Somewhere. An indeterminate time later...
A small solitary ship of Corellian build, model YG-4210, was drifting through space. A vessel built for research purposes, it possessed very good search systems, and over centuries of development, the originally non-combat ship had acquired good guns and shields.
Like many other Corellian-built ships that were in demand with mercenaries, this one was no exception. A group of Mandalorians was flying home from another mission when they completely by chance stumbled upon a mysterious signal.
Correcting the route, the ship moved toward its source. Mercenaries are not scavengers, but they too, if possible, did not disdain various finds. Sometimes, one could find such valuables that it's even hard to imagine. Equally, problems. But should Mandalorians fear risks?
Upon closer examination, the mercenaries were able to determine the object found. It was a small ship of unknown build. Too small for a yacht or a freighter, most likely—a landing shuttle. Only, approaching closer and inspecting the incomprehensible vessel from a minimal distance, the mercenaries realized they had found something unimaginable. The vessel, which was flying by inertia through space, was like nothing else. One could assume it was the product of some little-known industrial company, were it not for the symbols on the ship.
"Dis, run the symbolism through the database," the owner of the ship and unspoken leader of the squad turned to the co-pilot.
"Already. Hm…"
"What is it?"
"No match found."
"Apparently, this vessel is from the Old Republic," the third member of the group, in white-and-purple armor, drew out thoughtfully.
"Warren, I see an anomaly on the scanners."
"Another one?"
"No. Scanners say there's a biological object inside this thing. Alive or not—it's unclear, the scanners are glitching."
"Kaut, prepare the airlock. We're going in."
Having made such a decision, the group of four Mandalorians flew around the strange ship once more, after which they "sucked on" with the onboard airlock directly to the roof of the shuttle. A short moment of welding, and the first mercenary looks inside.
"Clear!" he shouted, flying inside.
The others followed him. Gloom and cold met the guests on the unidentified ship. Hoarfrost-covered surfaces, dark shadows on the passenger seats, and a quiet distant hum.
"I get goosebumps from this thing," one of the Mandalorians shivered.
"What's that humming?"
"By the looks of it…" the Mandalorian in scarlet armor performed a diagnostic of the atmosphere. "Em… Life support system?"
"What?" the others turned to him.
"Well, though the oxygen concentration here is critically low, it's present."
"Stunning," another mercenary whispered. "Boys, pay attention to the design, to the mountings, even the seats. And the terminal?" The Mandalorian ran a hand over the shuttle's airlock opening console. "It's even stranger. There are no buttons or holograms here. I can't even assume who the author of this vessel is."
"I'm more worried about how the life support system can work at all."
Looking around, the Mandalorian in the red armor flew toward the cockpit.
"Warren, you're asking the wrong thing."
"Why, Zeronis?"
"The life support system is working. But there is no electricity."
"…"
"That's exactly my point."
"Dis, why have you frozen there? Seen a ghost?" the third mercenary laughed.
"Sort of… Boys, fly over here."
Interested, the group moved to the cockpit to examine the find. In the pilot's seat, buckled in, sat an alien. A charred mask with a red T-shaped visor somehow resembled a Mandalorian one. Dressed in dark tones, red patterns covered the clothing, and he had a hood on his head.
"Oho. There's the incomprehensible biological object."
The one named Dis brought a hand to the head and tried to remove the mask, but it didn't give way just like that. Finding the mounting and unfastening it, the mercenary managed to remove the mask.
"Stunning. As if he died yesterday."
"And you think he died?" Dis glanced at his friend.
"Doesn't he look it?" At these words, the Mandalorian caught an alien medical kit floating right here. "It seems to me that no one could survive after these preparations. Besides, the sensors don't record life, to say nothing about the possibility of surviving in such conditions."
"If he were a corpse, the body should have changed. At least the water should have crystallized, but it hasn't. The skin is as if alive." In proof of his words, the mercenary in scarlet armor touched the cheek. "It seems to me that he is alive."
"Boys, look." One of the mercenaries reached for the belt, where strange devices were hanging. "It looks like we have a Jedi before us."
"Give it here." Warren took the find from his friend's hands. "Hm… Very similar to a laser sword, but there are no buttons or a fuel cell here. The scanner doesn't see through this thing at all."
The mercenary in white-and-red armor reached out, asking for the Jedi attribute.
"Hm… I wouldn't say this is a Jedi sword. There is neither a fuel cell nor a control console here. Just a metal hilt."
"And there are four such," Kaut added, and Dis passed the find to the next.
"Maybe… trophies?"
"Maybe."
"But agree, he looks like a Mandalorian." Dis turned the mask to the others.
"I wouldn't say… where is his armor?"
"On him," Warren snorted and pressed a palm to the alien's chest. "It's hidden under the fabric. Feel it."
"Indeed…"
"Boys, what are we going to do with him? Personally, I'm for selling all this to collectors, right along with the pilot."
"Don't rush, Kaut. We'll always have time to sell. If the pilot is alive and comes around, it's not impossible he could pay us for his rescue." Warren showed the lightsaber. "I can assume the pilot found this vessel but didn't calculate his strength and, in an attempt to survive, injected himself with something from the medical kit."
"Debatable. I'd rather agree that he's not a Mandalorian at all. Just an adventurer who didn't calculate his strength and set off in this tub into space. Or out of desperation."
"In any case, we'll always have time to sell."
"Agreed."
"I'm for it."
"Then it's decided," Dis nodded. "Zeronis, help."
So, having agreed, the boys unbuckled the body from the seat and moved it on board, into an improvised med-bay. The ship itself was additionally hooked with cables.
While one pair of mercenaries was busy with the found ship, the other pair was trying to bring the pilot to consciousness.
"I didn't think Togrutas could have half-breeds, especially with a human," Dis shook his head, undressing the pilot.
"Why?"
"They have differing physiology."
"How do you know?"
"Read it. Unlike you, Zeronis, I know who I'm shooting at."
"Pf! What difference does it make who? No one survives a shot to the head."
"I wouldn't say; there are some," Dis smirked.
"What a problem—take a larger caliber."
"You can't shoot a large caliber on a ship."
"What are you, a bore?!"
"He-he… Oh…"
When the pilot's outer clothing was removed, the Mandalorians were not a little surprised to see how many scars were on the pilot's body. The entire left arm was covered with scars from an electrical charge. Several cuts, traces of blaster and shrapnel hits.
"You know, Zeronis, even if he is not a Mandalorian, I already respect him."
"Well, yeah… By the looks of it, he has gone through more than one battle. What are the vitals?"
"Zero. By all data, we have a corpse before us."
"What a, heh, 'fresh' corpse, though."
"He is alive. That's a fact."
"Where does such confidence come from?"
"From the absence of cadaveric signs."
"Does the absence of pulse not suit you?"
"Except for that. If you doubt it, just wait a couple of days and you'll be convinced I'm right."
"If anything, you'll be the one scrubbing the cabin from the corpse smell!"
"Agreed."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
"Hm… Let's assume so."
"I think… the body is most likely in some kind of coma. A heavy form, but nonetheless."
"If so, how are we going to bring him out?"
"You're asking me?!"
"Who else?"
"We need to fly to Concord Dawn. We have neither the skills nor the means to help him."
"Well… if he lived to reach us and didn't peg out, he'll last until home. Where are you going?"
"Starting the engines. We have another half-hour to fly to the jump point."
Ending the talk on this, the mercenaries dispersed, and soon the ship continued its way. Since the strange half-breed caused suspicion, one of the Mandalorians was constantly on duty near him, but the mysterious warrior never woke up. But at the same time, he showed no signs of rotting.
Over three days of travel in hyperspace, the body showed no signs of decomposition and, moreover, the blood was quite in order, albeit with its own peculiarities. This put the final point in all disputes regarding the pilot of the incomprehensible ship.
Upon returning home, to Concord Dawn, the Mandalorians transferred the unknown to the clan hospital and paid for the treatment in advance. At first, indeed, it was considered a joke there, when a dead person is passed off as a living one, but after providing evidence, the medics admitted they were wrong and tried to help the unknown.
And here something completely incomprehensible began. Firstly, the being the mercenaries brought could not exist. The question of its birth put the medics in a dead end, but that was only half the trouble. The second problem was that they could do nothing with him. Attempts to medically bring him out of the coma led to nothing. Any medications injected into the organism were rejected by it and gave no result. To the questions of how this being could even get into such a state, the medics came to one single conclusion—serum. This individual simply injected himself with some serum that slowed down all processes in the organism to the edge. But where would you find such a thing?! And even if you did, would you carry such a thing with you on a mission? Most likely not, a very specific preparation; thus the number of questions to the alien increased again. The medical kit provided by the Mandalorians did not bring clarity. Everything in it had long and irretrievably spoiled.
Warren and Dis were regular visitors to the unknown. The first Mandalorian was interested in the one found himself, his origin and the possibility of acquiring something, including the possibility of recruiting the pilot himself. Dis simply wanted to talk to the unknown. Who he is, where from, how he got on the ship, where he fought… Questions in the head of the youngest member of the group gave him no peace, and he intended to get answers to them.
Kaut and Zeronis preferred the mysterious ship to the unknown alien. To the mercenaries' surprise, selling the ancient ship turned out easier than could be imagined, as a queue of several influential collectors formed for it on the very first day. One of them was able to enlighten the uninitiated as to exactly what they had found. Naturally, not for free, but for a preliminary agreement to sell the ship specifically to him with a price specified.
"How much?!" escaped from Warren when the mercenaries gathered for a "talk."
"A collector from Alderaan is paying three hundred thousand, provided the object is truly in ideal condition."
"There's like a hole in the ceiling," Dis folded his arms across his chest.
"I have duct tape," Kaut suggested. "What?"
"Zeronis, does the client know about this?"
"Yes, I warned him. Но against the backdrop of the other finds, this is a mere trifle to which he didn't even pay attention. Therefore, such money."
"Heh. It seems we're doing the wrong work," Kaut joked.
"Apparently," Dis agreed.
"In any case, whoever he was, he has amply paid for his life, expenses, and left himself something extra on top."
"Yes. And if he knows where to get more like those, then…" the Mandalorian was already mentally calculating the profit.
"Kaut, don't be so mercenary. Besides, it's not yet a fact he'll wake up."
"That's true."
"Zeronis, and exactly what kind of vessel is so expensive?"
"It's a Rakatan landing shuttle. One of the modifications."
"Rakata?" the Mandalorians exchanged a glance.
"These beings lived twenty-five thousand years ago. They have long since gone extinct, but their… traces remained. And finding something whole is a great luck."
"Now it's clear why the ship costs so much. But I can't even imagine where one can get such a thing at all."
"I'm more worried about the pilot," Dis intervened thoughtfully. "Ancient ship. Strange pilot. Clothing, weapons, his general condition—and not just anywhere, but in such a remote place where it's physically impossible to reach without a hyperdrive. It's all strange…"
"By the way, about the weapons. Dis, have you found out anything about those iron pieces?"
"Relatively yes."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know what it is. And no one knows. But what I do know for sure is that we have anything but Jedi swords."
"Where does such confidence come from?"
"Should I show you pictures so you can compare for yourself?"
"Convinced."
"Basically, I have no idea what it is, but it's something very rare and, most likely, valuable."
"And there are four such 'trophies.' Maybe we should sell one?"
"Kaut!"
"What?"
"Maybe we should ask the ship's buyer what it is? He should know."
"No. Better to ask the owner directly. There will be fewer problems," Warren disagreed.
"Think he'll wake up?"
"I hope…"
So, the squad sold the found shuttle and divided the sum among the five, sixty thousand per head. Next, each of the mercenaries sent ten thousand to the treasury of the clan to which he belonged. No one dared to sell or study the pilot's weapons and armor, as that would be the height of insolence and disrespect toward a warrior.
However, not all went smoothly. Some showed interest in such a find, as well as in the strange alien in the clan hospital. Specifically, some tried "friendly" to find out details of the find and the alien's biography. Since it was currently restless on Concord Dawn and some clans differed from each other in their views on culture, information spread only among their own Mandalorians, but even that was enough.
So time went by. The alien lay for a quite long time; Kaut and Zeronis, not waiting for a miracle, flew off on a mission with another team, while Warren and Dis continued to visit the stranger.
And not in vain. At some point, the vitals of the hapless pilot began to return to normal. The heart was gaining rhythm, and normal breathing appeared. To ensure the exhausted organism, which had suddenly begun to come to normal, did not die, it was connected to intravenous feeding. Dis, meanwhile, looked as if he had personally returned the stranger from the next world, and each time visiting the alien did not forget to tell the medics: "And I said, I said—that he is alive!"
Nevertheless, it was necessary to wait about another week before the alien began to show signs of life. Of course, neither Warren nor Dis caught this, but from the words of the medics it followed that the half-breed tried to wake up, moved, and immediately switched off. Thus, hope turned into confidence: the wanderer would soon wake up and be able to provide answers.
A few days later, an invitation came that the strange alien had finally come to. Both Mandalorians were glad, but having read the message further, their joy was slowly replaced by incomprehension. The doctor treating the stranger reported that he talks in unfamiliar languages, does not understand Galactic Basic, but knows the ancient language of Mandalore. The questions to the stranger had just multiplied manifold.
"Dis, who did we find…"
"Let's ask him, shall we?"
"Yes… only we need to take a translator."
"And certainly with the presence of ancient languages."
"Yes."
Easier said than done. Finding such a specific droid on Concord Dawn is physically impossible. Therefore, they had to manage. Having bought a mobile translator, the size of a communicator, Dis loaded several hundred probable languages into it, including the original languages of the Taung and Togruta.
And so with this device, the Mandalorians set off to the clan hospital. The stranger lay in the same room, but already conscious, and reacted to the appearance of the Mandalorians at least strangely. He clearly did not understand where he was, but at the same time he looked at the mercenaries as at a pair of ghosts.
Removing their helmets, the Mandalorians placed chairs and sat closer to the stranger. To himself, Warren noted that there was not even a shadow of fear in his eyes. No, the warrior did not feel like the master of the situation, but showed no anxiety either. Interest, incomprehension, puzzlement—much could be seen, but not at all what ordinary people experience in his position. This added another few points to the wanderer in the eyes of the mercenaries. When the hand-held translator was activated, Warren decided to start the conversation…
Shade Aero
Slightly earlier
Oh… how crappy. I have never felt so crappy. A desert in my mouth, jelly in my head with firecrackers being thrown into it, the whole body aches and tingles as if I'd slept on it wrong. Also the vestibular apparatus "went for a walk."
Alas, but unsticking my eyes did not work out for me. There was no strength even for that, but never mind, I'll look around the old way. Listening to myself, I release a sonar.
"Kkh…" I breathe out from the hammer that hit my head, and I feel the taste of blood on my tongue. Bad, oh bad that I did that… Tears even came from my eyes. But at least I got an idea of where I am. By the looks of it—some kind of medical room; at least the setting says exactly that. Several patches on the chest with something pleasantly smelling, a needle in the right hand, by the looks of it with some nutrient solution; I am connected to life monitoring equipment myself. Hm… They organized high-quality help for me, though.
Right… enough lying around; time to wake up. Gathering the scattering thoughts into a pile, by a force of will I run a stream of the Force through the body. Excellent, I can move; now we apply Force Healing… No, stop! Remove it, remove the healing, oh…
If my stomach were filled with something, I would have already emptied it. Right, I understand: it's better for me not to use the Force right now. Unsticking my eyes, I look around. White ceiling, equipment, quite comfortable and… well, not rich, but exactly expensive setting. The owners clearly did not scrimp when they made all this. It looks like a medical center, and by the feelings, I am on some planet. I wonder who exactly landed me? Eh, no matter. Thank goodness I didn't wake up with a collar; in my realities, it's a perfectly likely prospect.
Suddenly, a gray door of metal-plastic opened and a girl appeared in it… or a woman? By appearance, about sixteen to eighteen years old. Human. Chestnut hair, blue eyes, short, and quite strong. One wouldn't call her a fragile nature, and the scar on her right palm hints at it. Dressed in some clearly medical uniform: pants and boots below, a tight jacket above.
"Ana alo veranos?" she approached me quickly, checking the vitals and checking my condition.
"Oh… forgive me, but do you understand Tythonian?"
"Neva?"
"Yeah… and Basic?"
She blinked a couple of times.
"Shit… Turg terragshsha?" I switch to Togruti.
"Vena ton tulana," she shook her head.
"Where did I end up…" I sigh and try to sit up.
"Ano vela anoveranis!" she immediately caught on, placing a hand on me and laying me back down. "Sila renal novans tular," she shakes her head. Yes, yes, sweetie, I know that bed rest is now my friend and brother; I don't think that even with your help I would get up now. "Ano vela, Mando. Ano vela."
"Mando?" I catch on. A familiar word. Apparently having understood something, the girl changed the language again.
"Mando'ade koret?"
Right… this is already something familiar. Very familiar indeed. Exactly! Taungs!
"Koret Mando'a ter usima ter Taung?"
An awkward pause fell. The girl watched me with surprised eyes; I tried to understand the course of her thoughts.
"Taungs… extinct. You… on old… language," she said separately, picking each word, in the Taung dialect. "Taung language… die… and was born… in Mando'a."
"Thank the Force, there is contact! Even such as this."
"I, call. Em… Friends. Don't move!" she said and vanished behind the door.
Yeah. I lie and soak. Where, where has the rough road taken me this time?! Although, stop. She said about friends. But… No… No… It can't be! Or can it? Damn… Guess or not, what's the use, if I'll see soon?
Though, regarding "soon" I was overhasty. An entire day passed before they decided to visit me after all; no doubt gave me time to recover. And while that didn't happen, a nurse came to me regularly, checked the condition, another brought food and provided care. Despite the mind waking up quite quickly, the body continued to sleep and the muscles to remind me of cotton wool.
An attempt to talk to the staff each time turned into a failure; we simply did not understand each other. And the girls were not agreed to speak in separate chopped phrases, and just each time referred to "friends who will come soon." Purely out of paranoia, I tried to subtly nudge a glass of water with the Force. Despite the weakness of the body, the Force remained with me, which could only please; at least I don't feel completely defenseless.
By the way, the food here was вообще gorgeous. When they brought the first snack, I thought I'd choke on saliva. They were some kind of meat sticks wrapped in something baked, juice, and puree. And just a little. Then an hour later they brought more, something else, but also a little. I didn't understand why immediately, but, thanks, they explained. It turns out this is done because of my condition. I haven't eaten for a long time, as it were, and large volumes of food at once can cause a negative stormy reaction of the stomach, so they give a little at a time. But tasty. Very tasty and diverse.
Despite the fact that I was waiting for visitors, their arrival still came quite unexpectedly. Just at some point two… humans entered my room, from whom I caught a light shock. They were Mandalorians. They truly were Mandalorians, as I remembered them from the last… second to last life. But if these are Mandalorians, and such ones, it means I am… in the future?
"I watch the guys closely."
Very distant future. No… No… It can't be. For it can't be? Please tell me I died… Shit. The appearance of the Mandalorians and their emotions said the opposite; this is all reality.
My first "friend" wore blue-and-black armor. A short cape on the shoulders, a skull of some beast on the helmet. A knife on the shin, a pistol on the hip, something built-in on the arms, and behind the back, apparently, an automatic blaster rifle. The second was in white-and-red armor, with a drawing of a beast unknown to me on the chest. Also a cloak, but also a kama is present on the belt. Two pistols, and behind the back em… a submachine gun? Looks like it.
Removing the helmet, the man in the blue-and-black armor was the first to show me his face. By appearance about nineteen years old, no scars, but a gaze of a man who has seen everything. The second on the contrary, young, only fifteen years old at most. Has a scar on the lip and left eyebrow. Hm…
Placing chairs by me, the younger one pulled out some device and the older one spoke:
"I greet you, wanderer," the man began, and the translator faithfully translated into Taung. "I am Warren of Clan Steec, this is my partner—Des of Clan Letto." The young one nodded amiably. "You are on Concord Dawn, in the system of the same name, sector of Mandalore. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"How is your health?"
"Shoot me so I don't suffer," I smile. The Mandalorians appreciated the joke and were also amused.
"Sometime later and not for free. Who are you, wanderer?"
"Shade, of Clan Aero."
"Shade, we found you in open space, on an ancient shuttle. How did you end up there?"
"Stole it," I snort. "From the former owners."
The Mandalorian jerked, and the second one also grew anxious.
"Will they look for it?"
"Wait. Tell me, what year is it now?"
"Year?" the boys exchanged a glance.
"Yes."
"The year nine-hundred and thirty, from the Ruusan Reformation."
"Right… that says nothing to me. Let me rephrase the question—how old is that ship on which you found me?"
Now the Mandalorians exchanged an even more suspicious gaze.
"Twenty-five to thirty thousand years."
"…"
Total f*cking disaster… if I had the strength, I would have grabbed my head.
"Yeah. I guarantee no one will be looking for the shuttle," I sigh.
"And do you know where to get more like those?"
"Forgive me, boys, but where I pulled that thing from, there certainly won't be anything left."
"M…"
"Shade, are you a Jedi?" Des suddenly asked. Strange. Why did Warren look at his partner like that?
"Who?"
"Well, a Jedi."
"I don't understand who you're talking about." I didn't have to lie; I only imagined who he was talking about, but didn't know at all.
"There is an order of sorcerers on Coruscant; they call themselves 'Jedi,'" Warren explained.
"Yes. I only mean that their weapon was found with you."
"I don't know what kind of weapon these 'Jedi' have, boys, but I designed and made my blades myself."
"And can you also cast spells?"
"If I understand you correctly, then yes. I also know how to 'cast spells,'" I smile.
"In that case, be careful," Warren intervened. "Jedi are not favored on Concord Dawn."
"Who favors them at all?" Des snorted.
"Then it's for the best that I'm not a Jedi."
"Perhaps… but it will be hard to explain to others."
"Thanks for the warning, Warren."
"Shade, and… how do you know the language in which you speak?"
"Learned it," I shrug. "As many other languages."
"That is, you want to say that you are… from those very times?"
"Yes."
"It seems he hasn't come to his senses yet," Warren looked at his partner, but he didn't even think of looking away from me.
"Boys… I understand how it sounds, but it's the truth. Did a living alien in the middle of nowhere, on a lone shuttle not knowing Basic, and with specific property not confuse you? By the way, where is it?"
"…"
"To confess… it all looks very strange," Des replied. "Truly very. As for the property, your ship was sold to pay for our and medical services." He swept a hand around the room. "And there's some left for you; we have everything according to honor. You don't mind?"
"I don't give a damn about the ship; where are the blades and the masks?"
"Armor, masks, weapons—everything is stored with me, don't worry," Warren replied. "Next time I will bring everything; you can be calm."
"Thank you," I sincerely thank these people.
"Not worth it. Consider you saved yourself."
"No. You could have done anything, sold both the ship and me. But you saved me. Thank you."
Warren nodded, while Des just smirked.
"Are you truly from the far past, Shade?"
"Yes."
"And you saw Taungs?"
"Well… not in the flesh. But yes, I saw them. And I admire them. Stunning warriors, the whole galaxy respected them." At my words, both men somehow straightened up. "And I am very interested to see what their descendants have turned into."
"M… I'm afraid you will be disappointed," Des immediately withered.
"Why is that? It was a great, respected people who honored the code, had concepts of honor, and made themselves reckoned with. Since you are their descendants, not by blood but by culture, it means you preserved and inherited something. The same language says so."
"Em…"
The Mandalorians clearly hesitated, and then Warren changed the subject entirely:
"Let's drop it, okay? Shade, you said you are of Clan Aero. And your helmet is similar to ours. We thought you might be a Mandalorian… is that so?"
"No. But I have similar views. I know what the Resol'nare is. I know about the six rules. To wear armor, speak the same language, raise and educate new Mandalorians from children, protect oneself and one's family, support one's clan, and respond to the very first call of the leader of all clans—the Mandalore. Essentially, due to circumstances, I already follow five of the six scriptures, with a correction for my worldview and the absence of our own Mandalore. Although…" Mentally imagining Hadiya calling us to battle. Or myself. "In principle we have our own Mandalore too." Yeah, in my or Hadiya's person.
"Stunning. Tell me, what kind of weapon do you have?"
"Forcesabers."
"Lightsabers?"
"Forcesabers. Sorcerers' ones, to put it simply."
"But you said you're not a Jedi!"
"Oh… boys. Where I'm from, there were no Jedi at all. Perhaps these are our descendants, but I'm not sure. I'd like to read some history textbook, then I'll be able to give answers."
"Hm…"
"Shade, and how did you live until us?"
"Stasis, suspended animation, hibernation—call it what you want. And a bit of 'sorcery.'"
"I see. And our ancestors… Taungs. Can you tell more about them?…"
"Dis, calm down," Warren pulled his partner. "Forgive him, Shade; he is young and unrestrained, but very curious… sometimes—excessively."
"It's nothing, I understand everything," I smile sincerely. Both men were congenial to me; I heard in their emotions neither falsity, nor deceit, nor greed. Yes, there was a note of a desire to gain something valuable with my help, but it was somewhere there.
So we sat. The boys told about the world in which I ended up, I in turn about the past, about the Taungs. We agreed that after my recovery, they would lead me around the planet with an excursion and introduce me to the modern world. For free, too. Hearing such a thing from mercenaries was unexpected, but the boys were more than loyal to me and treated me with respect. Also, Des offered to help with the language and coach me.
If you look at it that way, their benefit is clear. To accept a strong, trained warrior into the clan, who also possesses the Force—it's worth a lot, but first they want to know me better. Their right. I don't think, though, that I will accept such an invitation; I want to return to Tython and see what is there. And in general, read history textbooks. I don't want to believe that my efforts were in vain and the followers of the Unifying Force vanished. I don't even want to think about it. But for now, it's worth resting and coming to my senses.
Coruscant. Jedi Temple
A middle-aged Devaronian walked through the corridors of the temple, carrying a data pad with data in his hands. Leafing through the information, he was tormented by doubts and questions. His department, dealing with analytics, tracking Sith artifacts, and simply artifacts related to the Force, had suddenly discovered a new signal that was worth checking.
"Master Yoda," the Devaronian bowed respectfully, disturbing the Jedi in his quarters.
"Master Raynor. For what reason have you visited this time?"
"Our system has detected a strange anomaly through key queries in the HoloNet, Master. It may be ancient Sith artifacts."
"What have you discovered? More details say."
"Someone found a Rakatan shuttle from the times of the Infinite Empire's reign. We recorded a search for a buyer for this ancient craft; it turned out to be one of the collectors on Alderaan. But we came across this through a much more interesting find." The Devaronian showed a picture of one device very similar to a lightsaber. "Someone tried to determine what it is. We believe that a group of mercenaries has managed to find ancient artifacts."
"Hm…"
"Master Yoda, do you know what this is?"
"Similar to a Forcesaber, this artifact is. A dangerous weapon to mercenaries has fallen, but useless for them. Only with the help of the Dark Side can it be used. Know more we must about this find, for where one lies, another lies too."
"The trail leads to Concord Dawn."
"Hm… Bad news this is. Warlike clans are gathered on the planet; difficult it will be there to find out anything. Strong Jedi we must send to check everything."
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan