A week had passed since he and Verena emerged from the holocron simulation. A week during which he had intensely pondered in his free time, immersed in analyzing the information received from Kreia.
On the table before him lay dozens of datapads, each filled with notes, diagrams, calculations. The laboratory walls were covered with holographic projections – diagrams of the Force's structure, maps of the gifted's distribution across the galaxy, timelines of historical events.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his nose bridge. His head was splitting from the overload of information, from attempts to connect the scattered pieces of the puzzle.
A virus, he thought for the umpteenth time. An information virus, parasitizing consciousness. Not magic. Not mysticism. Technology. Incredibly advanced, ancient, but still – technology.
This thought was an anchor he clung to. Because technology could be worked with. Technology could be understood, dismantled, neutralized. Technology obeyed laws, albeit complex ones.
He stood up, began to pace the laboratory. Movement helped him think, helped him structure the chaos of thoughts in his head.
"Alright," he muttered aloud, addressing the empty room. "Let's start with the basics. What is it?"
He activated the holographic interface with a gesture. Before him appeared a diagram – a simplified model of how he understood the virus's structure based on Kreia's records.
"An information construct," he began, as if lecturing an invisible audience. "A self-replicating program capable of copying itself from one consciousness to another. It uses the Force as a data transmission medium."
He waved his hand through the air, and the diagram expanded, showing nodes and connections.
"Hierarchical structure. There are main nodes – ancient carriers like Vishiat, who have existed for millennia. There are secondary nodes – recently infected, retaining part of their personality. And there are terminals – completely absorbed, turned into tools."
He stopped, frowning.
"But it's not just a hierarchy of commands. It's... a network. A distributed system. Each infected individual is a data storage node, a processor, and a repeater. Destroy one – the others will continue to function."
The thought was unpleasant. It meant he couldn't just kill the main one and expect everything to resolve itself. The virus was too decentralized. Kill one – another would emerge. Sooner or later.
Alex returned to the table, grabbed one of the datapads, and began typing rapidly. He recorded the virus's objective. Seizing control of carriers with a high concentration of midi-chlorians. Creating a hierarchical network called the Dark Side. Distorting the carrier's perception of reality. And the final goal – gathering all midi-chlorians in one point.
He stared at the last line. Kreia had spoken about this – about the parasite striving to gather all midi-chlorians. But why? What would happen when it reached its goal?
"He will become a god," Alex whispered. "He will gain full control over the Force. Over the very fabric of reality."
And then what? What would a mad program with the power over the universe do? The answer was obvious and terrible: nothing good.
He put down the datapad and created a new holographic schematic.
"Alright. The goal is clear. Now, how does it work? How does it spread?"
Alex began adding notes to the schematic, watching as it grew new elements. Emotional destabilization opened the first breach. Fear, anger, hatred—everything that weakens mental barriers. The virus couldn't just barge into a protected mind. It needed a crack in the defenses. Emotions created that crack.
He remembered Kreia's story about how the Vitiate broke her apprentices. Torture, starvation, memory erasure—all were ways to create vulnerability, a moment when the victim would open up.
The second vector of attack was direct mental contact. Telepathy. When two gifted individuals connect their minds, the virus can transfer from one to another. Data transmission through a direct channel.
This explained why the Jedi were so cautious with mental connections. Why they taught discipline, control, barriers.
The third vector was voluntary consent. The most effective. When the host opens their mind themselves, invites the virus in themselves. No barriers, no resistance.
Alex remembered Kreia's words about how she herself opened up to deceive the parasite. An incredible risk. Incredible willpower to preserve a part of herself during the infection. He couldn't do that. Even if he could split his consciousness. But he wasn't going to sacrifice himself.
***
He began to write down the virus's potential vulnerabilities. The first was obvious—dependence on the host. The virus couldn't exist on its own. It needed a living consciousness as a habitat. Kill the host, and that copy of the virus disappears.
But that was cold comfort. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands of hosts across the galaxy. Impossible to kill them all.
The second vulnerability was more interesting. The virus used the Force as a data transmission network. Sever the connection to the Force, and the infected loses contact with the rest of the network. Kreia proved this when she cut herself off.
Alex stopped, feeling he had stumbled upon something important.
"Severing from the Force," he said slowly. "Kreia did it to herself. But can it be done to others? By force?"
He recalled mentions in ancient texts of a technique the Jedi called "severing." The ability to break another Force-sensitive's connection to the Force. It was considered one of the most terrible things that could be done to a gifted individual—worse than death, according to many.
