Classes at Alderaan University were quite difficult for ordinary sentients. I, however, had been training and studying since childhood, at least in this world, the world of a Galaxy Far, Far Away. So for me, studying was something like a habit. True, I had to step away from it a bit. I needed to establish informal relations with Antilles, and sniff out everything that might concern him and our enemy. And for that, I needed to strike up a conversation, to generally make this character like me. It's just that... He, as an aristocrat, was used to such conversations where people wanted to get to know him for some reason or another. So for now, he was taking my attempts neutrally. I hope I won't have to go head-on.
"Lanian!" the economics professor raised his voice. A fairly young, red-haired man. "In my opinion, my subject is not so simple that you should be thinking about something else besides it!"
Damn it. Back when I was training at the Temple, you could offset poor performance in one area with good performance in another. My fencing and Force abilities were beyond all praise. The Knights understood correctly back then and didn't particularly insist on other disciplines. Most likely, such talent was also linked to my desire to protect myself. That place—the Celestial River—was just too cruel.
"I apologize, Professor Siren," I said, making amends.
"Instead of asking for my forgiveness, take notes. The principles of trade are not something you can understand by simply and banally memorizing them—well, unless it's primitive. Even children know—you give something and you get something in return. But the more developed society became, the harder it was to measure something in something else. Hence, society came to money. A universal, measurable unit through which trade is conducted." But he was right. I'd better not think about anything else besides the subject. Dajiko Mecetti, sitting two rows away from me, clearly smirked. He likes it when they run over me... Though, what do I care about a smug idiot, and a racist at that? And the Sefi aren't that different from humans in terms of appearance. So what, their ears are a bit pointed... But an idiot just needs something to pick on. I returned to my notes, or rather to the lecture. Here they are classical and follow the "textbook expansion" format. That is, the professor reads everything that's in the textbook, but additionally explains it, can start a discussion among students, or even ask them to prepare a presentation. In general, it's interesting.
As for relations with classmates... Although from the first days I made it clear that I could verbally offend anyone, putting them in their place. After all, I never complained about my vocabulary. But physically, I hadn't made a statement about myself, and some people understand either strength... or the fact that your father has more money, influence, power than his. The second is impossible, so for Mecetti and his gang of suck-ups to leave me alone, I'll have to seriously beat someone up. That girl, Linda, who is gifted. As they say: why not?
If they leave me alone... Though... How will the other classmates react? Won't this be something that pushes them away from me? And again, I'll have to quietly sneak into the Antilles family mansion myself, trying to sniff something out on the central server. And if head-on, I could quite easily destroy all their guards and reach my goal. But sneaking in quietly is much harder. My left-hand datapad beeped. An electronic letter? Judging by the sender's address—Jonnal. I've been living here on Alderaan for almost a month now and haven't learned anything substantial. About Bail. I tried to build bridges with him; to my words, he only responded neutrally, though a bit interested, in my opinion. The personal file doesn't lie... He is indeed interested in hunting, interested in vibro-blade fencing, and generally loves sports. Only, as I thought, as an aristocrat, he merely perceives it as an attempt to make connections. And he rightly believes that I need him, not he me.
Of course, in such a setting, I could hit him with a Force Suggestion. But, first—his mind is clearly stronger than ordinary ones. He's been raised since birth. Second—if I start using Force Techniques, that Linda will expose me. And I won't even necessarily have to hide all my Force. She'll understand immediately... Third—I'm not particularly strong in that technique. So for now, I should hold off on the plan to use that Technique. What are the priorities in my current mission? To become closely acquainted with Bail Antilles. Additional task—make those idiot Mecetti sycophants leave me alone... And, judging by Jonnal's message, which I managed to read stealthily while the professor was drawing another graph, I've gained an additional objective. And it, while matching my specialty... But, seriously?
