Again the worn saddle creaks… Ah, no… Wait! That's from another opera — definitely not from the space opera I've ended up in and have been successfully trying to survive for almost fifteen years. We spent almost a week at the Temple. Ate our fill, drank our fill, trained… Drallig went berserk and challenged me to duel after duel. And all our duels were with full gear — meaning everything was allowed. Except we put away the battle swords, fully understanding that by ramping up the pace, speed, strength through Force enhancement and using battle swords, we could easily kill our own comrades. Especially with my passion for seizing the moment and performing a 'pure Sith' Shiak or even cutting off heads.
Alas, Drism had not disposed me to excessive love of sentients. The situation there was generally dire. We ran into Mandalorians… And those guys always fought the Jedi ferociously. Yes, we had the physical parameters to surpass everyone. The Force was on our side… But, as some individuals had discovered — posthumously discovered — physical superiority wasn't everything. Having absolute advantage didn't always guarantee victory… Miracles happened only case by case. An old, experienced warrior eventually yields to a young, aggressive one. So let naive children attack, using Shii-Cho. Cut off hands, legs, destroy weapons. For me, my own safety was more important. And as my mentor told me — you'll only be safe when the last enemy falls to your sword. Until then… Alas. And we had many enemies… The Sith, for example. The Crimson Kraken, according to information the Jedi Shadows shared with us as involved parties, had been completely destroyed as a result of an attack by unknown mercenaries. The Kraken's leaders had been tortured with electricity — apparently they were trying to extract information… Although, considering WHO EXACTLY they might have been acquainted with — the electricity most likely had a Force nature. Unfortunately, they couldn't determine that a Force-sensitive had done the job. A mysterious boss… He was still considered non-Force-sensitive for now. After all, who could this boss be? No one even knew his approximate identity; Shilazh had only mentioned him in passing.
Anyone could hire a Force-sensitive — not everyone was taken and trained by the Jedi. Various adepts of all sorts of sects traveled freely through the Galaxy, offering services as mercenaries, guards… In short — they did all sorts of things. As for me… I was resting after another bout with Cin. Yes… Cin had mastered all the forms, some better, some worse… I used Soresu and Ataru, switching between them in battle, never combining both forms into one… I still knew too little, plus — they were opposites. I was sitting in the meditation hall, watching holo-videos on the HoloNet. The HoloNet was known for the fact that you could find anything there if you tried hard enough.
So I found recordings of Teyron Jarps's battles. He was distinctive… Not with beast-like habits. On the contrary — his movements in combat were clearly calculated. Not like the Mandalorians I'd seen from the Kraken. Every move he made in his massive armor had purpose. He was an excellent shot… Footage showed him taking down ten sentients at once… with a certain languor and cold-bloodedness. Through the prism of my upbringing, I'd say he didn't make unnecessary movements. Or he made them, but only the bare minimum.
"You're studying him?" came the voice of the Grand Master.
"Grand Master," I half-rose from the soft cushion I'd been sitting on while studying the holo-video of Teyron.
"Light," the Master nodded in greeting. "You have traveled many places since you left the Temple." Not really. "But you have returned far stronger. It warms my heart that you have returned and not broken."
"How could I break," I muttered, "Master Lorm doesn't give me time for that."
"Lorm has proven a good mentor for you," Yoda's lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "I even considered teaching you myself, or entrusting you to someone from the Council. But they would not have handled your problems as your Teacher did in his time, yes… Seeing his example before you, instinctively you began to take the best from him, and also… you began to help him shed the hood he had drawn over his vision after everything that happened to him."
"Did you plan this? Did you foresee it?"
"The future is clouded," Yoda said meaningfully. "Great potential within you I sensed, and I wanted you to become a great Jedi."
"Then…"
"However, long is your path," Yoda pointed a finger at me. "But walk it, and a worthy Knight you will become."
Silence hung in the room. Yoda's speech was somewhat disjointed, so I didn't know how to keep the conversation going. Though…
"Master," I called out to Yoda. "What can you tell me about Force Visions?"
"Troubled by visions are you?" Yoda asked. "What kind?"
"Let me think… I see an unfamiliar girl sinking to the floor, and then only darkness. This dream has been coming to me for several nights. Is it the future?"
"The past is over, the future is hidden, the present is a gift," Yoda said gravely. "No matter how many visions you see, do not forget the present."
