Darkness surrounded me on all sides. I was breathing heavily, gasping for the remaining air, trying to think frantically... Yes, they gave us a proper thrashing today. I could clearly feel the fading of Theodor Loy's aura. The man was most likely dead. There had been some kind of explosion before that... Did the Sith blow himself up? Or did Theodor use something like a last resort? But that's not important right now... How did I survive myself? Mostly due to speed, agility, and evasive skills. The man we met here moved very fast. To draw an analogy, he was only slightly faster in speed than what I'd seen from Jonal Ezar. And I can sometimes track and predict the movements themselves. The problem was the speed of my own body.
The eternal problem — when you have sufficient sensory ability, but a body that can't realize it. Still, this fight taught me a lot. Fighting an enemy this strong, I never stopped learning. And it nearly cost me my life... Although maybe it did. Remember, I'm currently underground... A veritable mountain is pressing down on me from above. And I have no idea yet how I'm going to get out. If I hadn't kept melting the rock with my lightsaber, I'd have been completely crushed. The decision on how to escape this burial came to me at the last moment. I decided to bet everything on it... And I didn't miscalculate.
But what now? I'm alive — what do I do next? How do I get out? Move everything with telekinesis? But how? This is literally practically a whole mountain! No matter how much I convince myself about the absence of weight, there are still limits to what's possible. No... The only option is to melt a path out with the lightsabers. Risking setting my clothes on fire, or getting badly burned... Although — how much worse can it get? Yes, I dodged almost all of the Sith's attacks, but a few times his blade caught me too. There will definitely be scratches in some places on my body... Doesn't seem like much? But in reality — those scratches... If they'd been just a couple of centimeters deeper, they could have easily been fatal.
A lightsaber is not a toy... And for my survival, I should thank precognition, which did help me after all. As well as my agility and speed. My focus on the Ataru form of combat... also played its part... After all, those who advised it to me were right. I sighed... Now I need to try and get out of this situation. I took the saber in my right hand; the left blade remained in its sheath. Because I extended my left hand toward the right hand's lightsaber blade — specifically, closer to where the blade emitted from the hilt. The saber could melt this rock, and I intended to melt through it. But the excessively high temperature could harm me...
Tutaminis and simultaneous ignition of the lightsaber. I began absorbing the energy from the molten rock and tried to guide the saber, creating a kind of tunnel. By my estimation, there wasn't much air left. So I pulled out an air filter that could convert almost any gas mixture into something breathable and continued the process, praying to everyone I knew that physics wouldn't kick in and block my passage with new rock. Fortunately, the arch principle worked — the passage was so narrow that the natural vaults held the mountain up... After making a big enough hole, about half my height and the full length of the blade, I moved forward.
It got a bit roomier... Constant Tutaminis was draining, but I didn't give up and kept it going, drawing the heat from the molten rock. Plus, I tried to transform the energy absorbed by the Force back into the Force... After all, the Force is the same kind of energy. And it worked... I didn't give up, kept crawling and guiding the blade, until I finally felt the very tip of it break through to the outside... Genuine daylight, which meant I was out! I immediately stopped and closed my eyes. Behind me were about fifteen meters of travel, but what was ahead? I couldn't sense any auras, Force-sensitive or not. No droids — which I'd learned to distinguish — nothing. Just a considerably shrunken room, filled with rubble and, apparently, the remains of scrolls — the legacy of the Tsai Kingdom.
I trusted my sensory abilities, especially during meditation. Only real monsters in the Force could hide from my perception in this state... That same Sith, for instance — I'd sensed him almost as soon as I entered the library, and before that I'd had a bad feeling. Nodding to my own thoughts, I returned to the thankless task of getting out of this situation, which reminded me of a complete and utter hell. Being buried alive in a mountain — that was a new one for me. But on the other hand — what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I'd understood a lot in this battle, including aspects of body enhancement and movements. After all — I'd been watching my opponent far too closely.
Too bad the realization came after the fight, not during it, like for many shonen heroes who get their power-ups and deus ex machina right then and there. I, alas, wasn't like that. First I took it up the wazoo, and only now understood what I needed to do... to avoid taking it again. Finally — the path to freedom was achieved... I removed the filter and deactivated the lightsaber. The room was destroyed... Some scrolls lay around, some burned, some torn; the shelves that held them were obliterated. I was breathing heavily after everything I'd been through... Yes, I managed to survive... Why? Because even in that state, I kept moving forward.
Alright... What about the exit from here? I looked at the passage... It was blocked.
"Fuck!" I swore. "I just got out from under the rubble!" I looked at the tunnel I'd made, and then something cold fell on my head. What? I looked up. "Snow?! But how?"
Snow was falling from the mountain peaks above... There was a yellowed sky overhead... So that explosion had managed to destroy the "roof" of this facility? A mountain had literally fallen on me! And all this rubble... Some scrolls were lucky enough to survive. I should, by the way, see if there's anything useful among them. I closed my eyes, concentrating and directing the Force toward the scrolls... Only two scrolls seemed valuable to my perception. I pulled both scrolls to myself... One was a classic set of kata for training. It also showed with arrows how to channel the Force through the body during movement, and the second again contained Matukai hieroglyphs... Which I couldn't decipher because I didn't know the language. And I hadn't been able to find that language in the Galactic language database. The isolationist policy of the Tsai Kingdom, damn it. Which means... I need a Matukai again. Putting the scrolls into my bags, I examined the damage to my clothes. Hutt... Burns, some torn spots, especially around the heart and lungs. He'd nearly killed me a couple of times with that Shiak...