They're demanding I find another Dark Gifted Padawan who stole a Sith holocron from his mentor and ran away. The mentor—participated in excavations of Sith ruins and found the Holocron. The Padawan was tempted by the teachings and fell, killing his mentor. Classic. As a result, the Shadows sent after him found the mentor's corpse and didn't find the Padawan and the holocron. The teenager could have taken refuge on Alderaan; he was also taken into the Order quite late from his family. And how does he imagine that I should not forget about the main mission, while also finding the fugitive on the planet? Of course—demands quick action, because he might want to leave at any moment.
To hypothetically search his place of stay—I need to fly to another city on this planet. Crevasse City—that's where this Padawan lived, or rather his family. A city built among canyons, not far from Aldera. It's just that—getting out of Aldera itself is difficult, after all: they give us so much work that even I find it hard to do everything. And how does he imagine this? I'm supposed to rush off to another city, and judging by everything, I should do it almost today. Who knows—the Padawan might see his family and bolt. So, who do we have here? My target's name is Loran Zok, son of simple workers in Crevasse City. Most likely—he came to his parents. And I, as a Shadow, must respond. Loran is preferably to be detained, can also be liquidated. But, the main thing—return the holocron.
Alright. If I think about it—I can manage to fly there and back this evening. The main thing is not to be stupid. Classes ended at four in the evening and I immediately rushed to the hotel. After a bit of thought, I decided to stay at the hotel, not settle in the dorm. First—the rooms were for two to four sentients, depending on luck, which could interfere with my secrecy and tradition—cleaning my favorite weapon every morning. Even if it wasn't used, it's a tradition—to keep my weapon in perfect condition. Second—it would interfere with my training and meditations. So it's better I live in a hotel room, plus—the staff, for decent tips, doesn't ask questions, doesn't enter the room, or enters only when I allow it. Though, I even considered the prospect of buying an apartment or a house here. A sensible investment, even despite the Death Star... But then I saw the prices for the cheapest options and decided the investment wasn't so sensible and decided to spend the money on something else.
I walked quickly through the University corridors, trying not to bump into anyone. And the crowd was incredible; the University has about thirty specialties, each with about a hundred sentients studying on average. That is—about three thousand in one year. A fairly large number. Alderaan, the sun, pleasantly warmed. The white University buildings were left behind; the exit from its territory was represented by huge gates that were almost always open. As soon as I stepped out of the inner courtyard, I noticed the now familiar gang. Mecetti and company are waiting for me again. For a month, I calmly avoided them, training stealth. Mainly—by leaving with the crowd of other students. Which I did this time too...
"Bail, are you going on a trip this weekend?" I heard a girl's voice at the edge of my hearing in the crowd. Generally—in a crowd, many people are talking about many things. But this time, I managed to latch onto the one where Bail Antilles was. And generally—I feel a bit out of place. Hmmm... A crowd of Alderaanian aristocrats? On the other hand, picking me out in such a crowd will be difficult, considering the brilliance of their clothes.
"I intend to visit my family's hunting grounds this weekend," answered Antilles. Generally—Bail was a kind of star among the aristocrats. Especially among the aristocrats. A soft, quite gentle and pleasant voice, refined manners, attentive gaze. Almost the entire female half of the Aurek group was already dreaming of Antilles. For me, this was rather strange... I'm also handsome and then some. But here they're looking at Antilles. Though—strange, but good. Less distraction. And about the hunting grounds—I should remember the information. And where are their grounds, and what did they decide to hunt?
"So you're not going 'there'?" Delon somehow strangely emphasized the last word. "I thought you liked it there last time, Bail."
"I like it 'there'," answered Bail. "But I don't like that I can't participate myself. Father forbade me from doing it," he said sadly. "And sitting and just watching someone else fight has become boring to me."
Delon looked around.
"And where do you all go?" a girl asked in a strict voice. Amella Doyn, a blue-eyed blonde with outstanding assets. Though, she was my separate blue screen. Because despite being a natural, blue-eyed blonde, contrary to all traditions, she was quite smart and capable, strict. And also the head of our group. From the first days—she clashed with the Mecetti group and from a certain point, even tried to protect me from the latter. Mecetti, however... Was also impressed by the beauty and smart girl, so much so that for the last couple of days—he's been fluffing his tail like a peacock in front of her and trying to impress her. I sincerely hope he decides that she likes calmer guys and he'll leave everyone alone. His Tapanian arrogance annoys half the group.