"I understand. But I wanted to know about future events: if I see some event, but I want to change it, yet that only leads to that very event." Incidentally, this reminded me of Novikov's self-consistency principle. If you try to avoid a certain future, having knowledge of that future — no matter how you obtained it — there's a chance that is exactly the future you'll end up with. That's what's so nasty about Force visions — they show the future that can be achieved even accounting for any changes you might make. Therefore, I believe that to change the future of this Galaxy, one must make a TOTAL replacement of something. For example — the Jedi Order. If the 'right attitudes' prevail within them, Sidious won't get anything. To do that, I need to develop a plan for conversations with influential Jedi in the future… But that's later, when I've gained authority. Still, I should return to the black-haired girl dying from something or other. I didn't see the girl's face — only her straight back and black hair cascading waterfall-like over her shoulders. She fell like a puppet with its strings cut, and then darkness… Where was the darkness? I tried to examine the room, but saw nothing except an ordinary floor and a bunch of doors. The place was unfamiliar to me.
"True that is, but ever-changing is the future. Change events you can, but remember — worsen them you might. Advise you I would to let this go…"
"But didn't you say that Jedi should protect sentients?" I asked, slightly raising my voice. "What's the point of the Jedi — and me — if upon seeing the death of an unknown girl, I should abstract myself from it and let her go?"
"Because only visions that are closely connected to you can the Force show. Global visions that determine the fate of the Galaxy — rarely appear, and only to trained seers. Connected to you this girl is by something. Let go of such you must — in this lies the wisdom of the Jedi. The Will of the Force it is…"
"And what's the point of blindly following the Will of the Force?" I snapped. "If it shows that the Jedi must disappear — will we all silently go into exile? Or commit ritual suicide?"
"No," Yoda shook his head. "Dangerous things you speak. But none of what you listed will we do, for needed we are to the Galaxy. Everywhere in the Galaxy the Force is. Between you, me… Midi-chlorians only give us potential. The Galaxy and the Force — need us as those who protect the sentients."
"We do protect them, I agree," I said, slightly parroting Yoda. "But shouldn't I prevent that girl's death?"
"Look at it from another side," said Yoda. "What price will you pay for preventing the death of one sentient? Mad Knights killed their own Padawans, setting off a chain of tragic events. And what will you do? Will it not lead to the death of sentients on a larger scale?"
"The life of billions is worth more than one — is that the Jedi's sense of justice?"
"Life is a cycle," Yoda replied calmly. "Somewhere it wanes, somewhere it waxes. Understand this you must, Light. Understand and accept."
* * *
The conversation with Yoda was over, but questions still flashed through my mind. Though for the most part they concerned only one thing: who exactly was she… I had seen the girl from behind and couldn't make out much. And would she die? There, in the future? Maybe she just fell unconscious. More questions… But I had to distract myself. By the end of our week-long rest, my master and I boarded the ship and left Coruscant for Chandrila.
"The center of the Galaxy, and sentients still lack adventure," Lorm sighed theatrically, reading data about the Karnur family on his datapad. We were in the cockpit of my ship, which I was piloting… Actually, I was counting the minutes until we exited hyperspace. "Take you, Light — if you weren't Force-sensitive, what would you do? You'd probably marry Rivi, have children, become a worthy Sephi," I blushed, feeling the blood rush to my face, though I'd long since gotten used to his bluntness. I hadn't even thought about that with Rivi. And Lorm… Lately his mood had been particularly nasty. He said he sensed a strange threat — but what kind? Because of all this, he had doubled down on my training. "And the Karnurs?" the master continued. "Joyran Karnur… Twenty-three years old, unmarried. A cheerful drunk who became a smuggler! His family is rich; he could have entered the University and even submitted documents to Alderaan, but then he spat on it and ran off to the Unknown Regions for adventure. Crazy, and his sister too… Here — Mila Karnur. Sixteen years old. Beautiful, damn it," Lorm whistled. He did that for all women and girls of appropriate age. I'd seen him at the Temple… He looked at all the girls and women with a keen eye, studying them. The Jedi women were fit, with slim, beautiful bodies. I even caught myself staring at a striking brunette. But I had to suppress that… Not yet the time. I still needed to figure out what to do about my visions. "She took mechanic courses. For practice, she hired on as a crew member for a Captain with an unverified reputation. And then she vanished without a trace — along with the ship and the entire crew. The only lead — a fired Chandrila spaceport officer. She could have taken courses that wouldn't have stuck her on a ship, lived on the planet — maybe I'd have met her someday."
