They did let me into the library after all, but under the supervision of Dooku and Raynor. Chekist, don't stare at me like that—I'm not going to delete anything; I don't need you like that. And in general, stop annoying me: your Order leaves increasingly sad impressions inside me with every passing day.
But I finally understood Warren and Des. I understood that feeling when the guys walked around shamefully lowering their eyes. Now I could fully savor that same feeling. Thousands of years of development, tens of thousands of years of wars—and what did all of it become? This??? Well… congratulations, comrades: you hit rock bottom! But I won't tell you that—at least not until I learn what I need.
And so we finally went down into the archives, which they had been so carefully avoiding this whole time (Bastards… they're in the center, and we kept walking around them in circles!). The librarians kindly offered their services so I wouldn't be an eyesore any more than necessary, so they found me the historical information quickly.
As it turned out, the Temple preserved some records about those "Dark, grim days," which Dooku also decided to read with interest alongside me. Raynor, stop breathing down my neck, it's genuinely already getting on my nerves!
So, back to history. Me and the group that went through the Infinity Gate were recorded in the annals as a detachment called "Vengeance." The Sith later drew inspiration from us, so their sins, style, and certain… peculiarities were pinned on me, and some horned bitch didn't hesitate to use that, calling me the progenitor of the Sith.
"They came out pretty damn badly, if you're still alive," I answered the Chekist in the same tone, as he flared with anger. "And don't blush like that—you're not a Dark Jedi to be getting mad. Or are Light Jedi allowed to get mad?" I looked at Dooku.
"Master Shade, please don't provoke Raynor—he reacts very nervously to you," Dooku snorted into his fist, suppressing a laugh.
"And what about 'peace' and 'serenity'?"
"Master…"
"Fine, I'll be quiet for now."
"…"
So, what's next? Right. The dark adepts in general revered me as a Dark Jedi, and as the one who split the Je'daii Order, which is why, in certain circles, my mask was known—and hated with a passion. Hence the negative reaction to my appearance among… certain members of the Jedi Order. No, Raynor, I'm not talking about you—you're "pure kindness"…
As I read, I kept breaking into quiet little "heh-heh-heh" fits, and when it got to the part that, on Ossus, there stands—at least back then there stood—a marble statue in my honor, put up to commemorate my conquest of the Rakata, I outright laughed. Damn… It's like I'm reading jokes.
Raynor and Dooku watched me carefully, assessing, and then decided to ask what was getting me so high. Waving it off with a short phrase that we never planned anything like that, I flipped the file. That was what the Sith "knew" about me—now let's see what the Jedi "know" about me.
Hmm… with these guys, it's completely different. To the Jedi, I appear as some war hero who gave his life in a war against invaders—the Rakata. And I even rejoiced, because there it was—the truth! But then they crushed me with the fact that, apparently, I had an entire army, against which the Rakata could do nothing, and though my campaign was noble, my cruelty knew no bounds. And also, apparently, I drank blood and sacrificed living Rakata by eating their hearts. Like, in the Infinite Empire that was normal, so I supposedly adopted that tradition.
My response was quiet, hysterical laughter. Yeah… an army… seven faces. No, I'm flattered, and if Mother heard it, she'd have rolled under the table. And the idea that I adopted the culture of the Infinite Empire—I won't even comment on that.
"Excuse me, ha-ha-ha-ha… but you have a typo here," I said, pointing at the monitor.
"Where?" the librarian asked in surprise.
"Right here," I highlighted the entire page. "None of this happened like that at all."
"That can't be. This is verified historical information!"
"My dear, wonderful lady… what is your name?" I asked the sweet human girl, about twenty.
"Jocasta Nu."
"Jocasta, I assure you responsibly that in reality everything was completely different. Both sources are wrong, Sith and Jedi alike. Simply because I am a witness to those events!!! Look—see?" I opened images. "Do you see? That's me! Masters, why are you silent?" I threw the arrows at my "overseers." Dooku actively pretended he was examining a figurine of some ancient warrior and didn't hear me at all, and Raynor… well, Raynor is Raynor. "Bastards."
"Pmfkg!" Raynor choked with outrage.
