To be honest, when I said "have fun," I had no idea what I would actually do. I need to recall my origin, my original origin. After all, what was I? A miserable orphan, really. Back on Earth, in the Milky Way, I grew up in an orphanage. My mother and father were hopeless, pathetic alcoholics. I won't recall the character of the downtrodden nobody now, because I've recalled and analyzed it so many times that it makes me sick. And I don't like my past self anyway. You'd have to look hard to find a worse hypocrite, and I'm not sure such a person as I was could be found even in the most vile and twisted Chinese cultivation novel, where the protagonist is first an angel of virtue until he gains power, and then he goes and starts killing everyone he dislikes or who looks at him wrong.
In any case: why was this method of relaxation new to me? Because, even though I was some kind of aristocrat in some generation and my family even had a court title from King Alaric himself, my origin was simple. I was poor. I lived below average income, enough for myself alone, though. But if I had a family, we would definitely be below the poverty line. Who did I blame for this poverty? Partly myself, mostly for worthlessness. Yes, I loved to criticize myself even before I reincarnated. However, words were not followed by actions, so I criticized myself, sometimes even drank out of despair, but did nothing. The second culprit, naturally, I saw as the authorities. Teaching is a prestigious profession, turned by a handful of not-so-smart people into a "calling," where you are buried in bureaucracy, often completely unnecessary, you go crazy from paperwork and reports, you are paid pennies, before elections they raise your salary by a hundred rubles, and then cut it by three hundred. That's roughly what I noticed at school… I worked for a couple of months after getting my diploma. Then I finally decided to remain a translator, leaving school.
And all of this left its mark on my leisure methods. When did I ever really go out? Or when did I live luxuriously? Well, I flew around the world, visited Turkey, Egypt once, went to China and even flew to Japan. It all cost a pretty penny, but the question is different: where did I stay? At best, three-star hotels. Here, a completely different picture appeared before me. This underwater liner, Alderaan's Blue, would outshine any five-star hotel on Earth. The luxury made my eyes ache. For me, a being living a second life many times better than the first. And I'm not just talking about having parents, but about the wealth itself.
I had only seen many things in pictures.
"By your eyes," came Bail's voice, "it's obvious you don't know what to do."
I was standing near the holoprojector, which was near my cabin, thoughtfully examining the yacht's structures. I had enough money. First, royalties from patents for the design of the BB-series droid, which are being produced on Tustra. My father spends his money on droid construction experiments and even said he was preparing a new model of protocol droid, and was also thinking about starting a real company under the patronage of Tustra's droid construction company. He thought that all his ideas had dried up from his youth and that the only thing he was good for was maintaining droids in the Royal Palace. Well, I'm glad he found a much better outlet than being an ordinary droid mechanic. Second, I also received money from the Order to accomplish mission goals. Jedi can determine the budget needed for missions and allocate that budget to the Jedi supervising the mission, usually a Master. For example, I requested money from Jonal. He wasn't particularly happy, since he's an ascetic himself, with extremely radical views on commodity-money relations and Jedi. I would even say that sometimes he resembles a communist. In the worst representation of a person who believes in fairy tales about equality and an ideal society (Author's note — The MC is anti-communist, deal with it (capitalists brainwashed him). By the way, I, the author, also don't particularly respect communism))).
"Well, they really packed a lot in here," I told Bail. Steps sounded behind us; Delon joined us. "You know about my origins. I'm not ashamed of it, but here it plays a cruel joke on me. I have no idea what to do here for two whole weeks. Besides participating in the Fencing Tournament."
"And there's nothing shameful in that," Delon said importantly. "But as a being who will someday graduate from Alderaan University, you will certainly be among high society and must… not lose face, to avoid embarrassing your alma mater."
"And also not to tarnish any of us. Especially Amella. She'll remind you of every mistake," Antilles smiled. "I even think she moves using hyperspace. As long as I've known her, the moment someone somewhere makes a mistake or violates her views on anything, she's right there, giving another session of her moralizing."
"Ha," I snorted, "that's unlikely. After all, I intend to leave the planet. Besides, Amella is an aristocrat and the only Daughter of the current head of House Doyn."
"Well, the current head of the House is Olen Doin, regent for the heir and future head — Ehar Doin," noted Delon. "Ehar has no advantages, no knowledge. He himself resembles the fruit of forbidden love between Jaiko and Renard. He's a rake like no other. In my presence, he even flirted with Amella, even though they are close relatives."
