Location: Unknown Planet
Time: 3 BBY
The planet appeared on the screens as a greenish-blue pearl, surrounded by three small moons. In the light of its local star, it shimmered with shades of emerald and sapphire, like a precious stone in the velvet blackness of space. There were no signs of technological civilization—no orbital stations, no communication satellites, not even primitive radio signals. Only the planet's natural electromagnetic field and weak bursts of activity characteristic of a living world.
Sensors showed a rich oxygen atmosphere with an ideal gas ratio, vast oceans the color of the sea, and continents covered with dense forests and endless plains. Snow-white clouds drifted lazily in the atmosphere, creating whimsical patterns over the landmasses. Even through the cold electronics of the instruments, it felt like this world breathed with life.
"A beautiful world," Verena remarked, leaning over the console and studying the instrument readings. Her blue skin seemed almost silver in the monitor light, and her leku swayed gracefully with every head movement. "Why isn't it inhabited?"
"Someone went to great lengths to hide it."
Alex carefully looked at the scan data, his dark eyes reflecting the numbers and graphs from the screens. The planet was indeed ideal for life—a temperate climate without extreme temperature fluctuations, no dangerous radiation, stable geology with no signs of volcanic activity or tectonic catastrophes. Gravity was 0.98 standard, making the world comfortable for almost any humanoid race. Such worlds usually became centers of civilization or at least important trading hubs on hyperspace routes.
But this one was lost in a remote region of the Mid-Rim, far from major trade routes and political centers. It was not marked on star charts. Even in the Rakatan database, it was noted only as an unnamed point with coordinates, one of millions cataloged but unexplored planets.
"Too far from everything," he replied, though he knew the real reason. In the ancient Rakatan records he had studied in secret archives, this world was mentioned under a codename as one of the "research worlds"—planets the Infinite Empire used for special experiments. This planet was one of them, and its isolation was not an accident but a carefully planned precaution.
"Take the controls," Alex asked, unbuckling his pilot's seat. "Find us a good landing spot. I think we can rest a bit in a beautiful place."
Verena slid into the pilot's seat, and Alex was again amazed at how naturally she handled the ship. Her hands seemed to know where the right switches were, reacting to changes in atmospheric currents. It was more like a dance than piloting.
The "Wanderer"—their heavily modified YT-1300—was not known for its aerodynamic qualities. Its angular hull was designed for space flight, not for graceful gliding in the atmosphere. But under Verena's hands, even this clumsy freighter moved with surprising grace.
"Over there," she pointed to a holographic map where a green dot glowed at the foot of a picturesque mountain range. "A crystal-clear mountain lake, wooded hills. An ideal place for... rest."
The ship gently entered the atmosphere under her control. Clouds drifted past the windows, then the tops of mountains covered with dark green vegetation appeared. The air here was so clean that visibility extended to the horizon—a rarity for inhabited worlds in the galaxy.
"Magnificent work," Alex praised, watching Verena level the ship for landing. The "Wanderer's" repulsorlift engines kicked up a cloud of dust and leaves, but the landing was perfectly soft.
The lake turned out to be even more beautiful than the scanners had shown. Its mirror-like surface reflected the surrounding mountains and sky, creating an illusion of infinite depth. The shores were covered with large, sprawling trees, their long branches touching the water.
Alex activated the cloaking systems—holographic projectors and sensor reflectors created the illusion of a normal rock formation. Now, from orbit, the vessel was indistinguishable from natural geological formations.
"We're not in a hurry," he said, looking out the window at the idyllic landscape. The sun was setting, painting the sky in warm shades of gold and pink. "A few days of rest won't hurt."
Verena looked at him in surprise—Alex was usually completely focused on the mission and didn't waste time on entertainment or rest. Every stop had a practical purpose, every day was scheduled with chronometer precision. But the beauty of this place was truly captivating, and his voice carried a weariness he usually carefully concealed.
"You're right," she agreed, walking up to him and hugging his shoulders. "When was the last time we just enjoyed life?"
They got out of the ship, and Verena immediately took a deep breath. The air was so clean and fresh that every breath brought a sense of renewal. On Ryloth, her homeworld, the atmosphere was heavy and dusty, but here it felt like breathing life itself.