And I needed to get back to the Star Trek and check my wounds... There was a scratch on my left cheek — if not a scar, it would definitely stay with me for life. Right! The Star Trek! I activated my datapad and tried to contact BB... The connection worked; the droid's hologram appeared before me.
"Master!" came the droid's chirp. "You're alive!"
"Correct, BB," I sighed heavily.
"For a time, your vital signs were approaching critical, but faithful to your orders, I did not rush to return to your Order. True to your command, I took the ship off the planet. The enemy left it in haste... Furthermore, my sensors detected two ships departing. The first one to leave had a slow hyperdrive. Its computer spent about five minutes calculating the hyperspace jump trajectory."
That must be the ship from the hangar. Considering that I'd only felt Theodor's death... Sheygen... So he survived. All the better. I needed a Matukai to decipher the hieroglyphs anyway. I'd planted a tracking program on his ship while I was poking through the electronics. So tracking him won't be a problem. On top of that, I'll need help destroying that Sith scum.
"Furthermore," the droid continued, "you connected me to the Temple database." That had happened; occasionally I cleared BB's memory of certain moments, so without hesitation, I'd connected him to the Temple database using my login. "You were assigned deceased status," the droid reported. "Your account has been deleted."
"What, excuse me?" I asked. "But how did they find out what happened, and so quickly?! And they pulled it all off that fast, without looking into anything?"
I sat down on a rock and propped my head up with my hands...
"BB," I addressed the droid. "Bring the ship to my location. There's... a new canyon now — we've slightly adjusted the geography of this Kingdom."
"I'll be there in five minutes," the droid reported, and cut the connection.
Apparently, the news of my death was brought by the Sith's agent. Someone from the Order who works for him. And they moved so fast... Ha... Shadows and Archaeologists — the Sith's targets! He has plenty of operational information about the actions of the Jedi he's interested in. Almost top-level intel, at that. He knows, apparently, names and the substance of the Shadows' missions. He was surprised that I showed up here in front of him... He thought I'd stayed on Alderaan? Yes... Let's work backward. Who knew I was on Alderaan with a mission and stayed there afterward? Jorus, whom I revealed myself to, and Oderis, who works for House Antilles... But neither Jorus nor Oderis have access to that kind of information, which would require knowledge of the Shadows' missions! And... who else?
"Fuck," I cursed. "I don't like this. Not one bit, damn it. So if we strip everything away... The traitor working for the Sith is Jonal Ezar?" I'd suspected him, but considered him an unlikely candidate, mainly because of his fanatical convictions and contempt for other Force-sensitives. "A full member of the High Council, responsible for the Shadows — may a gizka and a rancor do unspeakable things to a hutt — a Master of the High Council! And no one else comes to mind! Sure, the Archaeologists could have been managed by many people. There was no specific leader of the Archaeologists; they might have reported to the Council of First Knowledge in some cases, or to one of the Masters, again in some cases."
The Archaeologists were largely Jedi Researchers. Their research boundaries were rarely defined. The Shadows were sometimes sent out if such a researcher got too saturated with the dark side... Speaking of which. I sensed some kind of weak aura right beneath me. Residual... The ship was already on the horizon; I could hear the hum of its engines, but before that... I jumped aside and, with a sweep of my hand, began shoving away the rocks that separated me from the faint sensation of the Dark Side of the Force. Finally — I finished, and BB flew up and began holding the Star Trek in the air because, alas, there was no flat surface here. I jumped down to the cleared area and took a closer look... This was... I pulled the object that was emitting faint emanations of the dark side toward me with my hand. Then... I closed my eyes and recalled... My lightsaber swing, when I'd even touched his body a little! Yes, that's when it happened! I'd significantly damaged his clothes then, and this was a sign — something like a miniature emblem. Slightly radiating Darkness! Was this bastard so swollen with arrogance from realizing his own power that he wore something like that? But what drew my attention most wasn't the sign itself, nor the realization that I'd actually managed to do something in a fight with a Sith.
What drew me was the symbol — a triangle with a star in its center. It looked like a company emblem... Did this company make the clothes? The ramp was open, and I jumped into my ship, quickly returning to the cockpit. BB nearly knocked me off my feet, so happy was he to see me alive...
"We're getting out of here, BB. I didn't enjoy my stay," I sat down in the pilot's seat and directed the ship upward, out of the atmosphere. And then... Where should I go? I need to think...