But if it could stop the virus...
"The problem is, I don't know how to do it," Alex muttered. "And even if I did, I'd have to do it to each infected individually. Too slow. Too inefficient."
He continued to ponder. The third potential vulnerability—the virus leaves a signature. A distortion in the Force. Kreia said that the infected "glowed" in a certain way for those who knew what to look for.
This was useful for detection, but not for neutralization. Although...
A thought began to form in his head. Vague, unclear, but potentially important.
"If the virus leaves a signature, it means it has a specific structure. A pattern. Something that can be identified, isolated..."
He returned to the holographic schematic, began adding new elements.
"Think of it like a regular computer virus," he told himself. "How do you fight a computer virus?"
The answer was obvious: an antivirus program. A program that scans the system, looks for signatures of known viruses, and isolates or deletes infected files.
But could an antivirus for the mind be created?
Alex began typing frantically, thoughts racing faster than he could write them down. He needed the ability to identify the virus's signature. The ability to isolate infected parts of the consciousness. The ability to delete or neutralize the virus without destroying the host.
The main problem was obvious. He needed a sample of the virus for analysis. He needed technology to work with consciousness at that level. He needed a way to deliver the antivirus to the infected.
He stopped at the first point. A sample. He needed a live sample of the virus to study.
"The Inquisitors," he whispered.
The thought was insane. And at the same time—logical.
The Inquisitors were infected. This was obvious from how they acted, from their blind devotion to the Empire, from the distortions in the Force around them. But they weren't the main nodes of the network. Not Vader, not the Emperor—rank-and-file agents. Strong, dangerous, but not unique.
The perfect test sample.
Alex began to walk faster, thoughts forming into a plan.
"I need to capture an Inquisitor. Alive. Undamaged. Isolate him from the Force so the virus can't receive reinforcements from outside or send an alarm signal."
He remembered Kreia's words about how she cut herself off from the Force. It weakened the parasite inside her, put it into a dormant state. If the same were done to an Inquisitor...
How to forcibly sever someone from the Force?
Alex froze in the middle of the laboratory. Just as he had done on Korriban.
He began to count quickly. The radius of the effect depended on the power of the device and the method of detonation.
"Controlled detonation," he muttered, writing down formulas. "A small hyperdrive. Modified so the explosion is directional. Create a local causality rupture zone with a radius of... ten kilometers in space. That should be enough."
Lure the Inquisitor into this area where the Force is temporarily stunned. His connection to the Force will be severed.
Enough for the capture team to act. Without the Force, the Inquisitor loses all his advantages. Cannot anticipate attacks. Cannot enhance his body. Cannot read the minds of his opponents. He becomes an ordinary sentient. Dangerous, trained, but ordinary.
And ordinary people can be dealt with by ordinary methods.
"Tranquilizers," Alex muttered. "Stun batons. Restraining foam. Anything that works against non-gifted will work against him."
He began to sketch out a schematic. The trap had to be perfect. Lure the Inquisitor to the right place. At the right time.
But how to lure him? Disinformation was needed. Subtle, plausible, irresistible.
Alex began to consider options. He could create a false trail in the information networks. Rumors of a young Force-sensitive hiding on the edge of the galaxy. Evidence of strange occurrences. "Eyewitness" testimonies.
Nothing too obvious. Nothing that screamed "trap." Just... hints. Leads. Intriguing enough to attract attention, vague enough not to arouse suspicion.
"A young Force-sensitive," he thought aloud. "Only recently discovered his abilities. Inexperienced, scared, trying to hide. The perfect target for an Inquisitor. Doesn't require the presence of senior agents."
He could create such a persona. A legend that existed only in data. Leave traces in port records. Testimony about a strange passenger who paid in cash. Reports of unexplained incidents in a certain sector.
Enough to pique the Inquisitor's interest. Not enough to make him bring reinforcements.
"And then," Alex looked at the detonation schematic, "when he arrives at the location..."
We will lure him into the zone where he will be severed from the Force. And where the capture team will be waiting, waiting for their moment.
***
He began to work out the details. The location had to be isolated. Somewhere on the periphery, where Imperial presence was minimal. An abandoned station, perhaps. Or a sparsely populated moon.
Somewhere where the hyperdrive explosion wouldn't attract immediate attention. Where he would have time to conduct the operation before reinforcements arrived.
