Location: Interstellar space, ancient station
Time: 13 BBY
Alex had been studying the data obtained from the dead planet's fort for three days straight. Among the technical schematics and maps, he found something interesting – the coordinates of an object designated as "communication node-1487742". The coordinates pointed not to a planetary system, but to a point in the void between stars.
"Where are we?" Verena asked when the ship emerged from hyperspace into absolute emptiness between the stars.
"In interstellar space," Alex replied, studying the sensor readings. "But there's something here."
Indeed, the sensors showed a massive structure drifting in the cosmic void. The nearest stars were just distant points of light, cold and indifferent.
"A relay station, one of the fifty million that were once built," Alex said, approaching the object. "But this station is unique. It's not just a hypercomm station, but also a surveillance hub."
As they approached, the details of the construction became visible. The station was a complex system of concentric rings connected by elegant bridges and walkways. Crystal antennas, once shining brightly, now faintly flickered in the darkness of space.
"Did the Rakata build this?" Verena asked, but her voice held uncertainty. Something about the station's appearance inspired primal fear.
Alex shook his head, studying the construction through the visors.
"Most likely. Maybe someone before them. I can say with certainty that it wasn't the Republic. The Republic was too corrupt and chaotic throughout its history to fund such large-scale projects. What do you think, why is there no communication in the Unknown Regions?"
"I don't know..."
"Perhaps because the builders of this network didn't reach every corner of the galaxy. They just didn't have time." He pointed to the characteristic crystal antennas. "This is a station of the ancients. And not just this one. Large nodes in systems have long since been replaced with their own, but intermediate ones like this are too expensive to build anew. And it's practically impossible to determine the station's location in interstellar space without knowing the exact coordinates."
They docked at one of the outer hangars. The docking bay opened easily – as if tens of thousands of years had passed. The station's systems were active, but operating in standby mode. Inside, there was a semi-darkness of emergency lighting – reddish streaks of light along the walls created a oppressive atmosphere.
"Over twenty-five thousand years," Verena whispered, looking at the glowing symbols on the walls. "And it's still working."
There was no air on the station. They moved in spacesuits through corridors where life once bustled. The walls were covered with Rakata writings – not only official designations, but also personal notes, graffiti, last messages. Alex couldn't read them, but he felt despair in them.
The first signs of tragedy they discovered within minutes of travel. In one of the corridors lay remains – not human, but belonging to various species. The Rakata used slaves from dozens of worlds. Bones were scattered chaotically, many showing signs of violent death.
"What happened here?" Verena whispered.
"The same as everywhere in their empire," Alex replied grimly. "Collapse. But here... here they were trapped."
The central sections of the station told a story of slow agony. In the living quarters, they found more and more remains. Entire Rakata families lay in their apartments – some skeletons seemed to be holding hands, others clutched weapons. Many had committed suicide, unable to bear what was happening.
"Look at this," Alex pointed to a wall covered in symbols. Even without understanding the language, one could distinguish repeating signs – perhaps names or prayers.
In one of the halls, they discovered a mass grave. Hundreds of bodies were laid out in neat rows – someone had tried to preserve dignity even in death. But in the adjacent hall, the scene was different: signs of a fierce battle, scattered remains, walls melted by energy weapons.
"They fought among themselves," Verena said, examining the damage.
"For resources," Alex nodded. "When it became clear that there would be no help, it was a war of all against all."
They moved deeper into the station. The corridors became more ominous. The walls were covered with strange drawings – perhaps they were made in the last days, when the minds of the station's inhabitants were clouded by despair. The images showed Rakata reaching out to the stars. But the stars had fallen silent for them.
In one of the technical compartments, Alex discovered something particularly grim – the remains of children. Little Rakata who never knew what their empire was like in its days of glory.
"How many were here?" Verena asked.
"Judging by the size of the station... thousands. Maybe tens of thousands, if you count the slaves."
The control center was a huge spherical hall with consoles located on different levels. But here too, death had left its mark. Mummified remains of operators sat at the control panels – they had died at their posts, continuing to work until the end.
Alex set up his equipment next to the ancient consoles. The portable transmission module for the computing cluster – a significantly improved system into which he had invested five hundred thousand credits – looked out of place among the ancient technologies.
"They kept working even when everything was over," he said, looking at the operator's remains. "Maintaining communication for an empire that no longer existed."
The work took a whole week. And each day brought new horrifying discoveries.
The station's archives preserved records from the last years. Alex managed to reconstruct the chronology of the catastrophe. First, the Rakata began to lose their connection to the Force – gradually, but inexorably. Technology powered by the Force began to malfunction. Then it failed completely.
"Listen to this," Alex said, playing one of the recordings.
The Rakata's voice sounded distorted through the ancient speakers, but the despair in it was understandable without translation. Alex turned on the automatic translator:
"Day 847 since the beginning of the Fading. The communication crystals no longer respond to my commands. I tried to meditate, as I was taught in childhood, but the Force... the Force is silent. As if our creators have abandoned us."
The next recording was made a few months later:
"We have sent over four hundred and twelve messages asking for help. Not a single response. Even the automatic systems on Lehon are not responding. Are we alone in the entire galaxy?"
Alex fast-forwarded to later recordings:
"We finally got a response! The station in the Corus sector reports that this is happening everywhere. Central command has collapsed. Each system is on its own. There's no help to expect."
"Can you imagine what they felt?" Verena said. "Rulers of the galaxy, and suddenly... nothing."
"Worse," Alex replied. "They knew their empire was built on slavery. When the Rakata weakened, the slaves began to revolt."
The surveillance camera recordings told the story of slow decay. At first, order was still maintained – the Rakata tried to organize the station's work without using the Force. But there were too few of them, and too many slaves.
The first riots began a year after the start of the "Fading." Human slaves and representatives of other species realized that their masters were no longer all-powerful. The revolts were brutally suppressed – the recordings showed mass executions in the station's docks.
But the Rakata grew weaker. Their technologies failed one by one. Life support systems worked worse and worse. Food synthesizers broke down, and there was no one to fix them.
"Look at this recording," Alex pointed to the screen. "Date – five years after the crisis began."
The recording showed a group of Rakata storming a food warehouse. They fought with other Rakata, using primitive weapons – the energy systems no longer worked. The former rulers of the galaxy fought for the last scraps of food like savages.
"And what happened to the slaves?"
"Most died in the first few years," Alex replied, reviewing the recordings. "The Rakata killed them to save resources. But some survived."
One of the recordings showed a group of humans barricaded in a technical compartment. They held out for several years, eating what they could find in the abandoned sections. But in the end, hunger took its toll.
The latest recordings dated from a century and a half after the catastrophe began. The last Rakata – no more than a dozen – were still living on the station. They had become wild, turning into something like animals. They fought for every piece of food, every sip of water.
"The last recording," Alex said, playing the file.
A lone Rakata appeared on the screen, sitting in the control center, which was isolated from the rest of the station. He was old and emaciated, his once proud posture broken by years of suffering. The Rakata said something in his language, and the translator displayed the text:
"I am the Last. All others have passed into Shadow. The station still breathes – the ancient mechanisms are loyal, unlike the creatures that will replace us. But soon my breath will also cease. No one came. No one remembers. We held our star roads in our hands, and now... now we are but dust in the wind of oblivion."
The Rakata fell silent, staring into the void. Then he slowly stood up and left the frame. There were no more recordings.
"A century and a half," Verena whispered. "They held out for a century and a half in this hell."
"And no one came," Alex added. "Their empire simply forgot this station existed."
They were silent, struck by the scale of the tragedy. Thousands of sentient beings had died here in agony, forgotten by all.
"What if our civilization ends up the same way?" Verena asked quietly.
Alex looked at the remains of one of the operators, still sitting at his console.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But at least we'll fight. These Rakata were just waiting for help that never came."
"And what if our help doesn't come either?"
"Then we'll die fighting. It's better than dying waiting."
Alex continued to work with the ancient systems. The Rakata systems reacted to the presence of the Force, even one as weak as Alex's.
"What irony," he said, gaining access to the station's main files. "I have more rights in the Rakata system than the Rakata themselves had in recent years."
"I wonder why they lost their connection to the Force?" Verena asked. "What happened?"
"I don't know yet," Alex replied, studying the data. "The records mention some kind of 'Fading,' but there are no details. Perhaps it was natural evolution. Or maybe someone or something deprived them of this ability."
He found mentions of other stations, other worlds, where the same thing was happening. The Rakata were losing their connection to the Force across the galaxy simultaneously. As if someone had flipped a switch.
"It's terrifying to think that such a powerful civilization could disappear so quickly," Verena said.
"Quickly?" Alex looked at her. "Their agony lasted for centuries. They died slowly, in suffering, their own and their slaves'. This isn't a quick death – it's a slow fading."
The work continued. Alex was restoring ancient communication protocols, adapting them for modern needs. The station still functioned as a galactic network hub – millions of messages passed through it every day. Modern civilization was using the infrastructure of the ancients without even realizing it.
"Look at the traffic volume," Alex said on the fourth day, when he finally managed to connect to the data streams.
The cluster screen displayed data streams – quadrillions of signals simultaneously passing through the station.
"This is all galactic communication," Verena realized. "The HoloNet, interstellar calls, government channels..."
He managed to connect to the communication protocols and created special cloaking algorithms that allowed him to use existing communication channels without attracting the Empire's attention. The work was complex – it was necessary not only to gain access but also to hide the traces of interference.
"Someone must understand how this works?" Verena asked. "Someone adapted the ancient network for modern use."
Alex pondered, recalling his years of study at KTI.
"I don't know for sure, but many professors knew much more than they said. Associate Professor Well always dodged direct answers to certain questions." He paused. "The corporations definitely know. Maybe the Emperor and the government leadership too."
By the end of the week, Alex had created a secure communication channel. But working surrounded by the dead was difficult. Every day they found new evidence of the tragedy. In the personal quarters of the Rakata, records were preserved – diaries, letters, last messages.
One entry particularly shocked Verena:
"My daughter asks why the creators no longer hear our prayers. What can I tell her? That we perhaps were never worthy of their attention? That our empire was built on blood and suffering, and now the time for reckoning has come?"
"They understood," she said. "In the end, they understood that they deserved their fate."
"Not all," Alex countered. "Many blamed the slaves, the circumstances, the gods – anyone but themselves, to the very end."
He showed her another entry:
"The slaves have rebelled again. Ungrateful creatures! We gave them civilization, raised them from a primitive state, and they respond with betrayal. If the creators hadn't abandoned us, we would have shown them their place!"
"Even in the face of death, they couldn't admit the truth," Verena said.
"As do many sentient beings who do evil," Alex remarked grimly. "They also believe they are bringing order and civilization to the galaxy."
"From now on, we'll use our advantage cautiously," Alex replied. "Now I have access to the Empire's communication protocols. We need a secure connection. Perhaps in the future, I'll be able to connect to government channels and listen to them. That's enough to always be one step ahead."
Before leaving, they walked through the station one more time. In the control center, Alex stopped near the remains of the last operator.
"Do you think he knew that the station would work for thousands of years after his death?" Verena asked.
"I don't know. But he kept working until the end. That means something."
Alex placed a small memorial beacon near the control panel. It bore a simple inscription in Galactic Basic: "Here rest the last operators of the communication station. They performed their duty to the end."
"Why are you doing this?" Verena asked. "They were oppressors, slave owners."
"Yes, they were. But I feel respect for the fact that they worked until the end, with no hope of salvation. They suffered, loved, hoped. That deserves remembrance, even if their deeds were terrible. And you know, I once dealt with a neuro-interface... Perhaps they were victims too. Such devotion... it's unnatural."
They left the station, leaving it in the eternal silence of space. The ancient structure continued its work, relaying signals across the galaxy. The last words of the Rakata still echoed in their memory: "We held our star roads in our hands, and now... now we are but dust in the wind of oblivion."
A lesson that could not be forgotten.
Before leaving, Alex, as usual, copied the entire contents of the station's computers into his computational cluster. The data mass was enormous – archives spanning thousands of years of operation, technical schematics, maps, personal records. Analytical programs began methodically extracting the desired information from this ocean of ancient knowledge.
"Not the data flowing through the communication station," he explained to Verena, observing the analysis process, "but the archives of the base itself. The history of the Rakata, their technologies, coordinates of other objects."
After several hours of flight, the programs produced results. Among other things, the coordinates of several dozen objects were found – factories, bases, research stations. Most of the coordinates pointed to long-known systems, but one attracted Alex's special attention.
"Valorin," he read the planet's name on the screen. "The computer correlated various data and determined that one of the Rakata production bases was located there."
Alex frowned, recalling.
"Valorin... I think I've heard that name. During the Clone Wars, something flashed in the news. Some stubborn separatists caused a lot of trouble for the Republic. And in the early years of the Empire, there was something too, but then the information disappeared."
He accessed the HoloNet database, but the results were more than meager. There were practically no official records of Valorin – only fragmented mentions in old wartime news reports.
"Strange," Alex muttered, delving deeper into the search. "The planet seems to have disappeared from all databases."
Finally, he found a few sources – refugee testimonies on little-known forums, records made by traders. The picture that emerged was grim: the planet had been bombed. Completely. But there were no details – as if someone had methodically scrubbed all information.
"We need to fly there," Alex said decisively. "If there really was a Rakata base there, it could be important."
Exiting hyperspace in the Valorin system made a depressing impression on them. The planet, once a thriving world, now appeared as a gray-brown sphere shrouded in dense clouds of ash and smoke.
"The Force..." Verena whispered, looking at the sensor data. "What happened here?"
Alex studied the sensor readings. Traces of turbolaser bombardment were everywhere – characteristic craters, melted surface areas, entire continents turned to glass. The scale of destruction was staggering.
"Orbital bombardment," he stated grimly. "And a massive one. An entire fleet of Star Destroyers worked here."
The planet's atmosphere was poisoned by combustion products. The nuclear winter, caused by the ash lifted into the air, had turned the once temperate climate into an icy hell. The surface temperature was significantly below normal.
Alex accessed his database, finding more detailed information about Valorin.
"Wow," he exclaimed in surprise. "It turns out this planet played a leading role in the sector! A major industrial center, over two billion inhabitants, developed infrastructure."
"And the Empire simply erased all information about it," Verena realized. "As if the planet never existed."
"An impressive data scrubbing job," Alex agreed. "It would require significant resources to so thoroughly remove all mentions from the galactic network."
He looked at the ruined planet with sadness.
"It's unlikely we'll find a production complex here, considering that most of the planet has been turned to glass. But..."
Alex pondered, looking at the sensor readings.
"Do you think anyone is still alive here?" he asked. "Let's check."
He tuned the transmitter to planetary frequencies and sent a simple message:
"Can anyone hear me? This is a trading vessel. If anyone needs help, respond."
The message went out into the ether, dissolving into the radio silence of the dead planet. They waited for a response, looking at a world that once teemed with life, and now represented only a monument to cruelty.