"Listen," she whispered, freezing.
Alex listened. An amazing silence reigned around them, broken only by the lapping of water against the shore and the rustling of leaves in the wind. No sounds of technology, transport, or urban bustle—only the natural sounds of a living world.
They spent the first day simply enjoying the peace and beauty of the surrounding nature. They swam in the warm waters of the lake, the temperature of which was ideal—cool enough to refresh, but not so cold as to cause discomfort. The water was so clear that the bottom was visible at a depth of tens of meters.
Alex swam beside her, admiring how the water flowed over her blue skin, how the sun's rays played on her wet leku. In moments like these, the whole world seemed simple and understandable—just the two of them in this paradise, far from the complexities of galactic politics.
In the evening, they built a campfire on the lake shore. He found dry branches of local trees, which burned with a steady yellow flame, emitting a pleasant aroma reminiscent of a mixture of sandalwood and pine. Verena settled next to him on the soft grass, leaning against his shoulder.
The sunset was truly magnificent. The sun slowly descended behind the mountain range, painting the sky in incredible shades—from soft pink to deep purple. The clouds turned into golden feathers scattered across the celestial vault. The planet's three moons were already appearing in the darkening sky—one silvery, another with a bluish tint, the third almost golden.
"Sometimes you forget how beautiful the galaxy can be," Verena said, watching the first stars appear above the horizon. Her voice sounded dreamy, with a hint of sadness. "On Nar Shaddaa and Coruscant, the sky is always hidden by smog and light pollution. But here..."
"Here you can see what the world was originally intended to be," Alex finished.
They sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the firewood and the gentle lapping of the waves. Somewhere in the forest, night sounds could be heard—not threatening, but rather soothing, like nature's own lullaby. Alex felt the tension of the past months slowly leaving his body.
They made love under the starry sky, on the soft grass by the lake shore, forgetting for a time about the dark secrets of the galaxy and the coming trials. The stars watched them from above, and the three moons illuminated their bodies with a soft, almost magical light. In moments like these, it seemed possible to just stay here forever, build a home by the lake, live a simple life far from wars, conspiracies, and ancient horrors.
But Alex knew that peace was another illusion. This world had its own problems and mysteries. But he was interested in only one, which had precise coordinates.
On the morning of the second day, Alex launched reconnaissance droids to study the local fauna and flora. Small, insect-sized devices were virtually undetectable and could observe without disturbing the natural course of life. What they discovered confirmed his assumptions about the unusual nature of this world.
The planet was inhabited not only by animals and plants. Scanners detected several intelligent species living in various climatic zones. Humans controlled fertile river valleys; their settlements were fortified villages with a technological level corresponding to the late Bronze Age.
In the mountainous regions lived a race that Alex initially mistook for Twi'leks. The resemblance was striking—humanoid physique, characteristic growths on the head. But upon closer inspection, the differences became obvious. These creatures had significantly shorter and thicker leku, covered not with smooth skin but with fine scales that shimmered in the sunlight.
But the most surprising discovery awaited in the forest masses. There lived a race that truly resembled Twi'leks—tall, graceful beings with long leku and elegant movements. They lived in harmony with the forest, building their settlements in trees.
The droids recorded how these forest Twi'leks moved through the crowns with incredible coordination, jumping from branch to branch at heights of tens of meters. Their movements were so smooth and precise that they seemed almost supernatural. They hunted with bows, their arrows never missing.
"Amazing," Alex mused that evening of the second day, studying the droid recordings on a portable screen. "Three intelligent species on one planet. That's an extremely rare phenomenon."
"Perhaps we should try to contact them?" Verena suggested, looking with interest at the images of the forest dwellers. "Especially those in the forest. They look so much like..."
"You," Alex finished. "Yes, the resemblance is striking. But we won't interfere in their lives. Let them develop naturally. Our intervention could destroy their lives. Let them remain in their balance. They know how to live without galactic civilization, an advantage in our time."
On the third day, he began preparations for an expedition into the mountains. Alex carefully studied the topographic maps compiled by the droids and planned a route to the presumed location of the Rakatan base. According to ancient records, the research complex was supposed to be in one of the remote mountain ranges.
"I'm going with you," Verena stated unequivocally, watching him pack.