"As they say: incest is a family affair," I noted. Delon and Bail burst out laughing.
"I'll remember that," said Bail after laughing, then turned his attention to the holomap we were standing in front of and started searching for something on it.
"Ahem, but at the same time, Ehar is the future Head of House Doyn. And Amella's fate under such a head is unenviable," said Delon. "Considering what I said earlier. Do you really want that fate for her?"
"Let me think," I said thoughtfully, putting a hand to my chin. "No. Although it's not like she concerns me so much that I'm ready to challenge the entire Galaxy and my own fate — she's not Mila, after all, with whom I had a Force Bond. But the fate that awaits her is sad. Though I still don't understand. How am I supposed to change it? Should I cripple Ehar?"
"That's one option," said Bail, distracted from playing with the holomap. "But actually, the idea is to make Amella the heir. At least — many in House Doyn, seeing what kind of heir they have, are thinking of making Amella the heir. You could become her husband, in a morganatic marriage. Your education would allow it. You could go into politics, or start your own business here on Alderaan."
"Absolutely not," I answered categorically. "A matrilineal marriage? Is that the one where I change my surname?"
"Not necessarily change your surname," said Delon. "Simply your children will get the surname 'Doyn.' Sephi and humans, as far as I remember, are compatible."
"Uh-huh," I nodded, "you get half-Sephi. They can live up to two hundred years."
"And you live up to how old?" Bail asked me.
"In ideal conditions, a Sephi's lifespan is four hundred years. However, among us there are the Gifted, who can live even up to a thousand. There's a Jedi Master traveling along the Outer Rim, I've heard, named Fay. She's definitely over a thousand."
"Whew," Bail whistled. "See? That's also beneficial for House Doyn — to acquire such a trait."
"What kind of trait?" I snorted. "You haven't studied the xenobiology of my species, but we were taught it even in kindergarten. We Sephi," I put a hand to my chest, "mature at roughly the same speed as humans. That's first. Second — our genes that give us longevity, which are a feature of our species, are recessive."
"What?" asked Delon. "Rece…"
"That's a genetic term," said Bail. "Genes are divided into two types — recessive and dominant. Dominants dominate and appear more often."
"Exactly," I said importantly. "Suppose the longevity gene is denoted by the letter 'a'. Capital 'A' denotes its dominant form, which in any case, one way or another, will manifest in descendants. And lowercase denotes the recessive form. Usually this is written as two letters that denote the combination. For example, 'AA' means the dominant form, the normal lifespan, found in those who have 'lost the wind' descendants of Sephi and another race who, over generations, lost the traits of Sephi. And 'aa' is the recessive form responsible for high longevity. It is in this form that this gene variation occurs in pureblood representatives of my race. 'Aa' is the heterozygous form: neither one nor the other, roughly speaking, results from marriages between my race and other races of the galaxy. And we are compatible with many. However, in a marriage between a Sephi and a representative of another race, a Sephi will always be born with the latter set, meaning they will be 'half Sephi' and have about half our longevity, and also sharp ears like mine," I touched my ears. "Although in our society, marriages with outsiders are not considered the best behavior. They are not condemned, but our traits are considered the 'Gift of the Wind God,' and the God has only one chosen race that worshipped him. And then he sent the Sacred Wind into our lungs, and they were filled with his power and grace. Nonetheless, various half-Sephi occur from time to time. For example, once a child of a Sephi and a human female became a King."
"I've heard you're even compatible with Twi'leks."
"That's true," I nodded. "In a marriage between a Sephi and a Twi'lek, a Sephi can be born with hair color similar to the Twi'lek's skin color. But you must remember, Delon," I looked at the man. "The first generation is half-Sephi. And the second generation already has a perfectly normal lifespan. So you would need at least three marriages with Sephi representatives to firmly root our main traits in the family. My father, by the way, is a descendant of humans who migrated to Tustra. He is a full Sephi. But his ancestors were not. First, they had to overcome orthodox-minded compatriots. And second, the very genetics of our race does not imply that children from a different sentient race and a Sephi become long-lived instantly. Several generations must pass before the traits of my race become established in the family, as I already said. So — I don't know if the Doyns would want such descendants, but I'll be honest, after one generation they'll be ordinary humans again."
"That's all sad," Bail sighed. "And I was thinking…"
"Don't think, it's bad for you," Delon interrupted. "Or have you forgotten how Miya beat you last time when you tried?"
"Miya?" Bail sighed. "Sometimes I think she's too persistent."
