Location: Nar Shaddaa
Time: 13 BBY, immediately after returning from an expedition
The transport container barely fit into the cargo lift. Alex watched with satisfaction as the workshop's automated systems carefully lowered the precious cargo to the lower level — where his laboratory was located. Three months on the abandoned worlds of the Unknown Regions had yielded results that exceeded his wildest expectations.
"Be careful with this," he warned the cargo droids, pointing to a particularly fragile case. "If you damage even one crystal, I'll turn you into scrap metal."
Verena stood nearby, carefully observing the unloading process. She had changed during the expedition — she had become more confident, more decisive.
"Is this all we found in the fort?" she asked, looking at the containers.
"Not all," Alex replied, activating the security system. "This is just the first batch. What we took from Fort Rakata. And we found the main mass of discoveries in the ruins of that other civilization."
"We never understood who they were, but their craftsmanship is amazing."
He opened one of the cases. Inside, like drops of frozen light, lay ornaments of incredible beauty. Diadems, bracelets, necklaces — each piece was a work of art.
"It's impossibly beautiful," she marveled at the beauty of the items once again.
"And this is only a small part," Alex smiled. "There are twenty more containers with similar items in the upper holds of the ship. Statues, vases, decorative weapons, furniture..."
"How much could this be worth?"
"I think enough to not work for thirty years, without denying ourselves anything. Rich collectors love beautiful antiquities, especially if their origin is obscure. And this civilization is practically unknown — there isn't a single line about it in the archives."
Verena carefully picked up one of the ornaments — a delicate bracelet that shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow.
"What material is it? It's unlike anything familiar."
"An alloy of unknown composition. Lighter than titanium, but stronger than durasteel. And these shimmers are not a coating, but a property of the metal itself."
"Technology?"
"Art, rather. See how smoothly the lines transition? No seams, no joints. As if each piece was cast whole."
Alex closed the case and activated the holographic interface. Three-dimensional models of artifacts from Fort Rakata appeared in the air — completely different in style and purpose.
"And these are the real treasures," he said, pointing to the holograms. "Kyber crystals, data matrices, 'crystal hearts'."
"And you won't sell these?"
"Never. This is a window into the past, a key to understanding how Rakata technology worked. Possibly the only way to break out of a technological dead end."
Verena carefully studied the holograms:
"They look... alive. As if they are growing, not made."
"An accurate observation. Rakata didn't create technology in our understanding — they grew it, using the Force as a catalyst. Each artifact is a symbiosis of matter and energy, technology and the Force."
"And that's why they can't be copied?"
"We can copy the form, but not the essence. It's like trying to reproduce a living flower from plastic — it looks similar, but lacks life."
The last container took its place in the laboratory. Alex activated a multi-level defense system — a system that surpassed the defense of some military installations in complexity.
"Verena," he said, "please go upstairs and oversee the unloading of the other containers. The droids should deliver them within an hour. Make sure everything is handled carefully — there are fragile items there."
"And you?"
"I'll stay here. I want to compile a preliminary catalog of the finds from the fort while the impressions are fresh."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Verena's eyes — she clearly wanted to stay and continue studying. But she obediently nodded:
"Okay. And will we have dinner together afterward? Three months of field rations is a trial."
"Of course," Alex smiled. "I'll cook something worthy of our return."
Verena headed for the elevator, and Alex watched her go. He noticed how reluctantly she left. He himself didn't want to interrupt his work, but he needed time to think alone.
When the sound of the elevator faded, Alex was left alone with the treasures of antiquity. In the soft light of the laboratory, they seemed even more mysterious.
His thoughts gradually shifted from specific artifacts to more general questions. He once again pondered the reasons for the stagnation of civilization.
He thought of another possible reason — the psychological trap of perfection.
He imagined a young civilization, having just invented space travel. They proudly launch their first ship, capable of reaching the nearest planet in their system in a few years. And then they discover an abandoned Rakata station with a ship that can cross the galaxy in a few days. And not just a ship, but a factory for producing such ships.
What to do? Spend the next thousand years creating their own technology, or use a ready-made solution?
The choice seemed obvious. Why invent the wheel when you can find a ready-made starship? Why spend centuries studying physics when ancient power cores already provide energy for entire planets?
Alex walked around the laboratory, contemplating this dilemma. Every civilization that reached space encountered the legacy of the Rakata. And each made the same choice — to take what was ready instead of creating their own.
Thus began the era of technological parasitism, which continues to this day. The entire modern galactic civilization is a parasite on the body of antiquity.
He activated the holographic display and brought up the schematic of a modern hyperdrive. There were a bunch of systems surrounding a mysterious core — the motivation chamber. Engineers knew that supplying a certain amount of energy in specific proportions activated the engine. They knew how to adjust resonant frequencies to reach the desired coordinates. But the principle of operation itself remained a mystery.
The same applied to energy weapons. All blasters, from personal ones to the turbolaser batteries of Star Destroyers, are based on crystalline "hearts." No one understood how they worked, but everyone used them. They were manufactured by "BlasTech" and its subsidiaries on various planets.