"No one will tell you anything," Delon said importantly.
"We go to no-rules fights," Bail answered calmly.
"HEY!" exclaimed Delon. "I said no one would tell her anything."
"Come on," answered Bail. "Who cares, these fights have been on our planet since the time of the Pantirah."
"No-rules fights?" asked Amella. "But that's very dangerous! Incredibly dangerous! You at least don't participate in them?"
"Far from it," Bail said sadly. "Father forbids participating in all that."
So, this kid just needs thrills? I can partly understand him. Living in the greenhouse conditions of Alderaan—where else can you normally get at least some dose of adrenaline. Maybe he experienced thrills somewhere, and now just wants a repeat.
"He says I'm not ready, that I'm too weak. And that it's not fitting for an aristocrat to dirty his hands with such things. But if I can defeat my fencing instructor, then—I can do whatever I want. Only my instructor..."
"A former Jedi..." Delon finished for him. "He can't be defeated by an ordinary sentient."
Ho, how interesting.
"Actually," I decided to wedge into the conversation, "if the Jedi doesn't use the Force against you, but pure fencing, then he can be defeated. Plus—they themselves are mainly geared towards lightsaber fencing. Give him an ordinary sword—and he won't be as masterful."
"Lanian?" Bail looked at me. "Butted into someone else's conversation."
"I apologize for that," several gazes from the aristocrats crossed on me. We came out onto the boulevard, where there were several quite expensive cafes. The air was clean and beautiful. The crowd, little by little, broke into groups. And in one of them, there were six sentients. Me, Amella, Bail, Delon, and two aristocratic girls: black-haired, seems like Miya, and red-haired—Rulana. "But the topic seemed interesting to me. I wouldn't mind earning some credits at no-rules fights. Where do they take place?"
"You wouldn't mind?" broad-shouldered Delon looked me over. "You've been running from Mecetti and his company for a whole month. You need to at least bulk up, and only then go somewhere."
"I'm not running from Mecetti, Delon," I said softly. "But from the problems that will fall on me if I beat them up. I'm a merchant's son, not a ruler of a whole planet. We are not even close to equal. And it's not about my race."
"And you'll go there?" asked Amella, looking at me with clear disapproval. "To no-rules fights? That's improper behavior for a student!"
"If they were held at the University itself," I added. "But since we are on our own, off the territory—then it's not for you to forbid me. You're not my mommy, thank the Wind. And also, if you're interested, I can teach you to fence, Bail. Dealing with a Jedi is quite a task. But if he's not hitting you with telekinesis and not enhancing himself with the Force—then it's possible. You just need to know which style is most natural to him."
"Style?" asked Delon. "What do you know about Jedi styles?"
Asking a Jedi Knight what he knows about Jedi styles? Considering my background—I know more about styles than many Masters and Magisters. Well, in theory. In practice, alas, it's not so clear-cut. Eh... Should I try to invent Vaapad? Or make something of my own... Hmmm... Where's my medallion? I should summon some strong fencer.
"There are only five or six of them. The first—studied as a foundation. The second—is pure fencing—grace and elegance. The third—created for defense. The fourth—is the style of agile ones, meaning movement across the battlefield is the basis. The fifth—the style of strong ones, meaning an attempt to break through the enemy's defense. The sixth—a bit of everything. On the HoloNet, you can find anything. And, of course, depending on the style, you can work out countermeasures. Jedi mostly gravitate towards one thing. For example—against an adept of the second style, the fifth works perfectly. It will help to break through, shatter his movements with brute force. Against the third—the fourth: constant attacks from all sides and at high speed. Against the fourth: any. The fourth style, judging by the description and holovids of some Jedi, is constant movement. Lure such an opponent into a closed space, limit his movements, and catch him on a mistake. Against the fifth style, the perfect defense of the third works best. If there is any defense at all. And finally—the sixth style—is your development. It, sort of, combines all the features of the previous styles but lacks their zest. So here, the one who is better developed wins. Of course, this is all theory. But, you might not tell by looking at me, but I'm fast and strong enough to help you with this. Just tell me which style your instructor gravitates towards, or better yet, record a holovid of his lesson and I'll help you defeat him."
