With dawn, training at Stav Kesh began. Yeah… The schedule here was definitely if not military, then close to it. At the very least, if Qigong Kesh reminded me of some fantasy magic academy, then this place was more like a school for training soldiers. Good thing I didn't end up here right away—within the first hour they would've kicked me out without even asking my name. Even those nighttime "walkabouts" came back to bite us with a reprimand. Though… seeing my vacant, bird-counting face, Shaalin just shook his head.
Overall, the masters here were pretty harsh, and even though I'd cooled off, we still managed to clash verbally at times. Not over skill—no. I acknowledged their ability, but their attitude toward students…
"This isn't immersion in the Force, it's some kind of disgrace!" the master snapped, flicking his hand as he watched Vess try to dodge shots from the Darrow Sphere. Interesting sphere, by the way—kind of reminds me of that little ball from the movie that Luke trained with. Almost like its prototype, heh.
The Darrow Sphere itself was a unique, one-of-a-kind little gadget. This ball was a device about the size of a human head. Seeming both solid and iridescent, smooth and bristling with countless protrusions, this thing shimmered, buzzed, and pulsed. Basically, it looked like something incomprehensible, unknown, creepy… Or, if said "properly," it looked ambiguous and contradictory, designed to confuse students in various ways. And it did, too!
Spinning through the air, the sphere delivered painful blows to the trainee, firing flashes of fire you could compare to a light laser. The only catch was: this thing ran on the Force. When working with it, students were given the task of focusing, letting the Force flow through them, and thus, by sensing the sphere's movements and intentions, deflecting its attacks. The task could be—and often was—made harder by Force techniques that deprived you of sight, hearing, and smell. In that case, you're left relying only on the Force.
Vess wasn't doing great with it. She'd always relied on her senses, but now they couldn't help, so the Cathar kept taking painful jabs from the sphere and a portion of the instructor's caustic comments. And it was starting to piss me off…
"But I'm trying!" Vessira protested, dodging the sphere.
"You're not a padawan anymore, to be 'trying.' You have to be able to do it. And right now you're not learning—you're only polishing skills," he shot back. "Stop spinning around like a drunk bantha. Pull yourself together!"
"Mm-hm."
Another shot, but…
"Ssssss…" the Cathar hissed, rubbing her thigh.
"Yeeees, I haven't seen such a disappointment in a long time. And how did you even make it to 'wanderer'?"
"R-r-r-r…" the Cathar was already quietly boiling.
"Vess, cool it," I sent a light telepathic impulse. "Try to abstract yourself—someone will always interfere. Try not to pay attention to those irritants. Your task is to find the sphere and strike it. Abstract yourself, let the Force flowing around you pass through you, feel the oscillations and the danger. Don't listen to anyone. Only yourself and the Force within…"
The Cathar nodded almost imperceptibly and, twitching an ear and pressing her lip, froze with her blade raised. The sphere circled, picking a spot for its next strike, while the master kept droning on. And then—another attack. On the exhale, Vess shifts her waist, slipping the shot, and smacks the sphere with the flat of her blade like a baseball bat.
"Now that's more like it, and you were worried," I said, patting the master on the back. Pulling a scary face, he just shot me an annoyed look. Nobody even tried to say anything to me anymore—because at any poke I snort like a hedgehog bristling with needles.
Turning, I walked to the Cathar. The Force technique dropped away, and she finally opened her eyes, blinking hard. "You're fine, Vess."
"You're next, Aero," the master ordered.
"Okay."
I closed my eyes, letting the Force technique be placed on me. Yeah… fighting in that state is definitely a bad idea. You can't see anything; everything's blurred; the sounds are weird and seem to come from the wrong direction. Shivering, I increased the frequency of my oscillations in the Force. Oh! And the ball is back—locking on to a new target.
Smirking, I tracked its movement closely. Over the years I'd gotten so practiced with using my "echosounder" that following the little sphere wasn't a problem at all. More than that: dispersing the first shot with tutaminis, I grabbed the ball and spun it on my finger like a baseball. Правда, the sphere itself didn't want to spin, so it immediately tried to fly away—but I caught it again and deactivated it.
"Funny toy. Is there anything else like that?" I said, removing the чужая technique from myself, wiping my eyes with my sleeve, then squinting at the master. Kriff… it's bright as hell.