The Order already considers me dead. The possible traitor is Jonal Ezar. My options? I could head straight to Coruscant and challenge him, or try to expose him... But what evidence do I have? Zero... Just indirect conjectures. Though Jonal would have a hard time weaseling out of everything, he'd most likely defend his freedom. On top of that — everyone knows his fanaticism in destroying any Force-sensitives who go against the Jedi. And here I am, looking dashing, accusing him of treason? And what would happen to me? What are the plans of Jonal the traitor, or some other high-ranking Jedi traitor? The Sith spoke about plans for me, but that's an unknown variable to rely on. Other options? Well... Since I'm dead, I could find a planet to live on, buy a couple of Twi'lek slave girls on Ryloth, and live it up with a harem as an outcast... Although, wait. Where did that thought come from? Get out of my head. I'm long past being the Light that such an existence would tempt! Option three — try to expose this Sith to the Galaxy. Publicly unmask him... But... Do I know anything about him?
I'm dead, I have no access to the Shadows' archives and databases. And the information in them wasn't super reliable anyway. I remember I even had to turn to the Bothans. Or was that because Jonal deliberately cut parts of the database because he's a traitor? He could have... However... I turned the symbol over in my hands.
"Where are we flying, Master?"
"Nowhere for now," I held the symbol up to the datapad's camera and photographed it. "Let's play Sherlock Holmes. Mr. Holmes, what do you think of the symbol depicted here?" I uploaded the photo into the HoloNet equivalent of Google Images. The search wasn't very good here, but it was enough. A couple of seconds later, I got the result. "Aha. The emblem of the company 'Taar Investments,'" I said. "What kind of company is that?"
Typing its name into the search engine, I started reading about it. It was founded seven hundred years ago in Hutt Space, on Nal Hutta. Though — it was a fairly respectable firm, handling light transport along the Outer Rim. Not poor, but not super-rich either... Let's see... The Executive Director was Rosamunda Atkari... A brunette, beautiful woman with regular facial features... Model looks, I'd say. Hmm... Typing her name into the search, I started looking into the latest news related to her. What's her connection to that Sith? Is there even one? Maybe he isn't connected to her at all? Curiosity was piqued by the company's structure. It listed a General Director and an Executive Director. Moreover, according to the publicly available charter, the owner of Taar Investments was listed as the General Director. But there was no data on his first or last name at all! In all documents, he was simply listed as "General Director of Taar Investments." And I couldn't find his name even in the Republic business registry.
Which was very strange. First — he was registered as the owner... Wait... He listed his name as "General Director." Very, fucking brilliant — he literally listed his job title as a name. But this suggests that either this General Director was a galaxy-level troll, or he didn't want to reveal his real name. And it's more likely the second than the first. There was no data on his place of residence. More precisely — the registration data listed the address of the head office on Nal Hutta. This, by the way, slightly violated Republic laws. A real place of residence was required, but there wasn't one. Which meant the registration should have been denied. But he most likely hit the registering employee with Force Persuasion. Or bribed him, or blackmailed him. In any case, the possibilities were there.
Well... I need to check this lead... He was probably proud of his outfit, just as I was proud of mine — the one that bitch-dog had cut to shreds. But there was something else... He'd gotten under my skin with this fight... I'd trained like a madman since birth. Been through so much... And I lost, even in an alliance with two other Force-sensitives?! My pride was trampled. Yes, I understood I wasn't the biggest toad in the galaxy... But... Nothing motivates you to put evil in its place like a near-death experience at that evil's hands... So I felt it... I wanted... I want to defeat him. And to do that, I need to find out who he is and where he lives. Only after I understand who I'm dealing with can I figure out how to defeat him. Well... The goal is clear; I just need to formulate the tasks within its execution. Through whom can I reach the Sith? The only thread that came to mind was the Executive Director. Rosamunda Atkari... I've lost my access to Jedi databases now, and flying to the Bothans... I wouldn't want to do that either; I could be detected. What to do? Right... I could act classically — many companies publicize their actions on the network to keep competitors, partners, and employees informed.
I copied the executive director's name and pasted it into a search on a news aggregator. This is essentially a site that can pull news from any Galactic news site by topic. There it is... A story posted three days ago on a Nal Hutta news site, where the company was registered, in the finance section, stated that Rosamunda Atkari had decided to buy new ships to escort the company's transports, due to increased pirate attacks in the Outer Rim where the firm operated. And she set off — for Kuat. I suspect she's there right now. And I should head there too. Negotiations for a purchase can often take weeks. Especially since she flew to Kuat, which means she wants to buy something expensive... And serious.
"BB, plot a course to Kuat," I said. "How long is the flight? Four days? By the way, I should get a more powerful hyperdrive, but unfortunately, not anytime soon."
* * *
Kuat... What is this world known for? Naturally, its giant orbital shipyards that surround the planet. And also its battleships, dreadnoughts — awe-inspiring ships several kilometers long. Currently, a battleship, or dreadnought, whichever one prefers, of the Procurator class was there — which translates to "Administrator" or "Manager." Though it sounds like "Prosecutor," which is far more menacing. It was a massive ship, two and a half kilometers long, with the triangular shape familiar to any Star Wars fan. The battleship was located far above the famous Kuat shipyards. Seeing that enormous hulk, absolutely any sentient would understand that it's best not to act tough, not at all, no matter who you are. And I didn't act tough. Though I did pull off a little trick, fiddling with the transponder and changing the ship's name. After all, I wasn't a complete idiot, and when I had the resources and access to Republic databases as a Jedi Shadow, I'd created a couple of false identities while I was on Alderaan. Just in case. And today, that "just in case" had arrived.
