Honestly, when I said "let loose," I had no idea what I would actually do. Here, one must recall my origin, my original origin. After all, who was I? A lousy orphan, in fact. Back then, on Earth, in the Milky Way, I grew up in an orphanage. My mother and father were hopeless and pathetic alcoholics. I won't recall the character of a beaten-down nobody now, because I've recalled and analyzed it so many times that it's sickening. And I don't like myself back then. You'd be hard-pressed to find a worse hypocrite, and it's unlikely you'd find one even in the most vile and deranged Chinese cultivation novel, where the main character is an angel of virtue at first, until he gains power, and then starts killing everyone he doesn't like, or who looks at him askance, like me.
In any case: why was such a method of relaxation new to me? Because, even though I am some kind of aristocrat in some generation and my family even has a court title from King Alaric himself, my origin is simple. I was poor. I lived below the average income, but it was enough for me alone. But if I had a family, we would definitely be below the poverty line. Who did I blame for this poverty? Partly myself, mainly for my worthlessness. Yes, I loved to criticize myself even before I was reborn. In fact, my actions didn't follow my words, so I criticized myself, sometimes even drank out of desperation, but did nothing. The second culprit, naturally, I saw in the authorities. Teaching is a prestigious profession, turned by a handful of not-so-smart people into a "calling," where you are bogged down by bureaucracy, often useless to anyone, you go mad from writing and reports, you are paid pennies, before elections – your salary is raised by a hundred rubles, and then it's reduced by three hundred. I noticed something like this at school... I worked for a couple of months after getting my diploma. And then, in the end, I finally decided to stay a translator, leaving school.
And all this left its mark on my leisure methods. When did I truly go out somewhere? Or when did I splurge? Well, I flew around the world, visited Turkey, Egypt once, went to China, and even flew to Japan. It all cost a pretty penny, but the question is different: where did I stay there? At best – three-star hotels. Here, a completely different picture appeared before me. This underwater liner, the Blue of Alderaan, would put any five-star hotel on Earth to shame. The chicness made my eyes water. Me, a sentient being living a second life, which is many times better than the first. And I'm not just talking about having parents, but about wealth itself.
I had only seen many things in pictures.
"From your eyes," Bail's voice was heard, "it's noticeable that you really don't know what to do."
I stood not far from the holoprojector, which was located near my cabin, and thoughtfully examined the yacht's structures. I had enough money, firstly, from royalties for the design patents of the VV series droid, which is produced on Tustra. My father spends his money on droid-building experiments and even spoke about preparing a new model of a protocol droid, and also thinking about opening a real company under the patronage of the Tustra droid-building company. He thought that all his ideas had dried up since his youth and the only thing he was good for was servicing droids in the Royal Palace. Well, I'm glad he found a better outlet than being a regular droid mechanic. Secondly, I also received funds from the Order for the implementation of mission goals. Jedi can determine the budget required to complete missions. And direct this budget to the Jedi overseeing the mission, usually the Master. For example, I requested money from Jonnal, who was certainly not particularly happy about it, being an ascetic himself, with extremely radical views on monetary relations and Jedi. I would even say that sometimes he resembles a communist. In the worst representation of a person who believes in fairy tales about equality and an ideal society (Author's note - the protagonist is anti-communist, get over it (capitalists brainwashed him). By the way - I, the author, also don't particularly respect communism))).
"Well, they've really packed a lot in here," I told Bail. Footsteps were heard from behind, Delon joined us. "You know about my origin. I'm not ashamed of it, but here it plays a cruel trick on me. I have no idea what to do here for two weeks. Besides participating in the Fencing Tournament."
"And there's nothing shameful about that," Delon said importantly. "But you, as a sentient being who will graduate from Alderaan University in the future, must... not fall face down in the dirt, so as not to embarrass your alma mater."
"And also not to tarnish anyone of us. Especially Amella. She'll hold every mistake of yours against you," Antilles smiled. "I even think she travels by hyperspace. As long as I've known her, someone messes up somewhere, or violates her views on anything, and she's right there, conducting another session of her moralizing."
