With the arrival of dawn, training began at Stav Kesh.
Yeah…
The regimen here was definitely if not military, then close to it.
At least, if Qigong Kesh reminded me of a fantasy magic academy, this was more like a soldier training school.
Good thing I didn’t end up here right away — I would have been kicked out within the first hour, no questions asked.
Those nighttime ‘walks’ of mine immediately earned me a reprimand.
Though…
looking at my utterly spaced-out face, Shaalin just shook his head.
Overall, the masters here were quite stern, and even though I’d cooled down a bit, we still managed to clash verbally from time to time.
Not about skill, no.
I acknowledged their abilities, but sometimes their attitude…
The one thing that pleased me was that today we were dealing with a training simulator — essentially a holographic room, but with real feedback.
Something between the Jedi training from the Clone Wars series and the simulation chambers from Star Trek.
And most importantly — I could fight to my heart’s content without holding back.
Of course, the masters tried to teach me their approach, but all their attempts ran into my stubbornness.
I wasn’t just going to give up what I considered reliable and workable.
But!
To be objective, some of their approaches, especially regarding Force control and defense against its various manifestations, deserved attention.
And I absorbed that knowledge.
So, even if they had a problem with me personally, I had no particular issues with their teaching.
“This isn’t immersion in the Force, it’s a disgrace!” the master said, shaking his hand as he watched Ves’s attempts to evade shots from the Darrou Sphere.
An interesting sphere, by the way—somewhat reminiscent of that ball from the movie Luke trained on.
Practically its prototype, heh.
The Darrou Sphere itself was a unique, one-of-a-kind contraption.
This ball was a device roughly the size of a human head.
Appearing both solid and iridescent, smooth and bristling with multiple protrusions, this thing shimmered, buzzed, and pulsed.
In short, it looked like something incomprehensible, unknown, creepy… Or, to put it “properly,” it looked ambiguous and contradictory, designed to confuse students in various ways.
And, in principle, it succeeded!
Spinning through the air, the sphere delivered painful blows to the student, firing flashes of fire comparable to a light laser.
The only catch was that this thing ran on the Force.
When working with it, students were tasked with concentrating, allowing the Force to flow through them, and thus, sensing the sphere’s movements and intentions, deflecting its attacks.
The task could be—and often was—complicated by using Force techniques that deprived them of sight, hearing, and smell.
In that case, they had to rely solely on the Force.
Ves wasn’t doing very well with it.
She had always relied on her senses, but now they couldn’t help her, so the Cathar kept getting painful jabs from the sphere and a dose of sarcastic comments from the instructor.
It was starting to annoy even me… “But I’m trying!” Vessira protested, dodging the sphere.
“You’re no longer a Padawan to be ‘trying.’ You should already know this.
And right now, you’re not learning—you’re just honing skills,” he countered.
“Stop circling like a drunken bantha.
Pull yourself together!” “Mm-hmm.” Another shot, but… “Sh-sh-sh-sh…” the Cathar hissed, rubbing her thigh.
“Ye-e-es, I haven’t seen such a disappointment in a long time.
How did you even reach ‘Wanderer’?” “R-r-r-r…” the Cathar simmered quietly.
“Ves, cool it,” I sent a light telepathic impulse.
“Try to detach yourself—someone will always interfere.
Try not to pay attention to those irritants.
Your goal is to find and hit the sphere.
Detach yourself, let the Force flowing around you pass through you, feel the fluctuations and danger.
Don’t listen to anyone.
Only yourself and the Force within…” The Cathar gave an almost imperceptible nod and, twitching an ear, pursed her lip and froze with her sword raised.
The sphere flew in circles, looking for the next point of attack, all accompanied by the master’s muttering.
And then came another attack.
Ves exhaled, shifted her hip, dodged the shot, and struck the sphere with the flat of her blade like a baseball bat.
“Well now, that’s more like it, and you were worried,” I said, slapping the master on the back.
He made a terrible face and just shot me an annoyed look.