"In any case, let's start with the fact that I did not eat Rakata!" I ignored the Chekist. "That is slander from start to finish! As for the battle… there were seven of us. And it was a one-way road, girl. And it wasn't a 'campaign' at all, but a sabotage operation aimed at deleting data about Tython…"
With a fight, but I did manage to get it across to the librarians that I wasn't trying to "warp history," but on the contrary, wanted to correct it. Honestly… Jedi are insane, damn it. But screw them. As history showed—even this kind—our sacrifice wasn't in vain. After I left, apparently the Tython system began to recover and prepare for a return visit of courtesy. Terra, together with Saros, brought the remaining Je'daii to heel and forced them to submit. Three loyal planets against one Tython—so to speak—encouraged the adoption of a prudent decision. No, the kids didn't commit atrocities, but they did build a clear hierarchy. That's how the Followers of Terra were born; that's how the "Hadian Empire" was born.
And then the real horror began, and I even stopped laughing. Saros and Terra spent their lives preparing the entire system for war. With the help of the Je'daii and the Starwatchers, who became something like a research corps, they adapted Rakatan technology and built an entire fleet.
Photos were attached, and, to confess, I got goosebumps from the sight.
"Well, kids… you don't mess around," the thought flashed.
The Rakata, who at that time were in the middle of a civil war, were not prepared for that at all. That's partially on me, because we destroyed one of the biggest ships in their entire fleet, and that also served as the beginning of the civil war. Like, we pulled the trigger—so you could say I started it.
And when the Rakata were enthusiastically punching each other in the face, the Hadian Empire arrived together with the Je'daii and the Terrans. Together with spontaneously formed states, they freed slaves and united into a single military alliance. Thus, this avalanche grew larger and larger from system to system, and a real disaster arrived in the Rakata homeworld.
The Hadian Empire was merciless; it genocided the Rakata down to zero, carrying out the will of Emperor Saros and Lady Terra. Complicating life for the Rakata was the fact that some kind of plague started, depriving the species of sensitivity to the Force. Thus the Infinite Empire died, and thus, from a military alliance, the future Republic was born. The Hadian Empire made the most tangible contribution; being the fattest fish in the lake, it helped the rest rise from their knees.
As far as I understood from the records, the rulers of the Empire then had an idea to carefully stand at the head of this alliance, and in principle they would have succeeded, if not for my favorite—and at the same time so hateful—"but."
There were few Terrans in the Empire, and many responsible positions were held by the Je'daii. In their hands were also the most serious ships. And when a strike in the back came from the latter—a truly unexpected strike—it proved fatal. The Je'daii understood where the Empire was heading, understood that over time the original order would die out, and the Terrans would take their place. And between the Je'daii and the Terrans there was a gap in views. The latter did not consider the Force something special, did not deify it as before, and were generally closer to ordinary people, perceiving the Force as something mundane. As a result, the Je'daii simply stopped perceiving them as normal sensitives. One thing piled onto another, plus mutual dislike, and a civil war broke out.
Back when Terra, Saros, Tsikuna, and many others were alive, this gap did not exist; somehow they coexisted. It was already later that a clever man appeared who decided to "reshuffle the deck" of the political arena, but didn't quite account for the consequences.
In the course of the war, the Empire first split in two, and then into dozens of parts, where the balance was definitely not in favor of the adepts of the Unifying Force. Thus the Followers of Terra were destroyed, and the fight continued among the Je'daii. The end to the fight, strangely enough, was put by the newly formed Republic, which drove everyone into corners and seized what survived of the Empire. What was happening on Tython, no one even tried to guess; there is no data. The Force-users who survived renounced the Dark Side so as not to tempt fate and created the new Jedi Order.
"This is brutal…" I breathed out, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "This is just brutal."
"This is what was preserved and what reached our days," Dooku drew the line.
Having stepped away from the old order, I looked into more recent history to see what became of my holocron. I couldn't believe no one else tried to revive the Unifying path. And I was right! My holocron surfaced here and there, but each time something happened. Either the sensitive would go insane, or someone would help him with that. Either the Jedi would step in with a "helping hand" with a lightsaber clenched in it, or the Sith would crawl out at the wrong time. In the end, my holocron simply vanished into history and never surfaced again. And the Unifying Force was officially recognized as dangerous and forbidden.
