Light Flyingstar... Son of Mayla and Dennis Flyingstar. Her son... He had always been a strange, withdrawn boy with an obsession for becoming strong. Though many might think that shy, quiet Light actually wanted to shut himself off from everything and run far away. At least Light, despite that incident with Rozri, grew up as conflict-averse as possible. But she, Mayla, and his father Dennis, saw that their son was, on the contrary, trying to become stronger. To better observe their son, they installed hidden cameras in his room, which the boy never discovered — nor did he think his parents would go that far. And what was wrong with that? He was their son...
Light meditated. He tried to increase the number of objects he could levitate with telekinesis, and experimented with the Force in general. She and Dennis had decided to let that slide back then, especially since Light was actually doing well. Much of what beginners learned at the Jedi Temple — how did Mayla know about it? She had a friend — a Jedi Knight... Killed, unfortunately, but he had shared some bare minimum with Mayla in confidence. Though he'd shared it for a different reason... As much as she loved her son, she hated her beauty. Among the Sephi, she met every standard and canon of beauty.
Tall, slender, with regular features, dark eyes and matching hair. And many non-natives looked at her with desire. She didn't love her beauty and suffered greatly because of it. Being too beautiful is sometimes a greater torment than being ugly. That obsessive attention from the opposite sex. The spiteful looks from those she'd thought were friends. She could have chosen absolutely any man, simply beckoned, and many would have come running. But she chose Dennis... A man who was, in terms of appearance, ordinary and rather modest. Now Light partly resembled him. Except he strived for power... But he was gifted — as much as she, Mayla, might wish otherwise — Light would have to become a Jedi.
And he might die on some planet, chasing after some piece of carrion... No!
"So you want to hire an instructor for him?" Dennis asked, checking something on the datapad screen connected to their home droid, Novik. "Good idea. Finally you'll stop hovering over him like a bird over its eggs. Hand me that wrench... Hey!" Dennis dodged the steel wrench that nearly flew into his head.
He could be infuriating too, with his directness and lack of tact. Though even so, he was and still was far better than all the other candidates.
Dennis's workshop, where she'd brought her husband food, was cluttered with various droid parts of all different designs. If Dennis wanted anything from their son, it was for Light to inherit his talent in droid engineering... But apparently that hadn't happened. Dennis had taken Light to the workshop a couple of times, but he'd been neutral about it, just asking a few questions about some droids and their production restrictions.
"You..." Mayla spat angrily, sitting on the couch — the only clean object in this place she sometimes called a junkyard. "I could just hit you with something heavy."
"Well, you know," Dennis started adjusting something on a droid. "The truth hurts. And your character is pretty strange. It's always been that way. There's always something wrong in your thoughts."
"Next time I'll hit you with that adjustable wrench," Mayla promised.
"And who'll help you relax on dark, cold nights?" Dennis laughed.
"Bastard..." Mayla grumbled.
Immortal beast. He knew exactly which buttons to push. But nothing... She'd find a way to get back at him, and he'd pay for everything... Someday. First she'd feed him, then — have some fun in bed... Five hours... Or six? Didn't matter.
"Who are you suggesting?" Dennis asked. "You want him to be as ready as possible for his visit, right? No more doubts about who might take our son. He's the right age... And the Grand Master Yoda himself is flying here — our King's best friend. He'll arrive in a couple of months on a Republic diplomatic mission." Though that would look strange... Well, Jedi, for all their obvious pros and cons, were pretty strange creatures.
"I have a couple of acquaintances," Mayla replied evasively.
"From your old suitors?" Dennis asked, squeezing the wrench until it made a strange sound.
If there was anyone her husband truly hated, it was every man who'd even thought about courting Mayla. He'd even punch King Alaric in the face for having such thoughts... Without apologizing either — he had no sense of tact. Though their King was incredibly wise and smart. Unlike his nephew Navi. Now there was someone her maidservants would love to hit with something heavy.
A worthless, weak man. A cowardly beast... Navi was pathetic in every way — a pitiful, faded shadow of his uncle. He'd ruined his body with alcohol and, as many had heard, drugs. Alas, Alaric was blind when it came to his late brother's son, who'd died in one of the wars. He loved him as an uncle and simply didn't notice that Navi had long since gone off the rails. From everyone's favorite scamp, he'd turned into a worthless nobody. And now he'd probably be appointed senator from their sector? Well, there was almost no influencing that anymore — Navi had already been appointed. Let him go to Coruscant accompanied by teachers and advisors. He probably wouldn't listen to them, even if his uncle thought otherwise.
