Parting with the ladies dearest to my heart was as swift as the meeting. They'd already stayed because of us, so we couldn't drag it out any longer, and the next day Irbis and I saw them off to their ship. Mom's personal ship. A cruiser of the "peacekeeper" type. A vessel for six, two of whom are crew. No, it can carry more at once, but thanks to special controls, the ship could be handled solo.
Funny—Mom and Vess carve around on a personal ship, while I slog around with this pacifist on passenger and cargo vessels. Not that I'm jealous or indignant—I don't care, really, it's the principle! But nothing-nothing—my time will come, and I'll get myself something like that. Though it's understandable: Irbis had only just become a master, and he doesn't want to fly an interplanetary fighter—comfort isn't the same.
By the way, why is this Noghri so pleased? I can't figure it out. Standing there, smiling, sighing.
"Irbis?" I nudged him with my elbow.
"Hm?"
"I don't get it. Why are you sighing?"
"Oh, nothing… thinking about my own things. Eternal things."
"Yeah?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
"Yes, yes. No, but what a woman, Shade. What a woman! Eh…"
"Uh… I specifically do not understand that right now!"
"Relax. She likes humans or Miraluka."
"So you got rejected."
"Mm-hmm."
"Immediately?"
"Mm-hmm."
"But hey—walked away intact. Be proud. Not everyone can boast that. Believe it—I know."
"Mm-hmm."
"So how did it go?"
"Well… with threats and a blade in the mouth. And interrogation. How beautiful she was… that blazing aura, the seeping, crushing Force, and her eyes… no, what a Woman!"
"Irbis, comlink check—come back to me!" I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Teacher!"
"Hm? Ah, yeah, sorry. By the way, do you know where your mother is from?"
"No. I never asked. Why, do you know?"
"Yes."
"And where from? Tython?" I snorted.
"No. Shikaakwa."
"Ow… uh… pff! Well then everything's clear."
"Hm?"
"Clear where the habits come from. Hadiya has the same thing, just worse. The moment anything happens, she grabs a knife and waves it like a baton."
"Yeah. And did you know your mother is clanless?"
"No. She doesn't like talking about her past. Wait. Hold on…" I looked at the sealed door where the ship had disappeared. "On Shikaakwa, clanless is the very bottom, isn't it?"
Irbis shifted his expression into something like, "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Yeah. Well. Shall we go?"
"Let's."
That was a small island of calm and happiness in the whole kaleidoscope of events. Fly there—unravel it, fly here—sort it out… Mom's work was more fun: hunting down runaway gifted beings dangerous to society. Which, personally, suited me fine. Pays well, not dusty work, someone to hit… isn't it wonderful?
Ah, dreams, dreams. I've got a long way to go before those. For now, we'll study, study, and… stop.
Irbis, a truly wonderful thought just came into my head! Hey, where are you backing away to?! What do you mean you don't like my face? It's a great idea, and I promise you'll like it! Don't look at me like that—what am I, a maniac for you to look at me like that? Fine, whatever. Listen: I noticed I've relaxed a bit… go to Saarl, smartass, I mean in combat terms. So how about arranging a training spar? No, what do you mean you "don't want to"? I have to keep my form and remember the old ways. Because of you, you damned pacifist, I haven't punched anybody in the face for two taked! No, that doesn't mean you have to be the one getting punched, but your thought definitely appeals to me. I just want to keep my form. I promise I won't hit hard. How long can this go on—don't look at me like that, look at yourself! You're constantly bouncing from one ass-end to another, you need to be able to stand up for yourself too. And I can show you a lot of interesting things, hm? Training for me, learning for you.
Drilling me with a look full of distrust, Irbis finally gave in, and in my head I shouted, "Gotcha." Because now, if there was an opportunity, we sparred—on ships too. For that we simply spread the cargo out in the hold, clearing a patch of space, and then, well, the fight began.
Ohhhh, what a pleasant feeling it is. I rolled Irbis across the floor like it was nothing. Despite the age difference, he still wasn't a combat type like me, so any scuffle ended with his face meeting the deck. Like I promised, I didn't hit hard, but it was plenty for him. And yes, this is exclusively training! Yes. I'm not enjoying righteous revenge on this tormentor. I'm not enjoying righteous revenge. I'm not enjo—no, Irbis, I'm talking to myself. No, I'm perfectly fine in the head. Shall we continue the lesson? Hey! Where, where are you crawling to? We're only getting started!