The only thing: I found data about splinter groups that seemed to preach "The Force is One," but somehow in the present they all disappeared. Even before the Ruusan Reformation, when the brawling between Sith and Jedi was going on, the galaxy was being combed by both sides in search of the enemy, and it seems to me neither the first nor the second considered the third as their own. Bastards, in short. That's it.
"That's not what I wanted to find," I sighed, shaking my head. "Not at all."
"You are surprisingly calm for someone who has seen the sunset of his native world," Dooku commented.
"Well, actually, I wouldn't call it a sunset," I glanced at the Count. "I draw your attention to the fact that those events happened much later than Terra and Saros, and I lived in the gap between their time. Moreover, I feel pride for my descendants and for what the Tythonians managed to achieve. My presence there wouldn't have changed anything… I think. And the schism… if it happened, it would have happened after me anyway. Yes, I'm hurt that it all turned out this way, but at the same time, I'm satisfied with the successes my descendants achieved. At the very least, the galaxy remembered the Followers of the Unifying Force as those who must be killed first."
"And that is, in your opinion, a reason for pride?" Dooku raised an eyebrow.
"If they remembered us, then it was deserved. So yes, I'm proud my people managed to leave such a mark. I also noticed this in your history: there are still holes that aren't plugged. For example…" I searched. "Here! The year 3950 before the Ruusan Reformation. Someone named Revan discovered on the outskirts an unknown order of Force-users, identified as, quote: 'Neither Sith nor Jedi, something more.' And… and what? And where? Where???" I demonstratively flipped through the reference. "What was there? Unknown! But we know that at the same time, again, this Revan disappears from the Order's radar for a while, and the number of dead members of the Order suspiciously shoots upward. You don't find that 'kinda sus?' Then Revan reappears on the radar and everything seems fine—except the Mandalorian Wars begin. Right on time. And only they began, Revan jumped up like he'd been stung and started rushing around the Republic screaming, 'Boss, everything's lost, everything's lost!!!' And the Mandalorians, by the way, had so-called 'Sorcerers' in their army who—what a coincidence—have the same marks as the unknown order Revan discovered only a couple years earlier. And again, we know nothing about that order. It appears and immediately vanishes. Guess what conclusions I can draw from this?" I glanced at the frowning Chekist and the genuinely hung-up Dooku. I could practically see gears turning in his head.
After a pause, I took a breath and switched from Jedi history to the Sith-recorded one.
"So, what do we have here? And here we have absolutely nothing. Citizens, tell me, why in the hell did you purge Sith history?"
"We purged any mention of them, for there should not exist anything that might speak of the Sith."
Thump—I hit my forehead on the table.
"Force… I feel so bad… kill me."
"Master Shade, don't make a drama," the Chekist protested.
"This isn't a drama, it's a Tragedy! Guys… it's just useful to know what the enemy was thinking in such-and-such a period. It lets you calculate what he'll do next!"
"That's why something was preserved in the archives," Dooku whispered seemingly into nowhere, turning away from me. "Otherwise you wouldn't have found even this."
"…"
"Master Shade, would you like some water?" Jocasta suddenly offered.
"No need. Do you have any sweet bars? Preferably with meat bits."
"No."
"What, none at all? I mean, no sweet bars whatsoever?"
"Alas. At most—a sweet flatbread."
"Pity. A great pity. How about alcohol?"
"Also no. There is no alcohol in the Temple."
"Well you're… Jedi," I protested from the heart at such tyranny.
Closing the historical chronicle connected with the adepts of the Unifying Force to avoid a nervous breakdown, I switched to something more "modern." It was interesting to see where the current Jedi came from. Especially since I perceived it more as an anecdote you want to both laugh and cry over.
The history of the Old Republic did not disappoint me. Comparing the new order with the old one, a clear degradation was visible. You could say that a thousand or two years ago the order flourished, but after the Ruusan Reformation, it became… hell. Just hell. For the Jedi. And knowing what they had gotten up to, my black heart snickered.