"It's just that Amella didn't fall for you," I shrugged. "Alright. Let's drop the subject. We wanted to discuss what to do, and you're lecturing me. What should I do here for two weeks? Blow my father's inheritance at the casino?"
"Of course not," Bail replied.
"We have two weeks, and here's what I suggest. In the first week — have a great time in restaurants and dance clubs. And also by the end of this week, there will be a Pazaak tournament."
Pazaak? I never really liked that game in Knights of the Old Republic. Even after rereading the rules, it wasn't particularly clear to me. I understood poker better. Though it does resemble poker.
"I brought my 'hand' with me," Bail boasted. "It even has a plus-minus card."
"And where did you get it?" surprised Delon asked him.
"Won it, naturally," Bail puffed out his chest proudly. "Where else could I get such a card?"
"Buy it at an auction," I answered calmly. "At auctions, sometimes even lightsabers are put up, let alone a plus-minus card."
"You know, Taivi, your words insult me incredibly. That I, one of the best Pazaak players among the Alderaan aristocracy, would buy a card that helps me win? Decided… First, I'll play Pazaak with you…"
"Nonsense," I interrupted him. "I pass from the start. Write yourself a victory and wait for the Fencing Tournament, when is it?" I asked Delon.
"Next week," Delon chuckled.
"We can't escape the truth," I smiled at Bail. "I'm really not a player in Pazaak. But in fencing, I'll take you."
Bail turned pale, having just realized what problems he'd gotten himself into.
"Only in a power confrontation you're a hero," Antilles said gloomily. "But in an intellectual one! In an intellectual…"
"Bail, he has top grades in the course, two scientific articles in different subjects, and also the highest score in philosophy," Delon interjected.
"Damn it!" Bail exclaimed. Using the Force, I could definitely beat anyone in Pazaak. But first, I didn't see the point in the game and tournament here. And second, it's at least dishonest and doesn't serve the mission at all. I have plenty of money, and to bully those who don't have my specific traits with the Force — somehow… barbaric.
"So get ready, Bail," I patted the being on the back. "Let's see what you've learned."
"Delon, my will, just in case, is in the desk drawer, the code… I'll tell you on my deathbed. Will you tell my little sister, Breha, that I love her very much and wish her to find a good husband?" Bail said sadly.
"I will remember you, my friend," Delon said, imbued with the importance of the moment. "But before that — we'll also participate in a trip to the dance clubs. Just imagine what the women there can do!"
"I wonder what Rulana will say about that?" I said thoughtfully.
"She'll join in," Delon replied.
"She'll go?" I and Bail asked in unison. "Seriously?" Delon nodded. "And no scandals?" again in unison and again a nod. "She's not a woman, she's a dream."
"And I also heard," Bail took the floor, looking at Delon with envy, "that by the end we'll be sailing over the Black Trench. And we can go diving there."
"Sounds interesting," I said. "When will that be? By the end of the week?"
"Yes," said Delon. "But you're probably interested in the Fencing Tournament? It will start next week, with thirty-two participants planned. Although there are almost a thousand passengers on this ship, and definitely more than a hundred know which end of a sword to hold. I wonder how they'll select thirty-two participants among all of them?"
"I think I can guess how they'll do it. Though it's just an assumption. Better wait and see what the yacht's owners come up with, but I don't think they'll be original."
"And will you share your thoughts?" Bail asked me.
"What's secret about it? Most likely they'll just divide all registrants into thirty-two sections and hold a Battle Royale in each. The winner of each section becomes a participant. Thirty-two winners. Then they'll hold classic duels between them. The winner of all rounds will become the tournament champion. Again, I'm only guessing, but that's probably how it will be."
"I see," Delon scratched the back of his head. "And you know, your scheme sounds interesting."
* * *
The first couple of days of rest went smoothly. I got acquainted with high society and listened to what beings talked about. Here, essentially, politics, hunting, and culture in the form of discussions of sculptures, paintings, and opera were popular. I also caught whispers about new, elite drugs, though I could barely make out the details. Also, among men, women were discussed. Among women… also women, but it could safely be categorized as "idle gossip of a henhouse." And naturally, highborn ladies discussed who had ordered dresses from whom and for how much. A separate caste of adult and mature mothers was choosing partners for their children here. Meanwhile, Bail took third place in Pazaak, losing first to Amella, who, surprisingly, is excellent at cards — she took second place. And then to a strange aristocrat with red hair and a mask. I saw him a couple of times in the corridor; he seemed out of this world, always thoughtfully studying some politicians. I even detected hints of… signs of Giftedness in him.