"Ha," Delon snorted. "A brilliant retort. Only it surprisingly matches what's been circulating on all forums for three hundred years. And in the end—have such advice helped many defeat a real Jedi?"
"Depends on who's issuing the challenge," I noted. "If an unprepared physical and mental opponent issues the challenge—then it doesn't matter how many advice and guides he's read. Zero chances. But if the one issuing the challenge has undergone training, has experience, a decent weapon—twenty, thirty percent. But I'll say this—even a one percent chance that you can defeat a Jedi is already a good achievement," and here it's stupid to joke. The Force—gives the Gifted the ability to do incredible things. If that instructor-Jedi—doesn't use the Force, then Bail has chances not to defeat him, but to impress him. Though, a lot depends on Bail himself and the Jedi.
"You talk as if you've seen many Jedi," chimed in the previously silent red-haired girl. Rulana, I think...
"In my family—my father's brother, that is my uncle, was a Jedi. Unfortunately, he died. But he taught me a little. Even though I'm not Gifted,"—well, they still won't feel me, even if I release my Force—"but a Jedi taught me to fence."
"Then, Taiwi Lanian, I want to see this," said Delon. "And if your words don't diverge from deeds, then I'll take you 'there'. How about," we stopped. The crowd had long since dispersed and we were just walking in the park under the influence of the moment, "tonight? To my estate."
"Can't today. Have some things to do," I shook my head, I got too chatty with them. Work doesn't wait. On the other hand—in a month, I got a good chance. "Tomorrow, after classes,"—just Friday. "How about that?"
"Wonderful, Delon!" Bail unexpectedly said. "And I'll bring a holovid of my teacher. We'll see how much you match your words, Lanian."
After saying goodbye to the group of aristocrats, I returned to my room. Using the Force, I opened the stasis cell with my swords. A second and I disassembled them right in the air. So... I carefully inspected each part, made sure my weapon was in perfect condition and reassembled it. I also took off my formal clothes, which I wear to the University. They also consisted of black and white. In exchange, I put on my combat suit... Or rather standard, considering I usually wear it. Checked the bracers and directed my swords into the scabbards, which I attach above the elbow. Replaced the usual shoes with more familiar boots. And, the final touch, threw on the hood. To get to Aldera, you need to use the ferry. But that's not all. Twice a day, special passenger speeders fly out from Aldera. In the morning and evening. At six in the morning and six in the evening. They connect this city with other cities of Alderaan. But they are also only permitted for planet citizens. And I don't have a ticket, but I don't need one. I can slip past the control and get on the speeder to Crevasse City.
Using the Force, I can try to divert the attention of ordinary sentients from myself. This is one of the tricks Lorm taught me long ago. And the Dark Woman brought to an excellent level. I covered the windows of my room and looked out into the long corridor. No one... I decided to descend using the stairs. Of course, the elevator from the tenth floor might arrive faster. But an elevator that arrives almost empty... Or with a strange sentient from whom the gaze keeps slipping... Strange. The sun was still illuminating Aldera when I left the hotel. I have about an hour and a half until my bus. Could take a walk... Though—why? I've already walked around this area enough. So I spent the rest of the time in additional study of the possibility of riding without a ticket and how to get past the security frame. The passenger speeder landing pad was on the outskirts of the city, represented a small building with ticket offices and a waiting hall; true to their tradition, the Alderaanians had placed various indoor plants here too. The building itself was surrounded by passenger speeders. Why am I even planning to become a stowaway? My appearance as Taiwi Lanian is in the database; presenting myself as a student would be strange. Presenting myself as a Jedi... With my appearance? Easiest at the moment is to slip through quietly... So, what should I do? Hmmm... Enough of diverting attention and a system glitch using light ionization. I can also use Force Suggestion to convince a non-gifted ticket clerk that I have a ticket.