For comparison: earlier in the Republic, Jedi were not only on Coruscant. Their temples were located on Dantooine, Corellia, Coruscant, Telos IV, Kularin, Ossus, Dorin, Mustafar, Yavin IV, Arkania… They even managed to rediscover Tython and honestly conducted excavations there. (Or were they finishing off those who survived? Hmm...)
Out of curiosity, I opened the excavation file. Okay, list of temples, finds, historical reports… Oh! What do you mean? Are you serious? The candy factory "Evil Bar"?! Well I'll be damned… No doubt Irbis remembered and thus honored me, embodying a dream that never came true. The memories of my old friend even warmed my soul.
I snorted when I opened the data on my temple. And then I was stunned. I don't know whose idea it was, but they painted my verse—written off the top of my head—right onto the wall. So archaeologists broke their heads over it for a long time.
Dooku, sitting beside me, looked at me very strangely at that moment, but said nothing. I too tried to keep quiet as much as possible and refrain from comments, but Jocasta, having gotten a taste, wouldn't leave me alone and kept asking about something. Damn, what did that verse hook her so hard with? No, Jocasta, I'm not a prophet—I was just bored back then. Yes, I'm serious. And anyway, I'm busy!
Returning to the temples: the Jedi were all over the Republic. Essentially, they really ruled it. Marriages and attachments were permitted; there were entire dynasties. Reading this, I involuntarily began to respect the old order: to achieve that and not fall apart—you'd have to be able to. Though, looking at their successors… yes-yes, Raynor, I'm looking at you, you are a disgrace! I don't give a damn about your opinion—here are the historical chronicles. And don't tell me how bad I am; compare those who were before with those who are now. You're not allowed to love now, not allowed to have attachments, exile to the Agricultural Corps is considered banishment or humiliation… damn, do you even understand that the "Green Jedi" held up half the Republic? They could create entire fields on desert planets, and that's not my words—that's official, your own damn chronicles!
No, Dooku, I'm not criticizing you, I'm stating a fact. It's official, guys, don't be offended, but your order hit rock bottom. Having only one single enclave for the entire Republic is brutal. And more than that—the real Jedi kept the Senate in an iron grip. There were an army and a fleet, and people lived more or less well and stably… in the intervals between Sith wars, wars with Mandalore, and everything else.
Yes, Dooku, you're right: right now there are no global wars and there haven't been for a long time, but for the love of—what is happening to the galaxy?! Pirates protect entire systems—back then no one could even imagine that! And corruption? The Senate wipes its feet on you and isn't even shy about it. What the hell?!
No, Raynor, I won't shut up, because first, this is better than any anecdote, and second, I'm not a Jedi—I'm Je'daii! And I'm not tolerant, not patient; I don't care about your light and dark, because they are indivisible. I am an aggressive fossil who will mock you—modern people and non-people—simply because I feel like it, because there's reason to, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha…
No, I don't feel bad—I feel good, I feel very good… Jocasta, what else do you want from me? No, I don't know what happened then, because my knowledge ends at the raid into the Infinite Empire. By the way… wait! Wait, where are you running, I want to ask. Do you know anything about the "Infinity Gate?" No? Pity. What is it? Nothing-nothing, just an ancient trifle.
That's roughly how we lived. Day after day I ran to the library under Jedi supervision and read jokes chronicles. The Jedi, day after day, tried to work me over. In particular, they tried to drive home that swearing is mauvais ton. That one should behave with more restraint, and pretending to be an evil Sith in the middle of a corridor in the center of the Temple is a very bad joke. Well, depends for whom; personally, it's hilarious.
They also tried to rub in certain rules, one of which said that a Jedi is not supposed to… not supposed to what, I never even understood, because I laughed and asked where I am and where the Jedi are. And if I bother you, I'll go… No? I can stay? Excellent.