"Kuat planetary control to Star Trilistnik — state your purpose for entering the system," came a serious male voice. Interestingly enough, I was being hailed from a superstructure located on the yards themselves. It seemed they'd placed the administration and control right in the ring.
"Star Trilistnik to Control," I replied to the man. "My name is Elrond Smith. I've arrived to look at hyperdrive options; I'm thinking of replacing mine on my ship."
"Control to Star Trilistnik. Do you intend to visit only the shipyards?" the man asked.
"Yes," I confirmed. The shipyards weren't just a place for building ships. The ring was a full-fledged station, containing hotels, bars, restaurants, clubs, and shops. And even residential sectors, where the yard workers lived. "I have no intention of visiting the planet itself." And Rosamunda Atkari was staying in one of the hotels in the ring.
"Your hangar is number three hundred twenty-nine. We've sent you the landing vector. I wish you a pleasant and productive time on Kuat."
"Thank you," I entered the vector into the computer and began approaching the station, preparing myself. The Elrond Smith identity assumed short hair and blue eyes. The face was far less pretty. So I'd done a little makeup before leaving hyperspace to make my face match the databases I'd entered him into. Because if, instead of a reasonable human with blue eyes and short hair, a purple-eyed, pretty Sephi walked out — that would be, at the very least, strange. At most — grounds for detention and interrogation. I wasn't going to take that risk, having disguised myself fully. I did put on my favorite suit, having restored it to decent condition first. And for atmosphere — a blaster, supposedly for self-defense. Though I could use it and shoot quite well, thanks to the Force. Finally, I managed to bring my vessel into the hangar, which was located directly behind the yards. I flew right over a huge transport ship that was being repaired.
And in the hangar, I was met by those I expected — the border service, who decided to check me and my ship. Naturally, I was warned not to try anything. They wrinkled their noses at the presence of missiles and seismic charges on the ship... Well, what about me? Just an ordinary sentient, making my way in this galaxy. And I need to be able to pleasantly, figuratively speaking, surprise anyone who covets my hypothetical riches. The Captain also spent a long time eyeing the stygium panels of the ship. Probably wants one for himself. But one way or another, I managed to pass the inspection, using a little Force Persuasion on the Captain because he was getting annoying, and immediately began studying my target. I figured out roughly where Rosamunda was staying after about two hours. What did I do for that? At first, I was about to hack into Kuat's network, but then I realized I could be detected quickly. This was the Core Worlds, not the Outer Rim. Kuat's security system could be far stronger than BB's hacking system. And I didn't want to get caught on something like that.
So I simply compiled a list of all possible hotels where she could be staying. Kuat had an entire sector for clients. In the center were the more expensive hotels; on the periphery, the cheaper ones. Actually, many Kuati preferred to live on the orbital station, so there were restaurants, hotels, amusement parks, and residential modules here. And it was impressive — over so many years of the ring's existence, they'd built so much. But I was interested in the hotel zone, one of the most prestigious, where clients with deeper pockets ended up. That's exactly where I headed, simply and directly hitting the reception staff with Force Persuasion. The belief that you're under the best protection — and Kuat had that reputation, after all, a battleship a couple of kilometers long was hanging in orbit, and security patrols were constantly roaming the ring — had made people a bit lax. And the point is, you can't station a Force-sensitive or a strong-willed individual on every corner, so my tricks with light questions about Rosamunda Atkari, which the interviewee immediately forgot after giving me the information, bore fruit by the tenth hotel I checked. I didn't have time, so I acted with this kind of brashness. If I had time, I'd certainly have checked into a hotel and integrated myself properly into society. But my task required something different.
The hotel decor was breathtaking. From the most cutting-edge modern style to one reminiscent of eighteenth-century aristocratic Europe. But everything, without exception, sparkled. And so... My target was staying at the Kuat Star Hotel, which was designed in a modern style. The lobby was enormous, filled with lots of contemporary-looking armchairs and sofas. Wealthy people bustled back and forth; from some of them, the sheen of riches was so powerful it was slightly irritating. Room three hundred three, where Rosamunda was staying, was on the third floor. And, of course, the hotel was guarded. However, not designed to withstand infiltration by a Force-sensitive of at least mid-above-average skill. And I had learned infiltration and kept myself in relative shape. Force Cloak, a slight distraction of attention... But first... I patted my pockets. Wonderful... Before going to see Rosamunda, while checking hotels, I'd asked myself: how would I conduct an interrogation if, say, Miss Atkari turned out to be principled? They wouldn't have hired a mere figurehead for her position; she must have a strong will, strong enough. And breaking such people with Force Persuasion is a thankless task — you can permanently shatter a sentient's mind, turning them into a vegetable. And I didn't want that fate for...