"Attention! Flight to Crevasse City departs in forty minutes! Currently, fifty seats are available," a female voice announced. Excellent. I'll sit now and it'll be forty-nine seats.
And all my efforts were not in vain. Except I wasn't in the final passenger list for the trip. So I had to get up a bit later and free the seat for another passenger. In the end, fifty-one passengers flew to Crevasse City instead of the planned fifty. We arrived in Crevasse by seven in the evening... Since Aldera was in the same time zone, it was already quite dark. Or rather not quite, it was dark because Crevasse was among a canyon and the sun of Alderaan was no longer visible in the city. Exiting the station, I looked around. Majestic canyons surrounded the city. The buildings here were orange, not white like I saw in Aldera. Calling up a holomap, I began studying it. So, my location is on the very outskirts. The location of my target's family, where he could theoretically be hiding... On the outskirts of the city, only the opposite side. Better to hide the Force now so the Padawan can't feel me. Unlike Aldera, there were speeders here that could be rented. And the most interesting thing—you could rent by transferring money from an anonymous account. Because if rumors are to be believed—Alderaanian aristocrats used Crevasse for secret meetings. And a secret meeting is secret because you wouldn't want nosy journalists, or their friends the slicers, to find out from speeder logs who paid for it... and especially where the aristocrat's speeder delivered. The Padawan and his family lived on the very outskirts of Crevasse City. I can get there in about five minutes... Judging by the data, their building has three-room apartments. Before me stood a five-story building, well-kept in appearance, with a tidy entrance. My target lives on the fourth floor. So... how to get in? I could just walk to the apartment door and blow it in with the Force. Though that would raise noise... Or... How convenient. On the balcony of my target, the windows are open. If I catch the moment—no one will notice me. I can use my bracers to jump to the balcony. Night is already falling on Crevasse, so getting inside won't be hard for me.
I looked around, checking if there were any sentients nearby, then aimed my left hand at the area near the balcony. A moment later, my gauntlet fired a suction cup. Activating the mechanism, I pulled myself toward the balcony, aiding my body with the Force during the jump. Once inside, I surveyed the scene... The tradition of dumping junk on balconies holds true even in this Galaxy. However, junk interests me least of all. I peered into the passage leading to the apartment's room. No one was there, though the interior windows separating the balcony from the room were slightly ajar. Hmmm... And there's a console next to them that can open the windows fully. A simple task... Using telekinesis, I pressed the appropriate buttons, and the windows smoothly transitioned to the open mode. I slipped into the room. My right hand summoned my lightsaber, though it remained inactive for now. The room was a living space, somewhat resembling a hall. A simple sofa, from which there was a view of a holoprojector standing in the center of the room... Holo-images of a family hung on the walls. Spartan... Suddenly, I sensed someone clearly heading toward the room. Judging by the feeling—not Force-sensitive. Yet, there were two auras in the apartment.
The Force-sensitive, and, by all appearances, a trained Padawan, hadn't sensed me yet. And the non-sensitive... Was coming straight here. I positioned myself to the left of the door... It opened, admitting a sentient... a sentient female. It was a woman humming something. In the darkness, I couldn't make out her hair... However, she decided to turn on the lights, but I didn't let her, applying a light chop with the edge of my palm to her neck, using a stunning technique. The woman collapsed like a felled tree, though I caught her with telekinesis so the fall wouldn't cause her problems later.
"Mom?" a male voice called out. "Are you okay?" footsteps were heard. Was he planning to enter? Another silhouette appeared. He was almost a head taller than the woman and broader in the shoulders, muscular. He's fourteen, and taller than me... And how many more teenagers like him?
Loran, as it was him, entered the hall and was immediately slammed against the opposite wall by telekinesis.
"GHA!" he coughed up blood. "Th... the shadow?!"
"Well done, clever," I said, activating my lightsaber. "Last words?"
"Wait..."
