I didn’t want to die like this.
Not like this.
There are good, glorious deaths — for the Motherland, for Stalin, in bed with a gorgeous supermodel whose legs go on forever and whose chest is as firm as a drum.
And then there are stupid, idiotic deaths.
Like mine.
Allow me to introduce myself — my name is Egor Frayev, I’m twenty-one years old, a law student.
My dreams: to build a career as a corporate lawyer, live in my own mansion, wake up in bed with young beauties, never marry until old age, and at the very end — knock up some pretty girl and peacefully pass into the next world.
My assets: a bunk bed in a six-person dorm room, a couple dozen rubles in my bank account.
Oh, and I was killed by an electric shock in the dormitory shower.
I’ll be honest — it’s a dubious pleasure, being electrocuted.
I think I even saw the water droplets on my body boil and instantly vaporize.
Kind of like when Revan was in the Emperor’s throne room and Vitiate roasted the legendary Jedi in his own armor with Force lightning.
Or in Episode VI, when Palps fried the younger Skywalker — steam was literally pouring off him like he was drying up instantly.
Like a battering ram to the chest, I was thrown from the shower door to the far end, slammed into the tile so hard all the air left my lungs.
Hitting the back of my head against the wall, I felt my eyes closing and a heat in my chest like molten metal had been poured into my diaphragm.
I wanted to scream from the pain, but not a single sound escaped my mouth.
Then came cold and darkness.
Damn it all, Tenebrae take you, why did this happen to me?
* * * “LIVE!” Not a request — a command.
A voice devoid of emotion.
Not a single trace of pleading.
A direct order, not open for discussion.
Vibrations emanating from this disembodied bass stirred my consciousness.
I couldn’t feel my arms or legs.
Only endless floating, as if I were falling from a great height into an abyss.
I was surrounded by impenetrable darkness — cold, deeply unsettling.
Viscous — I was sinking into it like quicksand.
I wanted to answer the voice, but I couldn’t, because I was drowning in the dark.
Was this it — the afterlife?
Heaven or Hell?
Reward or punishment?
The more questions I asked myself, the more I felt panic rising.
I was scared.
Very scared.
I’ve always hated being in situations beyond my control.
And here, I honestly didn’t even know where I was or what was happening to me.
As had happened hundreds of times before, fear gave way to anger.
Bare, searing anger, instantly flaring into rage.
An abstract, all-consuming rage.
I was furious.
No answers to my questions, plus this incomprehensible state — was I falling or being dragged down… Gradually, I realized who was the object of my rage.
The dormitory superintendent.
A pathetic, wrinkled little old man with perpetually greasy thick lips, oily eyes, and lecherous jokes.
Back in my first year, I’d heard rumors that he’d ruined dozens of freshmen girls, making trouble for those who didn’t want to “put out.” In my memory, he was always wandering the floors, eyeing the female students.
But there was never a single case where he actually did anything in the dorm.
And I’d told him about the exposed wires a week ago — the plumbers had been fixing the drain and had broken everything they could.
As a result, our shower had exposed wires, and the girls’ one was completely out of order.
The guys from the next room even offered to fix it, but no — he wouldn’t allow it.
Suddenly it hit me.
Pashka, my roommate, had said the girls on our floor now had to go down to the first floor to shower.
And right next to the women’s shower was the superintendent’s room… The previous superintendent was a kind old lady, and there were never any problems, but now… I’d bet money that pervert was in no hurry to fix anything, just so the girls would keep wandering past his room.
Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he was spying on them in the shower.
What an animal!
I died because of some old pervert!
He should be hung by his balls and skinned alive for that.
I’m not even sure they’ll put him away when they figure out what happened.
We have a humane state, damn it.
Son of a bitch!
That’s why I’m all for despotism.
Palpatine, in his Empire, achieved such order as the galaxy hadn’t seen since the time of Vitiate — the ancient Sith Emperor.
But that’s all fairy tales, as my stepfather used to tell me.
“You’ll never accomplish anything with this nonsense!” he’d yell when he caught me rewatching Star Wars or playing games from that universe.
I never knew my biological father — he disappeared long before I was born.