They didn’t try to say anything to me anymore, because at any jab I’d snort like a hedgehog bristling its quills.
Turning around, I walked over to the Cathar.
The Force technique faded, and she finally opened her eyes, trying to blink them clear.
“It’s all right, Ves.” “You’re next, Aero,” the master announced in a commanding tone.
“Okay.” Closing my eyes, I let the Force technique be placed on me.
Yeah… Fighting in this state was definitely a bad idea.
Can’t see a thing—everything’s blurry.
Sounds are strange, as if they’re coming from somewhere they shouldn’t.
Shivering, I increased the oscillation frequency in the Force.
Oh!
And here comes the ball back, locking onto a new target.
Smirking, I carefully tracked its movement.
Over the years, I’d gotten so good at using my “echolocation” that tracking the ball posed no problem at all.
What’s more, after dispersing the first shot with a Tutaminis technique, I grabbed the ball and spun it on my finger like a baseball.
Though the sphere itself didn’t want to spin and immediately tried to fly away, I caught it again and deactivated it.
“A fun little toy.
Got anything else like it?” I said, rubbing my eyes with my sleeve after removing the technique from myself, then squinting at the master.
Damn… So bright it’s scary.
“Nothing like it.
Alright…” the master rubbed his chin.
“Go with Maal to the firing range—he’ll show you how to shoot.
Vessira, back to your stance!” “Mm-hmm.” “If anything, call me,” I winked at the Cathar.
At the firing range, several weapon samples were laid out before me.
A couple of laser pistols, one rifle, a perfectly cased automatic weapon, and a pistol.
That was it.
Hadiya, who had been shadowing me, was watching, holding back any comments at my request.
But now she couldn’t help herself and, snorting, asked me to wait a bit.
Returning to the ship, the girl, accompanied by “loaders,” brought several of her own weapon samples to the range.
“Flower, sunshine, my darling, tell me—why the hell do you have an anti-ship missile launcher on a cargo vessel?” I picked up a huge, tricked-out tube and looked suspiciously at Hadiya.
“In case you try to escape.
I have to stop you somehow,” she winked.
“You can hit cruisers with this thing.” “Well, yeah.
That’s what it’s meant for.
HSU — Heavy Ship-to-Ship Unit.
Or just — the Slipper.” “What a ‘little slipper’ that is… Yeah… Alright, let’s move on,” I set the tube aside.
“And where do you need a heavy machine gun mount?” I lifted with the Force something vaguely resembling the DShK I knew from my past life.
“You never know—it might come in handy!
I’ve got four of these on my ship.” “It’s an effective weapon, by the way.
We have them on the approaches to keep away the creeps and other critters,” Maal interjected.
The Zabrak was examining the unfamiliar toys with interest.
At my puzzled look, he explained, “No point in disturbing the Force for nothing when you can do it like this.
Excuse me, Lady Hadiya, what model is this?” “What about it?” “I see differences from the model we use.” “Nothing surprising.
It’s a new model.
I brought it for your gunsmiths to examine and handed over four units.” “I see.” “Maal!” “Hm?” The Zabrak turned to me.
“So, shall we shoot?” “Errr, but we’re definitely not shooting with that,” he glanced at the rocket launcher.
“Of course not—there’s no room.
But how about we take one shot with this thing?” I lifted the plasma cannon with the Force.
An elongated, bulky device connected by a cable to a special battery, firing plasma bursts.
Under normal conditions, it served as a shipboard or at least stationary turret weapon—but here I could see its tripod-mounted equivalent, which wasn’t even available for sale.
Shooting tanks with this thing would be perfect.
Actually, I wonder—isn’t this thing the prototype for future handheld blasters?
Too bad I don’t know much about weapons… “Um… Well… I think we can… We just need to hang extra plates and reinforce them with the Force,” Maal hedged.
It was obvious the Zabrak didn’t want to take risks, but he really, really wanted to.
Like, Really.
Nodding, we started preparing for the shooting.