Funny enough, Dooku agreed with me in many ways, and on that basis we found common ground. More than that: he turned out to be that grain of sanity in this sea of madness, so we talked often. The Count did not like that the Jedi bent under the Senate, did not like the corruption they "secretly told me about," did not like the Jedi approach of "Here we'll intervene," and "Here we won't." Guardians of peace? Of order? Great Force—private companies are arming to the teeth to fight off pirates. By the way, only recently there was some big conflict related to that. The Trade Federation had five ingots of the especially expensive metal aurodium stolen by some unknowns, worth one and a half billion credits—what a howl it was. Even the Jedi got involved. Qui-Gon is fussing about something there—well, good luck to the kid.
The Chekist, meanwhile, didn't let up and kept drilling me with his gaze and, at times, with talk. Dooku did not intervene in that; on the contrary, he asked me to give him a couple of lessons in Force use. Thinking it over, and recalling how they taught me, I tried to convey the essence to the Count, with the warning that I would not be able to control the process and, in general, he should be careful. The techniques I described to him relate to the original Je'daii, and how they would affect the Count—I had no idea. Better he rummage in the archives; I'm more than sure that on local holocrons something interesting was preserved for local sensitives. The Jedi couldn't have lost everything. They couldn't. And if they could, then I'll go back to sleep, because this is a damn mess, comrades!
Dooku also showed interest in why I count myself among the Je'daii, but when it comes to the Force, on the contrary, separate myself from them. I tried to explain that I was raised in the traditional style, so I consider myself one of them. But on the other hand, those who wield the Unifying Force are a separate estate of beings who cannot mingle with everyone else. At first the Count was offended, but after the explanation that you will die faster than you switch, he got it and didn't bring it up again.
The end of my trips to the library, peace, and calm came extremely unexpectedly. Returning once to the assigned room, I crossed paths with Yoda. The small green goblin decided to speak with me one-on-one and try to test the waters about what I planned to do (and also scold me for my inappropriate behavior, but that's the usual thing). People loved to talk to me in general: either a Rodian would come up, or some Muun, and all of them, damn it, from the High Council.
True, before we talked about politics, about my and their views, about values… it was clear as day they were testing me, and apparently now it was Yoda's turn.
After I was "reprimanded" (I sincerely tried not to laugh, or even the mask wouldn't have saved me), the conversation turned to the Force and the fact that I adhere to old views. Not even in the sense of the Unifying Force, but in the sense that mastering both sides is the pinnacle of a Force-user's skill. Even if you master them one at a time, I had seen many legendary masters who reached truly outstanding heights in the Force, and against their background the Jedi look like tourists, which I said straight out.
Yes, I am a guest here, and I did observe certain points of propriety and didn't overdo it (though some would disagree). Also, the Jedi understood that if I don't like something, I usually say so directly rather than circling around it as some goblins like to do. I also told the green shorty that the Jedi look at arising situations too one-sidedly—I can't blame them, it's the Light Side in all its glory. As for conflicts… it's a circus. Even Hadiya with her—and now my—rule of "One Offer" handled things better and more fairly than the Jedi, and that says something. So it's no surprise that during negotiations one side ends up beating the other… with Jedi support. As the saying goes: "In the name of peace and the Republic!" Pah.
"You unjustifiably thicken the colors. Not as you describe it does everything look. And more than that—you forget that not soldiers we are, but guardians of peace, and conflict we try to prevent."
"Heh-heh-heh, not soldiers, sure. And who, if I'm not mistaken, delivered a preventive strike on Mandalore about seven hundred years ago? Orbital bombardment, cleansing, m-m-m, how humane—I'm thrilled! And changing the government to one that suits the Republic? The Mandalorians only didn't want to join it, and moreover, they already realized their errors then, but no. You came, beat them down, brought pacifists to power. And you still tell me I'm aggressive?! Master Yoda, this is called double standards."
"Hm… Wrong you are in your judgments. Feared the repetition of history then we did; to prevent a renewed war we sought."
"Yeah, judging by what I see, for some reason it seems to me that Mandalore didn't go at the Republic four thousand years ago for a good life."
"To what do you hint?"
"Should I tell you directly?"
"Do you know how to do otherwise?" the Master smiled.