Rosamund was innocent in my eyes, even if she was supporting the enemy. But what then? Torture wasn't an option, and constant interrogation pressure wasn't one either. There wasn't much time — soon the enemy would learn that I'd survived too, or would try to get to Sheydjen. I couldn't turn to the Order, nor could I leverage my authority to use the meager forces of the Judicial Forces. That meant I could only rely on myself and my limited time. So, having learned Rosamund's more precise schedule, I immediately ran to infiltrate her room. She wasn't there right then, and I managed to get to the third floor, where, after causing a small short circuit, I opened the door to her room and closed it behind me. I wasn't in a hurry to turn on the light... But even with the lights off, I could clearly make out the room, which I had to admit was excellent. The huge room, about thirty square meters, contained a stylized aquarium with various fish, a holoprojector, a panoramic window overlooking an artificial park, a massive king-sized bed, and a desk. I immediately examined the desk, though I couldn't crack its security and didn't dare seriously dig into it, as there was a high chance of raising an alarm. Through the wall was the bathroom, or rather a jacuzzi, luxurious... You can't forbid a beautiful life, after all — but what am I saying? I hadn't exactly embraced asceticism myself, even after becoming a Jedi Knight. And I'll never understand those who, with sanctimonious faces, preach that we Jedi must be ascetics.
No... We must understand the sentients we seek to protect. And how can we understand them if we deny ourselves what others don't? How can an ascetic Jedi understand a sentient whose house was blown away by a battleship's shot, if he himself, in fact, has no home? More precisely — the Temple is a home. But it's too little, and somehow exaggerated. So I was sincerely opposed to all those parables that Jonal Ezar spun about deprivation for the common good. The common good in the understanding of an ascetic and in the understanding of an ordinary sentient are completely different things. I sat down on the bed, which was to the right of the sliding door, and entered a light meditation. The battle with the Sith taught me a lot, including that I noticed a qualitative improvement not only in Force enhancement but also in sensorics. In general, the logic of the Force is such that through the challenge thrown at you, you become stronger. I noted this when I exhausted myself with training. It's like with muscles — always give a load a little bigger than the last time. And that's what I did, essentially jumping to an opponent of an incredible level. Now I felt that I still couldn't defeat him, or rather, I'd estimate our chances at forty to sixty, in his favor... I conducted that analysis during meditation on my ship, trying to study the experience of the battle with the Sith. Which meant I'd have to resort to cunning; in the long run, Rosamund might give me a clue.
Sentients were walking down the corridor, which I clearly sensed through the wall. Finally, the door to the room opened. And a female figure entered. I was ready to attack her and the guards at any moment, as soon as the door closed behind them.
"Leave me alone," the figure said commandingly.
"Yes, mistress," a female voice came. The door closed behind the first figure, and the woman clapped her hands, turning on the light. I acted quickly, lifting her with telekinesis off the ground. She squeaked, but it was too late. I muffled her squeal with a Force Technique, essentially a modification of Distraction. Alas, I hadn't mastered it enough to completely silence sounds. It was one of the Force Techniques I'd been studying on Alderaan, and so far I'd only achieved the ability to completely seal off a room so that sounds from inside wouldn't leak out. Though the walls here were thick too; the clientele were elite. So money can sometimes play a dirty trick. And not everyone activates their room's security system either, because they fear for their secrets, especially the rich. And Rosamund was the same...
"Good evening, Miss Rosamund Atkari," I greeted the woman. Due to my hood, she couldn't see my face, hovering a meter above the ground.
"Who are you? What do you want?! Put me down, by the Hutts! Bantha poodoo!"
"Well, well, you know some choice words," I carefully set her down on the floor, which was covered in a green, velvety carpet.
"What do you want from me? You're Force-sensitive? How dare you! I'll complain! Salara!" she exclaimed. "COME HERE! I'm under attack..."
"No matter how hard you try, Miss Salara won't hear you," I said with a smirk, watching the woman's angry face. Oh, she was truly beautiful. Tall, slender, in a light dress that accentuated all her assets. Blue eyes and light hair — or was it light-brown? I never knew the difference. I can tell a blonde from a brunette, but that's it. Her rather large breasts heaved with anger and drew attention. "I used a Technique. For now, it's just you and me..."
Whoa, the woman pulled out a blaster hidden under her dress. But I instantly extended my hand forward and yanked the blaster from her palm. She immediately ducked and pulled out a second, small blaster hidden in her left shoe. This time she managed to fire, but I put out my left palm and used Tutaminis. The energy of the shot was absorbed by me. While she stared in shock at the vanished blaster bolt in my hand, like a child watching a magician's tricks, honestly, I snatched the second blaster from her hand and tossed it aside.
"Why make it so difficult?" I spread my hands with a smirk, looking at the woman. "Do you, citizen, enjoy my company? I can see in your eyes that you don't like me. So let's come to an agreement. I don't need your life or your money. All I need is a name. The name of the one who wields the Force, carries a lightsaber, and bears this symbol. And his location. I presume it's your General Director? And you know him."
I carefully levitated the sign, which I'd managed to cut from the Sith's clothing, into the woman's hands, and watched as shock and disbelief played across her face.
"Well?" I looked at her expectantly. "Are you going to tell me," I began pressing her with the Force with every word, "who he is and where he is now?"
"You're a Jedi, aren't you?" the woman asked.