While Maal and I, with a couple of assistants, reinforced the range, Hadiya and her subordinates prepped the weapons.
When everything was ready, the actual shooting began.
With the pistols.
Maal tried to explain how to use the weapons, but… “Hey, you ‘genius’ with your crooked paws, get lost before I rip off your grabbers and twist your horns,” Hadiya came out to us, glaring menacingly at the Je’daii.
Coming over to me, she took the pistol in her hands and showed me how to hold it properly.
“Shade, look.
Hold your hand like this—the pad of your index finger should be right in the middle of the trigger, so the weapon doesn’t pull to the side when you fire.
With powder weapons, unlike lasers, there’s recoil.
To understand it, you need to shoot both types.
Aim using this thing—it’s called the front sight… Or the sight.” “Hadiya, don’t treat me like an idiot.” “Don’t interrupt—I’m getting into the zone,” the she-devil waved me off and started singing like a nightingale about weapons, their advantages, disadvantages, ammunition types, safety techniques, maintenance and care, and the features of each weapon type.
What can I say?
Hadiya definitely knows her weapons.
It’d be strange if a girl involved in their creation and supply didn’t.
Only after that did the actual shooting begin.
Extending my arm, I took a couple of shots with the cased weapon.
Hits, but I couldn’t honestly call them fair, since I was shooting with Force support.
“Good job.
Just hold your hand like this,” I was immediately corrected.
“That’s not it.
Let me try without the Force,” I shook my head and, detaching from my inner source, squeezed the trigger a couple of times.
Shots fired.
No hits.
Yeah… “Come on, try again,” Hadiya encouraged me, and coming up from behind, she rose on her tiptoes.
Pressing against me, she checked the position of my hand and the sight alignment on the target.
More shots followed.
Then more.
In the end, I shot through about twenty magazines—half with the Force, half without.
Then came the laser pistols.
With those, without recoil, I hit well even without Force assistance.
Not in the center, but at least on the target.
Then came the rifles.
After them, the automatics.
Unfortunately, there were no energy automatics, only cased ones—I would’ve liked to try those.
Maal watched this through tears, so, taking pity on the Zabrak, Hadiya handed him the big toys too.
Even her pistols looked more impressive than what the Zabrak had brought out himself.
When it was the heavy machine gun’s turn, I couldn’t contain myself.
Picking up the thing and reinforcing my body with the Force, with a cry of “WAAAGH!!!” I emptied the entire magazine into the target in a standing position, like in Crysis.
That was sooo sweeeeet.
“And you still talk to me about my craziness?” Hadiya raised an eyebrow indignantly, holding the next container of ammunition with both hands.
“I’ve said it, I’m saying it, and I’ll keep saying it!
By the way, that was a great shot,” I raised the smoking barrel skyward.
Loading the next belt with Force assistance, with complete childish delight, I fired the next burst at the target—an empty hull of a decommissioned fighter.
And then another.
And another.
Heating the barrel red-hot, I set the weapon down to cool and picked up the plasma cannon.
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA.” “Lady Hadiya, I think this was a bad idea,” one of her subordinates shared his thoughts with her.
“It’s fine.” “FOR THE EMPEROR!!!
MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” Shot.
Second.
Third.
I was no longer sending charges at the target, but plasma bursts at the armored wall.
Flashes, the roar of explosions, the weapon trembling in my hands—it all stirred the blood and spurred me to keep shooting.
On the tenth shot, the battery beeped, and I raised the red, smoking barrel skyward to survey my handiwork.
The range survived, but of the five armor plates, only the last two remained intact.
Well, the second-to-last one was melted through, and the last one was visible through it, but it could still be considered functional.
“Shade, you’re a Maniac!” Hadiya blurted out, covering her mouth in surprise.
Yeah… When someone like her calls you a maniac, it’s a reason to think.
“All good—I just got a little carried away.” “A little?!” Hadiya glanced at the armor plates.
Maal was just silent, trying to collect himself.
“Exactly.