"Ha," I snorted, "that's unlikely. After all, I intend to leave the planet. In addition, Amella is an aristocrat and the only daughter of the current head of House Doine."
"Well, the current head of the House is Olen Doine, regent for the heir and future head - Ehar Doine," Delon remarked. "Ehar has no advantages, no knowledge. He himself resembles the fruit of forbidden love between Jaiko and Renard. He's a rake, you'd be hard-pressed to find one. In my presence, he even flirted with Amella, although they are close relatives."
"As they say: incest is a family matter," I noted, Delon and Bail snorted.
"I'll remember that," Bail said after laughing, and then turned his attention to the holomap, in front of which we were standing, and began to search for something on it.
"Ahem, but at the same time, Ehar is the future Head of House Doine. And Amella's fate under such a head is unenviable," Delon said. "Considering what I said earlier. Do you really want such a fate for her?"
"Let me think," I said thoughtfully, putting my hand to my chin. "No. Although it's not that she particularly bothers me, to the point that I'd challenge the whole galaxy and fate itself," she's not Mila, with whom I had a Force bond. "But the fate that awaits her is sad. True, I still don't understand. How can I change this? Should I cripple Ehar?"
"As an option," Bail said, distracted from playing with the holomap. "But in reality, it's about making Amella the heiress. At least, many in House Doine, seeing what kind of heir they have, are thinking of making Amella the heiress. You could become her spouse, in a morganatic marriage. Your education would allow it. You could go into politics, or start your own business here on Alderaan."
"Absolutely not," I replied categorically. "A matriarchal marriage? Is that where I change my surname?"
"You don't have to change your surname," Delon said. "It's just that your children will get the surname 'Doine'. Sephi and humans, as far as I remember correctly, are compatible."
"Uh-huh," I nodded, "so half-sephi are born. They can live up to two hundred years."
"And how long do you live?" Bail asked me.
"In ideal conditions, the life of a sephi is four hundred years. However, among us there are the Gifted, they can live even up to a thousand. I heard there's a Jedi Master traveling the Outer Rim, named Fay. She's definitely over a thousand."
"Phew," Bail whistled. "See? It's also beneficial for House Doine. To acquire such a feature."
"What kind of feature?" I chuckled. "You haven't studied the xenobiology of my species, but we were taught it even in kindergarten. We sephi," I put my hand to my chest, "mature at roughly the same rate as humans. That's the first thing. The second is that our genes, which give us longevity, being a feature of our species, are recessive."
"What?" Delon asked. "Reces..."
"It's a genetic term," Bail said. "Genes are divided into two types - recessive and dominant. Dominant genes dominate and appear more often."
"Exactly," I said importantly. "Let's say the longevity gene is denoted by the letter 'a'. A capital 'A' means its dominant form, which in any case, one way or another, will appear in the descendants. And a lowercase 'a' means the recessive form. Usually, it's written in the form of two letters, which denote the combination. For example, 'AA' means the dominant form, the usual lifespan found in 'those who have lost the wind' - descendants of sephi and another race, who, with the change of generations, have lost the peculiarities of the sephi. But 'aa' is the recessive form, which is responsible for high life expectancy. It is in this form that this gene variation is found in pure-blooded representatives of my race. 'Aa' is the heterozygous form: neither here nor there, roughly speaking, resulting from marriages of my race with other races of the galaxy. And we are compatible with many. However, in the marriage of a sephi and a representative of another race, a sephi will always be born, with the last set, meaning he will be 'half-sephi' and have about half of our longevity and, at the same time, pointed ears like mine," I touched my ears. "Although in our society, marriages with outsiders are not considered the best behavior. They are not condemned, but our peculiarities are considered 'God of Wind's Gift,' and God has only one chosen race that worshipped him. And then he sent the Sacred Wind into our lungs, and they filled with his strength and grace. Nevertheless, various half-sephi are encountered from time to time. For example, once a child of a sephi and a human female became King."
"I heard that you are even compatible with Twi'leks."