My mother spoke of him reluctantly, and my stepfather… For a moment, it seemed that the hatred at just the thought of my stepfather gave me enough strength to blow up a star.
If there was a person I hated with every fiber of my being, it was my stepfather.
I never called him by name, never addressed him as anything but “stepfather.” I hated the man who turned my life into hell.
He came into our lives when I was five.
For sixteen long years, I endured his abuse, his beatings, his mockery of my awkward — tall but very thin — physique, my congenital nearsightedness, my scoliosis… They say strong characters are forged in the crucible of family troubles.
I only learned to hate.
If I brought home a C, he would beat me within an inch of my life.
Everything was used — fists, feet, belts.
He didn’t accept any grade below “excellent.” I couldn’t even have a “good,” because that was a failure.
And failures must suffer.
And I suffered.
For every failure.
I remember in seventh grade, I won an Olympiad among ninth-graders.
Well, “won.” I took an honorable third place.
I came home with the certificate.
A couple of hours later, I was rushed to intensive care — “fell down the stairs.” Though I remember perfectly well that the stairs were my stepfather’s fists.
Several times he even beat me with his police baton — he served in the glorious police force.
For the same reason, no one ever responded to my repeated hospitalizations with fractures and damaged organs.
Over sixteen years, I learned to hate absolutely everything about him — from his fingernails to his foul breath.
That hatred lived with me the whole time.
Even when I ran away from home at eighteen and enrolled in a law school in a neighboring city.
None of my family knew where I was studying, and frankly, they didn’t care — they had their own child together.
What did my stepfather and the woman who indulged him, whom I called my mother, care about me?
I grew up angry at life.
Like a wolf cub, I hated my family.
And I hated the people around me.
When you’ve been relying only on yourself since childhood, you stop valuing concepts like friendship, caring for others.
Only your goals matter.
And who cares how they’re achieved.
Some call it selfishness.
Some call it charisma.
I don’t give a damn.
I call it my life, my style.
I live for myself and for myself.
And the rest of the world can shove their notions of morality, etiquette, and all that crap up their asses.
Part of me understood that you shouldn’t see people as expendable.
But almost immediately, I pulled myself back.
Who are these people around me?
Losers.
Just like me.
Would any of them come to my aid if I were being robbed?
No.
Would any of them donate me a kidney?
No.
None of them deserve more attention than is necessary to achieve my goals.
My stepfather taught me that only individuals deserve attention.
Important figures who can solve problems.
Whining, sniveling losers — they’re slaves, whose backs the powerful have always wiped their feet on and always will.
And if you don’t want to spend your whole life on your knees, you have to walk over the heads of the less fortunate to the top.
And climb so high that the opinions and desires of the crowd below no longer bother you.
“If you want to sit around and do nothing, you have to sit very high,” my stepfather used to instruct me.
In Star Wars, I found my escape.
The struggle of Good and Evil, the eternal conflict that so many significant figures resolved one way or another… Vitiate, Revan, Vader, Yoda, Dooku, Windu… Those are just the first that come to mind… There are actually hundreds and thousands of them — characters from books and movies, games, and other merchandise from that universe… I’d thought hundreds of times about what my life would be like if I ended up in Star Wars.
Would I become a Jedi?
No, unlikely.
A Sith?
That has its downsides too.
Those guys have their own complications — particularly the Force, which isn’t always easy to understand… But if I had it, at any time, in any circumstances, I would build my own Empire.
Like Vitiate, I would rule it for thousands of years, avoiding crises of power.
The law and order of a totalitarian regime, clear rules and laws, harsh punishments.
A state to be proud of.
And the Republic… a typical shithole democracy, which, admittedly, produced plenty of worthy people who could have made the galaxy better, but… “THAT IS INTERESTING.” Again that voice, which I’d already forgotten about.
It sent chills through me again.
My nonexistent body seemed to regain its form for a moment.
I could even feel the rough, sandstone-like floor tiles of the shower… What was happening?
Maybe that voice would answer me?
But where was it?
Where was the owner of the voice?
In the darkness?
I needed to find him — he seemed to be no newcomer here.
For some reason, I got the impression that the owner of the voice was very close.