On Friday of the first week, a large gala evening was organized, to which not everyone was invited. More precisely, all the cream of society were invited, of whom there were not that many on this yacht. Each of the "cream" was allowed to bring a companion. I thought the invitation would be given to everyone who could afford a "luxury cabin," which I had. But no, I was ignored. And I would never have appeared at this celebration of life if not for my friends. Did Bail invite me? Or maybe Delon? No, each of them invited a girl: Miya and Rulana respectively. After all, one person could only invite one other. For me, so as not to fall out of the loop, I had to go with Amella. At first, I decided to go to one of the dance clubs, where Bail, Delon and I had already hung out a couple of times, watching the erotic dances of beautiful alien women and representatives of the human race.
Especially outstanding in the field of dance were three Zeltrons performing a joint dance number. Both women and men in the hall at that time couldn't take their eyes off the stage. And after it was announced that the beauties offered not only "aesthetic services," and also a price tag for one of the three was posted, the noise seemed to wake up giant larvs, skate-like animals of the Alderaan seas, which prefer to spend all their activity in winter and bury themselves in the underwater ground in summer. Nevertheless, buyers were found for such things; the women apparently had no shortage of clients and… female clients. And they were simply beaming with happiness, because some pilots say: "Zeltrons cannot be sexually raped." Who knows why? Because they are empaths. The main goal of sexual violence, everything related to the sexual act, is to obtain pleasure. And an empath senses the interlocutor's emotions perfectly. And if the interlocutor experiences true enjoyment, then the empath is quite capable of receiving that enjoyment as well.
I also thought about unwinding a bit in that sense at first, but then I encountered reality. Not Amella, who came with Rulana to pick us up from that club. I encountered the price tag. First I rubbed my eyes… Then I drank some cold water — maybe the alcohol I'd had that evening was affecting my perception… Then I even used the Force a little, thinking it was some treacherous illusion cast by Plagueis, Sidious, and every Sith in the Galaxy who desperately didn't want me to have a good time. And then, when I realized it was the real price and they were actually asking nearly fifty thousand credits for a night with one Zeltron (the pirate captain information cost me less! And that was the Bothans' asking price!), I cursed angrily in the great and mighty language in my thoughts and even out loud a little, and then let Amella lead me away and spent twenty minutes listening to her talk about how everyone in this world had degraded, true love, depravity, society's morals, family, duty, and something else. It ended with her taking me to my room, and I just kissed her and disappeared behind the door. According to Bail, Amella stood outside my room for about three more minutes thinking about something, then made some kind of promise and ran off to her own room.
In any case — I was invited to the formal evening by none other than Amella herself. That morning I ran into her at the exit from my room, where after three minutes of bowing, greetings, and clarifications, she handed me an invitation, then quickly turned around and vanished.
"It's love, Taivi, I told you so," came Bail's voice from the side.
"And that's trouble," I snorted, examining the formal invitation. "Big trouble. Amella's wishes are bound to clash with reality. Completely."
The formal evening was held in a huge hall, where I wore a silver suit with a yellow-gold shirt. Amella managed to surprise me, wearing a purple dress, clearly inspired by my huge, purple eyes — a trait, no, more than that, an eye mutation that had developed among Sephi with the surname Flyingstar ever since the ancestor's father's side migrated to Tustra and the half-Sephi with the surname Flyingstar appeared. The ballroom literally sparkled with wealth. My eyes couldn't settle on any one delicacy — every table was piled high with food. There was everything here… And the guests. If only the rich could get onto the Sinevu, then here, at this formal evening, only the richest and most respected were invited.
The girl walked to my right. The enormous hall space, apparently, was given over to dancing. Bail was already at the ball, escorting Miya. Both wore blue, embroidered with gold thread. And Delon, who walked in a red outfit styled like a uniform, which harmonized with the red hair of Rulana, who wore a white dress. Then Amella stirred…
"What?" I asked the girl.
"Oh, I just spotted my father," Amella said, looking to the side. A man stood there with shoulder-length golden hair and piercing green eyes. He was broad-shouldered, with what seemed like well-developed muscles. Amella's father, Olen Doin, was known for having participated in some mercenary companies in his youth and even held the rank of General of Justice. He graduated from the Anaxis Academy, if I remembered correctly. He wore a green uniform embroidered with gold thread. Beside him was a man from House Doyn, with short-cropped golden hair and green eyes. That was Ehar Doin. Both aristocrats had "handsome features." Except Ehar kept twisting his face into a smile, while his uncle maintained a focused expression, listening to that same aristocrat with the red hair, though this time he wasn't wearing a mask. "I want to introduce you to him."
