Time passed somehow unnoticed. The holocron, training, new techniques, a bit of attention for Vessira. Joint meetings with Hadiya, members of the Order Council, Baron Ska-Gora, and the Nox corporate coalition. My schedule was so packed that I regularly started resorting to artificial sleep in the Force. You run like that for a week, then sleep it off for a day, and then run for another week. At first it made me nauseous, but then I kind of got used to that rhythm.
Thanks to my efforts, Dalien's efforts, and my father's efforts, we managed to bring everyone to that line—things are about to go to f*ck and we need to prepare. Laying a hand over my heart and swearing by the Force itself, I added fuel to the fire by revealing my vision and telling them what awaits Tython in the near future. And I had no doubt it would be soon. Vessira may be Je'daii and therefore ages more slowly, but Hadiya is an ordinary Twi'lek, and if you recall the vision, she was about thirty-five to forty.
It started with the Order, at a general assembly of the authorities of the entire Tython system, clearly explaining the problem to everyone else. At first Baron Ska-Gora and the corporate sector didn't heed the request. It was hard for them to believe that some incomprehensible crap would come along and give all of us a very, very bad time. After all, we'd lived peacefully for ten thousand years—but after Hadiya personally slapped Baron Ska-Gora in the face and threatened to cut off everything extra, and the Je'daii reminded the corporates who held power here (Mom and Irbis flew to the negotiations), all sides immediately came to an agreement and there were no more dissenters. So Nox smoothly began preparing to shift capacity toward the fleet and new armaments in the near future. With one elegant personal kick, Hadiya sent her entire weapons division straight to Nox—to share technology and supervise the process. Ska-Gora, meanwhile, took on expanding the agricultural sector and, oh Force, creating underground fortifications on the planet. The enemy won't give a damn about nature, so it's better to prepare ourselves.
On Shikaakwa, the real fun began. The militants of the nine clans were gradually being consolidated into an army; they planned to build new training grounds and hangars, new camps. I got into all of that once, got my mind blown, and never stuck my nose in again, because there was neither time nor strength to dig into military structure and the principles of how it works.
Tython, against the general background, looked like the truest Je'daii. That is: standing aside and watching with a poker face. What else can you do when there's a number of settlements, nine temples, a-a-and… well, that's basically it. At most, they're going to throw more forces into Wur Tepe to raise production capacity, but against the overall backdrop it's a drop in the ocean. What's the point of making Je'daii ships if nobody but Je'daii can handle them? And the Je'daii already fly them as it is.
A day crept up completely unnoticed when the holocron said, "That's it," and I could breathe a sigh of relief. But alas, not for long—because I completely forgot that I kind of owed Tsikuna my work on the Unifying Force. So instead of fighting with the Kwa holocron, I set about creating my own.
I didn't get too fancy: I took as a base the dodecahedron shape I'd come to like. Only instead of a single color—blue, like the Kwa's, for example—mine came out black-and-white, with little lights darting inside under the "lenses." As intended, I stuffed a copy of my own personality inside, and that's where I ran into a ti-i-i-iny little problem.
"You are unworthy!" my own translucent copy snapped at me.
To say I was shocked would be a massive understatement. Vessira, who was able to watch it, laughed harder than I'd ever seen.
"Listen here, illusion. I'm your creator!"
"So what?"
"Pff-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…"
"Ves, stop laughing. Better tell me—was I always like this?"
"Yeeeah."
"Horror. And how do you even put up with me…" I shook my head and closed the holocron.
On closer examination, I realized I'd "programmed" the device incorrectly: I'd taken only light, superficial imprints of my personality and assigned the wrong tasks to those scraps. The device simply didn't understand what I wanted from it. I redid the work and loaded at least half of my personality into the holocron; the device started working the way it should. It understood commands, executed them faithfully, and the ease of interaction could be compared to a crowbar. Simple and effective.
So the created device saved me a truly insane amount of time, because instead of sitting there and suffering over a datapad, I simply raised my own memories, processed them, and uploaded them. The result was actually quite interesting.
But I missed one detail. The holocron was created using the Unifying Force, and to unlock its potential the user also needs to wield the Unifying Force. No, my little creation isn't like the Kwa holocron—it doesn't twist your brains, at least not immediately—and any Force-user can interact with it at all, but in a castrated form. No taste, no smell, no sound—only a visual picture and faint echoes of emotion. That's if you interact directly, but you can also connect it to a computer and simply download the needed information as images, a block of text, or video, so in the end the result more than satisfied me. All that remained was to fill the storage.