"Not like that. All right…" the master rubbed his chin. "Go with Maal to the range, he'll show you how to shoot. Vessira—back into stance!"
"Mm-hm."
"If anything, call me," I winked at the Cathar.
At the range, they laid out several weapon samples in front of me. Two blaster pistols, one rifle, a вполне гильзовый automatic weapon and a pistol. That's it. Hadiya, who'd been shadowing me, watched—holding back on my request from comments—but now she couldn't take it and, snorting, asked us to wait a moment. Returning to the ship, the girl—along with "loaders"—hauled out several of her own weapon samples to the range.
"Flower, sunshine, my little darling—tell me, why the hell do you need an anti-ship rocket launcher on a cargo ship?" I picked up a huge tricked-out tube and looked at Hadiya suspiciously.
"What if you're planning to run? Gotta have some way to stop you," she winked.
"With this thing you can hit cruisers."
"Yeah. That's what it's for. TPK—Heavy Anti-Ship Emplacement. Or just—TAPOK."
"That's some 'slipper.' Yeah…" I set the tube aside. "And why do you need a heavy machine gun?" I lifted with the Force something vaguely reminiscent of the DShK I remembered from my past life.
"Never know, might come in handy! I have four of those on the ship."
"Actually, an effective weapon. We put them on the approaches against pendlys and other wildlife," Maal cut in. The Zabrak studied the чужие toys with interest. At my confused look, he explained, "No need to bother the Force unnecessarily when you can do it like this. Forgive me, Lady Hadiya, but what model is that?"
"And what?"
"I see differences from the one we use."
"That's not surprising. It's a new sample. I brought it for your armorers to examine and handed over four units."
"I see."
"Maal!"
"Hm?" the Zabrak turned to me.
"So, shall we shoot?"
"Uh… but we definitely won't be shooting that," he glanced at the rocket launcher.
"Obviously—there's nowhere. But can we fire this thing once?" I lifted a plasma gun with the Force. An elongated, bulky device connected by a cable to a special battery, firing packets of plasma. In normal conditions it served as a ship-mounted or at least a stationary turret weapon, but here I was looking at a tripod analogue that isn't even for sale. With a thing like that, you could pick off tanks—perfect. By the way, I wonder, is this junk the prototype for future handheld blasters? Shame I don't know weapons…
"Uh… well… I think we can… We just need to hang extra plates, and also reinforce them with the Force," Maal hesitated. You could tell the Zabrak didn't want to risk it—but he really wanted to. Really.
Nodding, we started preparing for the shooting. While Maal and I and a couple helpers reinforced the range, Hadiya and her people prepared the weapons. When everything was ready, the actual shooting began. With pistols. Maal tried to explain how to use the weapons, but…
"Hey, you crooked-handed 'genius,' get lost before I rip your grabbers off and twist your horns!" Hadiya stepped up, shooting the Je'daii a fierce glare. Walking up to me, she took the pistol and showed me how to hold it properly. "Shade, watch. Your hand goes like this, and the pad of your index finger should be exactly in the middle of the trigger, so the weapon doesn't pull to the side when you fire. Powder weapons, unlike blasters, have recoil—so to understand it, you need to shoot both types. You aim using this thing, it's called the front sight… or the sight."
"Hadiya, don't treat me like a complete idiot."
"Don't interfere, I'm getting into it," the little devil waved me off and started singing like a nightingale about weapons—advantages, drawbacks, ammo types, safety, maintenance, quirks of different categories. What else can be said? Hadiya definitely knows weapons. Would've been weird if a girl involved in their production and supply didn't.
Only after that did the shooting really start. Extending my arm, I fired a couple rounds from the slugthrower. There were hits, but I wouldn't call them honest, because I was shooting with Force assistance.
"Good job. Just hold your arm like this," I was immediately corrected.
"That's not it. I'll try without the Force." I shook my head and, disconnecting from the inner source, pulled the trigger a couple times. Shots—yes. Hits—no. Yeah.
"Come on, again," Hadiya encouraged me, then came around behind me and rose on her toes. Pressing up against me, she checked my hand position and sight alignment on the target.
More shots followed. Then more. In the end, I burned through about two dozen magazines—half with the Force, half without. Then came the blaster pistols. With those—no recoil—I was hitting fine even without the Force. Not center mass, but at least on the target. Then rifles. Then automatics. Unfortunately, there were no blaster automatics, only slugthrowers, otherwise I would've tried.