"That's true," I nodded. "In the marriage of a sephi and a Twi'lek female, a sephi can be born with hair color like the Twi'lek's skin. However, it's worth remembering, Delon," I looked at the man. "The first generation is half-sephi. And the second generation already has a normal lifespan. So, you'll have to have at least three marriages with sephi representatives to firmly establish our main traits in the family. My father, by the way, is a descendant of humans who migrated to Tustra. He is a full sephi. But his ancestors were not. Firstly, they had to overcome orthodox compatriots. And secondly, the genetics of our race itself does not provide for immediate long-lived children from another sentient race and sephi. Several generations will pass before my race's traits are established in the family, as I already said. So, I don't know if the Doines will want such descendants, but honestly, in a generation they will be ordinary people again."
"It's all sad," Bail sighed. "And I already thought..."
"Don't think, it's bad for you," Delon interrupted him. "Or did you forget how Miya beat you up last time when you tried?"
"Miya?" Bail sighed. "Sometimes I think she's too persistent."
"It's just that Amella isn't infatuated with you," I shrugged. "Alright. Let's drop the subject. We wanted to discuss what to do, and you're trying to teach me. What should I do here for two weeks? Blow my father's inheritance in the casino?"
"No, of course not," Bail replied.
"We have two weeks, and here's what I propose. For the first week, let's have a good time in the restaurants, dance clubs. And by the end of this week, there will be a Pazaak tournament."
Pazaak? I didn't really like that game in Knights of the Old Republic. It was, even after rereading the rules, not very clear to me. I understood poker better. Although it resembles poker.
"I brought my 'hand' with me," Bail boasted. "It even has a plus-minus card."
"And where did you get it?" Delon asked him, surprised.
"I won it, naturally," Bail proudly puffed out his chest. "Where else could I have gotten such a card?"
"Buy it at an auction," I replied calmly. "At auctions, sometimes even lightsabers are put up, let alone a plus-minus card."
"You know, Taivi, your words incredibly offend me. That I, one of the best Pazaak players among Alderaan's aristocracy, would buy a card that helps me win? It's decided... First, I'll play Pazaak with you..."
"Nonsense," I interrupted him. "I pass from the start. Write yourself a win and wait for the Fencing Tournament, when is it?" I asked Delon.
"Next week," Delon grinned.
"We can't escape the truth," I smiled at Bail. "I'm really not a Pazaak player. But in fencing, I'll beat you."
Bail turned pale, having just realized the trouble he had gotten himself into.
"Only in physical confrontation is he a hero," Antilles said grimly. "But in mental! In mental..."
"Bail, he has the highest grades in the course, two scientific articles on various subjects, and also the highest score in philosophy," Delon interjected.
"Damn it!" Bail exclaimed. Using the Force, I could certainly make anyone win at Pazaak. But, firstly, I saw no point in the game itself and the tournament here. And secondly, it's at least unfair and brings no benefit to the mission. I have plenty of money, and to mock those who don't have my abilities with the Force is somehow... wild.
"So get ready, Bail," I clapped the sentient on the back. "Let's see what you've learned."
"Delon, my will, if anything, is in the desk drawer, the code... I'll tell you on my deathbed. Will you pass it on to my little sister, Breha, that I love her very much and wish her to find a good husband?" Bail said sadly.
"I will remember you, my friend," Delon said, sensing the importance of the moment. "But before that, we'll also participate in a trip to the dance clubs. Just imagine what the women there can do!"
"I wonder what Rulana will say to that?" I said thoughtfully.
"She'll join us," Delon replied.
"She's going?" I asked, and Bail in unison. "Seriously?" Delon nodded. "And no scandals?" Again in unison and again a nod. "Not a woman, but a dream."
"And I also heard," Bail said, looking at Delon with envy, "that by the end we'll be sailing over the Black Trench. And we can go diving there."
"Sounds interesting," I said. "When will that be? By the end of the week?"
"Yes," Delon said. "But you're probably interested in the Fencing Tournament? It starts next week, thirty-two participants are planned. Although there are almost a thousand passengers on this ship, and certainly more than a hundred know how to hold a sword. I wonder how they will select thirty-two participants among all of them?"
"I think I can guess how they'll do it. Although it's just a guess. It's better to wait and see what the yacht owners come up with, but I don't think they'll be original."