Alex wanted to object, but he saw the determination in her eyes. He knew that look—when Verena made up her mind, it was almost impossible to change it.
"All right," he agreed. "But we proceed cautiously and by my rules."
On the morning of the fourth day, they set off. The journey to the mountains took a full day of cautious movement. They avoided paths and places where they might encounter locals, making their way through dense forests and rocky slopes. The cloaking systems made them virtually invisible, but they preferred not to take risks. For safety, they were accompanied by an IG-88, Alex's favorite model.
The vegetation gradually changed as they ascended. Deciduous trees gave way to conifers, and those, in turn, to low-lying shrubs. The air became thin and cold, despite the bright sun.
By evening, they reached the first foothills of the mountain range, where, according to Rakatan records, the base should have been. Alex set up a temporary camp in a small cave, protected from the wind and prying eyes.
The following days blurred into a monotonous sequence of ascents, descents, and meticulous searches. The mountains turned out to be more complex and dangerous than the ancient maps showed. Over the millennia, geological processes had altered the terrain—glaciers had carved new valleys, earthquakes had brought down rock walls, erosion had smoothed sharp peaks.
Verena proved indispensable. Her intuitive sense of direction helped find passages in seemingly insurmountable rock labyrinths. She moved along mountain trails with the same grace with which she piloted the ship, as if feeling every stone under her feet.
On the seventh day of searching, they stumbled upon traces of an ancient road—barely visible remnants of stone masonry, almost completely hidden under a layer of earth and vegetation. The road led deep into the mountains, to one of the most inaccessible peaks.
They cautiously followed this ancient path. Sometimes it completely disappeared under collapses or landslides, but the logic of its construction was clear—the road bypassed the most dangerous sections, using the natural features of the terrain.
Only on the tenth day of searching, when they had already begun to doubt the accuracy of the ancient records, did the scanners detect an anomaly. Behind a stone wall deep in a narrow gorge, the instruments showed a vast void—too regular to be a natural cave.
Alex carefully examined the wall. At first glance, it looked like ordinary rock, but a more careful inspection revealed barely visible seams—remnants of an ancient door, disguised as natural stone.
Opening it took another three days of intense work. The Rakatan locks were masterpieces of engineering, combining mechanical, electronic, and even biometric elements of incredible complexity. Alex had to use all his knowledge of ancient technologies to bypass the security systems without triggering possible traps.
Finally, with a quiet hiss of equalizing pressure, a massive stone slab several meters thick slid aside, opening a passage into the depths of the mountain. Air flowed from the tunnel, dry and surprisingly fresh—the ventilation system was still functioning after millennia of oblivion.
"Incredible," Verena whispered, peering into the dark passage. "They're still working after all these years."
Alex activated his flashlight and cautiously stepped inside, Verena following him. The beam of light snatched walls from the darkness. The architecture was unusual, unlike the ancient fort—smooth lines, organic forms, creating the impression that the complex was not built but grown.
The tunnel led deep into the mountain, gradually widening. Soon they found themselves in a vast hall with high vaulted ceilings. Emergency lighting activated automatically, flooding the room with soft bluish light.
"How beautiful," Verena admired, looking around the hall. "And how sinister at the same time."
The complex turned out to be huge—a true underground city carved into the mountain's mass. They spent several days just mapping the main corridors and halls. Most of the rooms were empty, but some retained traces of their original purpose.
The living quarters were designed for different species—some with high ceilings for large races, others more compact. Some had normal atmosphere, others had systems for maintaining specific gas mixtures.
The laboratories were striking in their size and complexity of equipment. Even after millennia, it was evident that experiments of incredible scale and complexity were conducted here. Strange devices, whose purpose could only be guessed at, occupied entire halls.
"What were they doing here?" Verena asked, examining one of the mysterious mechanisms.
"According to the documents, they studied the mind," Alex replied grimly. "They were looking for ways to control and modify it."
On the third week of research, they reached the central part of the complex. In one of the central halls, they found something that made Alex stop in amazement. The room was equipped with rows of strange tables with built-in restraints for arms, legs, and head. But the most unexpected thing was what lay next to these tables.
"Neuro-interfaces?" Alex exclaimed in surprise, recognizing the characteristic shapes of the devices. "Here? In such an ancient complex?"
He moved closer, examining the recognizable structures. These were neuro-interfaces almost identical to those he had studied during his studies at KTI.
"What are these?" Verena asked, examining the strange helmets with many wires.
"Devices for direct connection to the brain," Alex explained. "In the modern galaxy, they are used for university studies. You've been familiar with simpler ones since childhood. Remember those things you put on your head to better memorize facts? I was once part of a research group that tried to adapt them for other purposes… unsuccessfully. But to see them here... it's unexpected."
He carefully picked up one of the ancient interfaces, examining its construction. Despite its age, the basic principles were the same—neural sensors, signal processing processors, feedback systems.
"Interesting," he mused aloud. "The past doesn't leave me."
In the depths of the complex, they discovered a control center with functioning Rakatan computers. The crystalline processors were still working, powered by an unknown energy source.
Connecting to the system took several days of painstaking work. Alex had to create a whole series of adapters and transcoders so that his equipment could interact with the ancient computers.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Verena asked, watching his work.
"As much as possible with technology that is thousands of years old," Alex replied, checking the connections. "But the information we can get is worth the risk."
Deciphering the data took another week. The Rakatan language was complex and layered, full of ideographic symbols and conceptual constructs with no analogues in modern languages. But gradually, fragment by fragment, the picture began to clarify.
What they discovered in the database opened new facets of neuro-interface usage. Alex had long known about their ability to subjugate will. He remembered that incident with Mara. But here, a completely different application was revealed.
"Virtual worlds," he read from the screen, translating the ancient symbols. "Full immersion of consciousness into artificial reality. Not just control over actions, but the creation of entire universes in the subject's mind. Hellish universes."
The records contained detailed documentation of experiments in creating virtual realities of incredible complexity and detail. The Rakata could place consciousness into an artificial world indistinguishable from reality, where the subject could live entire lives of suffering without realizing it was all an illusion.
"What did they need this for?" Verena asked, reading the translations over Alex's shoulder.
"To make minds vulnerable to the dark side, whatever that means. That's what it says here," he replied, continuing to browse the files. "They created artificial situations—wars, disasters, personal tragedies—and observed how sentient beings reacted to them. Thousands of years of experience lived in days or weeks of real time."
"We need to study this in more detail," Alex said, copying the data onto secure drives. "This information could explain many mysteries of modern neuro-interfaces. Echoes of these ancient functions are still hidden in their source code. I haven't managed to get my hands on any before. They're all attributed to research institutes or the military."
He recalled the incident at the Korriban Technological Institute when his classmate Mara Sinn connected to a modified interface to deeply study the source code. Her strange behavior, her declaration about having masters and seeing the clarity of the path, and then—she stood up and threw herself out of the lab window. Could she have truly understood something then?
Now he was beginning to understand what she might have seen in the depths of the code. Perhaps she had touched these ancient programs designed for creating worlds of suffering and mind control.
"We must be very careful with this information," he told Verena. "In the wrong hands, this knowledge could cause unimaginable harm."
Alex copied all available data and carefully sealed the control center. These records were too important for understanding the history of technology, but he didn't want them to fall into the hands of those who could use them for evil. Moreover, he had learned the coordinates of the next point in his investigation.
"Time to go back," he said, surveying the ancient complex one last time. "We got what we came for."
Alex carefully disconnected the last cable from the Rakatan neuro-interface. The ancient device lay on the lab table in the control center, its crystalline elements dimly flickering in the bluish light of the emergency lighting. Nearby were three more similar devices—all part of an experimental setup that had waited for millennia in the depths of the mountain.
"Be careful with these," he warned Verena, who was helping him pack the artifacts into special protective containers. "We don't know if they can activate spontaneously."
Verena nodded, carefully lifting one of the interfaces. The device was surprisingly light for its size—elegant metal arcs intertwined with crystalline elements, creating an almost artistic composition. It was hard to believe that this beauty was intended for mind control.
"They look almost... organic," she remarked, examining the smooth lines of the construction.
"The Rakata were masters of biotechnology," Alex explained, sealing the containers. "Their technologies often mimicked living organisms. Perhaps that's why they interact so effectively with the brain."
They spent another hour extracting the accompanying equipment. Each element was meticulously documented and packed. Alex understood that this collection could be the key to understanding modern neurotechnologies.
The journey back to the ship took two days of careful descent along mountain trails. They carried the precious cargo in special shock-absorbing backpacks, trying to avoid sudden movements. Every stone underfoot could cause a fall, and a fall—the destruction of priceless artifacts.
When they finally reached the lake where their camouflaged "Wanderer" awaited them, the sun was already setting behind the mountains. The ship still looked like an ordinary rock formation—the holo-projectors were working flawlessly.
"Finally home," Verena sighed, climbing the ramp.
Alex immediately headed to the ship's technical laboratory. This room was his pride—equipped with the most modern analytical equipment, isolated from external networks, with its own security systems. Here he could work with the most dangerous artifacts without risking the ship's safety.
He placed the first neuro-interface on the workbench, connecting diagnostic cables to it. The device looked even more mysterious in the bright light of the lab lamps—the crystals inside refracted the light, creating bizarre rainbow glares on the walls.
"Let's start with the basics," he muttered, activating the neural network translators. "First, we'll try to understand how this thing even turns on."
The monitor screens filled with streams of data as the computers began analyzing the device. The Rakatan code was like a living organism—it constantly changed, adapted, as if sensing attempts to study it.
"Incredible," Alex mumbled, watching the dance of symbols on the screen. "This isn't just a program. It's an almost sentient system."
Hours of work yielded the first results. The neural bridge network managed to isolate the device's main functional blocks and even activate the user interface. A menu appeared on the screen, translated with approximate terms:
OPERATING MODES:
Instruction Mode
Illusion Mode
Shaping Mode
Trial Mode
Diagnostic Mode
Alex studied the list intently, his dark eyes reflecting the screen's flicker.
"Diagnostic mode," he mused aloud. "Sounds relatively safe. Perhaps, if configured correctly, a limited test could be conducted..."
He reached for the interface, but at that moment, Verena entered the lab, carrying two cups of kaff.
"You're thinking about it again," she remarked, seeing his gaze fixed on the device.
"Just contemplating the possibilities," Alex replied, accepting the cup. The hot drink warmed his hands, and he suddenly realized they were trembling from tension. "Diagnostic mode seems relatively safe. Maybe it's worth trying to understand how it works from the inside..."
Verena sat beside him, her lekku gently touching his shoulder.
"Alex, remember what you told me happened to Mara Sinn? She also thought she knew what she was doing. She was one of the best at KTI, and still..."
The memory struck him with unexpected force. Mara, bent over a modified interface in the institute's lab. Her confident movements as she activated the system. Then—a strange expression on her face, as if she had seen something that changed her forever. "Now I understand. The masters showed me the way. It's all so clear..." And an hour later—her body on the asphalt beneath the lab window.
Alex looked away from the interface, feeling a chill run down his spine.
"You're right," he said quietly. "Safety first. Some knowledge is indeed too costly."
He closed the diagnostic program and disconnected the interface from the system. As tempting as the possibility of understanding the ancient technologies from within might be, the risk was too great. He wasn't going to repeat Mara's mistake.
Suddenly, the lab's main monitor flashed a red warning. Alex quickly switched to the monitoring system for the scout droids, which were still patrolling the surroundings.
"What's happening?" Verena asked, seeing his frowning face.
"Losing contact with the droids," he replied, rapidly cycling through communication channels. "First DR-7 in the northern sector, now... damn, two more in the mountains."
On the screen, green dots representing reconnaissance droids blinked out one after another. First slowly, one by one, then in groups.
"This isn't a malfunction," Alex said, analyzing the latest data from the devices. "Something is deliberately destroying them."
The last frames from the droid cameras showed bright energy discharges appearing out of nowhere. Powerful beams simply incinerated the small reconnaissance craft, leaving no debris.
"Sources of the attacks..." Alex rapidly processed the data. "Hidden installations. In the mountains, in the forests. All over the planet."
Verena leaned over his shoulder, studying the sensor readings.
"Did the Rakata leave guard dogs?"
"Looks like it," Alex replied grimly. "Automated defense systems. They react to our droids as a threat."