Maal watched this with tears in his eyes, so taking pity on the Zabrak, Hadiya handed him the bigger toys too. Even her pistols looked more substantial than what the Zabrak had brought out himself.
When it came to the heavy machine gun, I couldn't keep myself in check. Grabbing the thing and reinforcing my body with the Force, with a roar of "WAAAAAGH!!!" I—like Crysis—dumped the entire belt into the target while standing. It was glo-o-o-o-orious.
"And you still say something about my quirks?" Hadiya raised an eyebrow, holding the next ammo container with both hands.
"I said it, I say it, and I'll keep saying it! By the way, cool shooter," I lifted the smoking barrel upward.
Hooking in the next belt—not without the Force's help—with full childlike delight I fired another burst into a target that was the empty hull of a decommissioned starfighter. Then again. And again.
Heating the barrel red, I set the weapon aside to cool and took the plasma gun.
"Bu-gy-gy-gy-gy-GY."
"Lady Hadiya, I think this was a bad idea," one of her subordinates shared his thoughts.
"Everything's fine."
"FOR THE EMPEROR!!! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"
Shot. Second. Third. I started sending the charges not into the target but into an armored wall—packets of plasma. Flashes, thunder of explosions, the tremor of the weapon in my hands—all of it stirred the blood and pushed me to keep firing. On the tenth shot, the battery started squealing and I raised the red, smoking barrel to the sky to admire my handiwork. The range survived, but of five armor plates only the last two remained. More precisely, the second-to-last had melted and you could see the last through it, but overall you could still count it as functional.
"Shade, you're a maniac!" Hadiya blurted, covering her mouth in shock.
Yeah… when a person like her calls you a maniac, that's a reason to reflect.
"All good. Just got a little carried away."
"A little?!" Hadiya glanced at the armor plates. Maal just stayed silent, coming back to himself.
"Exactly. Listen, do you have more of these?"
"No, several, but it never went into production. The Jedaii didn't accept it either—they didn't like it. Too dangerous; if it gets even slightly damaged it can blow. You can't really carry it around, it's bulky, and as a stationary weapon you can't mount it—there are cheaper and more effective analogues. That rocket launcher is no worse against vehicles, and against infantry—this machine gun," she nodded at the KKL-32, the one I'd christened "DShK."
"What the hell is going on here?!" the Temple Master burst onto the range. Funny picture, actually: Maal with the rocket launcher he'd tried to hide away, Hadiya sitting on the plasma-gun batteries, and me holding the plasma gun itself.
"Training shoots?" I dipped my head guiltily.
"Ugh… all of you. To my office. And you too, Lady Hadiya—I'm asking you to come with us."
So, following the master, we had to explain what crap we'd устроили. I got chewed out. Maal too—worse. They didn't dare chew out Hadiya, and she didn't give them an opening, simply paying for the range repairs. For leaving a student unsupervised, and with weapons like that, Master Shaalin got chewed out too. I was laughing inside when Hadiya was politely asked to put her toys back on the ship, just to be safe.
When everything was settled, shooting continued—with normal pistols and rifles. That evening, when our group got together, the barrel got rolled onto me again, but this time by friends. When the guys realized what I'd gotten to shoot today, they lit up immediately. The whole group had to first talk Master Shaalin into approving more shoots like that, then go together with him to the Temple Master. The issue was resolved when Hadiya paid in advance for targets and armor plates for the range.
That's where I started protesting—how is it that a girl pays for such a pack of guys, where's our honor, in the end?! The twins didn't hear me, and Gris spread his paws guiltily. Well yeah—shooting is something you want. Hadiya didn't even listen to me on that, saying:
"You already don't take anything from me, so at least don't refuse this! Or I'll be offended. And anyway, it's a drop in the ocean, not expenses."
There was nothing to answer that with, because she really could get offended. And the next day the shoots were repeated. Then again. Once I more or less learned how to handle weapons and take care of them, we returned to normal training. They showed me hand-to-hand techniques, nonlethal holds, 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 outright believed. Sure, the Force doesn't отменяет gravity, but with it you can cheat it. For example: you sprint onto a wall, stick a dagger in, yank yourself up, stick the next, and so on until the top. If the room is small, using momentum I could actually run along the ceiling and still fight. Only for seconds—but for a Je'daii, seconds are a real abyss of time, since fights happen at completely different speeds.