I just had to dispel the darkness a little, and there he was… A mental touch of the darkness rewarded me with a sensation of pain.
Again I felt like I’d been electrocuted.
But much stronger than the first time.
And even the consequences of this touch were different, not like before.
For a moment, I again felt my arms and legs, the coolness of the tile beneath me… “YES!” the voice acquired a hint of emotion.
“AGAIN!” To be honest, it was a dubious pleasure to touch that again.
I didn’t know how I’d managed it the first time, but now… “AGAIN!!!” The voice crushed me like a vise.
Strange — not feeling yourself, but being aware that you’re being flattened like by a steamroller.
And being squeezed tighter and tighter.
Without the slightest chance to escape.
It became clear that the voice had unilaterally decided who was who.
And it wasn’t me dominating this situation.
Fine, let’s see what happens next.
And in the blink of an eye, I touched the darkness again.
Through an icy touch, I felt the darkness filling me.
Cold poured into my body in viscous waves.
And with it came the sensation of my own body.
Arms, legs, head… The feeling of numbness throughout my body almost bent me into an arc, and a groan escaped my mouth.
“GET UP!” The voice seemed to kick me in the side.
The momentary sensation that my back was pressed against something solid was abruptly replaced by a multitude of tiny pinpricks as my face touched sand as hot as a frying pan.
“Argh, ugh!” I gasped, snapping my eyes open and spitting out the hot sand that had gotten into my mouth, forcing my head to the side.
Wait, what sand?
I was in the shower!
The viscous, icy darkness dissipated as if it had never been there.
I was lying on my back, feeling even through my thick clothes the coarse grains of sand pressing into my scalp and the back of my body, my legs… Heat like an oven… Even the light breeze brought no coolness.
The moment it touched my face, I felt monstrous pain, as if half my face had been cut off with red-hot metal.
With an indistinct groan, I jerked away like from a blow, rolling away from where the pain had come.
Pushing off with my feet against the sand, blind to where I was crawling — since my eyes still couldn’t find focus, transmitting a blurry pale-blue blob to my brain — I tried to get as far as possible from the place where I’d come to.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest, and my mind was going crazy from the abundance of terror and pain that washed over me in waves, sometimes quieter, sometimes stronger, driving me mad.
Like a red-hot needle stuck in the back of my head, these vague sensations of someone else’s distant pain burned my mind from within.
I couldn’t hear my own movements, the rustle of sand, or birdsong.
Nothing at all.
As if I’d been born deaf and… The next second, I regretted thinking about hearing.
A piercing sound, like a circular saw screaming in a lumber mill, burst into my brain, a moment later replaced by a monstrously powerful clap of thunder.
Dozens and hundreds of howls of different pitches, strongly reminiscent of blaster shots, rang out around me.
But my eyes refused to obey.
I couldn’t see what was happening, what this delusion around me was.
And that terrified me.
The sound of a close shriek made me growl with rage.
What kind of joke was this?
First, I endured my own torments in that viscous void, and now the darkness had been replaced by some unclear farce.
Was this some kind of trial?
Was I a lab rat?
Damn you all to hell!
I felt the rage that had been building up inside me, nurtured by fear, burst forth.
Like a monstrous tsunami, something rushed out from me in all directions, spreading in an instant, sowing destruction.
I didn’t feel that my actions, this vague something, caused me pain.
But I heard the screech of crumpling metal, shorting wires… The moment that something left me, the anger subsided.
Along with it, almost all my strength left me, and I lay motionless on my back on the scorching hot sand.
A second passed, two, before I realized that the blue haze before my eyes was becoming clearer.
I could already tell I was looking at the sky, where thin wisps of cirrus clouds were visible… Then the sky before my eyes was filled with a blue figure with delicate features.
Seeing me, she smiled, baring two rows of sharp, predatory teeth.
But the blue creature didn’t sink its teeth into my neck or start tearing me apart.
It extended an elegant blue hand, which I automatically grabbed with my own.
With a strength that such a fragile and beautiful creature simply couldn’t possess, she pulled me to my feet.