Computer systems were also based on a strange programming language — a mysterious code that somehow used the Force to control quantum processes. Programmers became like priests of ancient cults — they knew the rituals, but not their essence.
Alex turned off the hologram and leaned back in his chair. The scale of the problem was overwhelming. The galaxy had fallen into a technological sarcophagus — a trap where the perfection of ancient technologies had become a prison for modern civilization.
But why had no one tried to break out of this trap? Why, in twenty-five thousand years, had there not been a single civilization that went its own way?
The answer lay in economics. Alex walked over to his work terminal and activated an analytical model. He began to set parameters: estimate the complexity of developing alternative hyperdrive technologies from scratch, without using Rakata technologies.
The computing cluster whirred to life, processing vast amounts of data. Alex added additional variables: research costs, necessary resources, timeframes, probability of success.
While the system was thinking, he pondered corporations. Modern megacorporations controlled the production and distribution of Rakata technologies. They had access to ancient factories, knew the secrets of activating ancient production lines, and owned trade routes.
Why would they finance the development of alternatives? It would be tantamount to suicide — investing in technologies that would render their own assets useless.
The analysis results appeared on the screen, and Alex whistled. The numbers were even worse than he had anticipated.
Development of an alternative hyperdrive: approximately 2000 years of research, investments of 15% of the galaxy's total GDP to build only the primary research infrastructure within the first hundreds of years of the program's implementation, probability of success — 23%. And this is assuming that research would be conducted continuously, without wars, crises, or changes in priorities.
"And this is just the hyperdrive," he muttered, looking at the screen.
He launched calculations for other technologies. Energy crystals — 1500 years and 20% of GDP. Crystal processors — 3200 years and 12% of GDP. Life support systems — 800 years and 1% of GDP.
The total cost of creating an alternative technological base was at the limit of all the galaxy's economic capabilities. Even if the resources of all worlds, all corporations, all governments were combined, the project would stretch for thousands of years.
And who would invest in such a project? What corporation would invest in research that would show the first results in thousands of years? And without a guarantee of success, when existing technologies work perfectly?
Shareholders demand profit every quarter, not in a millennium. Governments change every few years — what politician would spend the budget on projects whose fruits would only be seen by distant descendants?
It turned out to be a perfect vicious circle. The longer civilization relied on ancient technologies, the more expensive the development of alternatives became. The more expensive the alternatives, the fewer people willing to finance them. The less investment, the slower alternative directions developed.
The system was self-sustaining and self-reinforcing. Each generation received ready-made solutions and saw no need to search for new paths. Education focused on studying ritualistic actions around ancient technologies, rather than fundamental research. Universities trained tech-priests, not inventors.
Alex stood up and went to the window overlooking the endless levels of Nar Shaddaa. Somewhere out there, in the labyrinths of the city-planet, millions of beings lived their daily lives, unaware that their civilization was teetering on the brink of technological collapse.
But the worst part was not the economic calculations, but the psychology. Society had become accustomed to stability, to predictability. Sentient beings stopped dreaming of the future — they were content with the present and feared change.
Why fly to new stars when millions of worlds have already been discovered? Why invent new technologies when the old ones work fine? Why take risks when you can live peacefully?
The culture of innovation had died. It was replaced by a culture of consumption — squandering what was inherited from ancestors. Shopping malls became more important than laboratories, artists more prestigious than engineers, collectors more influential than inventors.
Alex returned to the artifacts and walked around the laboratory again. The irony of the situation was obvious — he was using technologies based on Rakata principles to try to understand the artifacts of the Rakata themselves. Even his attempts to understand ancient technologies depended on ancient crystalline computers and scanners.
Was it even possible to break out of this trap? Or was the galaxy doomed to eternal stagnation?
Perhaps a way out existed, but it needed to be sought not in economics or politics, but in the Rakata technologies themselves. If the principles of their operation were understood, it would be possible to create not copies, but development — next-generation technologies based on the same principles, but surpassing the originals.
This was an almost impossible task. In twenty-five thousand years, thousands of researchers had tried to unravel the secrets of the Rakata. Some achieved partial success, but no one achieved complete understanding.
But Alex had an advantage—the artifacts from the fort contained not only ready-made technology but also, possibly, clues for further searches.
***
The sound of the elevator interrupted his thoughts. Verena was returning, and Alex realized more time had passed than he thought. Outside, dusk was already gathering, and the city levels sparkled with millions of lights.
"All containers have been delivered," Verena announced, stepping out of the elevator. "The droids took their time, but they handled them carefully."
"Excellent. We'll start sorting them out tomorrow."
"And what were you doing all this time?" she asked, looking around the laboratory and noticing that the artifacts remained untouched. "From the looks of it, you weren't working."
"Thinking," Alex replied honestly. "About the galaxy's global problems."
"Oh, really?" Verena squinted. "And I thought you were bored."
"Should I have been?"
"Well, three months in one cabin, and now a whole hour apart," she said, stepping closer, a playful note in her voice. "Some might have missed you."
