of them.
Kleya also participated in the preparation, although she was officially busy organizing planetary intelligence. She supplemented Dain's schematics with her knowledge of secret routes and shelters.
"Luthen showed me this area," she said, pointing to the map. "He said there were important factories here. We never got there—it was too dangerous during the war."
The same sadness sounded in her voice as in Dain's. Two people for whom Valorin was home. One lost the planet in childhood, the other in adulthood. But the pain of loss was the same.
A week before departure, Alex conducted a final readiness check. The "Rebirth" was fully equipped for operation on a dead planet. The droids were tested and programmed. Dain had studied all available materials and was ready to be a guide in the world of the dead.
The next morning, the expedition was to depart for the dead world, carrying with it the memory of the fallen and the hope that their legacy would serve to protect the living. It was a pilgrimage to the grave of a civilization and, at the same time, an attempt to resurrect its last gift to the galaxy.