The section Biggs had explored truly contained a bizarre dormitory-like arrangement, rows of bunk beds crammed into very small rooms, along with a single modest refresher.
Was this meant as housing for guards?
Or had slaves once been kept here?
It was impossible to tell what any of it had been intended for.
The first floor concluded with a dining hall containing a single massive table capable of seating nearly ten people.
Although perhaps it wasn’t a dining room at all.
Maybe it had been intended for informal meetings or conferences.
Then again, maybe they played sabacc there.
Honestly, nothing about this inheritance made sense.
The wood, much like the enormous round table I had nearly launched at the MagnaGuards earlier, was obviously not native to Tatooine and therefore expensive.
Whether it was famed Kashyyyk wroshyr or something else entirely, it certainly wasn’t the pale local corntree wood.
After once again dragging Skippy away from the MagnaGuards and enduring the Shard’s customary stream of Binary profanity about humans interfering in the business of the only true intelligent being in the room, we hurried upstairs.
Fortunately, R5-D4 was almost instantly distracted again and began dissecting the remains of the suicidal protocol droid with a plasma cutter while apparently insulting someone’s mother in Binary.
I really needed to stop swearing aloud whenever the two of us were alone.
Climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor, we emerged into a small corridor that also served as an entry hall.
Despite the floor’s considerable size, only two doors led away from it.
The house was becoming stranger by the minute.
All I could do was hope some insane machine hadn’t survived the inheritance protocol and decided not to obey the late protocol droid’s final instructions.
As if hearing my unspoken thoughts, Biggs thumbed his miniature blaster back into combat mode.
Sunber, meanwhile, had decided to carry the ancient Separatist carbine and had already figured out how to load and activate it.
I wondered whether tibanna gas even had an expiration date.
Mostly, I hoped neither of them accidentally shot me in the back.
Galactic history demonstrated quite clearly that even Jedi Masters weren’t immune to friendly fire.
Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo Koon had certainly been far more competent than I currently was.
And Aayla Secura…
For some reason, I suddenly wanted a Twi’lek.
Damn teenage hormones.
The thought of what I’d be like in another few years was genuinely terrifying.
This was probably how Sith Lords happened.
A boy spent too much time looking at things he wasn’t supposed to in the Jedi Temple, then wandered off to Chancellor Palpatine to discuss his suffering.
Maybe I should do something about that problem.
Firmly banishing thoughts unworthy of a Jedi, only to immediately remember how the original Luke had handled those rules, I decisively opened the door on the left.
Beyond it lay a large hall resembling a gymnasium or wrestling arena, though there was nothing resembling tatami mats.
Dust covered everything.
A lot of dust.
Biggs inhaled once and immediately started coughing.
I silently thanked the Force that my new body hadn’t inherited my old life’s dust allergy.
An empty rack of unknown purpose stood against one wall.
Something vaguely resembling a coat stand occupied another.
A pair of simple mechanical exercise machines looked like they’d been stolen from a post-Soviet courtyard.
A door led farther inside.
Who in the galaxy needed a training hall on Tatooine?
Sports and physical culture were hardly popular among the locals, whether human, alien, or the various visitors with questionable pasts who passed through Mos Eisley and Mos Espa.
“Strange house,” Biggs muttered, echoing my thoughts.
“It feels like nobody actually lived here.
More like someone visited occasionally.
Maybe some smuggler bought it?” Unlike Darklighter, Janek chose not to speculate.
Instead, he moved past me with his newly acquired blaster at the ready and opened the interior door first.
Naturally.
Why exercise caution when your ancient tibanna-powered club would surely protect you from a homicidal droi— “There’s a pool in here!” Tank shouted in astonishment.
“A real one!
Well…
there used to be one.” Without even exchanging glances, Biggs and I raced after him like complete idiots.
The sight waiting beyond the doorway was truly unusual for water-starved Tatooine, where fortunes were built over generations through water extraction and many poor families had never even heard the word shower.