"And will you share your thoughts?" Bail asked me.
"What's the secret here? Most likely, they'll simply divide all the applicants into thirty-two sections and hold a Royal Battle in each. The winner of the section will become a participant. Thirty-two winners. And then they'll hold classic duels among them. The winner of all rounds will become the winner of the Tournament. Again, I'm just guessing, but most likely it will be so."
"I see," Delon scratched the back of his head. "And you know, your scheme sounds interesting."
***
The first couple of days of rest passed like clockwork. I mingled with high society and listened to what the humanoids were talking about. Here, essentially, politics, hunting, and culture in the form of discussing some sculptures, paintings, or opera were popular. I also caught whispers about new, some kind of elite drugs, although I could barely grasp what they were talking about. Men also discussed women. Women... also women, but it could safely be categorized as "idle chicken coop gossip." And, of course, noble ladies discussed who ordered dresses from whom and for how much. A separate caste of adult and mature mothers were choosing spouses for their children here. Bail, meanwhile, took third place in Pazaak, first losing to Amella, who, surprisingly, plays cards very well, she took second place. And then to a strange aristocrat with red hair and a mask. I had seen him a couple of times in the corridor; he seemed otherworldly, always thoughtfully studying some politicians. I even caught in him notes... signs of giftedness.
On Friday of the first week, a grand formal evening was organized, to which not everyone was invited. More precisely, all the cream of society were invited, and there weren't many of them on this yacht. Each of the "cream" was allowed to bring a companion. I thought that everyone who could afford "luxury cabins," which I had, would receive an invitation. But no, I was ignored. And I wouldn't have appeared at this celebration of life if it weren't for my friends. Did Bail invite me? Or maybe Delon? No, each of them invited a girl: Miya and Rulana respectively. After all, one person can only invite one person. I, so as not to fall out of the group, had to go with Amella. At first, I decided to go to one of the dance clubs, where Bail and Delon and I had already hung out a couple of times, watching the erotic dances of beautiful exotics and representatives of the human race.
The dancers were particularly striking: three Zeltrons performing a joint dance number. Both the women and men in the hall watched the stage intently. And after it was announced that the beauties offered not only "aesthetic services" but also displayed a price list for one of the three, the noise seemed to awaken giant larks, skate-like animals of the Alderaanian seas, which prefer to spend their activity in winter and bury themselves in the seabed in summer. Nevertheless, buyers were found for such offerings; the women, by all accounts, were inundated with clients and… clientesses. And they positively beamed with happiness, because some pilots say: "Zeltrons cannot be sexually assaulted." Who knows why? Because they are empaths. The main goal of sexual assault, and indeed everything related to sexual intercourse, is pleasure. And an empath can perfectly sense the emotions of their interlocutor. And if the interlocutor experiences true delight, then the empath is quite capable of experiencing such delight.
I also thought of relaxing a bit in this regard at first, and then I encountered the surrounding reality. No, not Amella, who, accompanied by Rulana, came to pick us up from this club. I encountered the price list. First, I rubbed my eyes… Then I drank some cold water, perhaps the alcohol I had consumed that evening was affecting my perception… Then I even lightly used the Force, thinking it was a cunning illusion conjured by Plagueis, Sidious, and all the Sith of the Galaxy, who stubbornly wouldn't want me to rest so well. And then, when I realized it was the real price and that they were indeed asking almost fifty thousand credits for a night with one Zeltron (they asked for less for information about the pirate captain! And yet they were asking for it, the nerds!), I cursed vehemently in my mind and even a little aloud in the great and mighty tongue, and then I let Amella lead me away and listened to her speeches for twenty minutes about how everyone had degenerated in this world, true love, depravity, societal morality, family, duty, and other things. It ended with her taking me to my room, and I simply kissed her and disappeared behind the door. According to Bail, Amella stood outside my room for another three minutes, thinking about something, and then promised something and ran to her own room.
In any case, I was invited to the banquet by none other than Amella. The morning of that day, I encountered her at the exit of her room, where, after three minutes of bowing, greetings, and clarifications, she handed me an invitation and then quickly turned and fled.