Hey, do you only have one of these?” “No, I have several, but it never went into production.
The Je’daii didn’t accept it either—they didn’t like it.
Too dangerous; it could explode with the slightest damage.
Can’t really carry it around—too bulky—and you can’t set it up as a stationary weapon—there are cheaper, more effective alternatives.
The rocket launcher is just as good against vehicles, and the machine gun’s better against infantry,” she nodded at the CCL-32—the one I’d dubbed the DShK.
“What’s going on here?!” the Temple Master burst onto the range.
Quite a funny picture, actually.
Maal with the rocket launcher, which he was trying to stash away; Hadiya sitting on the plasma cannon’s batteries; and me with the plasma cannon itself.
“Training exercises?” I tilted my head guiltily.
“Oh… That’s it.
My office.
And you, Lady Hadiya, please join us.” So, following the master, we had to explain what the hell we’d done.
I got chewed out.
Maal too, but even more so.
They didn’t dare chew out Hadiya, and she didn’t give them a reason—she just paid for the range repairs.
For leaving a student unsupervised, especially with such weapons, Master Shaalin got chewed out.
I was dying of laughter inside when Hadiya was politely asked to put her toys back on the ship, to be safe.
And when everything was settled, the shooting continued with regular pistols and rifles.
In the evening, when our group gathered together, I got another earful—this time from my friends.
When the guys realized what I’d gotten to shoot today, they immediately got fired up.
We all had to first convince Master Shaalin to allow another round of shooting like that, and then go with him to the Temple Master.
The issue was resolved when Hadiya pre-paid for the targets and armor plates for the range.
At that point, I started objecting—how could this be, a girl paying for a whole bunch of guys?
Where’s our honor?!
The twins didn’t hear me, and Gris just shrugged his paws guiltily.
Well yeah, everyone wanted to shoot.
Hadiya herself didn’t even listen to me on this, saying: “You never take anything from me as it is—at least don’t refuse now!
Or I’ll be offended.
Besides, this is a drop in the ocean, not real expenses.” I had nothing to say to that, since she really could get offended.
And the next day, the shooting repeated.
Then again.
Once I’d more or less learned how to handle and maintain weapons, we returned to regular training.
They showed me hand-to-hand combat techniques, non-lethal moves, and acrobatic tricks.
When I ran along a wall, for a moment I felt like I was in Naruto, I swear.
And when I climbed onto the ceiling, I was completely convinced.
Of course, the Force didn’t cancel the laws of gravity, but you could fudge with them.
For instance, you’d run up a wall, stab a dagger in, quickly pull yourself up, stab the next one, and so on to the top.
If the room was small enough, using inertia I could actually run across the ceiling and even fight while doing it.
Only for seconds, but for a Je’daii, seconds are a real eternity, since fights happen at completely different speeds.
Here, I also met real opponents who could make me sweat and even chase me.
At the Temple of Combat, we spent almost five taked, during which they taught us techniques, but we’d have to refine them on our own.
I noticed that spectators started gathering for my hand-to-hand training.
Mostly Padawans, but some older ones dropped by too.
It wasn’t every day you saw someone my age fighting on equal footing with Master of Stav Kesh.
In sparring, there was no outright advantage—both I and my opponent ended up on the floor.
Shaalin got by on experience and techniques I simply didn’t know.
I got by on precognition.
I just sensed the next strike and responded to it in advance, but even that didn’t always save me.
I caught myself thinking that I was fighting like a seasoned kung fu master, combining hands and feet while bending the laws of physics.
A spinning fist strike, a jump and three kicks, another jump, and during a 360-degree rotation, a downward kick at the target.
The target itself wasn’t standing still either, and sometimes pulled off moves that made my thoughts and brains fly right out of my head—and if not for Force enhancement, that wouldn’t have been a figure of speech.
Because of this, the local masters let my liberties and behavior slide.
After the first training session, I showed what I was worth and was accepted as one of their own.
I mean, as a future Master of Stav Kesh, like my mother, so they treated me not as a student but as an equal.