"I can't exactly say my uncle, a former officer of His Majesty's Guard, is my suitor. He loves me, but only as an uncle loves his favorite niece..."
"The one who used to steal cookies from the Royal Buffet while he had to cover for you so you wouldn't get punished," Dennis continued. "I know..."
"Where from?" Mayla forced a smile.
"We had a few drinks together at the cantina, and he told me about your childhood," Dennis said impassively. "What?" he asked when Mayla approached him.
"Dennis... Could you tell me what else he said about me?" she asked softly. Though in that pleasant, velvety voice there was more desire to kill than to caress.
"Weellll... About your crush on His Majesty... About shirking your duties... Then there was the time you accidentally threw out His Majesty's favorite mantle... Or stole it?" Dennis scratched the back of his head.
"I'll kill him," Mayla hissed angrily. "And I'll kill you even sooner..."
"And who'll keep you warm on dark and cold nights, my love?" Dennis blinked innocently.
Gods! He knew exactly how much she enjoyed "that business.".. And that she wouldn't tolerate anyone but Dennis himself. It wasn't that their love resembled a romance novel with tears and a weepy story, but she truly loved her husband.
"So I'll talk to him... Grrrr," Mayla strode quickly out of the workshop.
"Master," the droid spoke up. "Next time you converse with the Mistress, please ensure I'm not within range of heavy, blunt objects thrown by her. For your information, my motivator's lifespan has decreased nearly threefold..."
"How's that threefold?" Dennis asked. "It was bought from a military droid." The quality of parts from those droids was many times better, and reconfiguring it for a competent technician was a matter of a couple of hours. "Damn! It cost about eighty percent of my salary! Gods of Wind!"
* * *
"Uncle Gadji," I called out to my "fitness trainer," whom my mother had found for me.
Gadji was a tall, slender, mature Sephi. He wore fairly loose clothing that "didn't restrict movement." Figuratively speaking, he wore things a size or two larger. According to him, a good warrior in a shirt two sizes too big could carry a grenade launcher too. Where he'd gotten that undoubtedly "true" information, I didn't bother asking. Gadji liked spinning yarns anyway. Externally, he resembled his sister and my grandmother — Reyru. Gadji was muscular and tall.
"I've always been bothered by a question: why do we Sephi live for four hundred standard years?" By the way, it was very difficult to adapt specifically to the years, days, and weeks in Star Wars.
First: there were only five days in a week. Respectively: Atunda, Catunda, Satunda, Datunda, Natunda. But there were seven weeks in a month. So one standard month had thirty-five days. But that wasn't all. There were also three holiday weeks not included in the month, and three additional holiday days. So: a standard year had ten months. That meant three hundred fifty days, but! There were three weeks of holidays: plus fifteen days. Total — three hundred sixty-five. Plus another three days. So a standard galactic year, measured specifically by Coruscant, was three hundred sixty-eight standard days. And... despite the incredible number of stars in GFFA (Author's note — Galaxy Far, Far Away), years were measured specifically by Coruscant. Days and hours could be local. But if Coruscant celebrated New Year, then the whole galaxy did too. This system probably created a bunch of absurd, comical situations. Say, by your place of birth and residence you were ten years old, but by Coruscant time you were all of fifteen. Nobody cared, though — documents were kept on Coruscant time, with only a few sectors doing it slightly differently.
The planet Tustra, by the way, had similar orbital parameters around its star to Coruscant, so my year equaled a Coruscant year. My five years were equal to five Coruscant years.
"Have you completed your quota to ask questions?" Gadji asked.
Ugh... This... Tyrant was torturing me with workouts — I almost regretted asking. After just a couple of months of training, I was physically the strongest in my "kindergarten group." Logically, that should be impossible. How many people work out to become jocks and bodybuilders, pouring sweat, dieting... How had I managed to become relatively strong? The answer was simple: the Force. Apparently, it accelerated my progress, and I didn't even need to consciously control it. After workouts I'd just sit in some kind of meditation, and the Force would fill me... It stimulated muscle growth, it turned out. But when Gadji figured that out, he buried me in training. And he even started teaching me close-quarters combat training. Based on the Royal Guard system. He'd have taught me to shoot too, if he didn't know that Jedi were, well, melee fighters... Though I wouldn't have refused a sniper rifle — it's still better than dodging shots or catching them on a blade of light. But no need to worry too much... I was learning everything; there was still a long way to go before the canonical battles. And I'd have to learn fencing anyway.