Vessira...
Staring out the viewport, sprawled on the bed right beside it, I wore a silly smile as I imagined how soon training would end and we would become wanderers. What came after was easy to guess: the final stage would begin, and the pilgrimage to the Jedaii temples. Probably the most dangerous stage of their lives, the one that splits it into before and after. Not everyone completes their Great Journey. Some fall victim to countless deadly natural phenomena and the wildlife of Tython. Others lose themselves. And there are those who simply break and choose to leave Tython, scattering across the system. But as Jedaii, we must accept this. The master from Padawan Kesh, Dila Yan Morolla, always said that absolutes do not exist in reality. And life is a challenge, and only by facing danger head-on can true greatness be achieved.
Only that thought inspired me as much as it stopped me. Greatness. What is it? The recognition of others? One's own achievements? Or both? But… why? Why do I need it? I don't want to be great. I don't need it. Not now. And I understand that.
But before, everything was different. Before, I wanted both the recognition of others and to climb to the peaks of understanding the Force. And if I can still agree with the latter—albeit for different reasons—then the former… watching Shade, and now his mother, I'm no longer sure: do I really need recognition from someone who is, in essence, indifferent to me?
Swish—the door opened, and Master Aala walked in. Steamy, in a towel, with a happy smile on her face.
Master Aala… at first I was shy around my teacher and her mannerisms, because it felt like she had never even heard of shame. Walk into a cabin and calmly change clothes, talk about explicit topics, crack jokes that had me blushing like a boiled crab during the first taked. And she loves to smile, and generally stays in a good mood. Even when we have problems—very big problems—she keeps smiling and having fun. That's her. We're about to be eaten, and she doesn't even think about getting serious. Shade, by the way, has a similar trait. Not the same, but close. Like that time in our first year of training when we ended up in the desert and had to run from flint lizards. We're trying to survive, and he's laughing. Looking again at Aala's reflection in the viewport as she tied her chest with straps, I realized she and her son are cut from the same cloth.
On the other hand, that's good. Aala never loses heart… or pretends she doesn't, no matter how bad things are. Only once did I see a clear dark shadow on her face—when I asked about Shade's father. The topic never came up again, and I didn't push. Another quick glance at the thoughtful master, suffering as if the universe itself depended on whether she should put on the red tank top or the green one.
And she wasn't only strong, and intelligent to a proper degree—she was also very charming. Because one thing Aala had in abundance was figure and beauty. Wherever we went, someone always tried to hit on her. It didn't matter whether it was an ordinary human or some respected person from the top of a planet. Everyone failed. Here I saw a radical change in Aala. With a single look she could send you walking in a lewd direction, still smiling sweetly. Others—especially the slow ones—she sent with a kick to the rear. There were third types who didn't stop even after that and threatened punishment, but the last one flew out a third-floor window. Aala didn't like ceremony; she acted at once. I remember her casually frying the guards of one enterprising spice dealer. Mercy, the value of life, grace… what are you talking about?
And when we were on Shikaakwa, I saw with my own eyes how the entire underworld shied away from her. Seriously—walking down the street, seeing a patrol of some clan ahead, and the moment they noticed us they tried to slip away sideways as fast as they could. Later I learned the master grew up on Shikaakwa, which is why she has a special reputation and sharpened teeth for the locals… but it also taught me vividly that with a sweet smile, a kind word, and a bolt of Force lightning, you can achieve very, very much.
And what's interesting is that Aala, essentially, has everything. Power, respect, influence… she's a significant member of the Order. More than that, she even refused the post of Master of the Temple of Stav Kesh. One of the best fighters. And, in essence, she achieved that very Greatness I once dreamed about. They fear her on Shikaakwa, acknowledge her on Kalimar, and her very name can sway the resolution of a dispute. But… the funniest part is that I don't see that greatness in her. I mean in her behavior. Because how does it usually go? The higher you climb, the higher you lift your nose. It's a fact I've observed many times. It's in everyone, whether you're a Force-user or not—some show it more, some less, that's all.
But Aala… she didn't care. She simply didn't care. About achievements, recognition, awards, the Order, even about the Force itself—she was so indifferent to all of it that she could sacrifice it at any moment. We didn't talk about it, but I just knew.
"Vess, maybe you'll finally tell me what's eating at you?"
"Hm?" I turned to the master. She was fastening her protection over the top. Aala always wore light armor, and she taught me to do the same, like everyday clothing.
"You've been staring out the viewport for an hour, and you keep glancing at me. Even a non-gifted being would understand something's gnawing at you. So you don't have to hide your emotions—your face has it all written, little mug," she winked at me.
"Well… 'gnawing' isn't exactly the word." Turning back, I propped my chin on my hands and looked into space. "I'm just… thinking."
"About what?"
"Master, did you ever strive for Greatness?"
"In what sense?" She sat on the edge of my bed, and I fully turned toward her.
"In the literal sense. The most recognized Jedaii is the one who achieved significant success in understanding the Force. Didn't you ever want to climb to the very top?"
"Mmm, no," she said, rolling a shoulder in surprise and looking around. "Not at all. And why would I?"
"But… it's… Greatness!" I tried to find the words and couldn't.
"And?" It was like she hadn't even heard me.
"But greatness!" Like a child trying to explain a silly idea to an adult, I sat up. "Everyone respects you, acknowledges you, listens to your words. The Force itself walks hand in hand with you."
"And why would I need it?"
Those words finished me off. How could someone refuse… that? Something that, in principle… can't be refused!
"That's exactly what I don't understand! You're one step away. You have enough power and knowledge to rise higher. Why don't you go further?" Having finally found the words, I gestured actively, trying to get the thought across.
"What's the point, Vessira? What's the point of going further when I don't want to?" she sighed, looking at me with the expression of an adult amused by a child's foolishness.
"How is that…" Aala nodded. "Before, yes, I went forward no matter what. I studied diligently, learned the Force, built authority, and I sincerely believed that if I reached what you called 'greatness,' I'd become happy. That I would prove it to everyone, show what I was worth. More than that—just understanding that such power was concentrated in your hands… the very thought stirred the mind. But then…" She sighed and looked away. "The higher I rose, the more clearly I understood the meaninglessness of that path."
"But why?"
"Because it didn't make me happy."
"Then what did?"
"Not what. Who," Aala corrected me, smiling sadly. "Once, purely by accident, I met a wanderer. He was a Miraluka. We ended up in a mess by chance. The ship crashed; most survived, but there were many wounded. We waited for rescue, and while we waited, I, he, and a couple of other beings were the only fighters and the only hope that the survivors wouldn't end their path in the belly of some beast. So that Miraluka managed what others could not—he impressed me. As a man." She paused, and her smile widened and loosened. "No, I did have partners, but let's say I didn't care much about serious relationships."
"Oh…"
"And he managed to win my heart. And you can't imagine how."
"How?"
"At first I thought he was just hitting on me, and I rejected him every time. Sometimes radically. But the masochist didn't stop, and in the end I didn't even notice how we were sitting together by a fire, talking about the Order, about the stars, about childhood. Until then, I'd never opened up to anyone. Not a soul, not even my best friend. But to him, I opened up. I was in a bad place then: stress, losing my balance in the Force, everything boiling over. And he listened, helped me return to balance, and it turned out we had enough shared interests that those talks became regular. And when we were rescued, we kept talking and even trained as a pair. That's when I was happy, Vess. Happy like never before. And that happiness was given to me by the one I loved—not the Force, not achievements, and certainly not the Order." A short exhale. "So before you set yourself a goal, think: do you really need it?"
"What happened to him?"
"There…" Her face darkened. "It's complicated. His expulsion from the Order, a string of conflicts afterward, and I myself almost did something terrible—directly threatening one of the temple masters…" Aala clenched her fists and hid her eyes from me. "You see, Saros carried different views on the Force and the Order. They weren't good or bad—they were simply different. But for the Order, that's enough. And it broke him. He valued the Order, and he wanted to prove he was right. He found something on Tython—said it could make the Order come to its senses. Prove them wrong. You could say it became his fixation: to prove his truth, defend it, make others believe not by words, but by evidence. And he left the Tython system with a few like-minded people on a sleeper ship. I heard about glory… about Greatness, Vess—greatness I could never even have dreamed of." She leaned slightly, and I saw a tear slip down the master's cheek. "He knew perfectly well about my childish dreams. But he never understood that everything I'd dreamed of—I already had. So forgive me, but words about greatness, power, recognition… they draw very unpleasant… comments from me. Clearly not for your sweet little ears. And I'm not going to say what I spun all that on either," the last words carried a hint of anger.