Hadiya, in my company, cooled down and didn’t show overt aggression, but her cynicism and dark humor still oozed out of her like poison from a flower.
At least she more or less found a common language with Ves, and the girls went from hot hostility to cold.
Hadiya hadn’t given up trying to claim me—that was so like her.
She doesn’t know how to retreat or give up, and she gets very angry when she can’t get what she wants.
More than once, I heard her called a “spoiled girl” behind her back, but… But she achieves everything herself—what’s more, her father is gradually handing her more and more responsibility.
So far, it’s just enterprises; she doesn’t manage the clan itself, but that’s a matter of time.
So her “I want” and “mine” are well earned through work and effort.
The other thing is that I myself fall under those two categories, but that’s just details.
Thankfully, at least they don’t treat me like an object, and my opinion is considered.
But her constant hints… It’s probably comparable to a cat.
“glance at the Cathar” Pfft… Yeah.
In short, like a cat that’s seen sour cream—she keeps coming, and coming, and coming, and you hit her with a slipper, but she still keeps coming because she Really wants it—it’s so tasty, and can she just have a little piece, pretty please?
That’s how it is with me too—she keeps coming, and coming, and coming, and she doesn’t want to share with anyone, so Ves is the one hitting her with the proverbial slipper, while I can only stoically roll my eyes and keep my distance.
From both of them.
I believe in my negotiator skills, of course, but sometimes I just want to shoot myself… I saw no point in doing anything or interfering.
I intervened once—the result was satisfactory.
Another time, I’m afraid I’d only make it worse.
Found themselves, damn it, two kindred spirits… And how the hell did I end up like this?
Ah, never mind.
While the girls sorted things out between themselves, I spent evenings studying the documents Hadiya had provided about the “Stargazers.” Yeah… All normal transmigrators would take both of them by the arm and walk around, trying to reconcile them.
I’m sitting here with paperwork.
There’s definitely something wrong with me.
But I learned a lot of interesting stuff, including how I should behave if I decide to contact the Stargazers.
A cult is a cult, but they have a grain of sense, and deals could be made—it all comes down to that mysterious, incomprehensible thing hidden in the Old City.
And again, should we even go there?
There’s a Force point there, plus monsters that are really, really nasty—the kind you’d have to search Tython for.
Maybe screw it?
Tell my mother, or Tsikuna—and let the higher-ups deal with the headache?
Turning the idea over, I just sighed sadly.
Better not to tell—not only would they forbid me from going, but it’d also attract attention.
The last thing I need is to be accused of following in my father’s footsteps.
Though I don’t see anything wrong with that, simply because I don’t know exactly which path he took!
And even if they don’t accuse me—there will be questions I’d really rather avoid.
At least so I don’t look like an idiot in my mother’s eyes.
No, I’ll look like an idiot in her eyes no matter what, even if I go, but at least not the biggest idiot—and if I find something, maybe I’ll be forgiven.
Mmm… Got to think.
Damn it—I want to, but I’m afraid.
Knock-knock-knock!
“Come in.” “The lady asked me to inform you that the ship is ready for departure, Lord Shade,” one of Hadiya’s subordinates informed me.
“Thank you.
You can go.” Putting the papers away, I grabbed my bag and went to join the others.
Today we were leaving Stav Kesh—not on foot, not even riding raptors, but on a starship.
Long live civilization!
Gathering friends, saying goodbye to the local masters—it all happened quickly and quietly.
Unlike with Bodhi, we hadn’t made any new acquaintances here.
The masters looked at us as passing wanderers; the students kept their distance, considering us to be from some “high circle” or otherwise “connected.” Hadiya’s presence was to blame, no doubt.
Or maybe the place itself was like that—we’d stuck around so long but never really settled in?
Most likely—all of the above.
So, boarding the ship, we headed to Mahara Kesh, the Temple of Healing.
If we’re going to throw ourselves into the fire, we need to know how to heal ourselves properly—without Ramira in the group, we wouldn’t have even made it to Stav Kesh.
