***
Iskra
"I'm sorry, what?" I go at Radij when he approached me with a report. "Who-who did they have? Gods???"
"Yes. According to Killik beliefs, there were four gods. Mother, Father, Son, and Daughter. Initially Mother was not a god like the first three. She was a servant, but rose and became the 'Great Mother.' However, that did not help her; with the passage of time she withered, unlike the pure-blood gods. To prevent this process, she committed the prohibited—drank from the Fountain of Power and dipped into the Pool of Knowledge. These actions perverted her, transforming her from a beautiful woman into an immortal entity known as Abeloth. When Father learned of her crime, he left the planet with the children, however Abeloth went even more insane from that. In pursuit of immortality and the Force she devoured the minor gods. And to restrain her, the elder gods created a prison from their home world, and enclosed the Great Mother, thereby securing their servants."
"Well, now we know why the Celestials' home planet was named Abeloth," Mom sneered, inserting a comment.
"Tch! 'Gods,' indeed," I tut, glancing at Mom. "Don't you and I know how many such 'gods' you personally put away on Bogan and Ashla."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, yeah, I remember, there was that. And remember, you were five years old, I had to leave? There the case was even more advanced; the adept believed he was the very embodiment of the Force. Pity the man, he really understood the Force well, until he went crazy."
"Let's return to Abeloth. What else did you find on her?"
"The Great Mother, she is Abeloth,—an entity embodying Chaos and eternal hunger. She patronizes wars and discord, in the process feasting and devouring all she can reach. I can conclude that the Killiks blame her for generally all conflicts, if not misfortunes." Radij added thoughtfully, flipping a page in his datapad.
"Heh. Well, brilliant, we certainly got into it. Now, at least, it's clear what that lady wanted."
"I don't think she wanted freedom," Mom disagreed. "More likely, she just wanted to keep us near her."
"Um... Let's not talk about the goals and desires of psychopaths?"
"Okay."
"By the way, Radij, where did the first three go?"
"According to legends..." he flipped a page in the datapad, "It's not certain; I didn't find reliable information, for which I apologize, but, supposedly, they are on Mortis..."
"Mortis?"
"Supposedly. At least, the Killik records point to this," I was shown the tablet with an octahedron drawn on a cave wall.
"Alright then. To Mortis—not a foot. And to Abeloth either."
"Shade, we killed her, after all."
"You know, you were also killed, after all," I cross my arms on my chest. "So what?"
"Argument. Returning to the visions, what did you see?"
"A f*ck-up."
"Again?!"
"Yeah, again, Mom. Neither the Republic, nor the Jedi, nor the dark ones... no one will let us live in peace," I sigh heavily. "We can't leave, and we can't stay. So we'll proceed from the 'strike first' principle. Fortunately, the advantage is ours."
"Is everything that bad?"
"Not yet, but it might become so.
"Oh come on, Shade. In an extreme case—we'll leave for the unknown regions," she tried to cheer me up, but I shake my head dejectedly.
"It won't work for us to leave, Mom. Even then, on Tython, I saw another vision warning me. Then I didn't understand it, considered it a delusion, but now everything has played out in other colors. While we are preparing, the Republic will stand on military tracks and simply wipe us to powder, as happened four thousand years ago. Not even because of us; they'll have their own movements there. Но we can't act now either; an open military conflict will lead to a loss."
"Then how will we fight?"
"We won't," I grin. "Everyone will fight everyone."
"You want to arrange a galactic war?" she tilted her head.
"Not a war. Chaos."
"How?"
"I'll explain at the general meeting..."
***
In a small elongated hall for meetings the most respected members of the Terran Order gathered. In the center stood a long black holographic table with beveled corners. Along the edges were walls decorated with bas-reliefs depicting peaceful days on the once-native planet.
On one "cell" a child learns to lift objects, on another—a teacher tells some story before a class. On a third—from behind the back of an unknown Je'Daii a magnificent view of the Qigong Kesh temple standing in the Silent Desert is shown. Directly opposite the entrance were the main bas-reliefs—a man and a woman held a Force sphere together, symbolizing a single whole. And at the edges of a single door were two skillfully cast statues of warriors standing at attention.
Walking through the hall and surveying the Terrans waiting for me, I sit at the head of the table; the others sit after me.
"So, brothers and sisters, the hour has come when we return to the big game. By my efforts a material base has been created. Mandalorians are—albeit small, but a very skillful people. They were and remain our loyal allies. Moreover, using the rotten Republic system, using our enemy, I created HIT. A company that holds under it the subsidiaries also created by me, the key ones being RAVEN and TNC. All company rules are unified, and dictated in such a way that they are considered laws on Tatooine. At the moment of my 'death' the total staff of employees increased to six million, and that, for a second, is six times more than before. What's there now, I don't know, however I can assume that if the course remained the same, the company continues developing at such shock rates. What does that mean? We have a good economic foothold and labor that can be used, and that must be protected. Moreover, I've familiarized myself with the data you provided on the outer worlds, and come to the conclusion that if we provide them with everything needed, ensure economic growth and provide the opportunity to secure themselves, there are quite real chances to truly resurrect the Hadian Empire."
Pausing, I survey the Terrans. A bit creepy when your words are taken as undeniable facts. On the other hand, in these circumstances it's for the best. I don't imagine what I'd do if my own descendants ended up on the other side of the barricades.
"However, it won't be that simple. In the course of my small journey I realized that neither the Republic nor the Jedi will leave us in peace under any circumstances. We are—too strong players, too great a threat. In case of an open military conflict at this stage we'll simply be swept away, and that forces us to take extreme measures. We will use the element of surprise and be the first to strike our enemies, and that strike will be terrible."
On the faces of the gathered people, not a muscle twitched... on those who had them, but in their emotions I heard approval.
"The Republic is—a colossus on staggering legs; sowing chaos will be incredibly simple. Но at the same time we must have strength capable of defending our interests in that chaos. And for that an army is needed. Not as large as if we were fighting an entire state, but powerful enough to be an island of peace in the future mess. We have an underlying economic base for this army, but not the army itself. I emphasize your attention—a powerful, trained, professional army, consisting of both droids and organics. At the same time, it's needed in the shortest possible time. What will the options be?"
"We could turn to the Kaminoans," Don proposed, and immediately hurried to add: "Not for an army, no. From them we could order the project of an elite fighter itself—a clone. The cloners have truly rich practical experience in growing very, very high-quality clones. Having received the already finished material in hand, we'll be able to grow it ourselves."
"There's a problem with training."
"What about the Mandalorians?"
"They are saboteurs. Special forces. At most—an elite assault detachment that needs to burst into the very thick of a battle with a relatively small composition," I reply. "No, we'll use them anyway, but they alone won't be enough."
"Ailon Nova Guard?"
"Those animals?! They'll tear down half the base in the absence of war!"
"Besides, they don't get along with Mandalorians..." comments follow from different sides.
"Not to mention talkativeness."
"There are other mercenaries."
"Maybe better try to intercept a military man from the Republic? Someone has to train the Judicial Department, after all?"
"No," I cut off the disputes. "We'll leave the mercenaries for later; they are unreliable, and official forces are unlikely to participate in such a thing, unless, of course, they have a sharpened tooth on the Republic. It's much simpler and more reliable to turn to historical holocrons."
"We... don't have that much information on such a theme and especially with soldier training methodologies," the "librarian" spoke slowly.
"That's not a problem; I know where to get the original. I have, on Tatooine, hidden data crystals with the history of the Hadian Empire recorded on them. Not everything is recorded on them, especially no manuals, but they have tactical moves, maneuvers, techniques, and the like. And that, I believe, is also a not-bad support."
"Mr. Aero, may I ask," Don raised a hand. Seeing my nod, he continued: "And where are those storage units from?"
"From Shikaakwa. After waking up, I made a flight to home."
"But we scoured everything there up and down!" rang out from my right. "My apologies..."
"One needs to know what and where to look. I'm sure hidden bunkers or storage facilities remained on the planet, but I don't have an exact map of all those stashes in my head. What I remembered, I dug up. By the way. I dug up a functioning Unifying Force reactor there."
From those words the people were a bit stunned. The Immortals froze, the living just blinked their eyes, Aala, crossing her arms on her chest, hummed.
"Having a finished specimen in hand, repeating it won't be difficult," the chief engineer livened up. "This gives us the opportunity to reconstruct the Iskra, as well as create and use a special pool of technologies, part of which we already have open, but not engaged due to lack of power."
"W-w-w, don't rush," I stop the already accelerating engineer. "There's a minor problem with the Force reactor. Currently, it is in the hands of Rugess Nome. A Bith, dark adept and кораблестроитель engineer-scientist. Where that reactor is now—only he knows. In view of this I set the task—track and gather data on him and propose a plan for kidnapping."
The head of intelligence nodded and made several notes in his datapad.
"Returning to the army. We need ships. MandalMotors knows how to build conscientiously; we could cooperate with them and bring already started projects to their senses, as well as pull already proven vessels from history and thoroughly update them. Here another question arises, how will we build them and from what?"
"We could recreate the Star Forge," Avalon mused thoughtfully, fingering the chin of his mask.
"Excluded," Don cut off. "This question has already been repeatedly brought up for discussion. Even having a Force reactor in hand, it is too dangerous. It is reliably known that such a Force source extremely negatively affects the consciousness of an adept in contact with it."
"May I have details?" I show interest.
"Certainly. In the course of the war with the Infinite Empire our ancestors had the opportunity to study their greatest achievement—the Star Forge. This object, using the Dark Side of the Force and absorbing a star's energy, was capable of building huge multi-kilometer ships in incredibly short terms. Но not everything is so rosy. Side effects, recognized as acceptable by the Rakata, played a cruel joke on them. For example, being in and interacting with such a source of the dark side of the Force, the Rakata lost their minds, became even more embittered, insane. Signs of aggression were simply groundless, and if an object was subjected to such influence long enough, it began to decompose alive. An analogous concept is applicable to both the light and the unifying Force. Specifically in our case, an object subjected to such long 'irradiation,' specifically of the unifying Force, simply burns out. The body is physically not capable of withstanding such tension. In another case, if the organism is prepared and physically stable, as in your case, Master Aero, one can lose one's reason. Especially, it's easy for a person with a weak will to lose it. And the worst part is that the ships that came out of this very Star Forge are saturated through and through with the Force. Looking at what happens to the crew, our ancestors quite reasonably and categorically prohibited using such a technology, even with a discount for the Unifying Force."
"Everything has to be paid for," Avalon sighed. "On the other hand, with such a station one could get a huge fleet in less than a month."
"Avalon, we aren't so desperate yet to resort to such measures," I intervene in the discussion. "Are there alternative ways?"
"In the unknown regions there are quite many relatively underdeveloped civilizations. Offer them the same as the inhabitants of the Outer Rim, and we'll get additional labor. Set up factories, droids, and establish supply of resources. Given our maps and capabilities—a matter of several days. Especially if we have ready-to-deploy factories that can be purchased from that same Techno Union."
"Then make a note on resolving this issue. A suitable place must be found, its prospects assessed, an estimate made that will lie on my desk. All clear?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Aero, may I ask a question," a hand rose.
"I'm listening."
"Regarding the Mandalorians and HIT. After your death, you aren't formally the head of either. Won't that be a problem for our plans?"
"It won't. I have enough loyal comrades to return control to my hands."
"Including HIT?"
"Including it," I nod.
"Don't take it as audacity, but, as far as is known, the company's shares belong to your partner. There is an opinion that he won't want to just return them like that and will do everything he can for your final rest. Should we eliminate him?"
"No. Damask is the head of the Banking Clan. His sudden disappearance, assassination, or some other junk, will cause not at all the reaction we need. Moreover, if he survives, we'll have additional problems."
"Then... how to return the companies?"
"Very easily, with the help of nationalization. Tatooine—is a neutral planet that belongs to me personally. Given that no one fought for power over it, I can conclude that the planet remained mine, which means that if we have problems with the company's shares, we'll simply nationalize everything. This isn't the Republic, brothers and sisters, and its laws don't apply on my planet," at the last words, I lean back and with a smile scan the faces and masks of the others. "Well and so that Damask doesn't relax and doesn't meddle, we'll take care of his personal time. Since he decided to carry drugs, let him. We'll leak a couple of ships through my person in TNC straight to the Judicial Department; let them sort it out. And to make it not boring at all, we'll send a message to the Jedi Temple."
"Do you have compromising evidence?"
"Records from Mandalorian helmets of what Damask was buying from us, with a clarification of his nature. Oh, almost forgot! We have to occupy the Jedi too. It's necessary to prepare an information bomb that the Sith are alive, with a comment that the Jedi have already completely stopped catching mice."
"Task accepted," the head of intelligence-gathering nodded.
"Excellent. Moving to the next question."
***
After the meeting with the Terrans dragged on, my path lay to Tatooine. I didn't intend to show up like snow on the head, and decided to act more delicately. Addressing a request to Radij that I needed to contact my man in TNC, I was allocated one of the secure channels. And really secure, even Damask doesn't have such a thing. A private network of satellites scattered across the galaxy, plus false addresses leading to various bandit planets—all this ensures phenomenal communication security. Another thing is that large volumes of information cannot be transmitted over it, but it wasn't created for that.
The most interesting thing was that besides the private connection there was also a "general" one. The Terrans had long been sitting on the dark side of the galactic internet, and used it for their own purposes. It reached the point where they threw their own connection right through the general network. Try to intercept a specific packet of data in the huge galactic web! Another thing was that to connect to the general channel, you still have to use your own satellites, simply because ships are constantly flying in the f*ck-offs somewhere, and there's no public connection there at all. Well and after connecting to the general network, you could call anyone using quite official stations.
After my request such a channel was provided, so one could even discuss universal conspiracies.
"Should your contact see you?" Radij suddenly clarified.
"In what sense 'see'?" I inquire, before dialing the number.
"Is it necessary to set visual interference or distort the voice?"
"Hm... voice no, but the image is worth spoiling a bit."
Silently approaching the holographic table, Radij extended a connection key from his hand into the port and tweaked something.
"Ready."
"Thanks."
Right, I hope I haven't forgotten Warren's personal number, and certainly hope he hasn't changed it. Having dialed the necessary set of digits and letters, crossing my arms on my chest, I wait for an answer. And here, the projector before us launches, demonstrating the Mandalorian sitting at the desk. Looking at the surprised-thoughtful face, I couldn't restrain a smile, fortunately the interlocutor doesn't see it.
"Hello Warren."
"Who are you? Where did you get this number?" the man was clearly worried.
"From a good friend of yours."
"What friend?"
"That doesn't matter. The main thing is that I know you. And also important is that I have extremely important information about Mandalore the Resurrector."
"What kind of information?" the Mandalorian tensed.
"Let's say, the rumors of his death are somewhat exaggerated."
"Can't be. I personally buried him myself!"
"Could be. Но are you sure it was Aero?"
"Naturally. We conducted a DNA test!"
"Um..."
Right. Now that's unexpected.
"One second."
Turning off the microphone, already to Radij:
"How did you f*ck the DNA test, you devils?"
"With the help of Mechu-deru, it is very easy to fake the results," Radij replied calmly, turning his head to me.
"Aha..."
Turning the microphone back on, I say to Warren:
"Warren, I dare to assure you that despite everything, you are mistaken. And I can prove it."
The frowning Mandalorian was in no hurry with an answer. Having drummed a beat on the desk with his fingers, he pronounced:
"Continue."
"The day after tomorrow I will arrive on Tatooine and bring with me irrefutable proof of my words. Но don't rush to take any measures; I must warn you immediately. Our meeting must take place in an especially narrow circle. Try to minimize the number of those who will be aware of my visit. Especially regarding the upper command link. Shade trusts you, Warren, so he insisted on specifically contacting you. I will trust you too. And to consolidate the confidence within you regarding my words, I want to remind you that it was Aero who insisted on selling a certain special reactor found on Tython to a Bith named—Rugess Nome. And also I am aware of the stash with Aero's personal information and on the Hadian Empire as a whole. As you understand, I have physically nowhere to get these data, except from Shade himself."
"He... didn't tell me about you," the man was clearly a bit stunned.
"Nothing terrible, you will understand everything at our meeting. Was I able to convince you?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. Then until we meet on Tatooine. End of transmission."
Interrupting the connection, I look at Radij.
"Assemble the ship, we're flying to Tatooine."
"Same composition?"
"Yes."
The Immortal immediately made contact with someone, and I went to pack.
***
Mos Eisley Spaceport
Putting his mug under the air conditioner, and periodically pouring water on it too, a male representative of the Quarren race sat in the dispatch point. The heat and dry climate had an extremely negative effect on the sea race representative, but there was nothing to be done and he had to endure.
"Dispatch point, attention," the radio suddenly spoke. "Prepare box twelve for a ship landing. Clear and close eleven, thirteen, and twenty-one."
"Hm..." the Quarren mused. "Hey, Tonngi, which ship is supposed to land in box twelve?" the alien turned to his partner at the neighboring terminal.
"No idea. Nothing is in the schedule."
"Update."
"Already did, empty."
"Strange..."
"Oh come on, who knows what big shot is flying in," the Rodian shrugged. "Our business is small."
"You're right."
Redirecting the question to the technicians, the Quarren waited for the end of the workday. When the shift was over and others came to replace them, the dispatcher instead of going with colleagues to a bar, cited feeling unwell.
However he went home far from immediately. Lingering, the Quarren strolled to dock twelve, after which he connected to two of the ten sleeping DUM droids. Having checked that the signal was stable, he removed the tracks and calmly left the spaceport.
***
Shade Aero
The flight to Tatooine passed completely unnoticed. It felt like we just flew out—and already arrived, and yet I hadn't even managed to finish reassembling the bracers!
When the group gathered at the exit, I pass them and am the first to slowly descend the ramp. Warren was already waiting for us on the pad in the company of eight fighters, and another dozen hidden in the surroundings in cover. Plus a dozen combat droids stood against the wall.
At my appearance the meeting delegation flared with surprise. Especially Warren. The fighters standing closest stepped back, letting me pass to their leader.
"Su cuy'gar, vod. (Hello, brother)" I pronounce, after which I bring my hands to the mask. With a quiet click it detached, and I showed my face.
"Impossible..."
"Impossible, Warren, for me to lose to you at pazaak. But I am here, more than real."
"Shade..." the Mandalorian slowly broke into a smile. "Brother!"
Ignoring everything, I was hugged like kin.
"Good to see you too."
"But how?! I... myself... you... and who is this with you?" he looked at the Terrans.
"It's a long story," I sigh. "And where are Zer, Kaut and Dis?" I inquire, having noticed their absence.
"Dis is in the research center. Kaut and Zer are somewhere on the defense station."
No sooner have I answered than Radij jerks his head slightly. Turning sharply, lifting a hand, he pulls a pair of bustling DUM droids to us, after which he immediately turns them off.
"What is it?"
"The droids are hacked. We were being watched," having inspected the tadpoles, Radij notified.
"That's all I needed... Worr, who did you tell about me?"
"No one..." the Mandalorian was taken aback. "Everyone is here. Cameras off, not a soul in neighboring hangars. I played it safe."
"Grade F for such safety. Droids need to be checked," I hit his chest lightly and return the mask to my face. "What are you looking at? Jam all signals on the planet! Block the spaceport. Find the rat and interrogate them; if they even manage to send the data, then we need to know to whom."
"Tron! Take yours and get to the dispatch point now! Darronis, jam the connection. Yuna, call our people, find everyone who was on duty in these two days and interrogate them!"
"Only don't make too much noise," I add. "We don't need a commotion yet."
"Yes, sir!" the Mandalorians struck their chests with their fists, and immediately scattered at the third cosmic speed, leaving us in the company of Warren, a dozen combat droids and another pair of fighters.
"Sorry, Shade..."
"Everyone makes mistakes. By the way, meet them," I take a step to the side, opening the view of my companions. "Terrans. My daughter's followers."
"You said..."
"Yeah, yeah. Thought so myself, but was wrong. Come into the fortress, we'll talk there."
Leaving the landing pads, we walked through the empty corridors and went out into the city. The star was only about to rise, the city was still sleeping, but the periodically running Mandalorians hinted that some kind of fuss had started.
Throughout the path we didn't talk, but Warren now and then glanced at me. The others looked too. Surprise, mixed with delight and pride, reigned in the Mandalorians' souls.
"How is your business? How did that story with Khan end?" I ask over the internal comms.
"Clan Vizsla is no more. Khan didn't survive the encounter with you. Tor was exiled to an uninhabited asteroid in only a hardsuit. After that the clan was disbanded, and the assets divided."
"Wow. Why so?"
"They were preparing a provocation against their own. The clan itself split into two camps. Those who were for it were shown the door without honor, without the right to return. Those who tried to correct themselves also went into exile, but with the right of rehabilitation. Currently the latter have already corrected their mistakes and are in other clans."
"Really?"
"Yes. In the end you achieved yours, Shade. We united. The clan heads have moved to Mandalore and are actively participating in high politics. Even the Duke recognized your authority."
"Wait, so that means without me you didn't get a new Mandalore?"
"We didn't find a second Aero," Warren smirked. "The decision was made to adhere to the course you set."
"And if I return, will I get the title back?"
"No one took it from you. You defeated Khan; the title remained yours. And while you're alive, it will be with you, unless you refuse it yourself. Such is the law. And even if we had a new Mandalore appear, he would automatically be forced to fight you, well or yield the place."
"And no one will even object?"
"Everyone who could object is already breathing vacuum," Warren laughed quietly. "Just kidding. No one will dare to object to you. Not after what you did."
Here we turn a house corner, and a magnificent view of my fortress opens to me.
"Wow," the thought flashes at the sight of the Headquarters. The little house had changed. It had acquired additional defensive turrets and backup shield emitters. Plus, solid hinged plates with reflective coating had appeared.
The first floor had also undergone changes. Now it was a spacious lounge in which two lines of combat droids stood on the left and right, and a deactivated "PLAK" hung right on the ceiling. A heavy assault droid with four legs, a shield generator, a rapid-fire small-caliber blaster in one hand, a heavy one in the other, and a pack of unguided rockets to boot. A serious machine.
"You guys made a class 'chandelier', though," stopping, I comment on the machine.
"After your death we got a thing about security."
"It shows."
Passing further, to the corridor, Warren couldn't restrain himself:
"Shade, maybe now you'll tell how you managed to cheat death?"
"Terra's followers helped. They were the ones who wanted to meet me then, but we missed each other very unsuccessfully. Later they were the ones who pulled me out, substituting the body and samples for DNA determination. My death calmed the employer and secured all of you."
"But couldn't it have been otherwise?"
"No. There are many reasons for that. Really many, Warren. For example, did you find the employer who sent for my head?"
"No..."
"But the Terrans found him."
"And who is it?"
"Damask."
"That dirty son of a mud-scuttler!"
"Steady, brother. We'll deal with him, but later. The primary reason lies in the fact that you couldn't help me, but wouldn't have given me up to random outsiders either. And those same outsiders can't be found out in any way."
"As if we're distinguished by talkativeness!"
"You might not be. But someone in TNC—is. And that someone would most likely have blabbed everything they know. I asked you not to initiate anyone for a reason, after all."
"I know there are moles among the civilians, but... on the top?!"
I nod.
"And you know who it is?"
"I suspect."
"Who?! Who is that bastard???"
"Wait. First I want to make sure, and not jump the gun too early. Maybe I'm wrong. Zero is whole, by the way?"
"Yes. He's in your office."
"Good. And now another question—why do I feel two Unifying Force adepts in the residential block? And related ones at that?" here we approached the elevator, and I glanced at the Mandalorian.
"Oh f*ck, you don't know!"
"About what?" I tense, already anticipating the answer, but stubbornly refusing to believe in it. At this, from behind my shoulder, Mom slo-o-o-owly peered out.
"You have children, after all."
"... I have—Who?!"
"Children. Three days have passed since Talia was discharged from the med wing."
"..."
"Two twins. Talia named them Phobos and Deimos, according to some book there, I didn't delve. She took your loss very hard, and hoped they would continue their father's cause."
"..."
"We hid it carefully; no one knows even that she was pregnant. Given that your company by law should pass specifically to the heir, and we don't trust Damask, we did everything we could for their benefit."
"..."
"Talia herself is fine, and is recovering quite quickly."
"..."
"How are you?"
"..." How? Standing, absorbing it, that's how! How did I miss this altogether?! Though... if the term was too short, I could easily have not distinguished the child's aura from the mother's...
"Shade?"
"It seems my son is in a slight thoughtfulness," Mom interjected, standing between us. Here the elevator doors opened. "We aren't acquainted, but I've watched you very carefully, Warren. I am Aala, Shade's mother. Glad to finally meet you."
That was it. Now there were two clients. The shock the Mandalorian experienced helped me recover.
"Shade, you know, probably go to her yourself. And we will wait in the lounge, talk, discuss business..." Mom began, turning Warren away.
"Alright... Thanks, Mom."
On that they turned around, and Mom led Warren aside. The escort also followed them, as soon as I looked at them. As soon as the people vanished behind the turn, I enter the elevator.
"One thing after another," I sigh heavily, rubbing the mask.
I didn't descend to the residential block immediately. Lingering in the office center, I walk to my office.
Click! said the switch. Lights turned on, illuminating the workplace.
"Amusing... almost nothing has changed," the thought comes, upon a quick inspection of the premises.
"Zero, where are you?"
From the ceiling right onto the desk plopped my little octopus and stared intently at me with his sensor. Threateningly, I'd even say.
"Identify yourself," the droid demanded.
"Authorization code—The Last Tythonian," I say in the native language.
"Accepted," the droid immediately responded. Soaring, the little guy describes a small arc and lands precisely on the outstretched hand, by which he crawls onto the shoulder. "Welcome back, Master."
"Good to see you too. Missed me?" I flick the droid's camera lightly.
"Negative," came the immediate reply. "And I am not a DUM droid."
"Tch. You're a bucket with tentacles," I'm indignant, looking askance at the droid. "You could, for decency's sake, be happy for me."
В ответ the little rascal only tilted his head, as if asking: "What?".
"Oh, whatever. Are my notes with you?"
"Affirmative!"
"Splendid."
I approach the shelf where my swords were carefully kept. Removing them, I feel the weapons pleasantly warming my hands. Unlike others' swords, mine practically fawned and responded in the Force almost faster than I could address them.
Putting the weapons on my belt, where others' swords already hung, by the way I'll have to return them, I pass further where my old helmet stood on a pedestal. Removing it, I run a finger over the cracks on the visor, feel the hole in the cheek area and the chips. Right... remembering how the fragment flew in, I jerk my head slightly. The doctors fixed everything, but sometimes phantom pains appear now and then.
It was interesting that the helmet was also cared for and even had a separate stand made. Putting it back, I walk to the desk. There, in a neat frame, stood the photograph Zero took of Talia and me kissing.
"Zero, you watched Talia, right?" I ask, taking the photo in my hands.
"Affirmative."
"What was Talia's emotional state after my death?"
"Emotional instability. Depression. Melancholy. Emotional breakdowns were observed, expressed in increased aggression."
At this, the droid began projecting the most vivid examples from memory before me right in the air.
"That's enough," I stop the little guy. "Thank you, Zero."
"Beep-beep."
"Come, let's visit her."
Leaving the offices, I descend to the residential block. There, orienting by the Force... which led me to my own room, I unlock the door and go inside. Carefully placing my foot, not making a sound, I walk in the semi-darkness to the bedroom. Opening the doors slightly, I peer inside. There were significant changes here already. From the closets to the nightstand. Especially striking is the child's crib not far from the bed.
On the bed itself, curled into a ball, Talia was sleeping. Removing the droid from my shoulder, I leave him on a small table with a mirror, and myself pass by Talia and peer into the crib. Wow... the twins are very similar to me. Lekku were absent on the head, but there was hair. My skin color, my recognizable pigments. Но the nose and lips were clearly from the mother. Leaning on it, I take off the mask and just survey the children. My children.
Feeling my presence, the children stirred. Running my fingers through one's hair, then over the other's cheek, I push a wave of calm.
"Sleep peacefully, Papa's back."
Leaving the helmet-mask on the nightstand, I sit on the bed. Curled into a ball, Talia was hugging a pillow, which caused a fit of cuteness. Hadiya loved to sleep exactly like that in my absence.
"Don't worry, Sun. I don't blame you for anything," I whisper. Leaning over, I kiss the girl, instilling peace.
From contemplating the girl, I was distracted by an empty stomach making itself known.
"I'm going to finally lose weight with all of you," I grumble to myself rising. However, here a thought was born of a small prank which was immediately put into execution. And at the same time we'll see the reaction...
***
Talia
"Eeeee," stretching sweetly, I roll onto my tummy.
"So good... haven't slept like this in a long time," the thoughts come.
But then I notice something strange. Why is it so quiet? A feeling of anxiety rolled over in a sharp wave. Jumping up, I turn on the nightlight and crawl to the edge, peering into the crib. No, everything's fine, they're sleeping. Um... did I wake up early?
Looking at the time, I'm even more surprised. No, it's already time; they should have woken up. Strange. Crossing my legs, I sit on the bed, and here the helmet lying on the nightstand catches my eye.
"What is this?" I frown, surveying the item. Looks like a Mandalorian one, but too many differences. "Where did it come from here? What kind of jokes?" I begin to boil. "Someone is definitely going to get it from me for such jokes. I personally forbade everyone to enter here without exception!" I growl to myself. Lowering my legs to the floor, I'm about to go out and arrange a scolding with this very helmet, when suddenly I see Zero sitting on the table.
"Where did you come from too?!" I hiss angrily, approaching the droid. "I personally locked you in the office!"
The droid didn't answer, only blinked its sensor. Grabbing him, I open the doors and throw him into the corridor like a ball. Completely emboldened, he puts his sensor everywhere! Had enough.
Already turning around to dress, I freeze mid-step. Through the open door the sizzling of a frying pan reached me, and a pleasant aroma of fragrant herbs reached my nose. Slowly turning around, just like that, barefoot, in my underwear and a tank top, I walk slowly to the kitchen. And having opened the ajar door, I refuse to believe my own eyes.
HE was standing at the stove and cooking something, checking an open tablet. Dropping the helmet, in shock I lean against the doorframe. My heart was ready to burst out, all thoughts were swept from my head, and my legs treacherously went limp.
"Good morning, Sun," he turned, showing his smile. "And I'm... making a surprise here."
Leaving the cooking, he approached me, not letting me slide to the floor.
"Sha... de? Is it... you?"
"Uh-huh. What, I'm not welcome?" he arched his brows. "Eh... alright then, I'll go back into the Force."
"NO!" I didn't understand myself how I clung to him. The thought that he would suddenly disappear again flashed faster than lightning. Tears appeared in my eyes; my hands shook. Alive... Alive!!!
"Good to see you too," I am carefully hugged.
Forces, gods, whoever is there. Thank you! Thank you...
"Sorry I had to leave you."
"Alive..." lifting my tearful eyes, I look into his face. "Alive..."
"Uh-huh," placing a palm on my cheek, he brushed away a tear. "And healthy. I've returned, Sun."
Rising slightly, in a burst of emotions I kiss him. And breaking the kiss, I stand and hug him. I only came to my senses when I heard a child's crying from behind my back.
"Ah... you..." I turn around distractedly, but Shade answered faster than thoughts words laid on the tongue.
"Yes, I saw them. Classy kids, and strong."
"Like you," smiling, I place a palm on his chest. "I'll be right back."
"Of course, run along."
Reluctantly releasing him from the hug, I run into the room. On the dresser a communicator was glowing, notifying of a message. Well, now it's clear why they woke up. Turning on the light, I approach the crib.
"Woke up, woke up my good ones, you want to eat. Now, endure just a bit, Mommy will do everything, just see who needs what so early," I say, reaching for the communicator.
But no sooner had I read the message than the device falls to the floor. My hands themselves reached for the nightstand where a pistol and a knife were hidden. My heart began to calm, and my thoughts cleared, becoming logically verified and consistent.
"Need to execute the order..." a clear task stood.
I was distracted from the weapon by the crying. Turning, I look at the interference...
"Children... I remember... my children... Their father has returned... Shade."
A short bright flash of his face made me stop mid-step, as if hitting a wall.
"What's... with me?" puzzlement comes, as goosebumps run down my back, and my hands get sweaty. Lifting them, I look at the trembling pistol. My breathing for some reason hitched, and a lump rose to my throat. And here, with a new burst of child's crying, it's as if I'm switched.
"Shade! He... he's..."
Recoiling, I regain control over my body.
"He's in the kitchen now... he's returned... returned to me... need to kill him. No! Can't!"
The children begin to cry louder and louder. They are interfering. Thoughts of eliminating the interference are replaced by taking them hostage, or using them as bait. In the next room there is hidden gear... explosives. Can use them.
"NO!" I recoil from the nursery like from fire. "Can't... Shade... children... can't... but the task... must... be... executed..." the thoughts race. I feel tears flow down my cheeks, and a taste of blood is felt on my tongue.
"The target suspects nothing... need to take advantage. There is also the reactor. Can blow it up..."
A new flash before my eyes made me recoil. Grabbing my head, I groan. My brain was just leaking out of my ears; my body wouldn't obey. Pressing the back of my hand to my nose, I see blood on it.
"Don't want to... don't want to... I remember... I remember everything..." Staggering away to the wall, I bang my head. Doesn't help; it only got even worse. Visions flooded one after another. The body wouldn't obey... I have no choice... no choice... no choice...
"TALIA!" Shade's shout reached me, breaking through the veil of madness.
Looking into the passage, I encounter his worried gaze.
"Don't come near!" my trembling hands aimed the pistol themselves.
The understanding that I wouldn't be able to stop the trigger pull came almost faster than I bring the muzzle to my chin.
"I remembered... I remembered everything..."
"Forgive me..." I manage to say, and my hands fire the shot themselves.
And then, the unimaginable happened. I didn't understand myself how I ended up pinned to the wall. Shade was squeezing my hand with the weapon, and standing right in front of me.
"Talia. Look into my eyes. Hear my voice. This isn't you. You, the real you, don't want me ill. You want to take yourself in hand. You are strong. You know it. Believe in yourself."
Every word of his carried relief. The spring wound up inside relaxed. Dropping the pistol, it was as if I'd woken up. Shaking my head, I look at him with a new gaze, then at the crib, and here it begins to dawn on me what I almost just did.
Before the hysteria could set in, I'm hugged and my head is stroked.
"There, Sun... there, you managed... I didn't doubt you. Everything's fine..."
"But I... I... sniff. Almost..."
"I know, dear, I know everything."
"Know what?"
"Your past. And I don't blame you for anything."
"But you don't understand! I... I didn't control myself! This isn't a disease! I'm... I'm scared... Forgive me, Shade."
"Steady, calm down, dear. Everything will be fine. We'll find the one who did this, and ask for help with the treatment. Well and if you suddenly start losing control again, know that I'm nearby, and will always help."
Despite Shade instilling a feeling of calm in me, the hysteria won. Bursting into tears, I buried myself in his chest, talking about how I hate all this. I spoke everything that had accumulated, and he continued to listen and comfort me.
"I'm a slave, after all... I was one, and remained one. A cur on a leash. I remembered... the program. And you hate slaves! Why didn't you let me die? I almost..."
"Shhh," my mouth was closed with a finger. "Enough. In the end I have a different opinion. For you fought. Despite everything, you tried to resist the suggestion. And you succeeded. Far from many are capable of that, and is that not the best proof of your will? So don't exhaust yourself. I promise, we'll sort this out. The main thing, don't lose your head and don't pick up the communicator anymore. I've broken the program, but if it suddenly tries to manifest itself—you'll be looked after."
"By Mandalorians?" I snort.
"On the contrary. Someone more terrifying. Но you don't need to fear them; they're our own. Now let's wipe the tears, feed the children and have breakfast ourselves. I plan to sort this out as quickly as possible. Don't worry, Sun. I promise, everything will be fine. Believe me?"
"Uh-huh. Forgive me..."
Here, the front doors are almost broken through, and Mandalorians fly into the corridor. I no longer had the strength to react somehow. Looking at us, the whole group freezes.
"We... detected a shot," a nearby fighter explained slightly sluggishly, lowering his barrel.
"I figured as much," Shade nodded, pressing me to him. "It was an accident. For reaction and situation assessment—grade A. For promptness—grade F, took too long!"
"Guilty!"
"Dismissed," Shade waved them off.
"Yes, sir!"
When the Mandalorians left us alone, Shade kissed my forehead.
"The children!" I jerk, when I notice they aren't crying. My soul itself jumped out of my body at the mere thought that I myself...
"Steady, steady, no need to panic so much," Shade immediately rebuked me. "I just calmed them down," taking my waist, he led me to the crib. Phobos and Deimos were lying, fingering their toys and smiling, looking at us. "Right, guys?"
"Shade..." I exhale with unprecedented relief. Turning around, I press against his chest. It was as if a stone had fallen from my heart. Never had it been so calm...
***
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