"What I learned did not please me, Master," I sighed. "And that's putting it mildly. The Order has double standards; I don't even want to look at the code. History? That's harder, because winners write it, but even so, I learned all I needed. You forgot the Force, you became politicians, you even started forgetting your Jedi roots. This… this is just hell."
"Categorical you are in your conclusions. Emotions lead you now; the Sith's path that is. And if Je'daii you claim to be, then where is your self-control, hm?"
"Where-where… it stayed in the p—ast." And I'm not a Sith, even if I have red skin; I'm closer to a Togruta. "No, honestly, Master, I am disappointed. Simply disappointed. Perhaps you want to do a good thing, but your methods…" I shook my head. "If I go outside and ask a passerby what he thinks of the Order, I wouldn't be surprised by a negative response. When did you last talk with ordinary people? When did you take interest in how they live, you 'defenders'?"
"You are wrong, for you know nothing of our world. For peace in the Republic we fight, and for its citizens. Better we know what they need. And the Code was written by sages, and it is not for you to judge it."
"I'm not judging; I'm giving my opinion. You asked for a direct answer."
"My words you interpret differently. And biased views you have. For example, about the Force. Say you do that the dark side is lacking for us, hm? But otherwise we believe. Dangerous the dark side is; to destruction it leads, including of you yourself. And an example now is near—in you it shows itself, in your speech, in your manners. You do not fear us, yes, though you should, for alone you are, and we are the Order. Respect in you for others there is not a drop, as there is no compassion. Sith that is the path, the path of the dark side. Yes… easier it is, more accessible, simpler, but a trap it is," I froze mid-step, slowly turning my head. What did this eared goblin just say?! "In yourself you have accepted it, yes… And though evil you do not wish, little by little it spoils you, as it does any other. Such a thing we do not need, and you must rid yourself of it."
"Excuse me…" I swallowed a lump, stopped the goblin. "Master Yoda," regaining composure and restraining the impulse, I cleared my throat. "E-krrr-khe. I don't usually speak like this, but… wouldn't you kindly go arrrsk'kher?" I don't know if he understood it literally, but he clearly caught the essence—look at those ears perk up. "'The dark side is simpler and more accessible?' I'll turn you into a floor mat right now for those words alone!" I growled, clenching my fists and fully turning toward the shorty. Dooku and Raynor, who had been nearby, tensed for the first time, but to hell with it. I can close my eyes to much, to almost anything, but—my mother was the greatest of sensitives. She knew how to immerse into the dark side like no other; she fought for the Order and died in my hands, defending Tython. I saw her pain, heard her wrath, and felt her love for me. "Simpler"? Your entire Order couldn't even walk half her path. Experienced Je'daii went mad playing with the dark side, but not her. You can't even imagine what you have to go through to reach even a fraction of that peak. And all the more, you have no idea what the dark side is, how dangerous it is, and what kind of being you need to be to work with it properly. Not to fall into it, but to remain yourself—and use it!
My tirade made an impression on the Master. I didn't release the Force, but by my tone it was clear that this eared goblin would say one more word and the Order wouldn't help.
"M… Your feelings I did not wish to offend, only my opinion I voiced. Apologies sincere I offer," the goblin lowered his head. "Truth here is yours; your mother's memory you bear, her sacrifice you remember—praiseworthy this is. Bad of her to speak I did not want, and your anger I understand, so temper it I ask. But my view this will not change. Thousands of years the Jedi have served the Light Side, and so they will serve for thousands more. And the Force… different we are; that says all."
"Tch… You are incorrigible."
"As are you."
"You know…" Listening to the little one's emotions, I heard sympathy and guilt, so I exhaled and spoke more calmly. "…what I noticed in the Temple, but tried not to mention?"
"M?"
"In the entire Temple, I did not hear a single melody. You gathered everything in one place, but there is something I never found. One of my teachers once said: 'Music is the reflection of the soul. It is like a mirror; it reflects what is inside you right now.' But if nothing reflects, then there is nothing to reflect?"
Would you look at that—Yoda really sank into thought from my words. Did I really manage to break through his thick Jedi skull?