"And Shade—he…" Swallowing the lump in my throat, I still asked. "Does he know?"
"He knows, but not everything. He's very much like his father. He also has views that differ slightly from the Order's. Unfortunately they diverge too much from what the Order considers correct, so the same fate may await him. The Council is very conservative; only two can treat something like that with any tolerance. Even though he doesn't say anything special, it's the same understanding of the Force—just that instead of moving from one to the other, he tries to embrace everything at once. I won't say it comes easily to him; more than that, he doesn't understand how thin the ice is beneath his feet, but… I believe he'll make it."
"Hm…"
"One thing reassures me: Shade's core. In that, he took after me, and he won't try to prove anything to anyone—he'll just shrug and keep going. But that's also the problem: he may follow his father simply because he's curious. Because he won't see anything here that could hold him. And I sincerely hope that if that moment comes, if he truly wants to leave our system, you won't repeat my mistake, Vess."
"But will he listen to me?"
"To you—yes. Like he listens to me. But I won't always be able to be near him. Not always. So I'll have to rely on you."
"I… promise. I promise I won't let him go."
"Thank you. By the way," she suddenly brightened, wiped her tear, and continued in a playful tone, "if you didn't know—understanding the Force with your partner is much easier than alone. Saros and I spent a whole year like that together. The technique is called 'mind meld.' When two Force streams from two different beings merge into one. So much interesting opens up there—very curious and surprisingly pleasant—that I guarantee you'll have plenty to keep you busy."
"You know, Master… knowing you, for some reason it feels like you're hinting at something lewd," I shot her a squint.
"Hm. Everyone thinks according to the degree of their own debauchery," she shrugged, but her expression gave her away completely. "I meant understanding the Force. And what you thought about… that's good too, but it's a bit different."
"Maaaas-ter, are you seriously mocking me?!"
"Me? Mock you?! How could you think such a thing? And anyway, since we're on the subject, want me to tell you about another technique?"
"What kind?" I raised a brow, hiding my interest.
"Mmm… it was created for medical purposes, to dull nerve endings. Others turned it into a torture technique, doing the opposite—cranking sensitivity to the maximum. But what I want to tell you about kind of enhances some things and dulls others, so you can get more impressions from caresses, ignite more strongly, and overall—do you know how useful it is?"
"I'm afraid to ask how you know that," I grumbled, blushing.
"Well… everyone has little secrets," Aala winked and flicked my nose. What is it with their habit of doing that?!
Shade...
Thump! My fist slammed down on the table, and another drawing flew into the trash. Yeah… inventing something you don't know, but in a way that actually works, turns out to be very hard. Kriffing hard! How does it work for every other transmigrant? I don't understand… Even building a theory is already a nightmare. And it's not just a theory—I can't even make a drawing look right. The problem isn't that I can't draw, it's that I can't even imagine what exactly should be depicted.
Remembering that Irbis had let slip about a vision where I had a flaming sword, I decided to spend my free time trying to sketch at least theoretical schematics of possible weaponry. I tried. I tried with all my strength, almost meditating over those miserable sheets with a pencil, but nothing moved an inch.
What do I even know? I know lightsabers will appear later. Lightsabers that run on batteries—meaning purely technical weapons. I also know this world has forcesabers. That thing runs on the Force—apparently, in the original, on its dark energy, which isn't surprising: the light side doesn't incline toward destruction, and the beam released by the weapon is extremely destructive. But how does it come out? How is it focused? All of that was hidden.
No, I'm going to the Temple of Science no matter what—that's a fact. And I hope I'll be able to understand something there. But even to go there, you need at least some groundwork so the masters there don't laugh you out of the hall and tap their temple.
So I tried to put my idea on paper somehow. Crooked sketches of hilts, plus some squiggle inside—that was all I could manage. I didn't even understand where the crystal was supposed to be mounted.
"What are you suffering over?" Irbis came up from behind, crunching Sweet Joy. The little bugs—first Vess, now him… everyone eats my stuff. Sniff-sniff.
"Nothing… I remembered your words about the vision where I had a special weapon. I thought about it, and now I'm trying to put the thought on paper."