A faint hum near my legs made me look down at the source of the noise, which turned out to be a blue-white blade of a lightsaber.
“Are you all right?” Aayla Secura placed a patronizing hand on my shoulder, helping me take my first step toward the group of Jedi converging in the center of the Petranaki arena.
Surrounded by hundreds of thousands of battle droids, the Jedi — no more than a couple of dozen left, battered but unbroken — listened to the voice of Count Dooku, who was speaking from his box… His words were too familiar for me to bother listening.
With an absent gaze, I wandered over the well-known figures of Star Wars universe characters who had just survived a massacre.
Dozens of Jedi bodies lay in shapeless heaps among the rows of battle droids.
Hundreds of thousands of blasters were aimed at the center of the arena, waiting for the former Jedi’s command to finish off the intruders on sovereign Geonosis… And among them was me… Some nobody, killed by an electric shock in a shower.
If fate has a sense of humor, it’s a pretty twisted one.
* * * Hallucinations?
A cosmic joke?
What was this?
I wouldn’t say I’m a hardcore fan of the Star Wars universe, but I’m deeply interested.
It grabbed me in childhood and never let go.
So it wasn’t hard for me to figure out which period I’d landed in… The very beginning of the Clone Wars.
Long story short, ten years had passed since the Trade Federation’s attempt to occupy the planet Naboo.
The attempt was successful only until a former slave named Anakin Skywalker got involved.
There he was, three meters away from me, devouring his cherished senator with his eyes.
So, recently, that same senator — Padmé Amidala — was nearly assassinated.
The Jedi got involved in investigating the incident, and it all ended with an illegal intrusion, first by Obi-Wan Kenobi, and then by Amidala and Skywalker, onto the infamous planet Geonosis, which had left the prosperous and just (yeah, right) Republic.
Essentially, pure espionage.
But those are details.
The Jedi Council sent two hundred of their adepts here.
They ran into the Separatists’ mechanical army.
After a short but fierce battle, all the Republic survivors found themselves under droid guns.
“Are you all right, Knight Dougan?” the blue-skinned Twi’lek asked me.
Secura continued to hold me up, practically keeping me from falling.
Because from the exhaustion that had hit me and the shock of everything happening, I was standing on my feet, I admit, very shakily.
I stood in the center of the Jedi, all bristling against the enemy, one arm slung over Secura’s shoulder, who in turn held me by the waist, keeping me from flopping onto the sand.
Around me hummed the multicolored blades of Jedi lightsabers.
A dozen representatives of the Order stood frozen, ready to spring into battle the moment Windu finished his conversation with Count Dooku.
“I’m… cough-cough… fine,” I managed.
My chest hurt badly, where there were scorched marks from a blaster bolt on my dirty-white tunic.
Had I been shot?
“You bought us time,” the blue-skinned woman continued.
“If we survive, promise to teach me that technique.” “Whatever you say,” I wheezed, having no idea what she was talking about.
My head felt like it was filled with cast iron.
As if I had drunk a huge amount of alcohol.
Plus, I’d been hit on the head with something heavy.
My body didn’t obey me well, but bringing my hand up to my eyes, I noted that it was still human.
That was good.
Feeling my head, I noted the absence of tentacles, horns, growths, and the like.
Long — shoulder-length — black hair, a burned wound on my right cheekbone, several old scars on the same side of my cheek, short stubble… From what I saw and felt, I was clearly not in my own body.
I had red hair, and I could never confuse my number-six buzz cut and long ponytail.
And the scars… “…Well, then,” Dooku’s Force-amplified voice reached me.
“I’m sorry, my old friend.” With enviable synchronicity, the battle droids aimed their weapons at the surviving Jedi.
Including me… Secura said something quietly, clearly cursing, in a language I didn’t know.
Still holding me by the waist, the girl ignited her white-blue blade with one hand, ready to defend herself.
“Look!” Amidala’s piercingly excited cry drew everyone’s attention to the gunships descending right onto the heads of the Geonosians and Jedi.
Higher up, the triangular silhouettes of Acclamators were descending to spew streams of white-armored troopers from the rainy planet Kamino onto the planet.
Two or three gunships landed directly on the arena, hosing the droid ranks with beams of deadly energy.