"Does it matter?" I tilted my head slightly, making sure most of my face was hidden by the hood. "Let's just say I'm a simple Force-sensitive, making my way through the Galaxy in these difficult times. I had the... displeasure, shall we say, of meeting this sentient not so long ago. And I want to continue... our conversation."
I really want to... I feel it, it's more of a Force-sense that I'm doing the right thing. A trial, a second battle in which I'll fight him again — it will make me stronger. This isn't just revenge for a sentient I liked as a person — namely, Theodor Loy. It's also personal... A challenge that was thrown at me. A challenge thrown at my years of training.
"So?"
"I won't say a word," the woman said. "He spoke of you. You're a Shadow, a secret Jedi division that hunts those like him. But," she looked at me defiantly, "I won't betray my beloved, even at the cost of my life."
"You're a naive woman if you think I need to take your life or subject you to torture to achieve my goal. It may sound hypocritical, but I'm a humane sentient. My fellow Shadows don't possess such a... characteristic. Torture you? Break you? Extract information at any cost? And then kill you? That's not the Jedi way. Though I won't deny, my method will be unpleasant too. Still, I want to warn you," I added coldness to my voice, "tell me nicely."
"Go to a Hutt!" she exclaimed. "SALARA! Help!" She lunged for the door but immediately tripped in mid-air. I stopped her with telekinesis, smacking her to the floor.
"You only ruined your makeup, or the new one you put on doesn't quite suit your beautiful face," I smirked. "Since you won't do it nicely — have it your way. The Force knows, I tried. I won't kill you," I walked up to her, holding the angrily glaring woman with telekinesis, "nor will I torture you. And I won't break you either. You're innocent and don't realize what a monster you're guarding. I've seen plenty of Dark Siders. And what I felt from him doesn't even come close to what I've seen before. It's a vile feeling. You should be grateful you're not Force-sensitive. But enough of that," I pulled an injector from my pouch. "What you see... The name won't mean anything to you, but I'll tell you a little about the properties of this substance. But first, a little background on my abilities. I'm a Jedi," I crouched down in front of her. "And I really don't want to harm you, as an innocent. Or your mind. But it's hiding important information, so what's to be done? Jedi can't coerce a strong mind without damaging it. But I've invented an interesting method. Alcohol... or narcotic intoxication.
Terror reflected in the woman's eyes.
"You're not a Matukai, or even Force-sensitive, so you have no resistance to various substances. That means — a little injection of a mild drug. This dose will cause addiction, but to not ruin your life, I'll erase the knowledge that your mind experienced such a state from its memory. Because during intoxication, you'll become surprisingly compliant and talkative. But you can still tell me, answer my questions."
"I'll endure your torture, Jedi! Inject me with spice and deathsticks all you like!"
"Tsk, how could you," I said, offended. "I wouldn't call this substance something that ranks with spice or deathsticks. I told you — a mild drug, a psychotropic. You'll get a little buzz, and tomorrow morning — take a cold shower, and your whole being will forget everything, including your mind. So," I brought the injector with telekinesis to her arm. "Where do I need to aim to hit the right vessel? Just kidding... I've studied the anatomy of many races. I'll find your vein... How did it go? A well-restrained patient doesn't need anesthesia. You won't break free from my telekinesis."
"Let me go!" she raged.
"It's your own fault," the injector hit the vein in her arm perfectly, administering the drug. Five more minutes and she'll have a tongue like a rake. Suppress her with the Force, and she'll name the passwords to the company's bank account. Though, the latter interested me little. I watched as the meaningful expression in the woman's eyes, filled with fury and anger, gave way to bliss. "So, I repeat my question. Who is the person wearing this symbol?" The sign floated before her eyes again. "Is he your General Director?"
"D... Dha... Ha-ha-ha-ha," the woman laughed. Wow, she'd never used drugs before. Hence the reaction. Should have used a smaller dose, look how she's spaced out. Well, I'm not a medic, but what about her vital signs? A scanning device from security might show she's high or drunk. Where did I get this substance? Bought it at a pharmacy. At a smaller dose, it's used as a painkiller. I think I need to reduce the dose for interrogations, or ideally, calculate it based on the sentient's parameters. Now she only got three cubic centimeters.
"So who is he? What's his name? How do I find him?!"
"Mas... master? Beloved... Master..." She looked at me, and I pressed her with the Force, forcing an answer. "Seth..."
"What?"
"Seth Hart," she said, and a chill ran through my body. It was Seth Hart? The same one who, a thousand years ago, almost became the new apprentice of Darth Zannah, the student of Darth Bane himself? I recalled everything I knew about him. He was the padawan of Master Obby. Seth encountered Darth Zannah, and instead of killing him, she offered to make him her apprentice. Seth was a clever Jedi and suspected that Bane had acquired the secret of eternal life through Andeddu's holocron. Zannah wanted to kill Bane, and while she was executing the plan, Seth managed to find the holocron and steal it... In the end, he disappeared. But Darth Andeddu's holocron... That's the same knowledge I saw through the manifestation of Darth Arrogant, a Sith from Vitiate's time. Mind transference... According to records, Seth began creating his clones and when he reached the age of thirty in one body, he transferred to the next. Seth vanished from history. No one knew if he was alive. And now I'd run into him. The one who's spent a millennium collecting knowledge about all the Force-sensitives in the Galaxy. Damn, I spat. This was becoming incredibly, mortally dangerous!