"Is that so?" I chuckled. "Next to him is probably Ehar," Amella nodded. "And who are they talking to? That wouldn't happen to be the one who beat you in cards at the Tournament and took first place, would it?"
"Could be," Amella remarked phlegmatically. "But if an opponent wears a mask — whatever assumptions you make about their identity, kindly keep them to yourself. Though yes, it's him," Doin said thoughtfully. "He's one of the aristocrats from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine."
I stared in horror at the obvious Sith apprentice of Darth Plagueis, calmly and peacefully chatting with Olen Doin and his nephew. How? What is he doing here? Calm down… Page one of the manual Rela sent me, and then the basics of diplomacy — even if you meet your obvious enemy, but not on the battlefield — keep control of yourself… Right. Sidious doesn't know I'm a Jedi, but even if he finds out, he'll realize I'm not here for him. Still terrifying… I don't think now is the time to run into him in combat.
"Alright, let's go," Amella declared in an uncompromising tone. On stiff legs, I walked with the girl up to the group. "Father, good evening. Ehar, Sheev," she bowed slightly.
"Amella," the head of House Doyn's voice was stern, matching his build. According to Bail, Olen was almost always traveling on family business. "And you must be Taivi Lanian from Tustra," the man looked at me. "Olen Doin, Regent of House Doyn," he extended his hand and I returned his handshake. It was the classic handshake of a "father who loves his daughter." Meaning — the desire to break every bone in the body of the guy who showed up with his daughter to the ball was concentrated in his palm… And he wanted to break my palm. Or maybe he was just testing me. "I've heard a lot of good things about you. Glad to finally meet you."
"Ehar Doin," the nephew of Olen offered me his hand and winced when I returned his handshake. "Tustra — is that the name of your world, Taivi?"
"That's right," I nodded. "I am of the Sephi race, who live on Tustra."
"Hmph, you look very much like humans," Ehar snorted.
"True," I nodded to him. "Our differences from the human race aren't that great. The first thing you notice is the ears. The second is the lifespan."
"Do you live less?" Ehar asked with some curiosity.
"Sheev Palpatine," Sidious greeted me with a handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Taivi. And regarding your question, Ehar, Sephi can live up to four hundred years."
"How much?!" Ehar blurted out, too loudly for the setting. He earned a disapproving look from Amella's father.
"Up to four hundred," I answered laconically. "That's one of the main differences between us and humans. As for Force-Gifted Sephi — they can live a thousand years. One such Sephi is traveling the Outer Rim Territories. Rumors say she's nearly a thousand."
"I've never heard of such a strange race," Ehar said. If you'd studied instead of visiting prostitutes, you'd have heard. Why does almost everyone, even that dimwitted idiot and chatterbox Jaiko Mecetti, know what people I come from, but Ehar Doin doesn't? Because even Mecetti got a decent education and keeps his academic performance "above average" in our group. And this Ehar, who even tried to get Amella, his own close relative, into bed, can't evoke anything in me but disgust.
"The Galaxy is truly full of strange and unexpected things, Ehar," Sheev Palpatine said. "For instance, the so-called Gifted, who can channel the mystical Force, which grants them incredible abilities. And even, possibly, longevity. A Gifted human can live over a hundred years."
"Yet not everyone is Gifted," I noted. "The Galaxy is full of injustice too."
"From the look of you, Taivi, I wouldn't say that injustice troubles you much."
"On the contrary," I countered Sidious. "This kind of imbalance does concern me, partly. But it seems to me that being Gifted isn't just about being able to use certain techniques."
"What else then?" Olen asked me.
"It's responsibility. Primarily toward those who aren't Gifted with this Force."
"Responsibility?" Sidious looked at me questioningly. "Interesting. You reason almost like a Jedi."
"That's a strange way of thinking," Ehar interrupted. "You're a strange sentient altogether, Taivi. Who are the Gifted supposed to answer to? To us? For having the Force?"
"And why not?" I asked everyone. "Look at it yourselves. The Force gives them incredible abilities they can use for good deeds. Shouldn't they be able to answer for their actions, especially for using this Force?"