I was pulled away from work by an unexpected notice from the Council. Turns out they had confirmed my status as a Master of the Unifying Force, and now I was to fly to Kaleth for an official ceremony. Everything would have been fine, if my instincts weren't whispering about a catch. An attempt to discern it didn't succeed, so I headed to Kaleth slightly on edge.
But no. My fears didn't pan out; everything went smoothly. They received me, led me into the Council chamber, granted me full Master status, asked about my affairs and plans. When they learned I was going to move to Shikaakwa, they weren't exactly happy, but it was my choice, period. And it seemed we parted on good terms, but at the very end they decided to "make me happy"…
"…and since you've become a Master of the Unifying Force and provided no materials, from this moment the Council assigns you three students," Tsikuna announced with a brazenly smug grin.
"Uh… Rngrrra-a-a-ar?! (What?)" In shock, I switched to my native Togruta.
"Yes, Shade, you heard correctly. I didn't ask you for those materials for nothing, but since you didn't provide them, please take your students…" Tsikuna sighed with "sincere" sympathy.
"W-w-wait, Master Tsikuna, I-I-I'll do everything right now! I already built a holocron and I'm preparing the materials, and—"
"Too late, Shade," Enzer cut me off. "We selected suitable children two years ago and prepared them as future adepts of the Unifying Force."
"How is that even possible? Without manuals?" I scowled at the monk's hologram.
"Their age corresponds to students of Padawan Kesh, with the caveat that they have absolutely no knowledge in the field of the Force. Right now they act spontaneously, with either the light side or the dark side, and you will have to guide them along your own path."
"Well, you…" I swallowed the words after looking over the Council. "…you people are something. And asking me—no? I literally fixed the Master status on myself a minute ago, and you're already giving me students. And in general, maybe I have plans!"
"Irbis was five minutes away from being a Master when you ended up with him," Tsikuna snorted. And for some reason it felt like Irbis had a hand in this. Absolutely. I could feel it in my gut—he's probably sitting somewhere right now, cackling vindictively and muttering, "Now you'll understand me, my student!"
"And besides, training the younger generation is a Master's duty," Master Tuthoraminos picked up. "And since you are the only one who possesses this direction, the sooner new adepts of the same inclination appear, the better."
"Better for whom?"
"For you too. They'll tug on you less," Tsikuna snorted.
"Yes, but unlike common practice, I'll have to train the kids from beginning to end. Simply because you don't have the necessary programs. And I came to Irbis after Tsigun Kesh, not as a brat. And… I don't think I'm ready for that kind of responsibility."
"We're glad you understand that," Master of the Temple Stav Kesh nodded. "And that's exactly why we concluded you are ready."
"Can I refuse?"
"We're not forcing you, Shade. We understand that there is indeed a heavy load on your shoulders right now, and you may not manage with students, but on the eve of the coming storm you described to us, it's better to have several adepts who can continue the teacher's work. But the final choice is yours."
I didn't rush an answer. I stood there drilling them with my gaze, not even boiling over—I was thinking through such an… offer. I didn't consider myself ready; more than that, I was honestly afraid to take students, but I understood perfectly well that a time would come and I'd have to do it. But… I never could have imagined that day would come so fast.
"You said children. Isn't only one student supposed to be taken?"
"Usually Masters take one or two, depending on personal preference and ability. There are cases where they take four or five. But in your case—three," the Master of the Temple of Bodhi replied. "All the children are three years old."
"Hm… Forgive me, but I have to refuse. Don't think I'm afraid of responsibility—though I am. No. I can come to terms with responsibility and children, but I won't be able to give them enough attention. I know perfectly well how much time a teacher needs for a student. I'm emphasizing: one student. And you're offering me three at once. I don't even have time to sleep; when am I supposed to deal with children? And that's not even mentioning that I simply don't have the necessary skills to work with such a young Force-gifted contingent."
"Are you sure?" Tsikuna leaned forward.
"Yes. The time will come and I'll come to you myself, but right now…" I shook my head. "I can't. I just can't."
"So be it."
That ended the meeting, and I was dismissed. Yeah… when the time comes, I'll come here myself with the proposal to take students, but right now I simply physically cannot give children the attention they deserve.
***
After finishing everything on Tython, Ves and I left for Shikaakwa. Since quite a lot of time had passed, Hadiya didn't even try to restrain her surging emotions and immediately threw herself into my arms.