Here I also met real opponents who could make me sweat and even run. So, at the martial arts temple we stayed for almost five takeds, during which they taught us techniques—but polishing them would be on us.
I noticed spectators started gathering for my hand-to-hand training. Mostly padawans, but older ones dropped by too. It's not every day you see someone my age fight on equal terms with a Stav Kesh master. In sparring there was no outright advantage; both I and my opponent ended up on the floor. Shaalin won on experience and techniques I просто didn't know. I won on foresight. I simply felt the next strike and answered before it landed—but even that didn't always save me.
I caught myself thinking I was defending like some die-hard kung fu master, mixing hands and feet while bending the laws of physics. A spinning punch, a hop and three kicks, another hop, and during a full 360, a downward heel strike. The target doesn't stand still either and sometimes does things that make thoughts fly out of my head along with my brains—and if not for Force reinforcement, that wouldn't have been a figure of speech.
Because of that, the local masters let me get away with my liberties and behavior. After the first training session, I showed what I was worth and was accepted as "one of theirs." Well, meaning: a future Master of Stav Kesh, like my mother, so they treated me not like a student, but like an equal.
Hadiya cooled off in my company and didn't show open aggression, but cynicism and black humor still kept seeping out of her like poison from a flower. Still, she found more or less common ground with Vess, and from hot hostility the girls shifted to cold. Hadiya didn't stop trying to steal me—that's just her. She can't retreat or surrender, and she gets very angry when she can't get what she wants. More than once I'd heard people call her behind her back a "spoiled girl," but… But she achieves everything herself, and more than that—her father is gradually handing her more responsibility. For now it's enterprises; she doesn't run the clan itself yet, but that's only a matter of time. So her "I want" and "mine" are absolutely earned by work and effort. The other issue is that under those two points falls… me, but that's details.
At least I'm not treated like a вещь, and my opinion is respected. But her постоянные hints… That can probably be compared to a cat.
looks at the Cathar
Pff… Yeah. Basically, like a cat that saw sour cream, and keeps climbing and climbing and climbing, and you smack it with a slipper, and it still climbs, because it really wants it, it's so tasty, and come on, just a little кусочек, please? That's her with me—she keeps climbing and climbing and climbing, but she doesn't want to share with anyone, so Vess smacks her with the условный slipper, and all I can do is stoically roll my eyes and keep my distance. From both. Sure, there's faith in my negotiator skills, but sometimes you just want to shoot yourself…
There was no sense in trying to вмешаться. I intervened once and the result was satisfactory. If I do it again, I'm afraid I'll only make it worse. Two kindred souls, kriff… And how did I even end up like this?
Ah, whatever. While the girls sorted themselves out, in the evenings I sat studying the papers Hadiya provided on the "Starwatchers." Yeah… normal isekai types would grab them by the hands and go for walks trying to reconcile them. I'm sitting over paperwork. Something is definitely wrong with me.
Still, I learned a lot of interesting things—also how I should behave if I decide to make contact with the Starwatchers. A cult is a cult, but there's a зерно of sense in them, and you can negotiate—everything hinges on that mysterious, incomprehensible thing hidden in the Old City. And again: should we even go there? There's a Force point, and the little monsters are very, very nasty—some of the worst on Tython. Maybe to hell with it? Tell Mom, or Qigun—and let the higher-ups have the headache?
Turning the idea over, I just sighed sadly. Better not tell. Not only will they forbid going, I'll also draw attention. The last thing needed is being accused of following in Father's footsteps. Though I don't see anything bad in that simply because I don't even know which road he walked! And even if they don't accuse me—there will be questions I very much want to avoid. At least so I don't look like an idiot in Mom's eyes. No, I'll be an idiot in her eyes either way, even if I go, but at least not the last one—if I find something, maybe they'll even forgive me. Mmm… gotta think. Kriff, it's tempting and it stings.
Knock-knock-knock!
"Come in."
"My lady asked me to inform you that the ship is ready for departure, Lord Shade," one of Hadiya's subordinates warned.
"Thanks. You can go."
Putting away the papers, I grabbed my bag and headed to the others. Today we were leaving Stav Kesh not on foot, not even on raptors, but on a starship. Long live Civilization!