"Seth Hart?" I asked again. "And what is your master's name in the wider world?" I asked her. "He doesn't go by his real name, does he? The Jedi should have exposed him that way..."
"Th... thaaat isss his naaame. We weere foun... founded seven hundred... years ago," the woman said.
"And the Jedi never checked your master?"
"M... many traced him... but... they... died... One... didn't fight," she said. "He serves him."
"Who?" A traitor?
"Don't know," she was already nodding off actively.
"Where is Seth Hart?" I finally asked. "Where is he?!"
"On... Royce... Royce VIII," she said. "Masteeeeer..." She looked at me with a crazed gaze, "youuur toouuch craaaves caaresses sooo much. Pet meee."
It seemed she'd finally surrendered to the euphoria.
"You see, Rosamund Atkari," I said, poking the woman in the forehead with my finger, using the Force. Her eyes rolled back and she immediately lost consciousness. "I didn't do anything bad to you. Your body will expel the substance on its own. I'll merely erase the fact that I was here and fed you a drug." Working with a mind so pliable after a drug was a pleasure. I hadn't previously considered mental techniques my specialty, but I'd trained a lot. So now I could easily erase memories. Especially when the patient wasn't resisting. "Only fools go around saving the Galaxy; I want to enjoy myself too," I quoted a certain odious character, carefully removing the woman's dress and admiring her beautiful body. Even the increased sweating caused by the drug, and thus the smell, couldn't overcome the aesthetic pleasure of gazing at this magnificent woman's body. "Seth Hart, you bastard, doesn't just collect Sith artifacts," I lifted her with telekinesis and lowered her onto the bed, covering her body with a blanket, leaving only her left arm outside, then walked over and checked her pulse. It was slightly slowed, due to the drug.
I turned off the light and headed for the window, which I opened slightly by pressing a button. Wait, I stopped and returned to Rosamund, then connected my datapad to hers and began copying data. Maybe she had something valuable... And only after that did I head for the window. Her guard, Salara, was at the exit. I didn't want to run into any problems, even theoretically. Taking one last look around the room, I jumped down into the hotel's courtyard. Guests could walk in the garden. Before that, I calculated so that no camera was looking at where I landed, and then I closed the third-floor window with telekinesis. So... My goal is clear. Defeat Seth Hart... I intended to challenge him, one way or another... But I couldn't handle him alone. A duel — that's what I wanted. Or is that the manifestation of that side of me that loved battle? The side whose pride Seth Hart crushed on the planet Tsai? Exactly — that's what it was. And it hadn't overcome me. The rational part of my mind wanted to test what I'd achieved during our first encounter. The irrational part wanted revenge for the humiliation. Meanwhile, I understood that Seth Hart wasn't just some other crazed padawan. Once, maybe, but now... I needed allies I could trust. And I knew who to rope into this. One Matukai and a couple of Mandalorians... A plan formed in my head.
* * *
It's good to have a decent ship with a fast hyperdrive. Traveling across the Galaxy was relatively quick. It's also good to be able to play with your ship's transponder and have access to Jedi databases. I could create a false identity at any time and disappear from anywhere. After all, being a Shadow has its advantages. We act in the shadows to serve the light, right? And we have incredible resources at our disposal. Useful, all very useful... But right now, what interested me most wasn't getting myself to Ryloth, where, according to reports from a tracking program I'd installed, Sheydjen's ship and Sheydjen himself were located, but rather my other potential allies. Mandalorians — more precisely, a familiar group of Mandalorians: Jacob, Vanda, Hori, and Bombur. I'd met them when I was extracting pearls from a krayt dragon's stomach.
At the end of the adventure, Jacob gave me his contact info. I never thought I'd use it. Nevertheless, I was about to do exactly that, dialing the group leader's number.
"Jacob," I said, seeing the hologram of a man in Mandalorian armor. Something exploded in the background. "I'm pulling you away from work."
"We're almost finished, that's why I answered your call. You... Judging by the contact, it's Light," he said. "Long time no see, kid. Calling about something?"
"Right, Jacob." I received a signal that the course to Ryloth had been calculated, but I didn't intend to enter hyperspace and break the connection with Jacob. Why did I even need him? The data from Rosamund's datapad indicated that Seth Hart had built a real complex on his estate, housing all his artifacts, records, and even clones. The last was the most dangerous. I needed to destroy all his copies. And if I planned to fight Harth myself, I needed a second group to handle destroying the complex. For that, I needed Sheydjen, as a Force-sensitive who could, in theory, sense traps Harth might have set, as well as threats. Plus, professional mercenaries wouldn't hurt. "I have a job, and the pay will be decent, plus trophies that I'll allow you to keep."
The gunfire on the other side died down, and the rest of his group approached Jacob.
"Long time no see, kid," Hori recognized me even in my hood. "You've even grown since our last meeting. Now even Vanda won't call you a child." I heard a snort from the Mandalorian woman nearby.
"Calling to tell us something interesting?" came from Bombur.
"What will the job entail?" Jacob asked.