"Foolish," I raised my saber to behead the Padawan, when he managed to activate his own saber and direct telekinesis at me. Seems someone doesn't want to die quietly. I dodged the attack, and it broke my concentration on the telekinesis. He jumped down and pulled the blue blade into his hands, assuming a Soresu stance.
"You came to kill me," he said. "I won't give up so easily..."
I shrugged and instantly closed the distance between us. He looked at me with surprise, but reflexes took over, and he placed his saber in a block, trying to parry my attack. But this was a cunning plan; with a powerful, slashing strike, I deflected his blade aside. And since I'm essentially faster—he couldn't react in time. A movement of the green blade, and I severed his saber-wielding arm...
"NO!" he raised his remaining arm, trying to push me away, but I met his telekinetic strike with my own technique. Moreover, I was stronger, and he was thrown against the wall like a sack. "Gha..."
"Foolish to think you can handle a trained Knight, and a Shadow at that," I pulled his lightsaber into my left hand. "Surviving the first moments with me means nothing. But I promise you a quick death if you tell me—where is what you stole."
"I..."
"Or your master found it. Seems you disagreed with him, and you killed him, stealing the stolen item," I pointed my lightsaber directly at Loran's face. "Answer."
"I... didn't steal anything..."
"What about the Sith Holocron?" I asked him.
"That... the master... We were participating in excavations and found it. Then... Then... He appeared... Another Jedi. He killed the master in the back and wanted to take the Holocron."
"What?" I asked in surprise. "Another Jedi? Are you sure you didn't mistake him for someone else?"
"No. He wanted to kill me, but I took the Holocron and ran. You Shadows are looking for it, right?" he asked, clutching his stump. "If I tell you everything, will you leave me alone?"
"That depends on the value of the information," I said sternly. "And whether you're lying, trying to whitewash yourself?" However, he wasn't lying about how he got the Holocron. I clearly sensed that. But who is this Jedi? The one Jonal and I are looking for is definitely Force-sensitive. Most likely, he uses lightsabers and could pass for a Jedi... Or is it someone else? The Force... Not many questions, but answering each is very difficult. What Jedi attacked them? Wait... If Jonal ordered me to eliminate the Padawan, then it's definitely someone from our Order. He attacked the teacher and student during excavations, trying to take the Holocron. When Loran escaped from him, the Jedi reported to the Order that the Padawan killed his master for knowledge from the Holocron. That fits... So, it's another, some traitor... And... excavations, ancient knowledge, Holocron... What if it's that very traitor who also works for that collector Jonal and I are fighting? The one Lothar worked for... "So, what will you tell me?"
"It..." he closed his eyes, "it happened on one of the planets. My master was researching the Sith Empire that descended from Ruin. And we stumbled upon a Holocron of a Sith Sorceress. Everything happened as if in a fog. The next moment, as the master took the Holocron in his hands—a lightsaber pierced him, and a Jedi was behind him... He seemed blurred, indistinct. I immediately understood I couldn't handle him and decided to run. I took the Holocron..." he sobbed. "The master only told me: 'Run!' And I ran. I collapsed the passage, reached the master's ship, escaping the ruins through another passage, and flew away..."
"The image was indistinct?" I asked the Padawan. "Could it have been a trap from the Sorceress? What color was the lightsaber blade?"
"I... don't remember... I was looking the other way."
"So you claim someone managed to get behind a Knight-archaeologist. And neither he nor you noticed?" I asked with enough skepticism for a dozen people. "How is that even possible? Archaeologists possess incredible reflexes because they work in Sith tombs, and those sometimes set incredible traps—catching them is a great stroke of luck... Or... A sign of skill. And you didn't remember him. What made you think he was a Jedi?"
"Feelings..."
"Feelings?"
"The Light Side of the Force," said the Padawan. "He was definitely a Jedi. I was the best at sensory perception in my group... Was... I can definitely distinguish the sides of the Force."