"What kind of thoughts?" the Master immediately got interested, sitting down by the table. "May I?"
"Sure," I waved, and he took one of the most decent drawings. I'd spent a full hour drawing it with a ruler.
"Hm… and in your understanding, how is it supposed to work?"
"You see, Irbis…" I reached into my pocket and pulled out that same white kyber crystal I always carry with me, charging it with the Force. Over time the stone had changed a little. It seemed cleaner, and if you held it in your hand, it almost warmed it. How it worked and why, I didn't know; I could only shrug and say, "Because of the Force." "Let's start with this little stone. Tell me what you think about it." I glanced at my teacher. Funny thing: if you carry this crystal with you for a long time, it gets soaked in your energy, and you can sense it like a small part of yourself. And the stone starts to respond.
"Well… a good energy focuser. Used in laser weapons. Also used in specialized generators for devices that sit on the boundary between the Force and technology. That's how the floating cities on Ska-Gora work, that's how some ships work. Why?"
"And that's all?"
"Yes."
"Ugh… teacher. You're underestimating this little stone's power." I snorted. "You can feel it in the Force."
"And?"
"And it responds in the Force."
"I know that."
"Yeah. No flight of imagination in you, Irbis." I shook my head. "In my idea, if you place this little stone into this hilt and power it with the Force, then from here…" I tapped the drawing with the pencil tip, "…a continuous but short energy beam should come out. Like a sword."
"Hm…"
"But how to make it happen or implement it—I have no idea."
"Most likely you'd have to disrupt your internal balance for that. The light side does not incline toward destruction." He shook his head.
"Yes, but for the sword to work, it would need constant feed. Sorry, but I don't want to keep winding myself up. So I'm thinking about neutral energy."
"It doesn't exist," he shook his head. "There is light and there is darkness."
"And there's also you," I snorted. "And in you, both coexist perfectly—if you don't deliberately choose one side. Remember what I told you about my point of view?"
"About the filter and the Unified Force?" He nodded. "I remember. And… in principle I understand what you're trying to design. But coming back to the question: how?"
"And I still don't know 'how,'" I sighed.
"No… it's very similar to what I saw," Irbis said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, and looked at the weapon again with fresh eyes. Then his gaze shifted to me, even more thoughtful. "Given your theory, Shade, I'm starting to doubt the Order and its views…"
"Hm?"
"If there is a third… substance that combines the first two, that… gives reason to think."
"Irbis, you are that third, as you put it, 'substance.' You already contain both. You only need to redirect."
"Still. We learn to divide the Force into black and white. You, on the contrary, try to use everything at once." He set the drawing aside and tapped his claw against his lip, asking more quietly, "Won't it tear you apart?"
"It shouldn't," I shook my head.
"Reassuring."
"And even if it does tear me apart, it will only prove I was wrong and that it shouldn't be done."
"Shade!"
"What? Just think what it will give us if I'm right!"
"Be careful with your experiments. I still have to return you to Aala, and if you don't care about living, I very much do."
"Heh, don't worry. I've lived with that thought my whole life and so far nothing—like you can see, I'm doing fine and my roof hasn't leaked yet."
"Well, about the last part I wouldn't be so sure."
"Hey! What are you implying?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Actually, my theory doesn't contradict the Jedaii Code; it lays neatly on top of it. 'The Force is neither light nor darkness; it is balance between extremes!' So I don't know anything, and anyway, if you think about it, I follow the Code."
"Just don't blurt that out in a temple."
"Which one?"
"Any, Shade. Any."
"The Temple Master Tsikuna knows about my theories, plans, and ideas. I talked to her myself!"
At that, Irbis looked like he felt ill. Then he relaxed and whispered quietly:
"Yeah… the Force itself is protecting you. I have no other explanation for your survivability."
"Heh."
In the end, I didn't come up with anything about the sword, leaving it for later. But at least I put together a good drawing. With Irbis's help. The Noghri, with my commentary, managed to create my little precious that I'm going to try to bring to life! It's not that I have some obsession with glowsticks—this is just my transmigrant soul talking when it sees something cool. And for now, since I don't know what I'm doing, I can return to my main occupation: trolling and bea— I mean, ribbing Irbis. But carefully. Because I've already learned he's vindictive, and he can collect on a debt in a very big way.