"This is love, Taivi, I told you so," came from Bail's direction.
"And these are problems," I chuckled, examining the official invitation. "Big problems. Amella's desires probably diverge from reality. And by a lot."
The banquet was held in a huge hall, where I wore a silver suit with a yellow-gold shirt. But Amella managed to surprise me by wearing a purple dress, clearly inspired by my huge, purple eyes—a peculiarity, even more, a mutation of the eyes that had developed in the half-Sephi with the surname Flyingstar since the ancestors of her father moved to Tustra and the appearance of half-Sephi with the surname Flyingstar. The hall where the ball was held literally sparkled with wealth. My eyes darted from the delicacies that overloaded all the tables. There was everything here… And the attendees. If only the rich could get into Blue Heaven, then here, at the banquet, only the wealthiest and most respected.
The girl walked to my right. The vast space of the hall, it seemed, was dedicated to dancing. Bail was already present at the ball, leading Mia by the arm. Both had opted for blue colors, embroidered with gold threads. And Delon, who wore a red outfit stylized like a uniform, which harmonized with the red hair of Rulana, dressed in a white gown. Then Amella stirred…
"What?" I asked the girl.
"Oh, I noticed my father," Amella said, looking to the side. There stood a man with golden hair reaching his shoulders and piercing green eyes. He was broad-shouldered, with well-developed musculature, judging by his appearance. Amella's father, Olen Doyn, was known for participating in some mercenary companies in his youth and even holding the rank of General of Justice. He graduated from the Anaxis Academy, if my memory serves me correctly. He was dressed in a green uniform, embroidered with golden threads. Next to him was a man from House Doyn, with short-cropped golden hair and green eyes. And this was Echar Doyn. Both aristocrats possessed "pretty facial features." Except Echar was constantly grinning, while his uncle maintained a focused expression, listening to that very aristocrat with red hair, though this time he was without a mask. "I want to introduce you to him."
"Is that so?" I smirked. "Next to him, apparently, is Echar," Amella nodded. "And who are they talking to? Could that be the one who beat you at cards in the Tournament and took first place?"
"Maybe," Amella remarked phlegmatically, "but if an opponent wears a mask, whatever assumptions you make about their identity, be so kind as to keep them to yourself. Although, yes, it's him," Doyn said thoughtfully. "This is one of the aristocrats from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine."
I stared in horror at the clear apprentice of Darth Plagueis, who was peacefully and calmly conversing with Olen Doyn and his nephew. How? What is he doing here? Calm down… Page one of the manual that Rela sent me, and then the basics of diplomacy—even if you meet your obvious enemy, but not on the battlefield, control yourself… Exactly. Sidious doesn't know I'm a Jedi, but even if he finds out, he'll understand I'm not here for him. But it's still scary… I don't think now is the time to confront him in battle.
"Alright, let's go," Amella declared in an uncompromising tone. I approached the group with stiff legs, along with the girl. "Father, good evening. Echar, Sheev," she bowed slightly.
"Amella," the voice of the head of the Doyn family was stern, befitting his figure. According to Bail, Olen is almost always traveling on family business. "And you must be Taivi Lanian from Tustra," the man looked at me. "Olen Doyn, Regent of House Doyn," he extended his hand, and I returned his handshake. Which mirrored the classic handshake of a "father who loves his daughter." That is, the desire to break all the bones in the body of the guy who came with his daughter to the ball was concentrated in his palm… And he wanted to break my palm. Or maybe he was just testing me. "I've heard many good things about you. I'm glad to finally meet you."
"Echar Doyn," Olen's nephew extended his hand to me and winced when I returned his handshake. "Is Tustra the name of your world, Taivi?"
"Correct," I nodded. "I am from the Sephi race, who live on Tustra."
"Hmph, you look very much like humans," Echar grunted.
"That's true," I nodded to the man. "Our differences from the human race are not that great. The first thing that catches the eye is the ears. And the second is the lifespan."
"You live less?" Echar asked with some curiosity.
"Sheev Palpatine," Sidious greeted me, shaking my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Taivi. And regarding your question, Echar, Sephi can live up to four hundred years."