"I'm not asking about the exercises... And yes, I'm done," I sighed heavily, trying to peel my sweaty clothes off my body. The muscles in my arms and legs ached in agony. Gadji even talked to a child like an adult.
"Hm?" He looked at me questioningly. "Yes, tomorrow will be combat training... Yeah. So what did you want to ask? Or did you want to ask for a break, Jedi larva?"
"Don't call me that, Uncle," I pouted. "I wanted to ask... Why do we Sephi live for four hundred years or more?" I remembered Fay, who was rumored to be almost a thousand... Maybe I should track her down and ask how old she was? Actually no, my survival instinct howled in warning... She could be as "kind, wandering nun" as she liked, but asking a woman her age was a one-way ticket to the grave. A woman was a woman, no matter how many hundreds of years old she was. I'd never understood them. "But we mature like normal people, right? Logically, as long-lived beings, we should mature more slowly. But we grow up like normal people. Just at some point, aging freezes, and we live out the rest of our lifespan. Why is that?"
"You want to understand?" Uncle frowned. "So do I, yeah... Why are you asking me?"
"Well... You explained so thoroughly about Sephi body development, the Royal Guard's close-quarters style, our speed advantage..." Regardless of style, by the way — speed, strength, endurance. You'd still have to train your muscles. "So I thought you could definitely tell me about this."
"Why not go to the palace doctors, or the HoloNet?" Uncle asked.
"Well," I'd already asked. The doctors simply said "because." And the HoloNet found a whole terabyte of Sephi lesbian porn for that query... Who's going to convince me now that the HoloNet isn't a dump? When I asked "why do Sephi mature like normal people," the first link took me to an archive of porn. "I didn't find an answer."
"Honestly, it's surprising the doctors didn't explain it to you. Though that research is actually classified... Hmm... Fine, I'll tell you: it's all about metabolism. Sephi children consume far more calories for their life processes than, say, human children. That gives you an explosive growth spurt in maturation. Logically, for other long-lived races, they should mature more slowly than short-lived ones. But in reality, we mature at the same rate. Sephi are an exception to the rule. That's why some don't like us — all else being equal, we can acquire the same skills as other races at the same age; we can learn to shoot and kill at the same age — there's no... penalty from nature. But at the same time, we can perfect those skills for longer and, accordingly, achieve greater heights."
"And why is the research classified?" I asked. "It seems routine." So that's why I ate so much! Even as an adult chubby guy, I hadn't eaten as much as I did as a Sephi child. "It's not like it's particularly secret... Or I just don't see a reason why this information would need to be classified."
"Well, I definitely won't tell you that... Maybe you'll find out someday."
"But... You also said that since we have this trait, then..."
"Then why haven't the Sephi flooded the galaxy long ago? Perfectly trained, strong, and beautiful? There are several reasons for that, and the first is: birth rate. Physiologically, Sephi aren't particularly fertile — it's not all bad. We're not a dying people, but we're not exactly progressing in terms of birth numbers either. The second: mentality. Sephi are calm and peace-loving... It was like that even before His Majesty Alaric, and it's still like that. We prefer negotiations to war. Though, Light, that doesn't mean we have no armed forces. The Tustra Space Forces are among the best in the sector — and that's in a sector with Mandalore, by the way." Indeed, Mandalore was practically next door.
Though the Mandalorians had fallen off lately. Things were still okay now, but by the Clone Wars, Satine Kryze would become ruler of Mandalore. The Duchess would be a pacifist to the bone and completely neglect her country... Neglect it so much that even terrorists could keep her in fear. And then two Sith would take her over. Almost without outside help... Though I liked this kind of Mandalore far more than the Mandalore from the Mandalorian Wars period, when their code of Honor had spilled seas and oceans of blood.
"Hmm," I scratched the back of my head thoughtfully, trying to digest the information.
"That's why you're training now, Light. I'm flattered to hear that you yourself expressed a desire to become stronger. Whatever kind of Jedi you eventually become — a difficult future awaits you. The Jedi are a heavy calling. My seventy years in the Royal Guard are nothing compared to what Jedi have faced. So you must use every second of your incredibly long life to train yourself. Your body, your spirit... Otherwise, the Wind will not be merciful to you, and it will carry you to the heavens... Or, as your future comrades say, to merging with the Force — much sooner than you'd like. I love my niece and wouldn't want you to die and break her heart," Gadji said sadly. "So I ask you to take your training seriously. Soon a Jedi will arrive here to take you to Coruscant. He knows about you, so be ready. And one more thing, Light. I've seen this Jedi many times — at first he might not seem dangerous to you. But he's exactly the kind you can't judge by appearance. Not under any circumstances!"
Yeah, I knew exactly what he was talking about. Before Episode II, everyone thought Yoda was just a "wise old man." But then... Seeing the tricks he pulled fighting Dooku. Dooku, who had just mopped the floor with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. He'd humiliated them. Trampled and destroyed them in a few moves. And then Yoda simply showed up and made Dooku retreat, both with the Force and a lightsaber... And I also remembered the early episodes of the Clone Wars cartoon. The more modern interpretation, when he humiliated Asajj Ventress, and what he did during the Battle of Coruscant... Ultimately, it came to the point where Yoda was one of the few who died of old age. Many lived in the Unknown Regions.
Jedi, Sith, other gifted… civilians and soldiers. And many fell in wars. Secret ones, open ones… as a result of intrigues. But only a few managed to live to a natural death. Not to fall from a lightsaber, a blaster shot, a ship explosion, or the influence of the Force. But from old age. Though it's also bad that Yoda lost to Sidious, just as it's bad that he died in exile, but he did die, he wasn't killed. And the future with Sidious — I will prevent it. It's in my plans. To prevent all that hell, not so much for everyone's sake, but also for my own. After all, I have to live in this Galaxy. The main thing is to plan everything correctly. You can't just come and say: "I had a vision from the Force, the wealthy banker Hego Damask is the Sith Lord Darth Plagueis, and his apprentice Darth Sidious is the aristocrat from Naboo — Sheev Palpatine." Few will believe in such specificity, if only because visions in ninety percent of cases lack specifics.
They only show possible futures, sometimes fragments, which is why they can be misinterpreted. For example, in the Old Republic, the Padawan Zayne Carrick and his "misfortunes." Zayne Carrick was a victim of a Force vision. He almost became a Jedi, despite his clumsiness with the Force. He and four other Padawans, his friends. But his teacher belonged to a secret faction, the Covenant, which tried to prevent the return of the Sith, or, at that time, the Sith through prophecies. In the end, one of the council members saw a future where one of the five Padawans of five teachers would be connected to the Sith and their return. In fact, she only saw Darth Vader against a background of Rakghouls and that one of their Padawans would be involved in it. They couldn't even identify the Padawan because the Padawan was in a spacesuit, and all the spacesuits were identical. What did the half-seers do? They simply killed their own Padawans — four students died at the hands of their own teachers, to "cut off that line of the future," to avoid it. Only Zayne survived, who later proved his innocence.
Roughly speaking, in trying to avoid a bad ending, they arrived at that very bad ending. And if it's simpler? Please… There's this game – Mass Effect. A series of games, honestly. And in its third part, there's a mission where you have to decide who survives. On one side are synthetics, robots who drove the race that created them from their own homeworld. On the other side is that same race, traveling through space for centuries, deprived of their home. The irony is that in the Mass Effect games, there are two paths. Paragon and Renegade. Paragon corresponds to the top dialogue options in the "dialogue wheel," and Renegade to the bottom. And now… Choosing between Paragon and Renegade, which choice do you think is Paragon and which is Renegade, given that choosing one race completely annihilates the other?
Who does the Paragon save? The living, organics, or synthetics? Naturally… the synthetics. But that's terrible! Saving not millions of lives of living beings, but saving precisely synthetic, robotic forms, which aren't even alive! That's why you need to be careful and know one thing. Choosing only Paragon solutions doesn't always lead to a good ending. Choosing to radically solve a problem doesn't always lead to a good ending. For me, it was terrible to watch the death of the Quarians in that choice. Whatever they were, for me the Quarians remained an exiled race that had suffered greatly, so those particular missions got only one thing from me: many save/loads.
Here, the choice is much harder. But it will have to be made… Sometimes I'll have the opportunity to make it, sometimes not. So I must always be ready for only one thing — the consequences. It doesn't matter what choice I made, and it doesn't matter if I made one at all. If the universe still brings Palpatine to power — I must be ready to protect my loved ones, family, and friends. And for that, I need to become stronger… Not just strength for the sake of strength. But to protect them all… I had no one: no mother, no father, no friends. Here I've found all of that, and I don't intend to lose it.