I glanced briefly at the datapad and was stunned. The face: beautiful, symmetrical. Not aristocratic, but still something lofty about it, with a neat, slightly upturned nose. Black hair cascaded over the shoulders of a girl standing in a tight jumpsuit — the same kind the Temple's technical staff wore. Her chest wasn't particularly prominent, but her figure was slender.
"Falling in love from a holo-photo is not the best fate, student," Lorm remarked. "You still have to study her character."
"I haven't fallen in love, it's just… She's memorable," I hastened to justify myself. "And anyway — there are millions like her in the Galaxy."
"True enough, my promising young Padawan in matters of love. That's why I was talking about character…"
"And no lecture?" I asked my teacher. "Master…"
"What lecture are you expecting from me?" the teacher asked caustically. "From whom? From me? A sentient who sleeps in brothels and isn't above having sexual relations? When it comes to mastering Force Techniques — always, please. I'll even give you a taste of Force lightning for good measure. But lectures on the call of the flesh… PFFT!" Lorm snorted. "On the contrary, I believe the call of the flesh should be subdued in the natural way, as nature intended."
"Feelings lead to the Dark Side, which you, by the way, consider wild…"
"Hoh. I can fuck prostitutes, or I can meet a worthy woman on some planet and fall in love like a boy. You think for someone like me, that option is impossible? I've had women like that too…"
"Like Officer Dizzy?"
"Maybe," he flinched. "Never mind. Here's what I want to tell you. Feelings are what make us alive. Every one of us has them. Without them, we're just empty shells with a mind. And do you know who else is like that?"
"No…"
"Droids," Decer replied. "Tin cans with no feelings…"
"I strongly protest against the words of the horned beast," BB-7 beeped. "We have a personality manifest!"
"A manifest?" asked Lorm. "Is it determined by your programming or your own opinion? When you first saw Light — what did you do when you realized he was your master? Did you act like a stranger you'd just met, or did you immediately run up to fawn over him?"
"Master, that beast has absolutely no understanding of a droid's feelings! Let's throw him out the airlock!"
"Calm down, BB-7, and get ready instead. We're coming out of hyperspace near Chandrila." The blue of hyperspace vanished, revealing stars and a large planet. The Perlemian Trade Route was quite busy. Dozens, hundreds of ships were heading for Chandrila, which lay on this route. Traders mostly didn't sell there, but bought goods — because the farther from Coruscant, the cheaper… and the less safe, since the scheme with pirate agents who inform their patrons about 'profitable' ships worked perfectly. At least, according to reports from the Knights who dealt with pirates. Alas, even in the strongest state formations, parasites could appear. They survived everywhere and always… The Galactic Republic, circa fifty-six years before the Battle of Yavin IV — which I hoped would never happen — was the brightest example of weakness and laxity. Rondan Igraam, an officer at the Chandrila Spaceport, had worked in that position for almost ten years, letting smugglers bring in illegal goods, not properly inspecting arriving ships. His boss knew exactly about his activities but did nothing until the Jedi took an interest in Rondan. And even then — it wasn't the Guards who investigate crimes, or the Protectors who might have been interested in Rondan's acquaintances… An archaeologist was interested in him — someone who was supposed to find the ship on which Mila Karnur had left, the sister of the smuggler who had stolen an important Sith artifact! And, unfortunately, Mila Karnur was our only lead in this case.
Joyran had left no other traces — that was one. And two — the Crimson Kraken had been destroyed, totally. Everyone who knew him and, hypothetically, could find Joyran — were dead. Only Mila Karnur remained, who, like her brother, had disappeared.
"This is Chandrila Central Spaceport, operator Kaler," a man's face with dark circles under his eyes — presumably from lack of sleep — appeared on the screen. "Identify yourselves. Your ship doesn't match the signatures of any previously registered vessels in our Spaceport."
"Jedi Knight Lorm Decer and my Padawan Light Flyingstar," my master introduced us.
"Jedi Masters?" the operator straightened up. "My apologies, I'll clear a corridor for you."