The capture team had to consist of professionals. Cardis would be suitable. Intelligent beings were needed, who wouldn't be scared when they saw an Inquisitor.
Although the latter was problematic. Inquisitors inspired terror even without the Force. Their reputation, their appearance, the very aura of danger around them...
"Droids would also work," Alex said.
Droids don't feel fear. They are not susceptible to mental influence. They follow programming with absolute precision. And most importantly—their memory can be wiped after the operation, though there's no real need for it.
Alex began to compile specifications. He would need at least a dozen units. Enough to subdue even an experienced fighter. They had to be fast, coordinated, ruthless in carrying out the task.
He looked at another part of his notes. The containment facility. Where he would keep the Inquisitor during the study.
Initially, he thought of a beskar-lined cage. But there was little beskar, it was expensive, hard to obtain. But it might be possible to create an alternative.
"A permanent rupture field," he muttered, making notes. "Not an explosion, but... a generator. Is it possible to create something like that? A device that locally stuns the Force?"
This was an incredibly difficult task. Hyperdrives created causality ruptures only during catastrophic failure. To reproduce this effect in a controlled manner, continuously...
But theoretically, it was possible. Alex plunged into calculations. Hours flew by unnoticed. He filled file after file with formulas, schematics, theoretical models.
It was necessary to create a device that would create a local area where the Force's quantum network did not function. Where a gifted individual was cut off from his source of power as effectively as if he were locked in a cage of pure beskar.
He pictured it. An Inquisitor, locked in a chamber surrounded by a causality rupture field. Completely cut off from the virus, from the network of infected, from the Force itself. Helpless. Available for analysis.
A neuro-interface connected to his brain. Scanning neural structures. Searching for viral patterns. Studying the infection mechanisms.
It would take time. Weeks, maybe months. The brain is an incredibly complex system. But he would have a live sample. The opportunity to study the virus in its natural habitat.
And most importantly—the opportunity to experiment. To try various neutralization methods. To test antivirus prototypes. To observe the results in real-time.
Alex leaned back in his chair, feeling satisfied. He had been working non-stop for many hours, but it was worth it. He had a plan. Rough, risky, full of potential problems. Ethically questionable. But a plan.
***
Alex put down the last datapad and rubbed his eyes. The plan was ready—at least, in broad strokes. Now it needed to be checked for technical feasibility. And for that, he needed people who understood technology better than he did.
He activated the communicator.
"Dane, gather a group of your best engineers. I need a consultation on a specific project."
"Of course, Alex. When?"
"In an hour. In the conference room of the administrative complex."
"We'll be there."
Alex closed the connection and began gathering materials. Not all of them, of course—he would keep most of the information about the virus and the Force to himself. But the technical side could be discussed openly.
An hour later, eight people gathered in the conference room—the best engineers from Valorin. Dane introduced each one: Marek Torin, specialist in energy systems; Lyra Kane, expert in field technologies; Victor Grace, theoretician of hyperspace physics. The others were no less qualified.
"Thank you for coming," Alex began. "I have a theoretical question. I've discovered that a hyperdrive explosion disrupts the Force. Is it possible to create a device that would generate a field that does this more controllably? Not a hyperdrive explosion, but a controlled, constant effect."
The engineers exchanged glances. Marek was the first to break the silence:
"You're talking about a stable rupture field? That's... difficult. Very difficult."
"But possible?" Alex insisted.
"Theoretically," Lyra Kane interjected. "We've studied similar effects on Valorin. The principle is understood—you need to create a local area where spacetime quantum fluctuations disrupt causality."
Victor Grace nodded: "The problem is stabilization. Causality ruptures are inherently unstable. They tend to either collapse or expand. A hyperdrive stabilizes this process. But you need a different effect with a large energy output. Because during normal hyperdrive operation, the Force works. Relevant experiments have been conducted long ago."
The engineers began to discuss the idea among themselves. Alex listened to the technical terms, formulas, arguments about different approaches. Gradually, a picture emerged.
"The energy consumption will be colossal," Marek said. "Plus exotic materials for field stabilization."
"How long for development?" Alex asked.
"With full concentration of resources..." Victor pondered. "Ten years for the theoretical basis. Another ten for creating a prototype. Plus years of testing. That's if we're not busy with other projects."
"Twenty years minimum," Lyra confirmed. "And that's assuming we don't encounter fundamental obstacles."
Alex nodded, hiding his disappointment. Too long. He needed a solution now, not in two decades.