Alex chuckled. "Some might have. But I'm a serious sentient being. I'm only interested in research."
"Only?" Verena tilted her head, her lekku swaying gently. "How boring. And I thought you had more... diverse interests."
"Well, sometimes I study rare and outstanding specimens of xenobiology," Alex said, his gaze fixed on her. "Especially Twi'lek ones."
"Oh, that's my specialty," she said, taking a step closer. "What exactly interests you in this field?"
"Adaptive abilities. For example, how quickly representatives of this species adapt to... new living conditions."
"Very quickly," Verena smiled. "Especially if the conditions are comfortable. And are your research methods thorough enough...?"
"Extremely thorough. I prefer to study the object from all sides. In detail. Without rushing."
"A commendable approach," there was something in her voice that made Alex's breath catch. "Although sometimes practical research yields better results than theoretical."
"Agreed. But practical research requires suitable... laboratory conditions."
"And do you have such conditions?"
"Yes. Upstairs. Very comfortable."
Verena laughed—quietly and melodically. "Then perhaps we should continue our research there? I could... assist."
"Your help would be invaluable," Alex activated the laboratory's security systems. "Especially considering your previous experience working with me."
"Oh yes, we work great as a team," she said, heading for the elevator. "Although sometimes you can be too... demanding a project leader."
"But the results always exceed expectations."
"That's true," Verena turned, mischievous sparks dancing in her eyes. "Although after three months of intensive work, some researchers need a rest."
"Or a change of activity," Alex followed her into the elevator. "I was planning to do some cooking. That also requires certain skills."
"What kind of skills?"
"The ability to work with your hands. A sense of rhythm. Knowing what is liked..."
"Sounds intriguing," the elevator began to ascend. "Will there be dessert?"
"Definitely. The best is saved for last."
Verena smiled. No matter how global the problems, life went on. And sometimes simple joys—good food, pleasant company, a warm home—meant more than the grandest plans to save civilization.
"And now let's go upstairs," Alex said, activating the security systems. "I promised to prepare a worthy dinner."
"Upstairs?" Verena looked at him in surprise. "Aren't we home?"
"This is the laboratory and warehouse," he explained, heading for the service exit. "The living quarters are elsewhere. In a more... respectable district."
They exited into the underground garage, where, among the usual cargo speeders, a sleek two-seater, streamlined craft stood out. Its dark blue hull shimmered in the lamplight, and its chrome details gleamed like mirrors.
"Wow," Verena whistled. "And I thought you preferred practicality over beauty."
"Who said you can't combine them?" Alex ran his hand along the smooth side of the machine. "Modified engine, reinforced armor, integrated shields. And a very fast bird."
"Why do you need such speed?"
"On Nar Shaddaa, you never know who you'll have to run from," he activated the launch system. The engine came to life with a quiet, almost inaudible hum. "Get in the back."
Verena settled into the back seat, and Alex felt her arms wrap around his waist. Her hands lay on his stomach, and he involuntarily tensed from the unexpected closeness.
"Hold on tight," he warned, engaging the shields. A semi-transparent energy cocoon enveloped the speeder. "Just in case."
"Are you expecting trouble?"
"Always," Alex steered the vehicle out of the garage onto a busy mid-level highway. "Especially after successful expeditions."
The speeder smoothly merged into the traffic flow. Trucks, taxis, and personal cars zipped around them—all the chaos of Nar Shaddaa in motion. Neon signs reflected in the windshield, creating a kaleidoscope of colors.
"Ready?" Alex asked, fumbling for the boost switch.
"Do I have a choice?" Verena laughed, hugging him tighter.
Alex hit the gas.
The speeder shot forward with such force that Verena involuntarily pressed against him with her whole body. They zipped between two trucks, soared up a ramp to the next level, and entered a transport interchange at a breathtaking speed.
"Alex!" Verena shouted, but there was no fear in her voice, only delight.
The city flashed by in blurred streaks of light. Alex weaved through the traffic streams, using every gap, every opportunity. The speeder responded to the slightest turn of the steering wheel, as if an extension of his body.
They climbed higher and higher, leaving behind the industrial levels with their soot and noise. The air grew cleaner, the buildings more elegant, the transport more expensive.
"Where are we flying?" Verena asked as they entered a tunnel leading to the upper levels.
"To the Platinum Sector," Alex replied, not slowing down. "Where those who can afford it live."
The tunnel ended, and before them opened a view of Nar Shaddaa's elite district. Tall towers of white stone and transparent steel reached for the artificial sky. Aerial gardens floated between them, and the traffic flows were orderly and unhurried.
"Beautiful," Verena admired. "And so unlike the lower levels."
"Money changes everything," Alex observed philosophically, turning towards one of the towers. "Even on Nar Shaddaa, you can live civilized if you know who to pay."
The aero-speeder slowed and smoothly landed on the pad. The engine fell silent, the shields disengaged. In the ensuing quiet, Alex suddenly acutely realized that Verena was still hugging him, and he didn't want her to let go at all.
"We're here," he said, but didn't move.
"Too bad," she replied softly. "I enjoyed it."