"I can understand a lot, Master. Power, money, the desire to help, the desire to comprehend the Force, hatred for it—moreover, one of my friends hated it. I can understand pirates and drug dealers. I can understand a lot. But I cannot understand those who have lost their soul. And judging by what I learned, this Order has long been dead. That concludes our conversation."
"Where are you going?"
"I have stayed as a guest long enough."
"Leaving you are?"
"Yes. Or am I a prisoner?"
"No. But stay I ask you a little longer."
"And why?"
"A decision we must make about you. A simple figure you are not."
"Tch." I waved it off.
Leaving the Master behind, I went down the corridor. A decision, huh? Well-well. Let's see how you stop me, heh. I've had enough of Jedi. I've overstayed my welcome; it's time to know honor—especially since everything I needed, I've learned. (Before I actually kill somebody.)
Dooku and Raynor followed on my heels, and before I reached my room, I noticed several more Jedi from the Temple Guard. As if they could do anything to me. Hmm… Interesting—do they know what a Force Storm is? Especially indoors. Especially on a Force nexus. M-m-m, I'm evil, it seems.
Back in my room, I closed the door behind me and, clapping my hands, looked over the space. So how are we getting out, Shade? It turned out I'm a representative of an ancient and, by modern standards, mysterious order—and I need to leave in style! Though… do I even need that?
Standing there for a bit, I realized I was so la-a-a-azy to invent and build something that I decided to go with the most brazen approach I was capable of.
First, we write a farewell note. Politeness is everything! Heh-heh. Now, we prepare the standard Jedi uniform near the entrance, in the blind spot of the cameras. Next step: leave a decoy.
Closing my eyes, I slipped into meditation. I needed to create a truly high-quality illusion. Usually, a "doppel" is a mind-trick technique where only a specific target sees the illusion, or several. But there are advanced versions too—specifically the ones that create not an image in your head, but a real image, like a hologram, woven from the Force. That requires filigree micro-control, because every movement, every muscle, every gesture—you must calculate yourself.
Having formed the needed image in my head, I assembled it in reality. Ma, I can be proud of myself! For the first time, I got such a "living" illusion. Carefully controlling the figure, I guided it to the bed and, laying it down, fixed the pose and looped the imitation of breathing.
Now the next step. Taking off the mask, I changed into Jedi clothing. Up to this point, I had tried to walk around in my own attire, periodically washing and drying it. If Uval saw what I use "pyrokinesis" for, he would strangle me on the spot.
Back to clothing. A white robe, pants, belt, boots; a cloak on the shoulders; a hood on the head. Well… in principle, I look solid, and that means my face will adorn any style, even the shittiest one. Heh. But the hood probably needs to go—in it I draw more attention than without it.
Tying my hair back again, I rolled my things up into each other. Securing the resulting improvised bundle with a belt, with the Force I tucked it onto my back under the cloak. Yes, it sticks out a bit, but not critically.
Making sure I was ready to leave, I sent out several waves to see who was outside. Two sentries: one at the door, one in the corridor. Wa-a-a-atching. Heh. A slight touch of the Force, and both of them thought they saw me flicker off to the side. While they were distracted for a couple seconds, I fed interference to the cameras and left the room.
"Technology, achievements, fencing…" Pah! Learn the Force, gentlemen, because it's what decides things.
So, where's the exit? If memory serves: right, straight, then left and to the lift.
"Tu-du. Tu-du. Tu-du-tu-du-tu-du-tu-du-tu-du-uuuu tu du-du-du-du," I hummed to myself, carefully hiding a smile. In the Force, I left a loophole for my aura so I wouldn't be a blank spot—too suspicious.
No, it's hilarious. Because I always hid my face behind a mask, nobody recognizes me at all.
"Good day, younglings," I nodded to a group of little ones.
"Hello, Master," the children bowed.
Aww. How adorable. I couldn't even hold back my smile, watching the kids go. Seriously: in this gray, dreary place—a cluster of shining, unclouded spontaneity, like a breath of fresh air. Alas, the thought of what they will become ruined everything. Eh…
Heading for the lift, I crossed paths with Master Piek, a Muun on the Jedi Council. We stood there, riding in the lift; I watched the dial counting floors. When the Muun turned to me, I tensed subtly and prepared to knock out a witness, but the lift stopped, and my passenger left me alone.
