[This is a step by step learning process. Your commitment will determine your progress. The dream state will train you based on your surroundings. What happens in training will affect you as a player.
If you are hurt in the dream state, you will be hurt in real life. If you die in the dream state, your life here will be terminated as well.
Please press accept to continue.]
Crap!... Step by step was not the sort of thing I needed to get out of this mucky situation I had landed myself in... I needed something that would work ASAP.
I was about to press accept, eager to see what sort of skill I could learn outright, when I noticed an alert warning beneath the prompt.
[Warning. Within the dream state you must never try to alter events that have already happened. You must focus only on your own actions.
The dream state is for your training only. You must be aware at all times never to move past the timeline of events. That means your lesson starts how your day started and should end how your day ended.
You can quit the dream state earlier than real events ended, but you can never live past them. Once you exit beyond that point, complications will arise due to the looping of events, which may result in you never awakening.]
Well, that was clear enough.
It meant that if I went past the time I had originally fallen asleep, I might never wake up because the real events would overlap the dream state ones.
Noted.
Still, I eagerly activated the accept button in my mind.
Nothing much changed. The interface disappeared, and instead a calm voice that sounded suspiciously like mine appeared in my head.
Lesson one. The most important skill a smuggler can have is environmental awareness. The ability to study and understand your surroundings without obvious observation and without drawing attention to yourself.
That will be the purpose of this lesson. Read your environment without arousing the guards' suspicion.
Alert.
Any consequences suffered within the dream state by your virtual body will be reflected on your real body when you wake up.
Yeah. I knew that already.
I picked up another crate and shuffled through the line toward the hold.
True enough, events unfolded exactly as they had earlier in the day. The only difference was that now I knew it was training.
I tried to keep my eyes on my path, but honestly, you cannot see much without looking.
"Move, move. Debts got to be paid and crates got to be moved. Move your lazy limbs faster. Move."
Then I heard another crate clatter.
We all turned in unison.
It was the same boy the Devaronian had snatched the sleeping spot from. Earlier in the day he had been tripped by the guards.
This time I was already returning from the hold, and I made sure not to make eye contact with any of them.
Now I was more conscious, watching to see if anyone else was stealing sachets besides the overseer.
And sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the men casually step on a handful of sachets and pin them beneath his boot.
Actually, there was more than one doing it.
Which made me wonder how the hell Hato never noticed.
So many sachets going missing and nobody seeing a thing.
I grabbed another crate and fell back in line.
As I passed the guards, they were still hitting and stunning the boy.
Good thing the events here only affected me.
I would hate to think my training was causing fresh pain for him.
When we got closer to the guards, I felt a strong urge to say something or do something.
Then I remembered that in this dream state, the only one who could truly suffer was me.
And I was here for training. Nothing else.
Speaking of that, I still did not understand what exactly I was supposed to do.
What was I supposed to notice?
I had already lived through this entire day. What was new?
Seeing is not understanding. You can look but fail to observe.
The system voice whispered it like some philosophical nonsense.
Look. Observe.
Observe what?
Guards with blasters stealing sachets?
And what exactly was I supposed to do about that? That was way above my nonexistent pay grade.
Still, we shuffled back and forth like ants on an endless mission.
With every trip I grew more restless.
I could not see any progress. Nothing that felt remotely connected to the Force.
What did any of this have to do with the Force?
As far as I knew, accessing the Force required meditation.
If I was supposed to see without looking, then I would need Force sense.
Nobody said anything about the Force.
The voice returned.
Before you can deal with the Force, you must perceive your environment. To access the Force, one must be in a state of full consciousness, aware of both the world outside and the one within. Otherwise, you lose yourself to one or the other.
That sounded like some monk shit Yoda would tell Skywalker.
Except I was not him.
Maybe the smugglers should have dumped us on Dagobah instead of Ord Mantel.
With all this chaos, reaching some peaceful state of harmony felt impossible.
Around the tenth trip, I began to consciously monitor beyond the crates and slaves.
There was nothing interesting about the slaves. Even the older ones already stationed here.
We all shuffled hopelessly like machines programmed for one task.
Obedience
I shifted my focus to the enforcers.
They were not interesting either.
They seemed programmed to torture, scanning for the smallest mistake so they could slam a boot on someone's head or jab them with a stun rod.
I ignored them too.
Then my attention shifted to the droids.
Now those were interesting.
They had not interacted once during the entire saga. They did not even appear to watch us directly.
They stood at strategic positions, rigid and alert.
Four of them guarded the ramp the girls had been taken through.
That ramp likely connected the lower and upper levels. Entry and exit point.
Which meant Hato did not even trust his smugglers fully.
Those were security droids. Possibly one or two assassin models mixed in, in case Hato ever needed to eliminate one of his own men
At least, that was how I imagined a smuggler would think.
There was another door further to the left.
Droids lined it almost every inch.
Whatever was beyond that door had to be critical to Hato's operation. Important enough to trust machines over people.
Beyond that, I could not learn much more from them.
So my attention shifted to the crates.
That was a Dangerous move.
We had been warned not to bother with them.
I lost count of how many trips I had made.
But on one of them, I tried to peek inside.
They were uniform. Each contained colorful substances sealed in tiny sachets.
I did not know every spice in the galaxy, but these were common street level drugs.
The crates were marked red, which I knew was bullshit.
Smugglers mismatched markings all the time. Confusion was currency.
What truly caught my attention were the white crates carried by the bulky, seasoned slaves.
They were clearly the oldest group here.
Even though they dressed like us, they wore black gloves and heavy safety boots.
For a smuggler to provide safety gear meant what they were carrying was hazardous.
And the enforcers did not rush them nearly as much as they rushed the rest of us.
Then suddenly, a sharp sting hit my foot and I sprawled onto the floor.
The crate slipped from my hands. Sachets scattered everywhere.
I scrambled, but I was too slow.
"Fucking idiot."
A boot slammed into my ribs and I screamed.
Another crushed into my jaw. My teeth rattled and I was sure I had lost one.
I tried to push up.
A jolt of current tore through me.
I collapsed, body convulsing, unable to even scream.
I did not need to think hard.
While trying to observe my surroundings, I had become the perfect target.
The newbies were always targeted more. With my focus drifting, I had made myself vulnerable.
"What did I say about work? And what did I say about my rules?"
The overseer loomed over me.
As he bent down, I saw him scoop a handful of spices as usual before slamming his fist into my left jaw.
My head cracked against the concrete.
I felt my nose give.
Fucking hell.
"Get up, you idiot. Pick every little thing up. And you better hope every single one is there or I am having your balls."
With trembling hands, I forced myself up and began gathering the scattered sachets.
Of course they would not all be there.
Some had already been stolen.
But if nobody noticed, and if nobody exposed the smugglers, then I might be spared.
Unless someone decided to pin it on me.
For a moment, I almost exited the dream state.
I did not know how I would survive the real morning feeling like this.
My body felt demolished.
But I had not gained anything yet.
Leaving now would make the pain meaningless.
So I forced myself to stumble to the hold, drop the crate, and rejoin the line.
For the next three trips, I fought to maintain focus.
It was not easy with my head splitting.
Then the voice returned.
Your mistake is that you rely on your eyes. Sight is the weakest of human senses.
You must learn to see without looking.
Bullshit.
That was easy to say than do
In practice, how the hell was I supposed to see without looking?
And I was not even using the Force yet.
This was supposedly just environmental awareness.
So what was I meant to have? Antennae?
I was not a damn mantis.
How was I supposed to see what I was not looking at?
See without looking.
The voice repeated it calmly.
Fucking crap!