Alas, it was a trap in which I traded an awl (Tython) for soap (Shikaakwa). Besides the obvious reason for the girl's behavior, there was a more practical one. Even with all her assistants, Hadiya was getting a bit overwhelmed, and then I arrived, which meant extra hands and a second head. And also: "Ves as a bonus," as Hadiya herself put it.
I fought like a cornered beast, but the arguments of the Despot Queen of Shikaakwa were stronger, so I had to dig into administrative affairs. In particular, logistics and the army were partially shifted onto me in a voluntary-compulsory manner. I had to monitor cargo transport and also control what would soon become the Army of Shikaakwa.
To my luck, it wasn't as bad as I'd expected. A whole staff of advisers came with the new duties—two sentients for each area. Vessira didn't stand aside either and became my first assistant. Though… her "assistant" skills, like my own "management" skills, were so-so. At least at first, because in the beginning we didn't so much lead as learn: we walked through facilities with smart faces and listened closely to truly smart beings—those who actually live this work.
And even though it wasn't customary, we decided to start from the bottom. That's how we accidentally uncovered fraud by one of the companies that took advantage of the changes and was simply profiteering off transportation. To understand how some details work, a few things need clarifying. Suppose the cost of shipping one industrial container that can hold up to twenty tons is five thousand pen. That's a standard, average price. Someone (we won't point fingers at the company director) struck a deal with the port so it would "hold" containers back. As a result, those containers started being in short supply in other places, and the cost of shipping jumped from five thousand to seven, then eight, while containers sent back in the other direction, on the contrary, became cheaper—almost in a mirror pattern. A-a-and… now the cost to ship a container into the overloaded port is twenty thousand, while shipping cargo back out is seven hundred pen. How did it get there? Easily: the situation simply got out of control. The port ends up overloaded, and ship captains who caught on can, to make more, even fly out of the port empty without waiting for loading, go to the nearest neighbor, and load there at four times the price.
That outrage continued right up until Ves and I showed up, because the main problem was the slackers who set it up and, generally, weren't going to stop even after the people who started it all truly understood the problem and were trying to fix it somehow. But when Ves and I arrived, with a commission, with a hundred armed guys, the problem was solved instantly. Several captains were removed from their posts and punished as an example. No, not killed—we're humane beings, especially when we're short on hands. The former captains were sent to the dockworkers, with reduced pay. The one who got the worst of it was my "former" assistant, who had been covering for this localized mess. We had a short conversation with him—right up to an airlock into space. Because kriff that. Both I and Hadiya give chances, and this guy had more than one, but "greed killed the fool."
With the people supporting the problem gone, the problem itself dissolved on its own in the first two takeds. Our next concern was solving supply issues for building military academies and schools. Practice showed that assembling a unified army out of—even high-quality—disconnected groups of soldiers is not a simple task. And so problems rained down one after another.
Starting from basic misunderstanding, since different clans had different traditions, and ending with different tactical solutions. To bring it all to one standard, special academies were being built, where the best of everything would be adopted and unified. But such places don't appear out of thin air; you need money, resources, and time.
I won't even mention the charter—each group had its own, unique and inimitable. Honestly, if not for competent advisers, it's hard to imagine how we would have cleared any of it, even with Hadiya's help. Though… we didn't really clear it, if we're being honest. I know perfectly well you shouldn't touch a working mechanism. And in general, being able to lead means not interfering with good people doing their work. After all, that's why they were hired.
So I wasn't so much interfering with the work as sifting the collective for saboteurs. Along the way, I watched professionals work and memorized. Some advisers, seeing that I don't interfere and actually listen to smart beings, raised my personal authority as leadership, in both our own eyes and outsiders'. Many, claiming seniority, try to impose their rightness, while others, the moment they take a new post, immediately start enforcing their own orders, chopping down old ones. I don't know… it seems that if something works, it's better to first understand how it works and only then, if possible, improve it without harming what already exists.
But it wasn't only work we lived by. I didn't abandon either the Force or the holocron, and I tried to make time for training, continuing to improve myself. So fighting with Forcesabers no longer felt like something "special," and my hands perceived it naturally, as if I'd always only ever swung them. Yes, the style was fairly harsh and rough, with minimal unnecessary movement. Thanks to Father's work regarding "foresight," I got used to reading a strike in advance. The intuition that worked about three seconds ahead had strengthened, and the window increased to five seconds. In combat, that's an unimaginable abyss of time, and it was exactly what allowed me to fight Mom on equal terms in training sparrings. She had enormous experience; I had the ability to determine her strike with guaranteed accuracy. So "training fights" gradually became very real, but neither Mom nor I noticed.