In a few seconds, a droid-free zone had formed around the Jedi, but the survivors didn’t rush at the mechanical enemy with sabers bared, preferring to stay put and deflect the occasional stray blaster bolt headed their way.
The moment the gunships’ bellies touched the sand of the arena, I felt someone else grab my other arm.
Secura and another Jedi — Eeth Koth — grabbed me under the arms and dragged me toward the nearest gunship, whose troop bay had opened invitingly.
Once inside the gunship, I felt the clones’ unceremonious hands drag me like a sack of potatoes to the far end of the bay, making room for the Jedi who were quickly piling in.
Secura was the only one I knew… a couple of other familiar faces, but I couldn’t recall their names… “Taking off!” the Twi’lek barked at the pilot, and in the same second, the gunship shot into the air.
My stomach instantly jumped into my throat, and the urge to vomit wasn’t long in coming.
But strangely, nothing came up, even though I had to endure a couple of unpleasant minutes.
A nasty feeling — when you’re being turned inside out but you have nothing to puke… Outside, the battle raged, colorful blaster cannon shots whistled, and black plumes of explosions bloomed.
Our gunship, along with half a dozen others, banked and turned, moving away from the arena.
Weakness didn’t leave me.
My head was still buzzing, my mouth was dry.
My arms and legs wouldn’t obey me.
Like a doll, I sat in the back of the bay, left to myself.
So, a quick summary of the day.
I died on Mother Earth.
I was reborn in a galaxy far, far away.
I landed in the body of a Jedi — evidenced by the clothes I was wearing and the fact that Secura had mentioned some Force technique that I supposedly used… And besides, if I closed my eyes and concentrated on what was happening, I could feel hundreds of thousands of life lights around me.
Like tiny, warm fireflies, they surrounded me, wrapping me in a cocoon of their warmth.
And as a distant echo, I could feel those lights going out… “DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?” The sepulchral voice sounded right in my ear.
I flinched, and goosebumps covered my entire body.
The air temperature around me dropped noticeably.
As if someone had turned off the sun.
And cut me off from the lights of life.
“DO.
YOU.
WANT.
TO LIVE?” This time, the voice repeated the question syllable by syllable.
Like to an idiot.
But perhaps this approach helped me understand that the voice was in my head.
Not somewhere nearby, but as if from inside me.
As if it were my own thoughts.
Though, if it were my thoughts, I wouldn’t be asking such stupid questions.
Of course I wanted to live!
But the voice was silent.
Strange.
Didn’t it hear me?
I repeated my desire.
But no answer came.
What was this?
Did I say something wrong?
Or didn’t motivate my words enough?
What the hell was happening?
Suddenly, I looked up and saw an oblong silver projectile, covered in stabilizers, flying toward the pilot’s cabin.
A missile.
No more than five meters separated us.
How long would it take for the missile to cover that distance?
A second?
Two?
God damn it!
The last seconds of my life!
What the hell was going on?
I’d just died, been resurrected here, and now I was dying again?
I really, really wanted to live!
And since I was lucky enough to end up in this universe, I didn’t just want to live!
I wanted to be a Force-user!
I wanted to fly starships!
I wanted my own lightsaber!
Damn!
I wanted so many things!
“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOR?” A second.
The missile had grown so large I could already make out its pointed warhead.
Death seemed to be following me.
But there was still that voice asking all these questions.
And it turned out only I could hear it — the Jedi and clones around me hadn’t even flinched.
So it was my personal voice.
And for some godforsaken reason, the voice had decided to play games with me.
You bastard!
You’re still asking if I want to live?
Anger began to fill me, slowly growing into rage.
The situation was not conducive to chatting with an imaginary friend, but this unknown someone had suddenly decided to mock me, to interrogate me.
You’re in my head!
Well, look in there, in my memories!
Poverty, living hand-to-mouth, working from dawn till dusk just to avoid starving to death.
A corrupt government and a country falling apart.
I didn’t want to live there!
I wanted to live here!
Be the master of my own destiny and do whatever I wanted for my own sake!
“BANAL.” Fractions of a second.
Banal?