"Phew."
Pressing the button for the ground level, I went down. Wait—what? Why did we stop? Sensing Raynor outside the doors, I hid completely in the Force and, jumping up, latched onto the ceiling. That Chekist would totally question a suspicious Jedi.
"…I'm telling you, no."
"But Master, why?" Raynor and some Jedi Knight entered the lift and pressed the button up. Hey! Where?!
"Because leaving him at large is too dangerous…"
"Right… now this is interesting."
"…remember what he showed in the training hall? That's just the tip of the iceberg! And if he tries to revive the Followers of Terra? That's a nightmare!"
"Well, let's say not a nightmare, and I wasn't sharpening my teeth on you yet to panic like that."
"…Master Yoda thinks otherwise. He believes we should treat a follower of the Unifying Force with more tolerance, and not take such radical measures. It is enough to put him under surveillance as potentially dangerous…"
"You little eared goblin. Asking me to stay longer? Catch me outside the Temple walls and I'll turn you into a floor mat for sure."
"Master Yoda is mistaken," Raynor cut in.
"I like you even less," I added mentally.
"But Master Raynor! The Code forbids harming an innocent being. And even more—killing an unarmed one. Yes, there are exceptions for you, but they apply to Sith and those connected to them. Master Aero is not connected to them in any way, and the Council will not approve your point of view."
"We'll see. A perfect chance has presented itself just now."
The lift doors opened, and the pair left me alone with myself. Pressing the button with the Force, I dropped down. Hopefully there won't be any more passengers.
"Good timing that I packed my stuff," I whispered, straightening the cloak. Shame I won't see their faces when it all hits them.
Leaving the lift, I walked through the huge central hall of the Temple. I don't know how it was in canon, but here, right in the middle of the hall, there stands a gorgeous fountain made back in the days of the Old Republic. In general, all the statues in the Temple were made in the past; modern Jedi don't do art at all, which darkens an already bleak picture.
"Thanks for the hospitality, Masters—you did me a service, but our paths part here," I said, turning and saluting the Order. "For your own good, I hope we don't cross again…"
***
A little later, Jedi Temple
The members of the Jedi High Council held an emergency session. The agenda was the ambiguous guest of the Temple. While Aero studied the archives, the Jedi studied him. His behavior, views, principles, talents, habits. But despite the long period, they managed to learn painfully little.
Aero did not remove his mask, but lived openly and was always glad to speak with someone. True, in the course of the conversation, it was usually his interlocutor who ended it, because Aero had the nasty habit of picking apart every detail, interpreting spoken words differently, and sometimes had the audacity to openly criticize the Order's politics.
And the fact that he was, essentially, in a чужой Temple didn't stop him at all! On the contrary, it only spurred him on even more, which left some with the impression that Aero lacked an instinct for self-preservation. Raynor suffered especially from this, because the Je'daii didn't hesitate to remind the Jedi of the Code, and that they should be restrained and reasonable, rather than "killing with a stare."
But the dispute was interrupted by a Temple Guard bursting in.
"Masters. I must report that the Je'daii has left."
"Hm…"
"What?"
"How did he 'leave'?! Where did he leave to?"
"Unknown, Master Raynor. We only noticed that he was lying in his room, and then vanished. On replaying the recording, it was visible how the silhouette seemed to melt away in a matter of seconds. The Temple is being searched now."
"Any sign of theft?"
"No, Master Yoda. Nothing was taken."
"Security recordings being checked?"
"Yes. But so far they are of little use. Shortly before, we observed brief malfunctions on various cameras; the droids are already checking them."
"So then, it seems the question resolved itself," Count Dooku drew the line.
"Resolved? We only learned that he is capable of slipping away from right under our nose."
"Conflict to start our guest did not wish, despite his confidence. Guessed he did that at peace leaving him we could not, and for us the decision he made."
"Masters, what will we do?"
"Wait. For nothing else are we capable of. Searching for him pointless it will be, and only relations it will strain further."
"And still. I won't leave it like this…"
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan