We hadn’t even entered the hall before we had to fend off the master’s attack.
He’s fierce.
It seemed he had started blocking our connection too, or maybe I was just lost in thought, but I had to strain to keep my senses sharp.
A Force push, and the mentor flew into the former observation gallery.
He didn’t expect that from me.
I jump after him and try to knock off one of its shaggy heads.
Unsuccessfully.
The clashing blades whirr.
A fist flies at my eye.
You won’t get me.
I strike towards the hand with my broad head.
Ha!
That’s how you do it, master.
My frontal bone is massive and strong, and if I infuse my body with the Force, it’s even more so.
Swish-whizz-swish, the mentor feints.
I close the distance.
I intercept the sword and strike left to right like with a bat.
Wow!
I didn’t know Nemak could do the splits.
I had to jump a couple of meters to save my legs.
I attack.
I rain down blows that are not strong, but fast.
The master grunts, but holds on.
I falter slightly and lose my tempo.
The sensei immediately seizes the initiative.
I retreat.
The master attacks confidently.
Blows from all sides, but that’s nothing.
Soresu was created for that very purpose: to counter such attacks.
The sword hides the body in a sphere of flashes.
The master stubbornly tries to break through.
He’s looking for openings.
All done.
He’s worn out.
He retreats.
Ah, no, I jumped to conclusions.
Now everything that isn’t bolted to the floor or bulkheads is being hurled at me.
A weak attempt, but it gives me time to catch my breath.
However, I shouldn’t prolong it.
One.
Parried with the sword.
Two.
Dodged.
Three.
Intercepted with telekinesis.
Four.
Took one in the shoulder.
Five.
Took a blow to the spine.
Six.
Parried.
Seven.
Got hit in the thigh.
Eight.
The master is back in action, and I’m limping.
Whizz.
Dodged.
Whizz.
Evaded.
Bzzz.
Parried.
Aaaah!
Rolling my eyes, gasping, I fall to die.
“Clown,” the mentor snorts.
“Do you think I should add foam at the mouth and convulsions?” I ask from the floor, opening one eye.
“As if!
I have enough of your fur to deal with, without having to clean up saliva later,” the master laughs.
“Well, I bought these cleaner drones.
You know, the small ones, got six of them at once.
For sterility,” I say, raising a finger and slightly extending a Claw.
“I approve,” the master snorts like a seal.
“Get up,” he says, extending a hand, “let’s continue.”
“Yeah, I’m always up for that.”
Oh, we jumped around for a couple of hours.
Although the master went to his cabin himself, I eased up on our connection and quietly purred.
Pride, but not arrogance—that’s good.
He gritted his teeth and kept going, holding on.
Well, good luck climbing into your bunk, master.
Mrrrr.
“It seems you’ve made up, Mirr-dono?”
“We weren’t really fighting, not in the usual sense,” I said, wagging my tail.
“Oh?
I should think about that.”
“Think about it.
Moving your brain is generally useful.
How’s our workshop coming along?” New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
“Everything is fine.
The equipment is installed and tested.
Droids and bots are performing a routine check of my systems.
No complaints.
We’ll finish soon.
We could recalibrate a couple of compensators, but it’s completely non-critical.”
“Understood.
Well, in that case, it’s time we got down to commercial matters.
Did you find anything?”
“Not much.
There are many agrarian-type planets; I chose fifty promising ones, but I mostly focused on location.”
“I see.
Did you get a summary of the local commodity exchange?”
“No, I just downloaded it.”
“But it’s paid?!”
“Pfft, a pittance.
I provided some of my computing power to some contractor, which was just enough to buy it.”
“Well, you’re just…
I have no words, only respect.”
“Like master, like student, Mirr-dono.”
“Not always, padawan,” I mimicked the sensei.
“Alas, master,” the android replied in the same tone.
“It’s just that I analyzed your interactions with clients and looked for opportunities, and that’s how I found it.”
“That’s right.
Anyone can whine about how it won’t work, but to try, and then try again and again, that requires will.”
“Or stubbornness.”
“Hmm, an interesting concept.
Will or stubbornness, stubbornness or will.
Don’t you think, Pif?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.
I’ll put it in the queue for analysis.”
“Go ahead, if you come up with anything interesting, share it, and I’ll train some more.”
“Understood.
Set normal gravity?”
“Mmm, no, add ten percent.”
“Done.”
“I felt it,” I reply, waving the sword a couple of times.
* * *
As soon as the cabin door closed, Nemak leaned against it and, exhaling deeply, slid to the floor.
“This feels so good,” he muttered, feeling the metal chilling the back of his neck.
Smiling wryly, the knight replayed the recent fights in his memory.
Indeed, he got himself a padawan.
Though, Mirr and his master also “got lucky.” In a way, they were two peas in a pod.
Though from different sets, but when there’s no choice…
Nevertheless, Nemak could be proud of himself.
Not only did he significantly improve in swordsmanship, but he also dealt with the darkness.
It’s funny, but they themselves helped him overcome the anger and irritation.
At some point, he simply managed to redirect them from his student to his mentor.
Nemak didn’t even notice how it happened.
He just remembered his mentor, and then it just happened on its own.
To realize that he himself could spend time productively even with such a mentor, instead of wasting time, that’s where the example of the ever-busy Mirr helped him.
“Not only should the student be worthy of the master, but the master of the student too,” the young knight exhaled, and gritting his teeth with sheer will, he forced himself to move.
He.
Will.
Climb.
Into.
The.
Sith.
Bunk.
“Pull yourself together, you rag!” Nemak roared, and giving himself a little slack, he infused his body with the Force.
“Just as I thought,” he muttered into the pillow, calming down.
A couple of minutes of breathing exercises, and the darkness was gone as if it never existed.
“No, rejecting emotions, especially negative ones, is the height of foolishness,” thought the knight as he drifted off to sleep.
After all, there are thousands of poisons that are medicine in moderate doses.
It was a pity that the thought—that poisons tend to accumulate and, even in medicinal doses, don’t stop being poison—never managed to reach the mind of the Jedi who had fallen asleep.
* * *
After a great training session and refreshing myself with a shower, meditation, and a couple of medical techniques, I moved to the cockpit.
The master was still sleeping, so I habitually took the captain’s chair and, tucking my legs up, began studying the planet’s commodity exchange summary.
Nothing particularly interesting was observed.
Technology, spare parts, components, consumables—all in the widest assortment.
In short, you could find anything from analogs of local televisions to spoons, bowls, ladles, or tractors with other seeders and tillers.
An industrially developed world.
They have everything you could want.
They even built their own starships here.
I turned the huge list over and over, applied various filters, but still couldn’t properly decide what exactly to buy.
On one hand, there’s a wealth of choice, and on the other—limited finances.
Of course, I could use order accounts, but how would I justify it?
Hmm, granted, it’s possible, but not necessary, as there’s a simpler solution.
I pulled out my communicator, pressed a button, looked over my expanded contact list, and nodding with satisfaction, returned to the commodity exchange summary.
“Pif, give me the three closest agrarian worlds from your list.”
“Here,” the android displayed the requested information.
Well then, let’s begin.
A familiar effort, and before me lay the boundless ocean of the Force.
My stream of Force reflects and returns.
It brings a clear image.
Wonderful.
Now I know where we should fly.
A mental effort, and like a shark, I pierce the depths of the water.
I rush towards the prey.
It doesn’t even try to dodge.
What does it matter to it, a small piece that the predator will tear away?
It won’t even notice it.
Wonderful.
Simply magnificent!
I once happened to leaf through some esoteric books, and I encountered the concept of an egregore there.
However, I prefer the term noosphere.
In any case, I managed to achieve something like that, fleetingly touch, ask, and receive an answer.
“Oof,” I rub my forehead, my brain was significantly taxed.
“Are you alright?” Pif immediately showed concern.
“Fine, I just didn’t think they needed so much of everything.”
“Them?
You mean the inhabitants of Padishaal?”
“Yes, they have constant shortages there.”
“I see.
Why this planet, by the way?”
“From what I gathered, their harvest season has begun.
We can buy a lot cheaply.”
“In that case, I’d recommend bringing a processing complex there,” Pif immediately showed initiative.
“Not a bad idea.
We’ll immediately turn everything bought into briquettes for the food synthesizers.
If we get something advanced, we can make rations too.
Hmm, so what, we take the harvest as payment for the complex, fill the holds, and set sail.”
“Then they’ll be able to stock up.
According to the report, their population barely grows there due to a terrible drought that comes right after the local spring.
High mortality.”
“Uh-huh, spaceships traverse the galaxy, and in individual worlds, people die of hunger,” I mutter, quickly flipping through the planet’s report.
“We could bring them moisture collectors.”
“No,” I shake my head, clearly feeling the opposing Force.
“Better to bring spare parts, various filters, vanes, and tubes for replacement.
We’ll fix the existing ones and sell the consumables.
That will be much more beneficial.”
“But the profit…”
“…from technician services will be higher.”
The Force approves of this decision, and I like it much more.
Every trader brings these damn moisture collectors, capacitors, and other absorbers to a drought-stricken world.
As a result, there are often more of them on the planet than needed, but they don’t work in sufficient numbers.
So, we’ll fix it.
To the best of our ability and means.
Especially since the population on this Padishaal is minimal.
Something around a quarter of a million sentient beings.
Mostly humans.
Though, it’s not surprising, local humans make up either two-thirds or three-quarters of the galaxy’s population.
However, it’s not that simple here either.
Some colonies, founded at the dawn of the expansion era, have gone through such a path that sometimes a Wookiee or a Twi’lek are closer to humans than natives of such a world.
There are mutations under different biosphere conditions and genetic interventions.
Sometimes someone from the outside even participated.
In short—quite a panopticon.
“Come on, shall we, Pif, start compiling the shopping list.”
“I’m ready, master.
Dictate.”
“So, to start with…”
The reconciled brothers, who were currently in the process of merging their companies, allocated the main part of the money for the purchase.
They were interested in staking a claim on the planet and establishing a constant cargo flow.
It wasn’t even about the profit, though there was some, but it wasn’t particularly impressive; it was about the reputation they would immediately gain.
A young corporation operating in external markets and having stable partners instantly became much more attractive to investors.
However, I was only interested in others’ plans to a certain extent.
Our interests aligned, and that’s good.
Everyone will get something for themselves.
By the time the master woke up, Pif-Paf was actively loading the cargo hold.
The sensei just watched how nimbly the drones and droids ran around, dragging containers, and then waved his hand.
Over the comms came something like: “A child is playing, oh well, he’s at that age.” In short, the master silently gave carte blanche and removed himself towards the kitchen.
Then, just as silently, he moved to the training hall and sat down to meditate.
I scratched my ear, wagged my tail, and decided not to disturb the sensei.
I gave the command to take off.
Nemak didn’t appear in the cockpit.
Well, silence, as they say, is a sign of consent.
“Pif, we’re flying to Padishaal.”
“Understood.
Initiating preparation for transition to superluminal speed.”
Nemak only managed to grace me with his attention about three hours after we went into hyperspace.
“Padawan,” the master exclaimed angrily, demonstratively tossing the hilt of his lightsaber.
“Guilty, master.
Running,” I said, flattening my ears in feigned fright and widening my eyes.
“Lazybones.”
“I’ll fix it.”
Hmm, definitely, I have the perfect mentor.
He will be.
In time.
When he grows up.