"Understood," I summarized. What madness is going on in this Galaxy? This wasn't in the canon anywhere... Though, true, because Shadows were involved in the conflict. Actually, why do I keep recalling the canon? It's time to detach from it, at least a little. After all, can't there be anything else in the Galaxy? In short, don't judge from the canon's perspective, just try to survive and achieve something. Do everything the best way, and then—what will be, will be. "What to do with you—I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "I can't tell my superiors that you escaped from me," damn, I did cut off his arm. "Understand, it's not within your power to escape from me in a confrontation. You only escaped from the traitor by a miracle, collapsing the passage. What should I do with you... Maybe hand you over for interrogation to the Order?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "Don't you understand? He'll kill me! In the Order, he'll definitely get to me if he had the skills to get behind my master!"
"I understand your fear, but I have my own mission on this planet, and I can't protect you," I shook my head. "And I can't keep you near me. In the Order, if you appeal to Master Yoda..."
"I said it! No! Better kill me, take the Holocron! But I don't want to go back to the Order. They'll guaranteed kill me there! Maybe it's better for me to die here? At least on my homeworld..."
"However, I can let you go," I deactivated my lightsaber. "And your arm, let's say you lost it in a clash with someone else. Or didn't lose it. From a distance, you can't tell you have a prosthesis. And any sentient can buy a prosthesis. Or do you really want to die? Don't you want to try to escape from the Shadows? Keep in mind, you'll have to hide in the Outer Rim Territories, Loran."
"W... Why do you want to let me go?" he asked unexpectedly.
"Mmm? Your story forms an amazing mosaic," I said. "I can't say exactly what's happening in the Order, who we're fighting... And who the traitor is. But I clearly see you're not guilty. Should I take the life of an innocent sentient?" Again, my decision is based on my reflections. Here, either a separate traitor, a fairly strong Knight, or a Master. Or an agent of Lothar's employer. Who exactly, and what is his goal in our Order? Another knowledge gathering. Obviously, that's why he hunts archaeologists and Force-sensitive artifacts. Both Lothar's employer and the Jedi traitor. If only we knew the identities of our enemies, but alas, they remain hidden. "But you'll have to forget about this place. About your mother, about the Jedi Order, and hide in the backwaters of the Galaxy from Shadows like me. Hiding from a seeker tuned to find and destroy Force-sensitives is difficult, but possible. And your concealment—is not my concern, it turns out. So your survival depends only on you, Loran. I found you very easily, just by coming to your mother. Others can do the same."
"I understand," the Padawan stood up, leaning on his healthy arm. "Fly away..."
"However... Do you want me to kill you right now?"
"No! I'll still fight for my life," he said.
"Then," I returned his lightsaber to his healthy hand, "this might be useful to you. Run as fast as you can. Maybe, someday—we'll sort all this out, and you can return."
"That's unlikely, Shadow," said Loran. He waved his hand, and a Sith Holocron jumped out from under the sofa. "I won't need this. But you can say I fled from Alderaan, and you only found this during a search."
"Understood," I took the scarlet triangular Holocron in my left hand and looked at it with interest. "Don't you know whose it is?"
"I didn't open it," I looked into the teenager's blue eyes. Not lying... Or lying, but too skillfully to deceive me. In any case—he gave me good food for thought. And he definitely didn't lie in some moments. He's generally, judging by his personal file, straightforward and honest, aspired to be a Protector. At least a little, I can believe him.
"Well then. Let's adjust your mother's memories about you coming here, or rather—make her believe you came for a couple of hours, stayed, and then flew away. Can you handle it yourself? Or should I do it?"
"I and Force Suggestion, Shadow... It's all bad," the Padawan said sadly. Another one... Well, fine. She didn't see me. She's unconscious now. So implanting the necessary memories won't be difficult. I leaned over the woman and touched her unresisting mind with the Force...
"I'll just compress the time you spent here," I summarized. "You arrived the day before yesterday. And you'll leave this morning. The message came to me at one in the afternoon, and you flew away at ten in the morning. Physically, I couldn't have caught up with you. Good thing she's unconscious and not resisting. There," I removed my hand from her head.