So, unnoticed even by myself, I moved from the extremely aggressive style Mom fights with into a calmer, more measured one. Mom's techniques didn't suit me as well as they used to, but Father compensated for that. He's been gone a long time; more than that, I never saw him alive, but he still somehow keeps teaching me.
It got to the point that in the next sparring match with Mom I was slipping out from under any of her strikes without much trouble. A step back, a step aside, set my blade at an angle so Mom's blade slides off, another step back, and as she passes me, strike her in the stomach with the reverse side of my deactivated blade.
And it was some kind of unimaginable, yet natural action. The world seemed to sway for a moment. I… won? Just like that? Casually? I don't believe it… that can't be.
"Well done, Shade," Mom praised me with a smile, deactivating her blades. Straightening and looking at her face, I noticed wrinkles I hadn't noticed before. "You defeated me." She placed a hand to her chest and bowed respectfully.
"Mom, I don't consider it an honest victory," I spun the blades in my hands and hung them behind me on my belt. I refused to believe what I'd just done, because between us there was such a huge gap. There had been. "I beat you not with skill, but with foresight."
"That still counts, Shade, because not everyone can foresee with such precision," Mom parried. "And as for technique… you'll hone it with experience, and experience will come with time. So you're ready."
"Ready for what?"
"You are no longer my student, my son. From this day on, I acknowledge your right of primacy."
"… "
"What is it?"
"You're joking?"
"No. I taught you everything, and more than that—you managed to surpass me and defeat me."
"But we didn't use Force techniques."
"You're mistaken. Unlike you, I was actively hiding myself in the Force, but it didn't help. We were saturating our bodies, reinforcing our strikes, so the Force was used. But that's not what matters; what matters is mastery. And if you could surpass me in my best field, you can in another as well."
"Mom…" I shook my head in indignation.
"What?" She smirked. "Everything is going as it should. The younger generation replaces the older—and a time will come when your children will replace you in the same way."
Shaking my head, I hugged her. In essence, she had just removed responsibility for me from her shoulders, and if before someone would have tried to shield me from some dangerous venture, like back then when we opened the Infinity Gate, now at most they'd shake their head in disapproval.
It's a strange feeling, really. When you change somehow without noticing it, consider yourself basically the same, and then—bam—and someone tells you what you've become. And it's hard to believe, but everything says exactly that.
I needed time to digest and comprehend what had happened. The gap separating me from Mom was gradually shrinking and eventually disappeared. I… achieved my little goal, managed to rise to her height. It was a little frightening and made me rethink my relationship with life.
There was no longer a need to chase knowledge, no longer a need to drive myself. I had already reached the level I was striving for, which meant I could calm down a little. So, after filtering my schedule, I gained enough free time—which my beloved ladies immediately claimed. Alas, Hadiya remained a possessive owner and continued being one. She couldn't come to terms with the fact that I wasn't only hers, and now and then she tried to pull the blanket onto herself. It expressed itself in personal attention toward me, rare and demonstrative ignoring of Vessira, or snide jabs. Without malice or offended jealousy—just her nature. And it was good that Vessira possessed an enormous level of not-giving-a-damn, taking all of the above as self-evident and, at the jab, "Go brush yourself out, fluffy," calmly asking, "Want chips?" And Hadiya, as if nothing happened, would agree. That's how we lived: I tried to give attention to one, then the other, and if possible both at once, because it's easier, and in general—the head of the family is me. And the fact that one of my ladies is a queen—doesn't matter at all. Work is work, and family is family.
But I relaxed too early. Oh, too early, because the hit came from where nobody expected it. Two hits, even. While away on Kalimara with Ves, at one moment I simply noticed how a familiar spark of life appeared inside the Cathar.
"V-v-v-Ves?" One fine evening I pressed my fingertips together and asked the Cathar sweetly, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"
"M-m-m… Well, you'll be a dad soon," the Cathar answered, thoughtfully, as if either asking or stating it.
"And why so uncertain?"
"Well… you were afraid to take students?" A wave of fear rolled into me in time with her words.
"Ves, drop those thoughts," I shook my head and hugged the Cathar. "That was several years ago, when I was drowning. And I'm not against kids at all, so calm down."
"Mm-hm."
"Better tell me: how did it happen? I thought you were still… well, protecting yourself."
"I was," Vessira nodded. "But then I decided that since Hadiya got caught anyway, why not?"
"…"
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan