The wind drove red dust across the dead land, raising it in spirals over the cracked surface. Alex stood by the speeder, leaning against its hull, and looked at the sky the color of congealed blood. The machine was smoking—the engine had overheated after a thousand kilometers of continuous flight from the explosion site, and the protective panels were covered in a network of cracks from thermal overload.
Somewhere out there, beyond the atmosphere of this cursed world, help was supposed to appear.
A week. A whole week in hyperspace after escaping Coruscant, and a few days here. The plan had worked. The Inquisitors were dead, turned into a cloud of subatomic particles along with the "Wanderer." But the price was high—the loss of the ship and the loss of connection to the Force.
Alex ran a hand over his face, feeling the fatigue. Not physical—thanks to the life support systems of his suit, he was in normal condition. But mental. The fatigue of constant tension, of having to calculate every step, of the emptiness where the Force used to be.
Red dust settled on his shoulders, ingrained in the folds of his clothes.
He raised his gaze to the sky, squinting from the reddish light of the ancient star.
There. A tiny dot, growing with each second.
His heart skipped a beat. Alex instinctively tensed, but didn't reach for his blaster. If it was Imperials—it was all over. But no, the Inquisitors were dead, their ship destroyed along with them. This had to be help.
The dot grew, turning into a silhouette. Alex would recognize these lines anywhere—he himself had designed and built it years ago. "The Resonant Blade."
Relief washed over him.
The ship was descending, its engines kicking up whirlwinds of red dust, forcing Alex to turn away and cover his face with his hand. The landing gear touched the ground with a dull thud, and the ramp began to lower even before it had fully landed.
Droids came out first.
Ten IG-88 assassin droids, their metallic bodies gleaming dully in the reddish light of Korriban. Each was armed with a heavy blaster carbine and several types of additional weaponry. They fanned out, scanning the perimeter, their optical sensors methodically sweeping the surroundings—the ruins of ancient tombs, crevices in the rocks, every shadow.
Behind them came a combat squad. Twelve soldiers in heavy assault armor—of Tersek's own production. They moved professionally—soldiers trained by an instructor from Valorum, who had already been on more than one special operation. They took defensive positions around the ship, their blaster rifles at the ready.
Alex couldn't help but smirk. Verena had prepared for a small war. She didn't know what she would find here and had prepared for the worst.
And only then, when the perimeter was secured, did Verena descend the ramp. She was dressed in a practical flight suit, hugging her figure, with armor plates on her chest and abdomen. Relief was written on her face.
She rushed towards him, and Alex barely managed to step away from the speeder before she crashed into him, embracing him as tightly as if she feared he would disappear.
"Alex," she whispered into his chest, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "Thank the Force. You're alive."
"I'm here," he replied, hugging her back, feeling the warmth of her body, the scent of her skin through the dust of Korriban. "Everything's fine."
"What happened?" she asked, and her voice held restrained anxiety. "Your message... just coordinates and 'immediate evacuation.' I didn't know what to expect. Are you alright? Are you injured?"
"I'm fine," Alex assured her, stroking her back. "Physically, everything is normal. But... a lot happened. I'll tell you on the ship."
Verena nodded, but didn't let go of him, as if checking that he was truly safe and sound.
One of the soldiers approached them, holding his rifle at the ready.
"Commander," he addressed Verena, using her rank in their small army. "Perimeter is clear. Scanners show no signs of pursuit or observation. But the radiation background in the southern direction is critical. Energy readings are off the charts." He paused, shaking his head. "What exploded there?"
"A medium cargo ship's hyperdrive," Alex replied calmly. "In destabilization mode."
"Understood. We registered a hyperspace disturbance even before approaching the system. We thought the Imperials were testing a new weapon."
"Pursuers?" Verena asked quietly, looking at Alex.
"Inquisitors," he nodded. "Dead. Both of them. Along with the 'Wanderer'."
She was silent for a few seconds, processing the information, then hugged him tighter.
"I recommend immediate evacuation," the captain continued, looking around the dead landscape of Korriban. "I'm getting goosebumps from this planet, and the longer we linger here, the more chance the Imperial fleet has of detecting us. If the Inquisitors managed to transmit a signal before..."
"You're right," Alex interrupted. "We need to leave. Quickly."
Verena nodded.
"Boarding," she ordered the squad. "We're taking off!"
"Yes, sir," the captain turned and began giving orders. The droids began to retreat in an organized manner towards the ship, continuing to scan the surroundings until the last moment. The soldiers followed.
"Let's go," Verena took Alex's hand. "Home."
As they walked up the ramp, Alex looked back at the dead planet one last time. Red dust, gray sky, endless canyons.
The place where he had almost lost his life.
The ramp closed behind them with a hiss of sealing, cutting off the dead world outside.
Inside the ship, there was controlled activity. Soldiers removed their helmets, checked equipment, stowed weapons in racks. Droids climbed into special niches in the cargo bay in standby mode, their optical sensors dimmed to minimal power consumption. The ship shuddered as the engines engaged at full power, and Alex felt the familiar sensation of takeoff.
Verena didn't let go of his hand, leading him through the corridors to the living quarters. Her touch was firm, warm, real.
"Exiting the gravity well in 5 minutes. Jump coordinates programmed. Hyperdrive ready."
Verena led Alex to a cabin—a spacious room with a wide bed, a desk, a holoprojector, and a small porthole through which stars and the receding surface of Korriban were visible.
The door closed behind them, and Verena finally released his hand, turning to face him.
For a few seconds, they just stood there, looking at each other.
"Tell me," she asked softly. "What happened? Everything, from the beginning."
Alex nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. Verena sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. He told her about the events of the past week.
Verena was silent, processing the information. Then she stood up and walked over to him, embracing him.
"You sacrificed the 'Wanderer'," she said quietly. "The ship that was with you for half your life."
"I had no choice," Alex replied, hugging her back. "They were too strong, Verena. If I had tried to fight with conventional methods—I would have lost. They foresaw actions, felt intentions. The only way to defeat them was to create a situation where foresight was useless. Chaos that couldn't be calculated."
He pulled her closer, feeling her tremble.
"I underestimated the Force," he continued. "For years, we relied on intellect, on technology, on planning. And it worked against ordinary opponents. But the gifted... they play by different rules. They see what we don't. They feel what we don't. They foresee actions seconds before they happen."
He pulled away, looking into her eyes.
"If we want to survive, Verena... if we want to carry out our plans... we need to learn to play by their rules. We need to master the Force. Truly. Not just basic meditation and control techniques. We need to learn to fight. To foresee. To manipulate reality just as they do."
He took her hands.
"Before, I thought that intellect and plans were the most important things. That the Force was just an additional tool. But I was wrong. In a fight against the gifted, intellect is useless if you cannot defend yourself physically. A lightsaber against a blaster is not a fight, it's an execution. I was lucky that I managed to set a trap. But next time, there might not be such an opportunity."
Verena was silent, pondering his words.
"You want us both to learn directly from Kreia," she said finally. "Not just you, but me too."
"Yes," Alex nodded.
Verena looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching for something in his face. Then she slowly nodded.
They stood like that for a long time, embracing, as the ship exited the planet's gravity well, carrying them home. To Tersik. To safety.
"Rest," she whispered when they broke their kiss. "We'll be home in eight hours. You're tired, I can see."
"Lie down," Verena led him to the bed. "I'll stay close."
They lay down together, and Alex closed his eyes, feeling Verena embrace him, her hand gently touching his neck. Fatigue washed over him, but it was a good fatigue—the fatigue of a man who had survived, who had returned home.
"What happened to the Force here?" Verena asked quietly after some time. "I don't feel it here..."
Alex was silent for a few seconds.
"You don't feel it either?" he said quietly. "To be honest, that's good news. I thought I had lost it. The hyperdrive explosion created such a powerful disturbance that..."
Verena propped herself up on her elbow, looking at him with curiosity.
"Is it temporary?"
"I don't know," he met her gaze. "But I don't care. I specifically chose this planet to minimize the consequences."
She snuggled closer to him again, hugging him tighter.
Alex woke up to Verena's light touch on his shoulder. Through his sleep, he heard her voice:
"We're almost home. Exiting hyperspace in ten minutes."
He opened his eyes and found that he had slept through the entire flight. Verena was sitting beside him, already dressed and ready for arrival.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
Alex sat up in bed and stretched. Physically, he felt good—rested, recovered. But the emptiness where the Force had been still gaped like a missing tooth that his tongue constantly sought.
"Better," he answered honestly. "Thank you for letting me sleep."
"You needed it," Verena stood up and handed him clean clothes. "Get dressed. We'll be there soon."
Alex quickly tidied himself up. As they left the cabin and headed for the bridge, the ship was already shuddering—a characteristic sign of exiting hyperspace.
The stars stopped being lines and turned back into dots.
Alex stood by the panoramic window of the bridge, looking at the approaching planet. Home.
And at that very moment, he felt it.
At first, it was almost imperceptible—a light tingling at the edge of his consciousness, like a limb that had gone numb and was starting to come alive. Alex froze, not believing his senses.
"What is it?" Verena noticed the change in his posture.
"I..." Alex closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation. "I feel something."
And where before there had been only emptiness, there was now a familiar sensation.
"The Force," he whispered, opening his eyes. "I feel it. It's a great relief. I didn't know it was so bad without it."
Verena came closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you sure?"
Alex nodded, his gaze fixed on the planet. "The Ringing Blade" was entering the atmosphere, and with every second of approach, the sensation intensified. It was as if he were sinking into warm water after a long stay in the cold.
But something was different.
Before, his connection to the Force had been like a thin stream—enough to quench thirst, but no more. Now, as they approached the planet's surface, that stream was turning into a river. Moreover—he felt a depth that hadn't been there before.
"What's happening?" Verena asked, watching the changes on his face.
"I don't know," Alex answered honestly. "The connection is restoring itself, but... it's different. Stronger. Deeper."
The ship passed through the clouds, and beneath them lay the familiar landscape—the valley where the colony's main base was located. With every meter of descent, Alex felt the Force returning to him in waves. Not just returning—it was filling him, overflowing him, as if trying to compensate for the time of its absence.
When the ship touched down on the landing pad, Alex closed his eyes and immersed himself in meditation. What he saw with his inner eye made him hold his breath.
The Force spread out before him in all its complexity and beauty. Billions of threads intertwining, diverging, converging again. Each thread—a possible future, each knot—a point of choice. And he could see them all—not just the immediate ones, as before, but stretching far into the future.
Moreover, he felt the planet itself. Tersik was young by galactic standards, its biosphere teeming with life. And this life created a resonance in the Force—powerful, pure, untainted by billions of sentient beings.
The ship's ramp lowered, and they stepped out onto the landing pad. Warm air enveloped them—the scent of pine and flowers, a light breeze from the mountains. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
They walked slowly towards the main building of the complex. Several engineers and technicians greeted them, but Alex barely noticed them. His attention was focused on the new sensations, on trying to understand the scale of the changes.
"We need to talk to Kreia," he said to Verena. "Today. Now. I need to understand what happened to me. And we need to start training. Real training."
Verena squeezed his hand.
"Then let's go. Do you have the holocron with you?"
"Yes," Alex nodded.
They walked through the main building, past the living quarters and workshops, descended a staircase to the underground level where the private laboratory was located. The door opened by biometric scanner, and they entered the spacious room.
Alex carefully took the holocron and carried it out into the main part of the laboratory, then took out two neuro-interfaces, adjusted them, and offered one to Verena. They sat opposite each other.
"Ready?" he asked Verena.
She nodded, stepping closer.
Alex reached out to the holocron and touched it with the Force, sending a pulse of energy into the crystalline structure of the device.
Alex looked around, recognizing the place. He had been here many times—a virtual space created for training. But Verena was seeing it for the first time, and he watched as her eyes widened in surprise.
"Where are we?" Verena whispered.
"In my memories," Kreia replied, walking slowly between the columns. Her holographic form looked more real, more tangible here. "This place once existed. I saved it in the holocron as a training space."
"We are ready to learn," he said.
"Good," Kreia nodded. "Then let's start with the basics. Alex, you already know much of what I'm about to say. But for Verena, this will be new."
She began to walk between the columns, her voice sounding measured, almost hypnotic.
"The Force is the interface between consciousness and reality. Those who are sensitive to the Force have the ability to actively influence probabilities. You can not only observe reality but also direct it, choose which of the possible states will become actual."
She stopped and turned to them.
"This is the true nature of what the gifted call 'Force manipulation.' When you lift an object with telekinesis, you are not creating a magical field. You are altering the probabilities of electron positions in atoms, creating an electromagnetic field that affects the object."
Alex nodded—he had heard this before. But for Verena, it was a revelation.
"So, the Force is a way to program reality?" she asked.
"In a sense, yes," Kreia agreed. "But not directly. The Force understands your intention—what you want to achieve—and finds a way to realize that intention. The clearer your intention, the stronger your will, the more effectively the Force executes your command."
She raised her hand, and a stone appeared above the platform—a holographic projection, but it looked absolutely real.
"Telekinesis is the basis of all matter manipulation techniques," Kreia said. "If you learn to lift an object, you will understand the principle of control. Everything else is just a variation of this principle."
The stone slowly floated in the air, rotating on its axis.
A faint glow appeared around the stone—a visualization of the force field.
"The Force interacts with the electromagnetic structure of the object itself—after all, almost all matter fundamentally interacts with the world through electromagnetism. When you create an external field of the correct configuration, the object begins to move."
The stone lowered back to the ground, and the glow disappeared.
"But the key to everything is intention," Kreia emphasized. "Not visualization, not gestures, not words of power. A true master needs nothing but a pure, clear desire to change reality."
She looked at both of them.
"But we cannot train here, in this virtual space. There is no real matter here, no Force to manipulate. This place exists only for theoretical learning. Practice must happen in the real world."
Kreia made a gesture, and the space around them began to change, preparing for a return to reality.
"Go," she said. "Find a place on your planet where you can train without interruption. A place where energy flows freely. And start with the simple—levitating small objects. I have already shown Alex the techniques you need to practice. Learn to form intention, learn to feel how the Force responds to your call."
Verena nodded, accepting the instruction.
"Once you master basic telekinesis," Kreia continued, "return to me. I will teach you the next level. Manipulation of your own body—increasing speed, strength, reaction. Then—foresight. And finally—combat. We will study basic sword control techniques with you. Later, we will master probability manipulation techniques."
She made a final gesture, and the virtual space began to dissolve.
Reality returned with a sharp jolt. Alex and Verena were standing in the laboratory again, the holocron on the table before them glowing dimly, its facets slowing their rotation.
For a few seconds, they were silent, processing what they had heard.
"That was... fast," Verena finally said.
"Yes," Alex agreed. "Kreia doesn't waste time on empty words. Every lecture of hers is a concentrate of knowledge."
He looked at her.
"Are you ready to start training? Real training?"
Verena met his gaze, and determination burned in her amber eyes.
"Ready," she replied firmly. "When do we start?"
Alex glanced at the chronometer. The local time showed late evening—the sun had already set, and darkness was gathering outside the laboratory windows.
"Tomorrow," he decided. "We need to find a suitable place. I think I know where we can train."
"Where?" Verena asked.
"The foothills of the northern ridge," Alex replied. "There are rocks, a forest, streams. Beautiful and no people. We can set up something like a training camp there."
Verena nodded.
"Okay. Then tomorrow morning we'll head there."
Alex carefully took the holocron and returned it to storage. The artifact sank into slumber, awaiting its next awakening.
As they left the laboratory, Verena took his hand.
A Year Later
The wind carried the scent of pine down the mountainside, mixing it with the aroma of wild flowers growing between the rocks. Alex walked along a narrow path, enjoying the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet and the warmth of the morning sun on his face.
A year. A whole year had passed since they began their training.
He glanced over his shoulder. Verena was a few meters ahead, her blue skin contrasting with the green of the forest. She was dressed in a practical training suit—light, form-fitting to her body, but durable enough for working in the mountains.
"Admiring?" she asked with a smile, noticing his gaze.
Alex chuckled, not denying it.
"Always," he answered honestly. "Especially when you're walking ahead."
"Then you should speed up," Verena ran. "To see it all."
A year of training had made her even more toned—her muscles moved smoothly, gracefully. The training suit hugged her hips.
"You're not hiding what you're looking at at all," Verena remarked, not turning around, but her voice held amusement.
"And why should I hide it?" Alex caught up to her. "We've been together for many years. Do you think I'll stop admiring you?"
"I hope not," she threw him a quick glance.
Verena laughed, pressing against him.
They stood like that for a few moments, enjoying their closeness and the silence of the forest. Then Verena gently broke free from his embrace.
"Let's go," she said. "Another kilometer to the rocks. And I want to practice before the sun gets too high."
They continued on their way. The path led upwards, through a forest of tall coniferous trees. Rays of morning light pierced through the trunks, creating a play of light and shadow on the forest floor.
Alex walked and thought about how much had changed in that year.
The first few months were difficult. Telekinesis seemed simple in theory, but in practice, it required incredible concentration. They had to learn to form a pure intention, unclouded by doubt or extraneous thoughts. The slightest uncertainty—and the Force would not answer the call.
But gradually, day by day, they progressed. First small stones, then larger ones. Then several stones at once. Then precise manipulation—not just lifting an object, but directing it, rotating it, controlling every movement.
Kreia was a demanding teacher. Every evening they returned to the holocron, reported their progress, and received new instructions. She didn't praise them for their successes, nor did she scold them for their failures. She simply pointed out their mistakes, explained how to correct them, and sent them back to practice again.
After telekinesis came the manipulation of their own bodies. This was more difficult—accelerating time within themselves, strengthening muscles, increasing reaction speed, sharpening senses. They had to learn to feel every cell of their body, every nerve ending, and direct the Force where it was needed.
The first time Alex successfully used speed enhancement, he ran a hundred meters in four seconds. The world around him slowed down, every movement became clear, distinct. It was an intoxicating feeling—to feel faster, stronger, better than an ordinary person.
Then came the jumps. Manipulation of the fields around their own bodies, creating directed impulses of force. Alex remembered his first successful jump—five meters up, onto the top of a boulder. The feeling of flight, weightlessness, absolute freedom.
Verena mastered the jumps faster than him. Her body was lighter, more flexible, and she intuitively understood how to use force impulses to change trajectory in the air. Watching her train was mesmerizing—she jumped between rocks like a dancer, her movements smooth, graceful, almost unreal.
And then came foresight. He already understood much, but there were still many techniques for deceiving other gifted individuals.
This was the most difficult. Reading possible futures, distinguishing which ones were more likely, and which were just distant possibilities. Kreia taught them to meditate on the streams of time, to enter a trance where past, present, and future merged into a single whole.
Alex discovered that his new, enhanced sensitivity to the Force gave him an advantage. He could see further into the future, distinguish subtler nuances of probabilities. But it was also a curse—too much information, too many possible paths. They had to learn to filter, to concentrate on what was important, to ignore the noise.
Verena approached foresight differently. She didn't try to see far into the future. Instead, she focused on the immediate moments—the next second, the next movement. This made her incredibly effective in combat—she could foresee Alex's action a moment before he initiated it and react accordingly.
They trained on each other. Sparring without weapons, where each tried to anticipate the other's movements. At first, it was slow, clumsy. But gradually, they began to move faster, more smoothly, their bodies reacting to intentions before actions.
The path led them out of the forest into an open space. Before them lay a panorama of the foothills—rocky cliffs, between which streams gurgled, clearings with tall grass, scattered groups of trees. In the distance, on the horizon, rose the peaks of the northern ridge, their summits covered with snow even in mid-summer.
"Beautiful," Verena whispered, stopping to admire the view.
"Yes," Alex agreed, approaching her. "Every time we come here, I think it can't get any more beautiful. And every time I'm wrong."
They stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the valley below. The wind ruffled their clothes, carrying the scents of wild nature—flowers, pine, damp earth from the streams.
Then Verena gently broke free from his embrace.
"Let's go to the rocks," she said. "I want to try a new technique."
They descended the slope to a group of large boulders that had become their usual training spot. The stones were of various sizes—from head-sized to enormous, several meters high.
Alex sat on one of the stones, watching Verena warm up. She stretched, her body arching in a smooth curve, then she made a few quick movements—punches and kicks in the air, checking her flexibility and coordination.
Then she closed her eyes, immersing herself in meditation. He felt through the Force as she gathered energy, focused her intention. The air around her seemed to become denser, more electrified.
Several stones—five of them, fist-sized—rose from the ground and hovered around her head level. They began to rotate, slowly at first, then faster, forming an orbit around her body.
Verena opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and seemed to glow in the morning light. She raised her hand, and the stones changed trajectory, following her gesture. Then she made a sharp movement, and the stones shot forward, one after another, with incredible speed.
They hit a large boulder twenty meters away, leaving deep dents in the stone. The sound of the impacts echoed through the valley.
"Impressive," Alex said, standing up. "The speed has increased. And the accuracy."
Verena nodded and repeated the technique. This time, Alex observed not with his physical eyes, but with his inner vision, seeing the flows of the Force.
Alex walked to the center of the clearing and lifted several stones with the Force. They hovered around him, and he began to form his intention. Not a smooth movement, but an accumulation of potential. Creating tension that could be released with a single impulse.
He felt the Force condensing around the stones, the pressure building. A little more... a little more...
Now!
The stones shot forward with such speed that they were torn apart in flight. They hit the boulder Verena had chosen, and one of them shattered from the impact, scattering fragments.
"Too much force," Verena remarked. "It requires more subtle control."
Alex nodded, accepting the criticism. She was right—his enhanced sensitivity to the Force was sometimes a problem. He could put too much energy into a technique, create too powerful an effect.
"Again," he said, lifting new stones.
They practiced for about an hour, refining the technique. Alex learned finer control, Verena—increasing power without losing accuracy. They exchanged observations, corrected each other, helped each other understand the nuances.
This was one of the advantages of their joint training. Kreia provided the theory and general guidance, but they developed the practical details themselves, learning from each other, finding what worked for each of them.
As the sun rose higher and the heat began to intensify, they took a break. They sat on the stones in the shade of a large boulder, drank water from the canteens they had brought.
They sat like that for some time, enjoying the silence. Then Verena raised her head, a playful spark in her eyes.
"Want to practice jumps?" she asked. "I think I can beat you to that big boulder on top."
Alex grinned.
"Challenge accepted. But if I win, you're cooking dinner tonight."
"And if I do?" Verena stood up, stretching.
"Then I'll give you a massage."
"Tempting," she smiled. "Then prepare to lose."
They stood opposite each other, looking at the top of the slope where a huge boulder loomed. The distance was about two kilometers, but there was no direct path—they had to jump between rocks, use rock ledges, trees as footholds.
"On three?" Alex suggested.
"On three," Verena agreed.
"One..."
"Two..."
"Three!"
They took off simultaneously. Alex made the first jump, using the Force to amplify the push. The world slowed down around him as he activated accelerated perception. He saw every detail—the rocks under his feet, the branches of the trees, the trajectory of flight.
He landed on a rock ledge, pushed off again, not losing momentum. Second jump, third. Verena was close, her blue figure flashing in his peripheral vision. She chose a different route, more risky—jumps between more distant points, but a more direct path.
Alex changed trajectory in mid-air, using an impulse of Force. He landed on a tree branch that bent under his weight, but didn't break. He pushed off from it, soaring higher.
Verena overtook him for a moment, her jump longer, bolder. But Alex used foresight, seeing a second ahead of the optimal path. He adjusted his trajectory, found the best foothold.
They flew up the slope, two silhouettes. Jump after jump, rock after rock, each movement precise, calculated, amplified by the Force.
The final sprint. The large boulder was ten meters ahead. Alex gathered all his remaining energy, formed his intention for a powerful jump.
And at that moment, he felt Verena doing the same.
They took off at the same time, their trajectories crossing in the air. For a moment they were side by side, their gazes met, and both laughed with pure joy of movement, of flight, of life.
They landed on top of a boulder at the same instant, their feet touching the stone a fraction of a second apart.
"A draw!" Verena breathed, out of breath.
"So, no one won," he said.
"So, both won," Verena corrected. "You're making dinner, and I get a massage."
"That's not fair."
"It's fair," she hugged him, pressing close. "And you know it."
Alex hugged her back, and they stood there on top of the boulder, looking at the panorama spread out below. The valley, the forest, the mountains on the horizon. Their home. Their world.
"Remember," Verena said quietly, "when we used to watch those old movies about Jedi and Sith? Those silly, over-the-top action films where they jumped over rocks and fought with lightsabers?"
"I remember," Alex nodded. "We used to laugh at how unrealistic it looked."
"And now we do it ourselves," there was amazement in her voice. "Jump over rocks. Use the Force. Soon we'll be training with lightsabers."
Alex chuckled, remembering.
"We even acted out scenes from those movies. Remember? You were the Jedi, and I was the evil Sith trying to seduce you to the dark side."
Verena laughed.
"Oh, yes. With terrible dialogue and dramatic pauses. 'Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy!'"
"'Never! I am a Jedi, and I will never betray my principles!'" Alex continued in a theatrical voice.
Then Alex felt a pulse—playful, mischievous. He pulled away from Verena and took a step back, striking a theatrically villainous pose.
"So this is where you've been hiding, Jedi," he said in a low, menacing voice, parodying the bad actors from those movies. "Did you think you could escape me? The dark side?"
Verena instantly understood the game. She straightened up, assuming a heroic pose, one hand on her hip, the other extended forward.
"I am not running, Sith!" she declared with exaggerated determination. "I am simply choosing the battlefield!"
"Foolish Jedi," Alex slowly walked along the edge of the boulder, his movements deliberately predatory. "You don't understand the power of the dark side. It grants a power your pathetic Order could never comprehend!"
"The dark side is the path to suffering!" Verena replied, backing away from him, but with a smile on her lips. "It destroys everything it touches!"
"It grants freedom!" Alex lunged forward suddenly, and Verena jumped back, using the Force to enhance her leap. She landed on a neighboring rock, five meters away from him.
"Liar!" she shook her head. "It's not freedom, Sith. It's the worst kind of slavery!"
Alex jumped after her, his movement quick, enhanced by the Force. He landed next to her, and she jumped back again, this time onto a lower boulder.
The chase began.
They jumped between rocks, Alex pursuing, Verena fleeing. But it wasn't a real chase—it was a dance, a game, where both knew their roles and enjoyed the performance.
"You can't run forever!" Alex shouted, jumping from rock to rock. "The dark side is inevitable! All will fall before it!"
"As long as there is one Jedi, hope lives!" Verena replied, her jumps graceful, almost dance-like. "The Light always triumphs over darkness!"
"Naive girl!" Alex accelerated, using a Force impulse for a longer jump. He almost caught her, his hand reaching out to grab her.
But Verena spun in the air, using a technique they had practiced, and landed behind him. Alex landed on a rock, turned around—and found her standing three meters away, arms crossed over her chest, smirking.
"Too slow, Sith," she teased.
"Oh, you'll pay for that insolence," Alex grinned and lunged after her again.
They raced across the rocks for about ten minutes, jumping higher and higher up the slope. It was excellent practice—using the Force in motion, predicting trajectories, controlling the body in the air. But it was also just fun, joyful, carefree.
Finally, Alex cornered Verena on top of a high cliff, where there was nowhere else to jump. She stood at the edge, with a ten-meter drop behind her.
"The end of the road, Jedi," Alex said, slowly approaching, his voice full of theatrical menace. "Join me. Together, we will be invincible. Together, we will change the galaxy!"
Verena lifted her chin, her eyes burning with defiance.
"Never!" she declared. "I'd rather die than betray my ideals!"
"Then you leave me no choice," Alex extended his hand, pretending to use the Force to attack. "I will take you by force!"
"Try it!" Verena struck a seductive pose.
Alex leaped forward, Verena dodged, but he anticipated it and adjusted his trajectory in the air. His arms wrapped around her waist, and the momentum of the jump carried them both over the edge of the cliff.
They fell, intertwined, laughing. At the last moment, Alex used the Force to slow their descent, creating a directed field beneath them. They landed on the soft grass at the foot of the cliff, Verena on top, pinning him to the ground.
"Caught you, Sith," she whispered, her face inches from his.
"Or did you get caught?" Alex replied, his hands still around her waist.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, their breathing quickened from the chase and the fall. Then Verena leaned down and kissed him.
The kiss was long, deep, full of everything they felt for each other. Love, passion, trust, joy. When they finally broke the kiss, Verena was smiling.
"You know," she said, "in those movies, the villain usually said something like, 'I have my methods of making you obey.'"
"Oh, yes," Alex grinned, his hands sliding lower down her back. "I definitely have my methods."
"Will you show me?" her voice held both challenge and promise.
"Right here?" Alex looked around. They were in a secluded spot, surrounded by rocks and trees. "It's inconvenient here."
"The nearest base is twenty kilometers away," Verena leaned into his ear. "Too long to wait."
That was a serious argument. Alex momentarily immersed himself in the Force, scanning the surroundings. No signs of other people within several kilometers. Just the two of them, the wilderness, and the morning sun.
"You're persuasive," he said, pulling her closer.
"I know," Verena kissed him again, her hands starting to unfasten his training suit.
They spent the rest of the morning not training.
***
The Star Destroyer emerged from hyperspace on the outskirts of the Horrusset system with a characteristic splash of pseudo-movement. The massive gray wedge of the ship hung over the dead red planet, its shadow stretching for thousands of kilometers.
A tense silence reigned on the bridge. Officers bent over consoles, their fingers flitting across holographic screens, gathering data about the system. The Captain stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back, his spine as straight as an arrow.
But they all felt it. The presence.
Darth Vader stood in the center of the bridge, a massive black figure in a cloak. His breathing—mechanical, rhythmic, inexorable—filled the space, making hearts beat in time. Through the dark lenses of his mask, he looked at the planet below, and something in his posture spoke of... displeasure.
"My Lord," the Captain approached, keeping a respectful distance. He knew: when the Sith Lord was silent, it was best not to get too close. But duty was duty. "We have arrived in the Horrusset system. Korriban is within scanner range."
Vader did not answer. His head slowly turned, the mask staring at the red planet. For a few seconds, he stood motionless, like a statue of obsidian.
"Something is wrong," he finally said, his voice distorted by the vocoder, but tension could be heard in it. "With the Force. Here."
The Captain hesitated. He was not Force-sensitive—thank the stars for that—and had no idea what Lord Vader was talking about. But the tone... the tone was unsettling.
"Do you wish us to postpone the mission?"
"No." Vader turned to him, and the Captain instinctively took a step back. "Prepare my shuttle. I will descend to the surface."
"As you command." The Captain saluted and hurried to the communication console.
Vader turned back to the planet. He immersed himself in the Force, trying to sense familiar patterns, lines of probability, echoes of the past and future. Korriban had always been a special place—an ancient Sith stronghold, steeped in the dark side. The tombs of the dark lords held echoes of their power, their knowledge, their ambitions.
But now...
Now there was emptiness.
Not complete—the Force could not disappear entirely, it was part of the very fabric of reality. But it was... muted. As if someone had covered the planet with a thick blanket, muffling all sounds, all sensations.
Vader felt a disquiet growing in the depths of his consciousness. Where there was usually an ocean of possibilities, billions of threads of probability stretching into the future—now there was only fog. Fragments. Torn ends leading nowhere.
What happened here?
A year ago, two Inquisitors arrived in this system, pursuing a fugitive Jedi. Their ship emerged from hyperspace... and disappeared. No messages, no distress signals. Just silence. It happened from time to time, but it was strange.
When a reconnaissance droid arrived to investigate, it found nothing but elevated radiation levels on Korriban's surface.
The Emperor ordered Vader to take control of the Jedi search. But other matters—suppressing rebellions, hunting down rebel cells in the Mid Rim—took up his time. And only now, a year later, did Vader finally arrive.
"My Lord," the pilot's voice sounded through the internal communicator. "The shuttle is ready. Awaiting you in the hangar."
Vader turned and headed for the exit from the bridge. Officers parted before him, like waves before the bow of a ship. His steps echoed on the metal floor, his cloak billowing behind him.
In the turbolift, descending to the hangar, he tried to sense the Force again. He extended invisible tendrils of his mind to the planet below, trying to penetrate the strange veil that enveloped Korriban.
And he felt... resistance.
Not active—no one was directly opposing him. But passive, as if the very structure of space here was distorted. The lines of probability he tried to read broke off before reaching the planet. The future was hidden, the past—blurred.
The turbolift stopped, the doors parted. The hangar was filled with activity—technicians checking fighters, loaders moving crates of supplies, pilots preparing for departure. But when Vader entered, everything froze.
He walked past them, not deigning to look. His Lambda-class shuttle awaited on the landing platform, the ramp lowered. Two stormtroopers stood on either side of the entrance, their white armor gleaming in the light of the hangar lamps.
"My Lord," the pilot saluted as Vader ascended the ramp. "Course to Korriban is set. Ready to depart at your command."
Vader went into the passenger compartment and sat in the chair. The ramp closed with a hiss of sealing, and the shuttle lifted off the floor, smoothly exiting the hangar into open space.
The shuttle entered the atmosphere, and the hull trembled from turbulence. The reddish sky enveloped them, visibility dropped. The pilot navigated confidently, heading for the coordinates where the epicenter of the energy disturbance had been recorded.
And it was then that Vader felt it.
At first, it was almost imperceptible—a slight weakening of his connection to the Force, like a radio signal passing through interference. He frowned under his mask, concentrating, trying to strengthen the connection.
But with each second, it got worse.
The Force... was draining away. Not sharply, not catastrophically, but inexorably, like water through a crack in a dam. The ocean of possibilities that had always been with him began to recede, turning into a stream, then a trickle.
Vader straightened in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. What was happening?
"My Lord?" the pilot turned, hearing the change in the Sith Lord's breathing. The mechanical rhythm faltered, became more frequent. "Are you alright?"
Vader did not answer. He delved into himself, trying to understand the source of the problem. The Force had not disappeared completely—he could still feel it, but it was... distant. As if he were trying to reach it through a thick layer of water, and with each meter of descent, the layer grew thicker.
The shuttle continued its descent. The altimeter showed ten kilometers, nine, eight...
And then Vader felt pain.
Not physical—his body, disfigured, supported by cybernetics, had long grown accustomed to pain. But mental. As if something was crushing his mind, pressing on his consciousness from within.
He gasped, his hands clutching his helmet. His breathing quickened to a wheeze, his mechanical lungs working at their limit. Red spots swam before his eyes.
"My Lord!" the pilot jumped up, but dared not approach. "What's wrong with you?"
Vader tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. The Force, his constant companion, his weapon and shield—had almost disappeared. He felt only a faint glimmer of what it had been. And without it...
Without it, the walls of his mental prison began to crack.
Deep within his mind, where no light penetrated, where Anakin Skywalker had been locked away for decades, something stirred. The prisoner in his own body, the silent witness to another's sins—he felt a change.
The shackles loosened.
Not broken—no, the construct Sidious had created that terrible night was too strong for that. But a crack had appeared. Small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
And through this crack, light seeped in.
Where am I?—the thought was weak, frightened, like a child's voice in the dark. What is happening?
"Turn... the shuttle around," Vader forced out through clenched teeth. Every word was a struggle. "Leave... the planet... immediately."
"Yes, my Lord!"
The pilot yanked the controls, and the shuttle sharply turned, its engines roaring at full power. The ship shot upwards, away from the dead surface of the planet, away from the place where the Force was almost dead.
"Establish contact with the Star Destroyer," he finally said, his voice even, controlled. No sign of internal struggle. "Inform the Captain: Korriban is declared a restricted zone. No one is to approach the planet without my direct order."
"As you command, my Lord."
Who could create a place where the Force almost dies? Who could build a trap that kills Inquisitors?
Vader opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the darkness of the chamber. He had to report to the Emperor. Tell him what happened on Korriban.
But something held him back. Instinct, intuition, or perhaps, a voice from the depths of his mind, whispering: Don't tell him. Don't tell him about the crack.