Suddenly, the ship shuddered from a powerful energy discharge that passed a few meters from its hull. The "Wanderer's" systems wailed with alarm signals.
"We've been detected!" Alex shouted, rushing to the ship's control panel. "The holo-mask is failing!"
The screens displayed a critical situation. Powerful scanning beams probed their position, and the protective hologram flickered and distorted under their influence. The energy discharges became more precise.
"Taking off!" Alex commanded, but when he tried to activate the repulsor engines, the systems reported an error.
"Engines are de-energized," Verena reported, leaning over the diagnostic panel. "The first discharge hit the power conduits."
Another powerful beam passed so close that the ship's hull glowed red. The shields were overloading, trying to repel the attacks of the planet's invisible defense systems.
"How much time do we have?" Verena asked, her voice calm, but Alex saw the tension in her posture.
"Minutes," he replied, frantically reviewing the system readings. "Maybe less. The shields won't hold any longer."
Time seemed to slow down. Each second stretched into an eternity, filled with the wail of sirens and the crackle of overloaded systems. Energy discharges flashed outside the viewports—a deadly net that slowly but inexorably tightened around their ship.
Alex felt cold sweat trickle down his back. It wasn't just a sense of danger—it was the realization of impending death, which approached with every second. Time slipped through his fingers like sand, and every moment could be the last.
"There's only one way," he said, his voice sounding strangely detached. "I need to access the planet's central control system. Disable the security protocol."
"How?" Verena asked, though he could tell from her face that she already knew the answer.
Alex looked at the container with the neuro-interface. Administrative codes, access methods to planetary systems—all of it was embedded in the ancient device. But there was only one way to get this information.
"I have to connect," he said quietly. "There's no other way."
"This is madness!" Verena grabbed his hand. "After everything we've learned about what these things do to the mind..."
"Madness is dying here," Alex replied, carefully freeing his hand. "We have no choice, Verena. Either I risk my mind, or we both die in the next few minutes."
Another energy discharge hit the shields, and the ship shuddered from the overload. Sparks flew from damaged panels, and the air filled with the smell of burnt insulation.
Alex opened the container with trembling hands. The neuro-interface lay inside, its crystals shimmering in the emergency light. The device seemed almost alive, as if sensing the approaching moment of activation.
"If something goes wrong..." he began.
"Nothing will go wrong," Verena interrupted him, but her voice held unshed tears. "You'll manage. You always manage."
Alex lifted the interface, feeling its strange warmth. Metal and crystals seemed to pulsate in his hands, ready to connect with a living mind.
"Monitor my vital signs," he said, putting on the device. "If something goes wrong..."
He didn't finish the sentence. The neuro-interface activated the moment it touched his skin, and the world exploded in pain and light.
The first thing he felt was pain—not physical, but mental, as if thousands of needles simultaneously pierced his consciousness. Then came a strange clarity, cold and crystalline, like mountain air.
Alex was no longer in the ship's lab. He was floating in a space of pure information, where thoughts had form and data had color and texture. Around him stretched the network of the planetary defense system—a vast, complex, living structure of light and logic.
He could see every defense node, every energy installation. The system was beautiful in its deadly efficiency—for thousands of years, it had guarded the planet's secrets, destroying anyone who dared approach the hidden complexes.
But now he was inside the system, he was part of it. Alex felt his consciousness dissolving into streams of data, his personality blurring in the ocean of information. It would be so easy to simply let himself disappear, to become part of this majestic structure...
No. He forced himself to concentrate, to remember why he was here. Verena. The ship. The death that approached with every second.
Alex found the central control node—a pulsating core of light in the heart of the system. Administrative codes flowed through his consciousness, ancient passwords and access keys that had waited for their hour for millennia.
Disabling the system was like surgery. He had to carefully, one by one, deactivate the security protocols without destroying the structure itself. One wrong move—and the system could explode, destroying not only the ship but half the continent.
Seconds in the real world stretched into hours in the digital space. Alex worked with extreme concentration, his consciousness dancing between streams of data, finding the right nodes and carefully disabling them.
Finally, the last security protocol was deactivated. Energy installations across the planet one by one went into sleep mode. The deadly net that had guarded ancient secrets for millennia finally fell silent.
Alex felt his consciousness begin to return to his own body. The digital space dissolved around him, giving way to the familiar reality of the ship's lab.
He opened his eyes and saw Verena's worried face, leaning over him. The neuro-interface was still on his head, its crystals dimly flickering.
"Alex?" she called softly. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," he rasped, his throat dry as if he hadn't spoken for days. "The system is disabled. We're safe."
Verena helped him remove the interface. Alex felt a strange emptiness in his head, as if a part of his consciousness remained in the digital space.
"How do you feel?" she asked, studying his face.
"Strange," he answered honestly. "As if I'm... more than I was before. And less at the same time."
He tried to stand, but his legs gave way. Verena caught him, helping him to a chair.
"Rest," she said. "Give yourself time to recover."
But Alex was already looking at the computer screens. Connecting to the planetary system had given him access not only to the security protocols but also to an extensive database. And what he saw there made him forget his fatigue.
"Verena," he said quietly, his voice trembling with shock. "Look at this."
The screen displayed system logs—records of all interactions with neuro-interfaces over the past decades. And at the top of the list was his name.
SUBJECT: Alex Korren
NUMBER OF SESSIONS: 247
FIRST CONNECTION: Age 6, medical diagnostics
LAST CONNECTION: Current session
Alex stared at the screen, unable to believe his eyes. Two hundred and forty-seven sessions. For almost his entire life, he had regularly connected to neuro-interfaces—for learning, medical examinations, psychological tests.
"This is impossible," he whispered. "I would remember..."
But when he opened the detailed record of the first session, memories began to return. A six-year-old boy in a medical center on Corellia. A doctor in a white coat who said it was just a routine examination. A strange helmet they put on his head...
Each connection to the neuro-interface was not just a diagnosis or training—it was a correction, transforming him into who someone wanted him to be.
Alex felt the world crumbling around him. Who was he really? What was his true personality before all these interventions? Were his thoughts, his decisions, his feelings genuine, or was it all the result of years of programming?
"Check yourself," he told Verena in a trembling voice. "Find your records."
Verena sat down at the computer, her fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard. After a few minutes, her record appeared on the screen.
SUBJECT: Verena Vessra
NUMBER OF SESSIONS: 23
FIRST CONNECTION: Age 19, Coruscant Rehabilitation Center
PURPOSE: Post-traumatic stress disorder therapy
Alex remembered how he brought her there after rescuing her from slavery by Gorga the Hutt. Verena was broken—a month of torture and abuse, memories of watching a rancor devour her family, had left deep scars on her psyche.
He looked at Verena, who was reading her record with growing horror on her face.
"Alex," she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the screen. "I... I don't know what to think."
Silence hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Two sentient beings sat in the ship's lab, surrounded by flickering screens and ancient artifacts, each wondering—who were they, really?
Alex felt panic rising in his chest. Existential horror washed over him in waves—the fear that his personality might be nothing more than an illusion created by another's will. Every memory, every decision, every emotion was now in question.
Who made the decision to become a researcher of ancient technologies—himself or the programs embedded in him? Who saved Verena from slavery—a person driven by compassion, or a programmed automaton following embedded directives?
"Maybe," Verena said, breaking the silence, "the problem isn't the neuro-interface. It's just a tool."
Alex looked up at her, his eyes filled with pain and confusion.
"How can you say that? After everything we've learned?"
"Because," she turned to him, her voice surprisingly firm, "a knife can kill a person or save their life in a surgeon's hands. A blaster can protect the innocent or destroy them. The tool itself is neither good nor evil—what matters is who uses it and for what purpose. We are who we are now. I love you as you are. Even if a neuro-interface made it happen, I don't care."
She stood up and walked over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"I was treated with neuro-interfaces. And you know what? I'm grateful for it. Without that treatment, I would still wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming of a rancor devouring my family, of being tortured. I wouldn't be able to love, to trust, to live life to the fullest."
"You're asking yourself if our love appeared because of programming?" she interrupted. "Then explain to me why I fell in love with you specifically, and not with the doctors who treated me? Why not with the staff at the rehabilitation center?"
Alex looked into her eyes and saw sincerity there, something impossible to fake or program.
"And your reduced emotionality," Verena continued, "maybe it's for the best? You've seen what people are like when they're completely given over to emotions. Fanatics who kill in the name of their beliefs. Tyrants who rule driven only by anger and thirst for power."
She sat beside him, taking his hands in hers.
"You saved me not because you were programmed to do it. You saved me because you couldn't do otherwise."
Alex felt something in his chest begin to thaw. Fear and panic slowly receded, giving way to a more complex understanding.
"But how can I be sure that my decisions are mine, and not from embedded programs?" he asked.
"And how can any sentient being be sure of that?" Verena replied. "Our decisions are shaped by our experiences, upbringing, genetics, random encounters. Is that so different from programming? The only difference is that our formation was more... directed."
She was right, and Alex knew it. Every sentient being in the galaxy was a product of many influences—family, society, culture, random events. His formation was more artificial, but it didn't make him any less human.
"You know what's most important?" Verena said. "Now you know the truth. And knowledge is power. Power over yourself."
Alex nodded, feeling a new resolve awaken within him. Yes, his personality was partially artificial. Yes, his decisions might have been influenced by embedded programs. But now he knew about it. And that knowledge gave him the power of choice.
He could accept what had been done to him and use it as a tool to achieve his goals. Or he could try to find a way to reverse the changes, to restore his "original" personality. But in any case, the choice was now his.
Alex looked at the neuro-interface lying on the table, its crystals no longer glowing. A tool. Neither good nor evil in itself. It all depended on who used it and how.
When the "Wanderer" reached safe orbit, Alex lingered at the navigation console, not entering the hyperspace jump coordinates. His gaze was fixed on the planet slowly rotating below them – a greenish-blue pearl surrounded by three silver moons.
"Wait," he told Verena, who was already preparing for the jump. "I need to do something."
He returned to the laboratory and activated one of the Rakatan neuro-interfaces. This time, the connection was easier – the device seemed to remember the patterns of his consciousness and adapted to them. The pain was minimal, and the mental immersion was almost instantaneous.
Alex found himself back in the digital space of the planetary control system. The defensive protocols were dormant, their energy nodes dimly flickering in standby mode. He could have left everything as it was – the planet would have remained defenseless against any invaders forever.
But that would have been wrong.
Carefully, block by block, he began to restore the defense system. Not completely – he left a "backdoor" for emergency access if he ever needed to return. But the main defensive functions had to work, guarding the peace of the three sentient species and the ancient secrets hidden in the mountains.
The process took almost an hour. When Alex finally disconnected from the system, he felt a strange satisfaction. The planet was protected again, its inhabitants could continue their simple lives in harmony with nature.
"Done," he said, returning to the cockpit. "Now we can fly."
But instead of activating the hyperdrive, Verena gazed thoughtfully at the planet through the viewport.
"Look at it," she said quietly. "So beautiful. So peaceful."
Alex walked to the viewport and stood next to her. The planet truly looked like paradise – continents covered in emerald green forests, sapphire oceans, snow-white clouds drifting in a clear atmosphere. Even from orbit, it was visible how the sunlight played on the water surface of lakes and rivers.
"Deceptively welcoming," he added grimly. "Who would have thought that such deadly defenses were hidden beneath this beauty?"
"And we could have died there," Verena said, her lekku trembling slightly from the memories. "If you hadn't decided to connect... Our remains would still be lying by that lake, turned to ash by energy discharges."
Alex nodded, recalling those critical minutes when death seemed inevitable. The planet's defense systems were ruthlessly effective – they made no distinction between threat and curiosity, between conqueror and explorer. To them, any stranger was an enemy to be destroyed.
"I wonder how many ships it has destroyed over these thousands of years?" he mused aloud. "How many explorers, traders, accidental travelers have turned into cosmic dust without even realizing what killed them?"
"And no one will ever know about it," Verena replied. "Ships just disappear. They are reported missing. They are recorded as lost in hyperspace or destroyed by pirates. But why did it let us onto the planet?"
"I don't know... but I'd like to know."
They silently looked at the planet, each lost in their own thoughts. This world was a perfect trap – beautiful enough to attract attention, isolated enough that no one would notice the disappearance of ships, and well-defended enough to destroy any threat.