"Alright," he said. "Let's leave this for now, but don't forget it. It's a long-term project, but an important one."
"May we know what this is for?" Dane asked cautiously.
Alex hesitated before answering.
"Defensive systems," he said finally. "A way to neutralize certain threats without using destructive weapons."
The engineers nodded, accepting the explanation. They were used to working on projects whose full purpose was not revealed to them.
"Any questions about the technical aspects?" Alex asked.
The next hour was spent discussing details. Alex asked questions about the range, deployment time, mobility of the installation. The engineers answered, made assumptions, proposed various implementation options.
When the meeting ended, Alex was dissatisfied. The causality rupture generator was a good idea, but unfeasible in the foreseeable future. He needed to look for other solutions.
***
In the evening, Alex headed to the research complex. He needed Professor Well's consultation on another aspect of the plan.
He found her in the laboratory, hunched over a holographic projection of neural networks. After a month of working with the Rakatan interface, she had significantly deepened her knowledge in the field of consciousness-technology interaction.
"Good evening, Professor," Alex greeted.
"Oh, Alex," she looked up from the projection. "Just in time. I'm studying the patterns of long-term memory formation through the interface. Amazing mechanisms."
"I have a question for you," Alex said, stepping closer. "A theoretical one."
"I'm listening."
"Is it possible to read the contents of a mind using a neuro-interface? To completely copy a person's consciousness?"
Well frowned, considering the question.
"A difficult question," she said slowly. "Theoretically... possible. Rakatan interfaces have incredible accuracy in scanning neural structures. They can read not only surface thoughts, but also deep memory patterns, emotional connections, even subconscious processes."
"But?" Alex sensed a catch in her tone.
"But complete consciousness copying is a colossal amount of data. The human brain contains trillions of neural connections, each influencing personality formation. Even the most advanced storage systems cannot hold such a volume of information."
Alex nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"However," Well continued, "it's possible to copy individual aspects of consciousness. Specific memories, skills, thought patterns. That's more realistic."
"And whose consciousness do you want to scan?" she asked, studying his face.
Alex hesitated for a moment, deciding whether to tell the truth. Then he made up his mind:
"An Inquisitor."
Well raised her eyebrows.
"What? Alex, do you understand what you're talking about? Inquisitors are not ordinary people. They wield the Force, have undergone special training, their minds are protected..."
"I understand the risks," Alex replied calmly. "I know how to deal with the Force."
"But why?" Well looked at him with bewilderment. "What do you want to find in an Inquisitor's mind?"
Alex took a deep breath.
"They are definitely infected with a mental program. Something that controls their thinking. I want to understand the nature of this program and find a way to fight it."
Well was silent for a long time, pondering his words.
"A mental program..." she finally said. "Do you mean something like deep suggestion? Brainwashing?"
"Something like that," Alex answered evasively. "But more complex. More subtle."
Well began to pace the laboratory, thinking aloud:
"If such a program exists, then it must leave traces in the neural structures. Altered activity patterns, artificially strengthened connections, suppressed areas..."
"Can you detect that?"
"Possibly," she said cautiously. "But scanning an Inquisitor's consciousness... it's incredibly dangerous. They are trained to resist mental influence. Their minds might be booby-trapped with defensive mechanisms."
"I'll handle that. He won't be able to resist," Alex said.
Well stopped and looked at him seriously:
"Even if I manage to conduct the scan, I'm unlikely to copy the entire consciousness. But the mental program... yes, I'll probably be able to isolate and study it."
"That would already be something," Alex nodded.
"I need time to think about the technical aspects," Well said. "Develop special scanning protocols, prepare protective measures..."
"How much time?"
"I don't know yet. It's a complex task, Alex. I must be absolutely sure of the procedure's safety."
"I understand," Alex agreed. "Work at your own pace. But remember—this could be the key to protecting many people from similar influence."
Well nodded, already mentally planning the research.
"I'll contact you when the preliminary plan is ready," she said.
Alex thanked her and headed for the exit. The plan to capture an Inquisitor was becoming more realistic. Many technical details remained to be resolved, but the foundation was laid.
Now he needed to find a suitable target and prepare the trap. This would be the most dangerous part of the operation, but also the most important. If he could get a live sample for study, he could understand the nature of the virus and find ways to combat it.
Somewhere in the galaxy, Inquisitors continued their hunt for Jedi and other gifted individuals. Soon, one of them would become prey himself. He needed to see if it was possible to restore a sentient who was infected.