The Jedi, despite their decline, were still part of the Republic and had incredible privileges. This was acutely felt in the Core Worlds. We could land at any spaceport and, effectively, any government service was free for us… Come to think of it, you could even enter a University for free, just by identifying yourself as a Jedi and confirming it. Of course, no one took advantage of that. From the standpoint of politics, diplomacy, combat skills, piloting, hacking computer systems and using computers, survival — the Jedi already received the best education available. There were some gaps in economics, political economy, commanding armies… The latter was especially lacking. We studied the last discipline only as an elective in history, where we analyzed the most famous battles involving Order members. But tactics and strategy were taught superficially, and no one was preparing us for wars… That's why my Order could… and did fail in the Clone Wars. After all, war is not a skirmish with pirates. It's something more global. Though there would be no war in this Galaxy — I'd make sure of it…
Chandrila's atmosphere was clean. This planet was fed by the agricultural sector and grew food, while the Chandrilan House — the governing body of the planet — pursued a policy of reducing the birth rate 'so as not to disrupt the planet's ecology.' Chandrila was also known for its democracy… The thing was, any citizen of the planet could argue about politics. Sometimes debates escalated into fights, but still — it was 'democratic.'
We exited the ship immediately upon landing, leaving BB-7 as usual to watch the ship. Jedi ships weren't inspected, so — as Decer once told me — he sometimes smuggled small items through planets. Harmless things… Like alcohol onto planets with 'dry laws.' Some people had no understanding of politics. Dry laws weren't introduced for no reason. This time we didn't dawdle in the spaceport; we headed straight for the head of this facility. We needed information on Rondan Igraam. We were let into the reception area without much trouble. Behind the desk in the boss's office sat a mature woman with a simple bob haircut of red hair. Her uniform was also quite simple, white in color.
"You're the arriving Jedi," the woman said in a serious voice, looking up from her computer screen. "For what reason have you come not just to Chandrila, but specifically to my office?"
Through the wide panoramic window of the spaceport director's office, a busy street could be seen, with speeders flying and sentients walking. The office itself, belonging to a sentient in authority, was furnished in a simple style. On Chandrila, simplicity was valued in almost everything.
"First of all," Lorm bowed slightly, and his eyes greedily roamed over the woman's figure. "Allow me to introduce myself. Lorm Decer, Jedi Knight. This is my student, Jedi Padawan Light Flyingstar."
"Rinis Mothma," the woman replied calmly. Yes, master, as usual, had found a beautiful woman, and it was as if he'd been replaced. The cynicism and malice vanished from his voice, and he began to speak more cultured. And Rinis had something to look at. She was mature, yet beautiful, with a slender figure that her uniform only accentuated. Her fiery red hair was striking. "And at the same time, I don't want to waste time on you," the Chandrilan cut off. "I have a personnel inspection."
"Personnel inspection?" asked Lorm.
"After one of them drew your Order's attention," the woman smiled. "Some… details came to light. My father, the ruler of the planet, Shand Mothma, is very concerned. He fired the former spaceport chief and ordered me to audit this place. I had to fire thirty percent of the staff." That explained why there seemed to be so few employees in the corridors we'd walked through. But there were plenty of guards. "So…"
"It was Rondan Igraam that brought us here," Lorm took the floor, interrupting her explanations. "My lady, as the new chief, you must have received his personnel file? The thing is, Rondan vanished into thin air after being fired. The Guards who visited the planet were unable to find either him or the information we needed." And they had returned empty-handed. I remember my master was so furious he trashed the training hall. Saying things like — he was an archaeologist, not an investigator!
"I remember the Jedi," the woman nodded. "They came. I told them the same thing I'll tell you. Rondan Igraam loves a cantina in a rather unsavory district of Hanna City," the woman hissed. Hanna City… the capital of the planet, where we'd landed. The central transport hub.
"There are unsavory districts in the Core Worlds?" I asked.
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Rinis shook her head. "At least for us they're unsavory. For other worlds — I doubt they'd consider them unsavory. More like districts with increased criminal activity. Those vermin get in everywhere. So — look for him there."
The woman gestured toward Lorm's hand, and he activated his datapad. Information with coordinates came through.
"We'll find him," Lorm nodded. "Thank you for the information, Lady Rinis."