Go to hell!
Rage, like a small reactor raging inside my body, began to fill my entire being.
I felt like I was burning up, and I realized that now, perhaps the only time in my life, I was responsible for my own future.
And most importantly — I was a Force-user after all.
And this heat that had flooded my body could be nothing other than the Force.
God, what a pleasure it was to feel the power of the Force!
It dawned on me that I had felt this heat before — when I was lying on the arena floor.
So I could manipulate the Force by sinking into my anger?
That was the path of the Dark Side!
To hell with it!
Dark Side, Light Side.
I wanted to live, and if I had to turn to the Darkness, I’d immerse myself in it headfirst!
I let the anger completely fill me.
I became anger itself.
As if before I had been incomplete, and now I had found the missing piece.
Indescribable power!
But this power was like flames trapped in a sealed room.
It burned me, scorched me, but couldn’t break out of my body.
It seemed I understood everything, knew everything, could destroy the missile in a thousand ways, but all that power was locked inside me.
And I couldn’t find a way to release it.
Since birth, choices had been made for me.
What to wear, what school to attend, what hobbies to pursue, what my interests would be.
Any objection I had was always crushed.
Enough.
I was my own master.
I was in another world.
A world where all shackles could be broken if one wished.
And I wished it.
I would no longer bow to circumstances.
I would decide for myself.
My decisions were mine alone.
And I alone would deal with the consequences of my choices.
So, voice, if you weren’t going to help me, get the hell out of my sight before I smeared you across this world like a thin pancake.
If what I felt inside me was the Force, I wanted more.
More power, more might.
I WANTED TO BE HERE!
That was my desire, and I didn’t have to explain it to you, you disembodied moron!
A second separated us.
The missile grew larger in my vision until I could see every detail of its nose cone.
Death was a constant companion.
But there was still that voice, asking its questions.
And it only I could hear it, as the Jedi and clones around me remained oblivious.
So this was a personal connection.
And for some reason, the voice wanted to play games with me.
You bastard!
Still asking if I want to live?
Anger welled up, turning into a searing rage.
This was no time for a conversation with an imaginary friend, but this unknown presence had chosen to toy with me, to interrogate me.
You are in my head!
Look at my memories!
The poverty, the struggle to survive, working from dawn to dusk just to eat.
A corrupt government and a crumbling country.
I don’t want to go back there!
I want to live here!
To be the master of my own fate and do what I want for myself!
“TRITE.” Fractions of a second.
Trite?
Screw you!
Rage, like a reactor inside me, began to fill my entire being.
I felt myself burning up, and realized that for perhaps the first time in my life, I was taking control of my own destiny.
And the key was the Force.
This heat flooding my body could only be the Force.
What a joy it was to feel its power!
I had felt this heat before, lying on the arena floor.
So I could wield the Force by embracing my anger.
That was the path of the Dark Side.
To hell with that!
Dark Side, Light Side.
I wanted to live.
If I had to turn to the darkness, I’d dive in headfirst.
I let the anger consume me completely.
I became rage itself.
Before, I was incomplete, but now I had found the missing piece.
The power was incredible, but it was like a fire in a sealed room.
It burned me, but couldn’t escape.
I knew I could destroy the missile in a thousand ways, but the power was trapped.
I had to find a way to release it.
All my life, others had made choices for me.
What to wear, where to go to school, what hobbies to pursue.
My objections were always crushed.
Enough.
I was my own master.
In this new world, I could break all shackles.
And I would.
I would never bow to circumstances again.
I would decide my own path.
My decisions were mine.
And I would face the consequences.
So, voice, if you wouldn’t help me, get out of my head before I destroyed you.
If what I felt was the Force, I wanted more.
More power, more might.
I WANTED TO BE HERE!
That was my choice, and I didn’t need to justify it to you, you disembodied fool.
The missile was almost here.
I could see every detail.
Death was so close.
But the voice was still there, asking its questions.
And only I could hear it.
So this was my personal test.
You bastard!
You still ask if I want to live?
my anger swelled into a blazing rage.
This was no time for conversation, but this presence decided to play games.
You are in my head!
Look at my past!