Even in an age of advanced technology and highly efficient resource management…
“Your grandfather was rich,” Darklighter declared, voicing the thought that had clearly been tormenting him since we’d entered the house.
“Rich and very weird.” For the first time since arriving in this galaxy, I saw something that looked completely ordinary by Earth’s standards.
That fact alone said more about Tatooine’s poverty than anything else.
There was a jacuzzi large enough to comfortably accommodate several people.
A separate shower stall.
A sink with a vanity.
A small side door concealing a toilet.
Honestly, none of it was particularly impressive.
Yet the boys, who themselves came from reasonably well-off families, stared at the miniature pool as though it were evidence of unimaginable wealth.
Maybe one day I’d take them on a field trip to Kamino.
First we’d have to survive long enough to get there.
Water flowed from the faucet immediately.
Clean water.
Not even rusty.
Considering how poorly maintained the rest of the house seemed, that was remarkable.
The arrangement was undeniably convenient.
Train in the gym.
Use the bars.
Relax in the jacuzzi afterward.
Apparently my mysterious grandfather valued comfort.
I urgently needed to learn more about Tatooine property law, particularly utility payments.
I suspected I’d slept through that section of Vuz Kazm’s lectures.
Or perhaps it had been taught by that unfortunate instructor who died from an excess of aggression.
If so, maybe his fate had been deserved after all.
Leaving my friends to their inexplicable fascination with the empty jacuzzi, I opened the final door leading out of the bathroom area.
If my sense of space wasn’t failing me, the bathing room served as a passage connecting the gymnasium to what logically should have been a bedroom.
It was.
Beyond another imported wooden door lay a large sleeping chamber dominated by an enormous bed.
No.
Actually, it was probably large enough for three people.
Made from a completely different type of wood, neatly made yet buried beneath years of dust.
Apparently the droids hadn’t been permitted into the master’s bedroom.
The few wardrobes contained nothing except spare bedding and several oversized robes intended for a fully grown man, all equally dusty.
Expensive wooden wardrobes, naturally.
Not practical vacuum-sealed storage units.
Biggs and Tank finally abandoned the aquatic wonderland and entered behind me, already exchanging jokes.
“Now that’s a proper love nest,” Biggs declared with obvious envy.
Apparently the hormones weren’t only affecting me.
Or maybe I’d forgotten that boys our age thought about exactly one thing most of the time.
Then again, perhaps it was simply my bad influence.
“Or maybe the owner just liked sleeping after training,” Tank countered.
“Nothing else in the house suggests women were ever here.
There’s only one room left, right?” Indeed, two additional doors led out of the bedroom.
Which was already strange.
Who designed a bedroom as a passageway?
The first door, as Janek quickly confirmed, led back into the corridor.
The second I opened myself.
A proper office.
Filled with dead equipment and the ashes of burned documents.
We searched every shelf, cabinet, and drawer.
Not a single intact data source remained.
The only undamaged object besides the chair itself was a locked case resting on the desk.
Someone had deliberately destroyed every clue pointing toward the home’s owner.
A peculiar way of preserving an inheritance.
Taking the case away from Sunber, who had finally set aside his beloved rifle, I placed it on the desk.
The lock was intact.
The code, naturally, was unknown.
But perhaps…
A slight nudge with the Force.
A sharp pull.
Praise be to Qui-Gon Jinn and the Living Force.
The lock flew off like a blaster bolt.
The boys yelped in surprise.
I still hadn’t openly demonstrated much Force use around them.
Ignoring their reactions, I opened the case.
“I think I may need another inheritance consultant besides Vuz Kazm,” I said quietly, realizing chaos was already beginning behind me.
“Nobody touches this.
Ever.
Not without my direct permission.” Resting atop a large, weathered leather notebook inside the case was an object instantly recognizable to anyone who had ever watched a Star Wars film back in my previous life.
A lightsaber.
I made no effort whatsoever to discover what color it was.
Anakin was conceived by the Force alone, was he?
Interesting theory.