"Infiltration and destruction of a guarded complex. Stealth infiltration isn't necessary. The complex likely has above-ground and underground sections..."
"We could glass the above-ground part with a ship. Yours, by the way, might do," Hori noted. "Missiles and turbolasers would take out a lot."
"It won't be enough," I stated. "However, I wouldn't say no to help from something resembling a corvette. Glassing the ground part with ship guns sounds promising."
"I know some people who have a ship of that type. If what you want to hit isn't a city but some kind of structure, it'll be more than enough," Jacob informed me. "And they need credits. If it's a worthwhile job, they'll agree."
"I'm a relatively wealthy sentient; I have enough money for such an operation." I can't use the Order's funds. But for the destruction of Harth, I'm willing to use my own. "So — listen. I can't say much over voice comms. Fly to Ryloth. We'll meet another sentient there who'll very much want to help us. He's quite strong..."
"Like you?" Hori asked.
"He's Force-sensitive," I replied. "That should be enough for now. So, interested?"
"We'll discuss the reward when you've explained everything," Jacob said. "We'll be on Ryloth in five days."
"I'll be waiting for you there. I'll send the exact location."
* * *
Ryloth — the Twi'lek homeworld. A rocky planet with poor soil, so the Twi'leks have long sustained themselves not through agriculture, but mainly by hunting anything that could run across their barren planet. When this race was discovered, it was found that Twi'leks, in general, were attractive to other races. For instance — I myself found them quite beautiful. Naturally, regarding the slender Twi'leks shown in various Star Wars works. I'd even observed Rela, my acquaintance and classmate. She'd become a beautiful girl, and my eyes sometimes wandered across her body. They were also the ones who supplied the galactic market with so-called rill. This was a mineral with narcotic properties. It was the weak version, used for pain relief, that I'd used on Rosamund.
Rill itself had been banned from distribution for about a hundred years, but medical companies, especially those controlled by the Neimoidians, trafficked in drugs based on it. And I was simply able to buy it at a Kuat pharmacy without any questions. Sheydjen's ship signal came from the city of Lessu. A small town, famous for the rill mines located nearby. Ryloth had no particular defense besides one Dreadnought hanging in orbit. Understandable; the planet had long turned into a den of slavers, against whom even the Jedi couldn't do anything. I landed in a shabby hangar. There were no standard inspection teams; they just offered to refuel my ship and replenish ordnance. Someone even sent an offer to buy my ship, which I immediately and categorically refused, locked the ship down, put it in siege mode, just in case, and left the hangar.
The city looked poor and unappealing. On the wide streets floated not-very-wealthy speeders. The main population here was miners, mostly strong, tall men. So, where was Sheydjen? Knowing his character, he could have already been noticed, and rumors could be anything. So I merged into the crowd of sentients walking down the street and began to listen, using the Force. The sentients were talking about a healthy man with a tattoo on his face, who had shown up at Zello's cantina — a Toydarian who owned an establishment on the outskirts of town — and had been drinking nonstop for almost a week. Almost a week and a half had passed since our defeat... Given the old hyperdrive of that ship, he could have arrived here in that time... But... A tattoo? Had he been elevated to a Matukai warrior? There wasn't much time to think. Having extracted further information that the man getting drunk at Zello's was a tall, golden-haired man, I headed there, having rented a speeder. The scene I arrived at stunned me... A crowd was gathered around the cantina, or rather, around the corpses.
Which lay with their throats cut, hands severed. One was cut in half... Judging by their gear, they were somewhere between pirates and bounty hunters. Nearby, a wounded man groaned, clutching a stump of an arm.
"Did their golden demon do this?" came a voice from the crowd.
"How many groups is that now? I heard someone rich put a bounty on him, but... Going after a Matukai — that's just crazy."
"Matukai?" another sentient asked. "Is that some kind of Jedi?"
"Yeah," came the reply. "Just with a glaive instead of a lightsaber."
And near the entrance hovered a Toydarian. He looked sad and dejected. Of course — people looked at the corpses and scattered, not going into his cantina. I approached him.
"You've clearly got problems, owner," I addressed the hovering alien.
"That's, bantha poodoo, an understatement," he expressed himself. "When that golden-haired guy arrived, everything was fine. Then another one like him came. They quarreled, trashed the cantina. But the second one left, and this one got a tattoo after that second visit... But he's been boozing, by the Hutt, for three days straight, blackout drunk. Wookiee moonshine, Corellian whiskey, Chandrilan vodka! He drinks everything I have! I heard a bounty was put on him," he crossed his arms over his chest, "by someone rich. And I'll soon put a bounty on him myself! To get him thrown out of my cantina!"
"Does he at least pay?" I asked, tilting my head.
"That's the only thing he does, besides drinking, eating, and corrupting my female employees!"
"You've clearly got problems with him," I said. "I'll solve them."
"Eeeeh... Am I going to have to drag your body out of there afterward?" he nodded toward his cantina.
I pulled my lightsaber into my right hand and showed it to the Toydarian. He stared at me in surprise.
"If we don't reach an agreement, I'll carry him out myself," I said, twirling the lightsaber, and headed into the cantina, leaving the Toydarian behind.