"You're welcome," the woman snorted. "I wish you luck. Or, as you Jedi say: 'May the Force be with you.' It wasn't with the previous ones — they didn't find Rondan, neither at his home nor at the cantina."
"Finding things is my specialty… Speaking of which," Lorm stopped, and I sighed heavily. "Honorable, beautiful lady: where might I find you? Say, this evening?"
The woman thought, judging by the silence, and after about ten seconds said:
"This evening I'm inspecting the department of rape, harassment, and domestic violence investigations. If you're interested, I can give you a tour, Jedi Master," she said sarcastically.
"No thanks, I humbly decline," Lorm Decer raised his hands. "We're going."
Once we were out in the corridor, I couldn't hold back my laughter.
"Oh, I can't, master," I clutched my stomach. "The department of rape and harassment investigations! That department was practically made for your needs."
"I would ask you to kindly shut up, my young apprentice," my walking companion tried to silence me. "Rinis is dangerous, yes. I must be cautious. But that's what makes it more interesting, don't you think, my young apprentice? And furthermore, let it be known — I have never raped women. It was always by mutual consent!"
"Even with Officer Dizzy?" I asked him.
"When will you forget about her?" the mentor swallowed. "And anyway. What kind of tone is that when addressing an elder? What will you grow up to be if you speak so sarcastically to your beloved teacher?"
"A Jedi Knight?" I asked him as we stepped out onto the square near the Spaceport. Chandrila's air was clean and fresh, even at the spaceport. The buildings were constructed in a classic European style. Among them stood out the House of Governance, where political matters were discussed, as well as the Central Gladean Park, famous for its beauty. Chandrilans even compare it to the Hall of a Thousand Fountains at our Temple. Naive beings, though... "At least someone who won't have to visit the department for investigating harassment and domestic violence."
"With all due respect, Master Jedi," a man's voice sounded. We turned and noticed a police patrol officer. "Our planet does not have, and never has had, such a Police department."
So it's time for them to create one, because Lorm Decer loves women. No, I love women too. They're beautiful, some are smart, cunning, they do useful things. But Lorm Decer... LOVES women too actively.
"What a sly one! She tricked me!"
"Who?" asked the policeman.
"Princess Rinis," I chuckled.
"Ah, Lady Rinis," the order guardian snorted knowingly. "Well, you're lucky. Lady Rinis recently found her very close... quite close friend in her own sister's bed and is now slightly disinclined toward men..."
"And how many policemen know about the personal life of the Planet's Princess?" Lorm suddenly asked seriously.
"The policeman who happens to be in the right place at the right time," the patrolman bowed slightly. "Allow me to introduce myself. Captain of the Chandrila Patrol Police — Gautier Pirmallon," the light-haired man inclined his head slightly.
"You didn't come up to us for no reason," Lorm concluded.
"Correct," the man confirmed. "But who talks business on the street? Come with me. You're looking for Rondan Igraam, aren't you? I can help you in your search. Alas, your colleagues turned out to be arrogant and failed. But perhaps you are less dismissive of the aspirations of sentient beings?"
* * *
The cantina Gautier led us into was lively but had unique features: private rooms for negotiations. It was into one of these that Gautier invited us. He sat at the table relatively casually, fondling an alcoholic drink. Master ordered the same for himself, and I bought myself juice from local fruits... Mmmm, so much like apple juice!
"So?" Lorm put his feet up on the table, ignoring the Captain's grimacing face. "What do you want from us?"
"You're already the second pair of Jedi to arrive on Chandrila," the Captain noted.
"And we are less patient," Lorm pinned him with a stare. "Enough beating around the bush! We have two wishes: either information about Rondan Igraam, or about Mila Karnur!"
"Haven't heard of the latter," the officer smacked his lips, "but I do have information about Rondan. But... There's one small 'but'."
"And what's this 'but'?" I asked him.
"As it happens," Gautier poured himself another drink, "the case of Rondan Igraam could ricochet and affect me, and also... some people in the high apparatus. Lady Rinis has become overly engrossed in the subject. But the results of her research are too frightening... I'd put it that way."
"I see," Lorm nodded, "so that's it. Rondan Igraam wasn't found because some of those people grabbed him and tried to use him to extract information about their involvement in the 'Spaceport case'. But he was fired earlier and lost access to the terminals. And without him: none of you can delete certain leads from Rinis's computer."
"Yes," Gautier nodded. "Your colleagues... Had the imprudence to behave arrogantly toward me. Even though I offered them my help quite insistently. Alas, they didn't dare accept and left."
That wasn't in the report. And besides — the Guard didn't dare take the risk for the investigation? Something's fishy here...
"Alas, they forgot their manners and even tried to arrest me, but they failed..."
"Because — an attempt to arrest you means a 'big man' will cover you," Lorm guessed. "An overly big man. I assume someone from the ruling council... No, only the ruler himself can ward off Jedi, and even then not always... Or... A Senator."
"I ask you not to continue," Gautier smiled softly. "So, will you agree? Alas, respected people are incapable of pulling off what I'm about to ask you..."
"Indeed," Lorm sighed. I shifted my gaze from the mentor to Gautier, ready for any decision the Knight might make.
"We'll give you the information that Rondon will tell us, or if you wish, you can speak with him yourself. So what do you say?"
"I'll say... I'll say... That you've gotten insolent!" Lorm Decer waved his hand and pinned Gautier to the wall.
"What? What are you doing?!" At that same second, a wave spread from my body, instantly covering all possible surveillance electronics. We have about a minute, at best.
"Why don't we conduct an interrogation. Dispassionately. Do you know what that is?" Lorm asked, drawing the hilt of his blade. "With the dispassionate face of an impotent man before whom the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy would spread her legs — I will cut off your limbs."
"You... You! Wouldn't dare!" Gautier exclaimed.
"And why not?" Lorm asked directly. "Jedi are forbidden to kill. That's true, I try to avoid killing when possible," yeah, right, sure! Though Gautier believed it. "But cutting off an arm, or a leg?" he asked him. "I'll say you attacked me and they'll believe me. And you'll go down for corruption. The guards behind the security console — are they bought by you? They'll go down with you. And your patron won't save you. Or — you just tell us everything you know about Rondan and the information you could have traded us."
"I'll talk!" Gautier howled. The mentor activated his previously deactivated lightsaber.
"Well!"
"Rondan is already dead! We just took all the information we could from him. There's info on Mila Karnur there too! Just let me go, please!"
"WHERE IS THE DATA?" the teacher asked.
"In my Bank safe!" Gautier howled. "I'll give you the infochip, just let me go."
Just then the door opened and three sentient beings rushed in with blasters at the ready.
"We shouldn't get involved in a war," Lorm said briefly.
I raised my hand:
"Everything's fine," putting as much conviction into my voice as possible. "Mr. Gautier just fell. The Master-Jedi courteously offered him assistance. And the cameras are malfunctioning because they're broken. It's time for us to go..."
"Yes, it's time for them to go," said one of the guards. The trio turned around and left.
"Alas, it doesn't work on a strong mind," Lorm sighed. "However, if you don't cooperate, we'll just use this technique to reduce you to a vegetable state, and then hand you over to the psych ward."
"Jedi don't do that," Gautier shook his head.
"Hah... You don't know what some Jedi can do. I can tell you this: you're lucky. Not always do Jedi follow a Senator's decision; sometimes, to solve a problem, special Jedi might come. Most likely one such person would have come here, Captain."
"And you wouldn't have survived a meeting with her. But this way, you still have a chance," I noted. "You'll give us the information we need and we'll let you go."
"If you let me go — I'm a dead man!" the captain exclaimed.
"You should have thought of that earlier," Lorm snorted.
* * *
What would become of Gautier and the Senator from Chandrila — we didn't care. We handed Gautier over to the Security Service of Rinis Mothma, who even smiled at our mentor. We didn't trust the police. But we could trust Gautier's information. It horrified us. Mila Karnur had fallen into the hands of slave traders! There are those in the Galaxy who enjoy breaking arrogant, mouthy girls from the Core Worlds. Even the poor live quite well here. Naturally — there are those who deliver inhabitants of the Core regions to the Outer regions, sell them and "have fun." That's who Rondan worked with. The ship was called: "Jumping Path" and was a fairly huge passenger vessel that recruited staff — mostly girls, women, sometimes men. Then they'd make a jump to one of the bases. Rondan even had information on where the ship with Mila had jumped. Well then... Only a small thing remains. To go there and retrieve the girl. I hope there's someone left for us to retrieve...