"Yes, that logic is very characteristic of the Jedi," Palpatine noted.
"And you have your own view, Sheev, on this dilemma?"
"Personally, if I had a connection to the Force," — "if"? "I would never answer to anyone. The Jedi are powerful Gifted who mostly sit in their Temple — can't the Force be used to bring order somewhere at least?"
"You're dissatisfied with the Jedi's views?" Olen inquired.
"More with their view on politics. The Gifted have the abilities to build strong states just by their presence. And they did build them…"
"That's true," I nodded to Sidious. "But you're only right from one side. Let's look from the other," I suppressed my trembling and finally grew bolder, realizing that Sidious certainly wouldn't reveal himself here. And even after, he'd hardly consider it necessary to attack me. I wasn't planning to insult or interfere with him here. "After all, all those states built by the singular will and Force of one sentient — how long did they last, and were they truly beacons of order and justice? In political philosophy at the University, our instructor said that one of the main points is not just to build a powerful state with functioning institutions of power, but also to take care of the legacy. What will be left for descendants, and how to properly raise those descendants. Sheev, as far as I recall — many states built on the ruler's personal power rarely coped with that situation. Somewhere, a Gifted ruler wanted to rule forever and delved not so much into politics as into personal research of the Force. And somewhere — they even feared those who might come for them, and eventually exterminated them, as if telling the people: I am with you forever, until my death. And what does a country do after such a leader dies? What did he leave? Who did he leave it to? Death is the natural order of things. For some it will come, as in my case, in about three hundred years at best. For others, in seventy. But it will come. And if a ruler builds everything solely through their uncontrolled, unrestrained power… authority — they can sink. No… They will sink into the dementia of absolute power, go mad. Sentients are mortal. Life is finite. Their life will end too… What will that country do then, having lost its irreplaceable leader, Sheev?"
"Hmmm," Palpatine stroked his chin. "There's a grain of truth in your questions. But on the other hand, if there are too many checks and balances, can they prevent truly needed reforms and laws from passing? The Senate can deliberate a single law for decades; Chancellors can come and go, while a necessary and important law remains shelved, only occasionally coming up for a vote. How do you plan to react in this context in moments when speed of response truly matters? You were excellently prepared at the University of Alderaan, Taivi, and you ask the right questions. But be prepared for those same questions to be asked of your views. How will you answer my questions? Will you deny them?"
"I won't," I shook my head. "What you've voiced, Sheev, are the downsides. Downsides… I voiced the downsides of the state concept tied to the power of a single person; you, on the other hand, found the downsides of my views, which clearly follow the scheme 'a sentient shouldn't have too much power; there should always be someone to limit that power.'"
"That's interesting," Sidious smiled. "I've spoken with many Republic civil servants and even Senators. They stubbornly believe that the downsides you've pointed out here aren't worth paying attention to."
"That's how fanatics are dangerous, Sheev," I returned his smile. "It's characteristic of them to not notice their own mistakes. Even if you point directly at them, they'll keep shouting that it's not so, the arguments are wrong, and generally — you don't understand anything."
"I agree with that. Well then, it was a pleasure to meet you, Taivi. Though we didn't see eye to eye, you argued your points admirably."
"As did you, Sheev. As did you," I nodded to him.
"I frequent the opera," the man said. "If you like, we could continue our conversations there, Taivi," he looked at Amella. "Your dress is charming, as are you, Amella."
Sidious carefully stepped away to one of the tables. I returned my gaze to the Doin family. Amella and her father were whispering about something.
"It was also a pleasure to meet you, Taivi. Your reasoning is good — Amella wasn't wrong to praise you. I'll be glad to continue our acquaintance at another time. And if you want a recommendation: try the crayfish. They're good here."
The man stepped aside, but Ehar, before moving away, shot me a strange, spiteful look.
"That was strange, but you jumped right into that conversation with my father and that Palpatine about politics."
"You don't really like him, do you? Sheev Palpatine?" I asked the girl.
"Sheev Palpatine… He's an old friend of my family's — well, his family was friends with ours. Not so long ago, Sheev's family died. My father invited him over a couple of times and even mentioned a possible engagement with him," the girl looked at me with interest.
"He's a smart man," I noted. "But he won't refuse. That's a fact."
"Refuse what?" Amella asked curiously.
"Hmm?" I looked at her. "No, nothing. Just thinking out loud."
The rest of the banquet boiled down to high society getting drunk, eating, and even dancing classical dances in the center of the hall. As Amella's escort, I had to dance several dances with her. The girl, by her own admission, hadn't expected me to actually know how to dance. And she had every right to be surprised. Because when she, as class president, had suggested I take extra classes, which included dancing, I'd been rather rude about that option. But Amella, as it turned out a little later, loved dancing. And she danced quite well… What was I doing, waltzing with such a charming girl? I remembered the basics of Makashi, which I'd started studying recently, as well as a waltz championship I'd once stumbled across on TV and watched.
The evening was wonderful… In the middle of the evening, panels above the hall slid open, revealing a stunning view of the deep water. Powerful spotlights illuminated the surroundings around the ship, allowing us to see the sea's flora and fauna even in the dark — we were sailing, according to public information, at a depth of about two hundred meters. Finally, after having thoroughly rested through several more conversations — though in those I was just a listener — I volunteered to escort Amella to her cabin. But the girl, apparently, decided to be hostess until the very end, so we never reached her cabin.
"We'll be staying here for the night," she declared importantly. "You… hee hee," so alcohol does affect her, "volunteered to escort me, sir. And I tell you: you've fulfilled your duty. Now I impose a new one upon you, from which refusal is not accepted."
"And what would that be?" the alcohol had affected me a little too.
"Open the door," she demanded and kissed me rather quickly on the lips, "and I'll tell you everything."
The alcohol, the desire to relax, and the company of such a charming girl did their work. I pressed my hand to the room scanner, my other arm around the girl who leaned into me. The door obediently opened, and Amella and I entered my room… The room had special protection that automatically closed the door behind you. As soon as we entered, the door shut and the lights came on…
"You know," Amella said, pulling back slightly. "Your character isn't exactly the best… But something draws me to you. Ever since that first time. And don't you dare make up excuses to refuse me now, Taivi. I can see that you want to say something to me too… or… show me?" she winked.
"Alcohol works miracles," I noted dryly. "You're always so proper, so moral. And now. Look at yourself…"
"Oh, shut up before I change my mind!"
* * *
After the first time with Amella (Author's note — previous chapter 57.5), she seemed to go wild. The next couple of days ended in bed, from which we sometimes wouldn't emerge until after noon. You could say the girl had finally found a way to make me pay attention to her and she started using it actively. As for me… What did I feel from our passionate nights? Freedom… The lock that had bound me since witnessing Mila's death began to break.
I didn't even notice how one morning I got out of bed, kissed the peacefully snoring Amella on the cheek, and realized under the cold shower that my mind seemed freed from the weight it had carried since what I'd witnessed on that prison planet. Right — grieving and complaining forever certainly wasn't the best solution. So, having moved past all the consequences, I simply continued living. Truly: the wounds inflicted by one woman can be healed by another. And even if the literal meaning of that saying, in my understanding, is slightly different, I understood that it was Amella, her straightforward actions and feelings, that finally made me fully move past what happened back then.
All the sadder, then, that I would still have to leave her. Maybe I was still the same hypocrite? After all, love, dreams… I intended to cross all of that out for Amella by leaving. Wasn't I just using her? I was, but it depends on how you look at it… After all, it would be better for Amella herself if I left on my own, maybe even explaining some things to her. Yes. But until then, I could still enjoy the warmth. There's no time to regret that I'll abandon someone. Yes, somewhat hypocritical… But that is my path. It existed long before Amella Doyn came into my life. And it won't disappear. Because, as I've already decided — I intend to do something in this Galaxy Far, Far Away. I don't consider everything I'll do to be exclusively right. Only communists and Nazis sincerely believed their actions were perfectly correct. Both suffered a sorry fate for those beliefs. The countries they represented were destroyed, some by war, some by dry economics.
But whatever the outcome, I'll accept it. And depending on the outcome, so will my fate. I might not even live to see the consequences of my actions. Those are the realities of my new homeland, so to speak. By the weekend, the liner Sineva Alderaan was sailing over the Trough, a so-called hole whose depth reached a good two thousand meters. And that trough had a special secret — glowing, deep-water crystals that gave the water column a light-blue color. They weren't cyber-crystals, but they still managed to glow at that depth. According to the brochure, the crystals contained a unique substance that accumulated heat energy from the magma flowing beneath them. Accumulating this energy, the crystals could shine blue, illuminating the water column for many kilometers in every direction. Hence the name of the underwater liner: Sineva Alderaan. There were countless crystals, making the water at a depth of five hundred meters as bright as day. Only the light was blue.
The crystals were famous for shining during a specific time of year — summer. The most expensive tours on the ship, the most prestigious events and guests, were during summer. The panoramic windows on the upper deck and around the entire perimeter of the ship were crowded on all sides by sentients. Everyone wanted to study Alderaan's deep-water fauna. And it was truly rich. Jellyfish, fish, rays. They had their own unique names, of course, not like on Earth. An incredibly beautiful sight… And the coolest thing, in my opinion, was that you could sign up for a special excursion where they'd put you in a super-strong diving suit and let you swim around the ship for thirty minutes, admiring everything you could. The ship erected a special shield around itself, enclosing a section of space with the swimming visitors, so even the local equivalents of sharks couldn't feed on sentients. But sentients could swim within three meters of predators with powerful teeth, about ten centimeters long, growing in three rows.
A monster like that would bite a person in half with one "chomp." And naturally, I signed up among the first, even though they charged a thousand credits for the swim — but that was a price I could handle. Plus — thirty minutes, at such a depth, right next to enormous predators. I hadn't fought in a while, so I'd been getting bored lately. No, I didn't intend to fight the local predators — my lightsabers were still with BB-7. I just wanted to feel a little adrenaline.
"Listen up!" In a special compartment of the ship, about a hundred sentients had gathered, either wanting to swim or accompanying those who did. Before us stood a man in a gray uniform — he was the liner's captain. "Everyone listen. We're only letting you out for thirty minutes. The zone is enclosed by a shield; you can swim up to two kilometers from the ship in any direction. You simply won't get further than that — the shield won't let you," Bail, sitting next to me and already wearing the local diving suit, sighed. Hard life for an aristocrat — he wants adrenaline, excitement. And even here, he doesn't get any. "Most importantly — only eighteen-year-olds are allowed to swim… Adults by the law of their planet of origin," I'm sixteen, actually. But the Jedi managed to forge documents masterfully. They didn't just create the persona of Taivi Lanian — they completely forged all records of his life. They can work when they want to. If only they always did. "It is strictly forbidden to get in the face of another swimmer in any way."
The diving suit was similar to what I might have seen on Earth. It hugged the diver's body as tightly as possible. Except there was no oxygen tank for breathing; instead there were "artificial gills." That's the technology sentients in this Galaxy use for swimming underwater. The trick is a gadget we attach to our noses. It automatically transforms water into a breathable gas mixture. In most cases — that's air. It's worth remembering that when asked what we use for breathing — air or oxygen — you should answer "air." Because pure oxygen can only be used for breathing for about twenty minutes. Yes, physiologically speaking, oxygen is what's transported in the blood to the organs. But the point is that we actually breathe air, which differs from oxygen in composition, even though it contains oxygen.
And during the swim, it was absolutely forbidden to threaten any companions in any way. The slightest malfunction in the artificial gills and a sentient could drown.
"I assure you that if you endanger anyone during the swim — regardless of who you are, what your motives are, or who you endanger," the captain swept the entire audience with a steel gaze and stopped on Antilles, "the Guard of House Apalis, followed by Organa — will prosecute you to the full extent of our planet's law! No one will get off with a fine, regardless of whether the victim survives or not. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes," I spoke first. The others sitting near me also confirmed.
"Then I ask everyone to leave this compartment. It will be flooded. We'll seal ourselves in the adjacent compartment, open this one, and you'll be able to swim out from here. But first — check your artificial gills. Also," five people stood up, wearing scarlet diving suits, "the ship's crew will accompany you. They'll help you if anything happens. Note that yes, there are only five of them, but their boots have built-in portable engines to help them catch up to you quickly."
I checked the gill mechanism. We'd gone over their functionality in survival classes. I'd decided back then to look into whether it was possible to breathe underwater using the Force. And yes, theoretically — such a technique exists, but it's extremely draining. You have to constantly control the process of transforming water. Essentially, it's hydrokinesis, like my pyrokinesis, which lets me shoot fireballs — just water manipulation. But you don't just manipulate the water; you have to transform it using the Force into a gas mixture that my lungs will accept. I've studied this topic and know the optimal chemical composition of air, so I should be able to transform it — or at least try. And I… Can do it, on a primitive level, with intense concentration. Incredibly intense concentration. The underwater breathing technique is incredibly draining. I'd prefer to use it only as a last resort. Maybe someday I'll train enough to expand, so to speak, the places I can be, including underwater.