"How much?!" Echar exclaimed, even too loudly. For which he earned a disapproving look from Amella's father.
"Up to four hundred," I replied concisely. "This is one of the main differences between us and humans. And if we talk about Force-sensitive Sephi, they can live a thousand years. One such Sephi travels the Outer Rim. Rumor has it she's almost a thousand."
"I've never heard of such a strange race," Echar said. If you had studied instead of whores, you would have definitely heard. Why does almost everyone, even this dim-witted idiot and blabbermouth—Jaiko Meceti—know what people I come from, but Echar Doyn doesn't? Because even Meceti received a decent education and keeps his academic level "above average" in our group. And this Echar, who wanted to drag even Amella, his closest relative, into bed, is capable of nothing but disgust in me.
"The galaxy is truly full of strange and unexpected things, Echar," Sheev Palpatine said. "For example, the so-called Gifted, who can channel the mystical Force, which grants them incredible abilities. And even, possibly, longevity. A gifted human can live for over a hundred years."
"However, not everyone is Gifted," I remarked. "The galaxy is also full of injustice."
"It doesn't seem like it troubles you, Taivi, judging by your appearance."
"Not at all," I replied to Sidious. "I am, to some extent, concerned about such imbalances. But it seems to me that Giftedness is not just the ability to use certain techniques."
"And what else?" Olen asked me.
"It's responsibility. Mainly towards those who are not Gifted with this Force."
"Responsibility?" Sidious asked questioningly. "Interesting. You reason almost like a Jedi."
"Strange reasoning," Echar interjected. "You're a strange sentient, Taivi. Who should the Gifted be responsible to? To us? For having the Force?"
"And why not?" I asked everyone. "Look for yourselves. The Force gives them incredible opportunities that they can use for good. Shouldn't they be able to account for their actions, especially for the use of this Force?"
"Yes, this logic is very characteristic of the Jedi," Palpatine noted.
"And do you have your own view, Sheev, on this dilemma?"
"Personally, if I had a connection to the Force," "if I had"? "I would never answer to anyone. The Jedi are powerful Gifted who mostly sit in their Temple; can't the Force be used to bring order somewhere?"
"Are you dissatisfied with the Jedi's views?" Olen inquired.
"Rather their view on politics. The Gifted have the abilities to build strong states with their mere presence. And they did build…"
"That's true," I nodded to Sidious. "But you are only right from one side. Let's look from the other," I suppressed my trembling and finally gained courage, realizing that Sidious would certainly not reveal himself here. And even then, he's unlikely to deem it necessary to attack me. I don't intend to offend him or hinder him here. "After all, how long did those states built by the unified will and Force of one sentient last, and were they truly beacons of order and justice? In political philosophy, at the University, our professor stated that one of the main points is not just to build a powerful state with functioning institutions of power, but also to take care of the legacy. Of what will be passed down to descendants, and how to properly raise these descendants. Sheev, if I remember correctly, many states built through the personal power of a ruler rarely coped with such situations. Somewhere, a gifted ruler wanted to rule forever and delved not so much into politics as into personal Force research. And somewhere, they even feared those who might come after them, eventually exterminating them, as if saying to the people: I am with you forever, until my death. And what should the country do after the death of such a leader? What did he leave behind? To whom did he leave it? Death is the natural order of things. For some, it will come, in my case, at best, in three hundred years. And for some, in seventy. But it will come. And if a ruler builds everything solely on his uncontrolled, unrestrained power… authority—he can fall. No… He will fall into the senility of absolute power, go mad. Sentient beings are mortal. Life is finite. His life will also end… What will this country do then, having lost its undisputed leader, Sheev?"
"Hmm," Palpatine rubbed his chin. "There is some sense in your questions. But on the other hand, if there are too many checks and balances, can they not restrain truly necessary reforms and laws? The Senate can consider one law for decades, Chancellors can change, and a necessary and important law will remain "under the rug," only occasionally passing through votes. How do you intend to react in this context when speed of reaction is truly important? You were well prepared at the Aldera University, Taivi, and you ask the right questions. But be prepared that your views may also be questioned. How will you answer my questions? Will you deny them?"