Gathering friends, saying goodbye to the local masters—everything went fast and almost unnoticed. Unlike Bodhi, we didn't make any new acquaintances here. The masters looked at my people like passing wanderers; the students just kept their distance, considering us "high circle," or otherwise "connected." Hadiya's presence, no doubt. Or maybe the place itself was such that we stayed here so long and still didn't put down roots? Most likely both. So, boarding the ship, we headed to Mahar Kesh, the healing temple. If we're going to climb into the fire, we need to be able to patch ourselves up properly—because if we didn't have Ramiry in the squad, we wouldn't have even made it to Stav Kesh.
The ship we flew on bore the proud name "Pheromone" and was a military transport. Meaning: it had a large hold, a good reactor and engines, a thick hull, and lots of guns. "Pheromone" was used to transport weapons or other expensive goods. Hadiya did something оригинальное with it: stuffing part of the hold with equipment, another with various junk necessary for comfortable living, plus crates of weapons for "close" знакомства. And that was only the hold—there were three decks total. The first was the cockpit and living compartments, the second technical, and the third the hold.
In shape, the ship looked like a praying mantis. A thick abdomen, an extended грудка and snout, under which they mounted a turret with the local BFG. A pulsed laser battery fed directly from the reactor could bring very real doom across the forward and lower hemispheres. In addition, small turrets were mounted on the belly to eliminate small craft, and missile launch shafts stood on top. You could also open the cargo шлюз and simply turn the ship into a bomber. And let it be noted again: this is just a military transport—a ship not so much meant to fight as to haul valuable cargo. A delight to behold, this product of grim genius.
So we flew in comfort. One bad thing: Vess apparently picked up Hadiya's game and sat down on my lap, looking at the Twi'lek with arrogant superiority. Hadiya watched, watched, then made a knight's move—invited everyone to the table. And then, not letting Vess recover, she took the seat next to me first and even tried to уничтожить my self-esteem by feeding me from a spoon. What shame…
looks at the laughing friends
…that I might not survive. So, seating both girls next to each other, I crawled away to the other side, to Ramiry. She didn't mind. True, when she asked Zeng for permission with only her eyes, and then teased both Vess and Hadiya by trying to flirt with me… Yeah, I've never seen such solidarity in my life. Ramiry even got scared for a second that they'd прямо here and now do something to her, so she quickly moved back away from me to Zeng, who was sitting on her left.
"Nightmare. Seventeen years and we're suffering this crap," I rubbed the bridge of my nose in misery. I wonder, in Earth years, how old are we? Mmm… Nah, I won't calculate. Whatever.
"Go on, say you don't like it," Feng winked.
"I'll keep quiet."
"Gra-e-r rue ar-eg," Gris gave me advice on what I should do. Both Hadiya and Vess instantly turned crimson, and I quietly croaked.
"Gris, I'll give you a haircut for words like that!"
The Wookiee just laughed at my outburst.
"Aur rge eir-r-eg."
"WHAT?!" Hadiya jumped up. "As if I would—WITH HER?! Get over here, smartass," she yanked out her любимый knife and went after the Wookiee. A miniature girl, walking toward a Wookiee. And, by the way, he actually got scared and, jumping away from the table, started backing up.
"Arg-ur rea-r-r-e eru rgie-r," hands raised, he tried to calm the flaming Twi'lek. But judging by Hadiya's eyes, she was about to trim him herself.
"Worth noting, Vess didn't say a word," Feng observed.
…
…
…
Strange. I thought the reactor hummed much quieter, but it turns out it's that loud… Looking at the Zabrak, I mentally buried him. But Hadiya didn't rush to shoot him with anything. She only turned to Vessira in surprise. Meanwhile, the Cathar quietly moved back onto my lap.
"Hey!"
"What?" she batted her eyes.
"Why are you so calm?"
"Here's my calm, and to hell with the others," she hugged me, licked me, and rubbed her cheek against mine. "Let them think whatever they want."
Watching the emotions bursting out of Hadiya was priceless. First surprise, then reconsideration, then she measured Vess with her eyes—and immediately started quietly boiling.
Unfortunately, the idyll was interrupted by the pilot's voice over the speakers.
"Five minutes to Mahar Kesh."
"Hm… guess we should go pack?"