Poverty, struggle, a corrupt government, a failing country.
I don’t want to return!
I want to be here, to be the master of my own fate.
“TRITE.” Fractions of a second.
Trite?
Screw you!
Rage filled me completely.
I was nothing but anger.
And with it came power.
The power of the Force.
It was incredible, but it was like a fire in a sealed room.
It burned me, trapped inside.
All my life, others had chosen for me.
No more.
In this world, I would break every chain.
I would be my own master.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to be here.
And if I had to embrace the darkness to do it, so be it.
The missile was almost upon us.
I let the rage consume me.
I became sheer fury.
The power of the Force surged through me, but it was trapped.
I couldn’t release it.
I thought of my stepfather.
Of all the years of abuse.
Of the control he had over my life.
No more.
Never again.
I would be free.
In this world, I would forge my own destiny.
I wanted to live.
I wanted power.
I wanted to be here.
The missile was a second away.
I let the rage become everything.
The Force was within me, a burning sun, but I couldn’t let it out.
I was a furnace with no vent.
I thought of my stepfather again, of the beatings and the control.
Of my mother who didn’t care.
I was done being a victim.
I would rise.
I would take what I wanted.
I would be the master of my fate.
The missile was a heartbeat away.
I embraced the rage completely.
The Force roared inside me, but I couldn’t channel it.
It was like a fire I couldn’t direct.
I thought of all the years of suffering.
Of the helplessness.
Of the fear.
No more.
I would never be helpless again.
I wanted to live.
I wanted power.
I wanted to be here, in this galaxy of endless possibilities.
The missile was a blink away.
I saw the shadow of terror sweep across Secura’s face as she, too, saw the missile.
The other Jedi were only just raising their heads to look toward the danger, but she had already spotted it.
And realized.
I saw the girl call upon the Light Side, but I knew she wouldn’t make it.
I saw her beautiful body of an unnatural color.
Her lovely face, lekku, the seductive curves of her body.
I had never felt attraction — not to aliens, but not even to non-European women; even Asian women or girls from the Caucasus had seemed invisible to me.
And here, fractions of a second from danger, I felt I wouldn’t mind seeing her without clothes either.
Only, Jedi aren’t allowed that.
Tch, what nonsense enters your head before death!
“YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY HAVE EVERYTHING…” A certain scene stirred in my memory… I had heard these words before!
I saw the nose cone of the missile pierce the cockpit canopy, shattering the transparent material it was made of into tiny pieces.
Fractions of a second, and I would sink into oblivion, carrying away memories of this wonderful world.
And memories of my contact with the Force.
“…IF YOU ARE READY TO MAKE SACRIFICES” A metronome appeared in my head, ticking off the last fractions of a second of my life.
“I’m ready!” My cracked lips exhaled the words before the body of the missile swelled, releasing the explosive energy.
I felt that moment when the sword entered my flesh, slitting it open, driving deeper into the muscles… And at that same instant, the power that had slumbered within me burst free.
As if in slow motion, I watched the Force release itself from me, bursting from my chest in a blue-violet clot, and swiftly overtaking the missile.
The Force swept through the compartment without harming anyone.
Jedi and clones froze as the Force currents touched the missile, vaporizing it millimeter by millimeter, turning it into a shower of sparks.
A second, and the missile vanished, leaving a gaping hole in the pilot’s canopy.
Secura and the others seemed frozen.
The temperature around us dropped sharply, washing over me with cold.
But the cold began to condense in one spot — the pilot’s cockpit, where the blue-violet clot of Force hung in the air.
With a soft pop, the clot dissipated, taking on a human form.
And the figure’s facial features were familiar to me.
There, in another life, I had read about his monstrous cruelty, cunning, power.
About his longevity and strategic thinking.
He was tall, solid, clad in armor.
A small head of a snarling predator on his chest, like a chestburster emerging from a human… Even in death, he had not lost his majesty.
An intelligent, emotionless face covered in beard and mustache.
And the ice-burning blue eyes of Emperor Valkorion.
“We need to talk,” said the Force ghost in a familiar disembodied, emotionless voice.
“Apprentice.”
It all helps promote the story.