"And how long will you search for the enemies?" he asked me. "Years? Decades?"
"If only I knew," I sighed heavily. "But, I hope you won't get involved yourself. Believe me—with your skills, it would be a foolish death."
"I was the best at fencing in my clan!"
"And I was the best among all and even won the Royal Rumble Tournament. They don't hold those anymore? When in the final there's an odd number of participants, each for themselves."
"The last such tournament was several years ago," said the Padawan, curiously trying to peer at me.
"Alright, we've lingered here long enough," I approached the windows. "Fly away from here if you want to live, Loran. And try not to leave traces. Change your appearance, habits. At least repaint your ship."
"My master and I flew in an old tub," the Padawan snorted. "But the master loved playing with the transponder that broadcasts ship affiliation signals. I learned his skills in that, so I'll leave unnoticed, like a Shadow!" Just not like an elephant in a china shop.
"I was late with the order," said Jonal Ezar, as I stood reporting to him about Loran. If I decided to spare Loran, I must tell my superior about it as if I didn't reach him in time. After all—it's not right for a Shadow to spare someone. But, I truly didn't sense any Dark Side of the Force in him, not even a hint, nor any lies. "But you managed to retrieve the Holocron stolen from the Order."
Stolen from the Order? Loran's master didn't even have time to turn it in! Or he considers such artifacts the Order's property by default...
"I take it I won't have to continue pursuing Loran?" I inquired, tilting my head slightly.
"No," the Master answered me. "Other Shadows will handle him. You have your own mission. It just happened you could have encountered him, but in the end, didn't. No big deal. He'll likely hide in the Outer Rim Territories," even if Shadows catch up with him—they're unlikely to interrogate Loran himself and find out—whether I let him go, or he really managed to slip away from me faster than I reached his location. And if they do—who will they believe? A Padawan who killed his master, according to the official version. Or a Knight-Shadow who will say it's all made up? Though such a trick might make the leadership watch me more closely. I hope my mercy doesn't backfire. And I should find out—where Loran's master flew and which other Jedi of the Order could have been in that sector. "Pass the Holocron to the courier; he'll deliver it to Coruscant. And... By the way, how's the progress of your mission?"
"I managed to interest Bail," I answered the Master. "Today, after classes, I'll meet with his group. The guy really wants to get into the no-rules fights on Alderaan, there's such a Tournament here."
"I know," the Master's hologram nodded, "aristocrats get bored sometimes. And?"
"His father hired an exile from our Order—to teach him fencing and set conditions under which Bail will get there if he defeats this exile."
"Defeat a Jedi?" Jonal snorted. "And who is this exile?"
"Most likely a Knight... And, Master, you learned this information from me, maybe we won't cut him down yet?"
"And I wasn't planning to," said Jonal, "at least not until I found out who it is and his motives. Force-sensitives of other sects can and even should be cut down, for they can be dangerous. A Jedi exiled from the Order... If we start cutting them down indiscriminately, others might start protesting. In any case—it doesn't matter. I'm not planning to interfere with the Antilles' fencing teacher just because he's a former Jedi. But will you train Bail to defeat a Jedi?"
"I considered such a possibility enticing. He definitely won't use the Force against a non-sensitive, so—all I need is to set his style and train him. Useful practice. Maybe, someday, I'll have a Padawan. This way I can understand how to teach a younger one..."
"You're two years younger than him yourself, Light," Jonal interrupted my phrase. "However—we'll see what comes of it. If it helps you—teach him. But remember the main goal of your mission. The pirate might be a small fry of that creature. But an Aristocratic House in the Core Worlds—definitely not."
"I remember the mission, Master. And I won't let you down," unraveling this tangle is even interesting to me. This event certainly wasn't in those I studied in the first world. So I'll have to strain my own brain, not just rely on already written history. But if I can get to the truth. The Master's hologram disappeared, and I licked my lips. A strange gesture... But for some reason, I quickly got used to it... If I can get to the truth without relying on the canon, but only on my own mind. Wouldn't that be a good achievement I could be proud of?