The vessel we flew on bore the proud name “Pheromone” and was a military transport ship.
Meaning, this thing had a large hold, a good reactor with engines, a thick hull, and lots of guns.
The “Pheromone” was used to transport weapons or other expensive goods.
Hadiya had used it in an original way—filling part of the hold with equipment, another part with various junk needed for comfortable living, plus crates of weapons for “close” acquaintance.
And that was just the hold—there were three decks total.
The first had the cockpit and living quarters, the second was technical, and the third was the hold.
In appearance, the ship had the shape of a mantis.
A thick abdomen, an elongated thorax, and a head, under which they’d mounted a turret with a local BFG.
An impulse laser battery, powered directly from the reactor, could cause some serious havoc in the forward and lower hemispheres.
Complementing it, small turrets for engaging small craft were mounted on the underside, and missile launch tubes sat on top.
There was also the option to open the cargo bay doors and simply turn the ship into a bomber.
And let me note again—this was just a military transport, a vessel meant more for transporting valuable cargo than for fighting.
A real joy to behold, this product of some dark genius.
So we traveled in considerable comfort.
One bad thing—Ves had apparently picked up Hadiya’s game and sat down on my lap, looking haughtily at the Twi’lek.
Hadiya watched this, watched it, and then made a power move—invited everyone to the table.
Then, not giving Ves a chance to recover, she took the seat next to me first and even tried to destroy my self-esteem by feeding me with a spoon.
Such humiliation… “glance at the amused friends” … I might not survive.
So, seating both girls next to each other, I crawled away to the other side, to Ramira.
She didn’t mind.
Though, when she silently asked Zeng for permission with her eyes, and then jabbed both Ves and Hadiya by trying to flirt with me… Yeaaah, I’d never seen such solidarity in my life.
Rami was scared for a second that she’d be done in right here and now, so she quickly moved away from me back to Zeng, who was sitting to her left.
“A nightmare—seventeen years old, and we’re suffering over this kind of crap,” I rubbed the bridge of my nose in anguish.
I wonder, converted to Earth years, how old are we?
Mmm… No, I won’t calculate.
Whatever.
“Are you going to say you don’t like it?” Feng winked.
“I’ll keep quiet.” “Grr-awr ruh rar-egg,” Gris gave me advice on what I should do.
Both Hadiya and Ves immediately turned crimson, while I just coughed quietly.
“Gris, I’m going to trim you for saying that!” The Wookiee just laughed at my outburst.
“Awr rge eer-r-eg.” “WHAT?!” Hadiya jumped up.
“You think I’d be with HER?!
Come here, smart guy,” she pulled out her favorite blade and went after the Wookiee.
A tiny girl, going after a Wookiee.
And, by the way, he actually got scared—jumping up from the table, he started backing away.
“Arg-ur rr-ea-rer ura rgie-r,” he raised his palms, trying to calm the blazing Twi’lek.
But judging by Hadiya’s eyes, she was going to trim him herself.
“Note that Ves herself didn’t say a word,” Feng observed.
“…” “…” “…” Strange—I thought the reactor hummed much more quietly, but it turns out it’s this loud… Looking at the Zabrak, I mentally buried him.
But Hadiya didn’t rush to shoot him with anything.
She just turned to Vessira in surprise.
The Cathar herself, under cover of the commotion, had moved over to my arms.
“Hey!” “What?” she batted her eyes.
“Why are you so calm?” “I’m calm, and I don’t care about the rest,” she hugged me, licked me, and rubbed her cheek against mine.
“Let them think whatever they want.” Seeing the range of emotions surging through Hadiya was priceless.
First she was surprised, then she reconsidered something, then she measured Ves with a look, and immediately started seething quietly.
Alas, the idyll was interrupted by the pilot’s voice over the speakers.
“Five minutes to the Temple of Mahara Kesh.” “Hm… Shall we go pack up?”
It all helps promote the story.