"I will not," I shook my head. "What you have voiced, Sheev, are the downsides. Downsides… I have voiced the downsides of the concept of a state tied to the power of one personality; you, on the other hand, have found downsides in my views, which are unequivocally interpreted according to the scheme 'a sentient should not have too much power; there should always be someone to limit that power'."
"This is interesting," Sidious smiled. "I have spoken with many Republican civil servants and even Senators. They stubbornly believe that the downsides you mentioned here are not worth much attention."
"This is what makes fanatics dangerous, Sheev," I replied to his smile. "They tend not to notice their mistakes; even if you point them out directly, they will still shout that it's not so, the arguments are wrong, and generally—you don't understand anything."
"I agree with that. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Taivi. Although we did not agree on our views, you argued yours with dignity."
"As did you, Sheev. As did you," I nodded to the man.
"I sometimes go to the opera," the man said. "If you wish, we can continue our conversations there, Taivi," he looked at Amella, "your dress is enchanting, as are you, Amella."
Sidious carefully moved to one of the tables. I, meanwhile, returned my gaze to the Doyn family. Amella and her father were whispering about something.
"It was a pleasure meeting you too, Taivi. Your reasoning is not bad; Amella praised you for a reason. I would be happy to continue our acquaintance at another time. And if you want a recommendation: try the crayfish. They are quite good here."
The man moved aside, but Echar, before leaving, shot me a strange, resentful look.
"That was strange, but you immediately joined my father and that Palpatine in a conversation about politics."
"You don't like Sheev Palpatine very much?" I asked the girl.
"Sheev Palpatine… He is a long-time friend of my family, or rather, his family was friends with ours. Not long ago, Sheev's family perished. My father invited him to our place a couple of times and even spoke about a possible engagement between him and me," the girl said with interest.
"He is an intelligent man," I noted, "but he will not refuse. That's a fact."
"Refuse what?" Amella asked curiously.
"Hmm?" I looked at her. "Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud."
The rest of the banquet consisted of the high society indulging in drinking, eating, and even dancing classic dances in the center of the hall. As Amella's escort, I had to spend several dances with her. The girl, according to her, did not expect me to actually know how to dance. And she had the right to think so. Because when she, as the class representative, suggested I attend additional classes, including dancing, I rather rudely dismissed that option. But Amella, as it turned out a little later, adored dancing. And she danced quite decently… What was I doing, waltzing with such a charming girl? I recalled the Makashi base, which I had recently begun studying, as well as the waltz championship, which I had once accidentally discovered on TV and watched.
The evening was wonderful… In the middle of the evening, the panels above the hall parted, revealing a stunning view of the deep sea. With the help of powerful spotlights, the surroundings around the ship were illuminated, allowing us to see the sea's flora and fauna even in the dark, and we were sailing, according to publicly available information, at a depth of approximately two hundred meters. Finally, I, having rested considerably from several more conversations, though I was mostly a listener in them, offered to escort Amella to her cabin. But the girl, apparently, decided to be the hostess of the evening until the end, so we didn't reach her cabin.
"We're sleeping here tonight," she said importantly. "You… hee-hee," and alcohol does have an effect, it turns out, "offered to escort me, sir. And I tell you: you have fulfilled your duty. Now I impose a new one on you, the refusal of which is not accepted."
"And what is it?" The alcohol had also affected me slightly.
"Open the door," she demanded and kissed me quite quickly on the lips, "and I will tell you everything."
Alcohol, the desire to relax, and the company of such a charming girl did their job. I placed my hand on the room scanner, embracing the girl who leaned against me with my other arm. The door obediently opened, and Amella and I entered my room… The room had a special security system that automatically closed the door after entering. As soon as we entered, the door closed and the light turned on…
"You know," Amella said, pulling away slightly. "Your character isn't exactly the best… But something draws me to you. Ever since that first time. And don't you dare come up with excuses for refusal here, Taivi. I see that you also want to tell me something… or… show me?" she winked at me.
"Alcohol works wonders," I remarked sarcastically, "you're all so proper, moral. And now. Look at yourself…"
"Oh, shut up before I change my mind!"