Shocked by the sudden vision, Revan recoiled from the fair-haired boy, staring at him through the visor of his mask. The Jedi's keen hearing caught the barely perceptible hum of HK's personal shield, ready to defend his master.
"Are you alright, sir?" the boy asked, concerned.
He felt no darkness from the boy, and the concern in his voice was sincere. The dissonance with the image of the terrifying Dark Lord in heavy black armor from the vision, which for some reason was strongly associated with this very boy, threw the Jedi into a stupor.
"What, in the name of the Force, was that?" he asked himself mentally.
The vision was very vivid and clear, which indicated almost complete predestination. Or was it all because of this strange aura surrounding the child? And was it him in the vision? Perhaps it was someone important to him... or someone who would become important... in the future.
The initial, almost instinctive, decision to kill the boy on the spot and eliminate a potential threat was rejected. Something subtle influenced the Jedi's thoughts. As if the Force itself did not wish harm to come to the child.
Revan cursed mentally. Even he, who had known both sides, would never fully understand the Force. And its constant hints, visions, "coincidences," and other quirks irritated him beyond measure.
Here he was, "accidentally" ending up in a shop where a potentially very powerful adept was sitting in the back room, and moreover, missed by the Jedi Order's seekers. Or does the Council not even look for younglings anymore? After all, with some Sith, the number of enclaves in the galaxy had been reduced to a single Temple on Coruscant. At least, that's what the HoloNet said.
"I still need to get to the temple and talk to the Great Holocron... if the Jedi haven't... ahem... lost even this relic," the former Sith's thoughts were interrupted by the boy, who approached again and tugged at his cloak.
"Mister?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Revan regained his composure. "Lead the way."
The young man walked ahead, showing the way through a narrow corridor lined with shelves and tables of spare parts and half-disassembled mechanisms.
The Jedi gestured for his droid to follow them.
The warehouse, as it turned out, occupied a large basement room, reminiscent of Volo's shop. And there was indeed everything here.
"Happily: Master, I am almost happy," HK rasped.
"Wait, friend, first we'll pick out the necessary parts and patch you up, then you'll be happy," Revan chuckled, continuing to watch the child out of the corner of his eye.
The boy, meanwhile, looked at the droid with interest.
"I've never seen one like it!" he exclaimed with delight. "What series is it from? A protocol droid? And who's the manufacturer? Industrial Automaton? Droidtech? Intellectron?"
The boy bombarded him with questions and radiated such lively interest and genuine joy that it evoked a subconscious response in the former Jedi's soul. After all, the great Revan himself once rushed around new technology samples, eager to learn more about them.
"This is HK-47," the former Sith approached his droid. "He is, you could say, my personal assistant with enhanced functions."
"Proudly: With numerous and quite diverse functions," the subject of conversation corrected.
"Yes, yes, whatever you say," Revan patted the metal chest plate. "I assembled him myself on the chassis of an old protocol droid. Although, nothing remained of the old one except the chassis. Everything else is from droids of various series."
"Cool," the boy exclaimed admiringly. "I've also assembled my own droid... well, almost assembled. There's still a lot to do, but it's already operational."
"Wow! You're doing great," the Jedi praised the child. "You must have a talent!"
"Thank you... but it's nothing special," the young man lowered his gaze shyly. "I just, like, feel what's wrong with a particular part and... know where it should go."
A guess flashed through Revan's mind that this child was subconsciously using the Force. It was surprising. Without training, and at such an age... He was worth keeping an eye on.
"I'm Anakin, by the way," the boy extended his hand. "Anakin Skywalker. You can just call me Ani."
"Vaner Shan," the man cautiously shook his hand, fearing another burst of images.
However, there were no visions.
"So, what do you need for the droid?" the young mechanic inquired. "It looks pretty good, everything seems to be in place."
"I'll need some tools to fix its chassis. It hasn't had maintenance in a long time, so to speak," Revan gestured with his hand. "Also, it's time to replace the optical sensors, the vocabulators, the main reactor, the fuel cell grid, and a couple of internal components. Oh, right, it would also be good to replace the servo drives in the joints with more modern, articulated ones."
Anakin's eyes widened as he realized the scope of the upcoming repairs.
"It even has its own reactor?" the boy asked, regaining his speech.
"Yes, a small one, from an old military model."
The young man examined the droid again, whose chassis was almost the same size as a human body. Military-grade microreactors were very expensive. He hadn't been able to get one for his own protocol droid, which he was secretly building at home, away from Watto.
"We don't have any reactors," Ani said regretfully. "Jabba bought the last ones six months ago."
"No problem," Revan shrugged. "Will universal fuel based on second-order isotopes be available?"
"I think so."
"Then, everything is fine. We can limit ourselves to replacing the fuel element. The control circuit is undamaged," the Jedi nodded with satisfaction. "How about the rest?"
The boy scurried around the warehouse, picking out parts that Revan and HK himself rejected. The droid was impossibly picky. Parts were rejected due to insufficient functionality, micro-damage, scratches, low specifications, and other conditions understandable only to the assassin itself.
They managed to find a couple of excellent military-grade sensors, along with almost new servo drives. The vocabulator was borrowed from a decommissioned C-1 series protocol droid that had been lying in the shop for who knows how many years. There was even a brand-new targeting card from an automatic turret, which HK clung to with a death grip, demanding it be bought. Or rather, first demanding, then asking, and then begging. And when Revan was starting to feel sick from the droid's fawning tone and excessive "Master-Master-Master," he gave in. He would find the software part on the HoloNet.
The Jedi left the shop almost three hours later, having left nearly 15,000 credits there.
Regarding Watto and his blackmail attempt, Revan decided to play along. He and the Toydarian agreed that the man would think about it and return in three days. You know, he wasn't going anywhere off-world anyway. The alien reluctantly agreed. Apparently, the sum he expected to get from the Jedi was much larger than what Jabba had promised.
The repair of HK-47 did not take much time, as the design originally allowed for the installation of modules from various manufacturers, so they only had to deal with contacts and connectors.
It was difficult to persuade the droid to shut down to replace several internal systems and install a new targeting system. Once back to his robotic life, HK flatly refused to lose consciousness again, even temporarily. Only a direct order from his master had an effect.
Cleaning the chassis and main components of grime, oxidation products, and other traces of time took much longer.
The next day, the droid was already shining with reddish armor with a barely perceptible sheen of cortosis plating. The squeak during movement disappeared, making HK almost silent again, and the new servo drives made him even more dangerous and effective in combat.
The flamethrower built into his left arm had to be abandoned, as it had become inoperable over the past millennia. However, the ion discharger was in perfect condition, as HK demonstrated by shorting out the door control console in the hotel room where the repairs were taking place.
Revan wasn't worried about the mess caused by the droid's maintenance. He would negotiate with the hotel owner... one way or another.
Meanwhile, his thoughts were occupied by the vision of the dark lord that had visited the resurrected adept of light and darkness when Anakin first touched him. However, its meaning still remained hidden. Revan understood that it was something connected to the boy... and, most likely, it was yet to come.
An attempt at deep meditation to understand what had happened ended in failure. Instead of the silhouette in black armor, Tython appeared before his eyes. Then the Jedi Temple and the dark aura of the Star Forge. It was as if the Force itself had pushed him back into reality, insistently advising him not to waste time.
However, the boy deserved attention, and Revan planned to keep an eye on him.
The issue with Watto and his blackmail remained. Running from the Hutts across the desert was not a pleasant prospect. He could silence the merchant forever, but that would attract unwanted attention. As HK-47 politely noted, the Toydarian's shop sign bore the symbol of one of the bandit clans controlled by the Hutts. This meant that if the winged merchant were removed, the local thugs would immediately find out, and they wouldn't be happy about it. No one wants to lose a source of protection money. And then the rumors would reach Jabba. And that slug would quickly put two and two together. The hunt for the arrogant thief who stole the freighter with the beskar cargo would begin again.
There was also the option of sharing the cargo itself with Watto, but that was a last resort. Almost as much as the idea of simply decapitating the Toydarian with a lightsaber.
"Situation analysis: Master, I have noticed that you have encountered a problem with an insolent winged bag of meat who dared to threaten you," the droid's voice sounded when Revan sighed wearily once more.
"That's right, HK," the Jedi agreed. "He's guarded, and it's dangerous for us to get involved with them now."
"Displaying awareness: Master, I have found out that the symbol on that merchant's shop belongs to the local bandit clan 'Blood Claws.' Their numbers are only about a hundred sentient beings of various races. The leader is a human named Tycho Dorma."
The former Sith pondered. The droid hadn't mentioned the relatively small number of the clan for no reason, even by Mos Espa standards. Another acceptable solution emerged.
"Are you suggesting what I think?" the Jedi raised an eyebrow expressively.
"Conspiratorially: Oh, yes, Master," HK drawled.
Six hours later.
The Commercial District.
The hideout of the 'Blood Claws' clan.
A man in a hooded cloak and a seemingly harmless protocol droid confidently walked towards the entrance of a cantina, where, according to rumors, the hideout of one of the local criminal clans was located.
The bartender's mind proved quite pliable, and the old Rodian revealed everything he knew about the leader of the thugs and their hidden base.
"Excellent," Revan put the bartender to sleep with a touch of the Force.
"Warning: Master, there is a guard near the secret door indicated by this bag of meat," HK quietly said through his vocabulators.
"Do not kill anyone without orders. We don't need any unnecessary traces."
"Readily: Understood, Master."
The Jedi's plan was quite simple. To infiltrate the clan's lair and make its leader an offer he couldn't refuse. Namely, to work for him. Of course, in secret from the Hutts.
The snag was that as few people as possible should know about the change of leadership. This meant no traces could be left behind.
Revan slowly walked behind the bar and entered the back rooms as if it were a common occurrence. There was no guard near the secret passage, as the droid had mentioned. However, a moment later, the Jedi sensed two sentient beings on the other side of the door.
HK-47 lunged forward sharply as soon as the door opened wide enough. With a swift movement, he struck one guard in the temple with his elbow and, in the next instant, brought his armored fist down on the second one's head.
"Hutt damn it, HK!" Revan exclaimed in a whisper. "I told you not to!"
"Embarrassed: I didn't kill them," the droid mumbled, like an offended child.
A black glove pressed against the T-shaped visor of the Mandalorian mask with a soft thud. Sometimes Revan forgot that he himself had programmed initiative, a desire for action, and moderate aggression into his creation's behavior matrix.
"Well, 'moderate'," thought the creator of the galaxy's best assassin hunter. "He just didn't account for the fact that after four thousand years, the poor guy would get bored of action."
Taking a couple of breaths, the Jedi gestured for them to move on.
The Force aided the pair of saboteurs in their progress deeper into the thieves' and murderers' lair, bypassing infrequent patrols and guard posts. The hideout turned out to be larger than the former Sith had expected. Three underground levels, a good arsenal, living quarters, and a dining room.
"A real fortified base," Revan noted, assessing the scale.
"Assessing: Insufficient number of stationary turrets," the droid added. "Imperial bases had a more effective layout."
"Ah, everything was more effective back then," the one who had ruled his own empire thousands of years ago shook his head.
A lone Blood Claw fighter, who had decided to take a stroll through the empty corridors, was captured by the saboteurs and used to find out exactly where the clan leader was holed up on the base.
Getting to him turned out to be surprisingly simple.
Involuntarily, Revan thought that even criminals in this "new world" had become too relaxed.
"Good day, gentlemen thugs, murderers, thieves, and scoundrels of all stripes," the former Sith greeted the head of the criminal clan and his six personal guards, who had set up something like an ambush in Tycho Dorma's private quarters. Although, it was hard to call it an ambush. Seven against a Jedi and an assassin droid? That wasn't even serious.
Dorma was quite young. Revan would have guessed him to be about twenty-five. And considering that people on Tatooine often look older than their age, the kid could have been a teenager. But if he managed to lead an entire clan, which also got the Huts' approval for its existence, the guy must have had his head on his shoulders. And not an empty one at that.
"And who is so brave that they dared to show up right in the lair of my guys?" - a voice, low for his age, came from the leader of the criminals.
"Call me... hmm... Lord," Revan grinned to himself under his mask. "And I'm here with an offer that's impossible to refuse."
The HK tightened his grip on the blasters he had previously pulled from hidden compartments, having heard the desired words from his master.
"Oh, really?" Dorma smirked. "And what kind of offer is it?"
"Work for me. Unofficially, of course," the Jedi crossed his arms over his chest.
The HK's targeting systems had already identified the targets.
The leader of the Claws laughed, clapping his hand on the table.
"You made me laugh!" he managed through his laughter. "Work? For you?"
"Yes," the former Sith nodded calmly.
"Heh, for such a joke, you'll die quickly," the leader, pleased with himself, leaned back in his chair. "Kill him."
"HK, easy," Revan whispered, shifting behind the droid.
And the assassin hunter sharply raised both hands, in which Mandalorian blasters were clenched, and with six precise shots, disarmed the leader's guards.
No one returned fire, as the fighters were pinned to the walls by the Force's shockwave.
The clan leader, who had come to his senses, had carelessly kept his hands impossibly far from his holster when an invisible hand squeezed his throat.
"Listen to me carefully," Revan said loudly, pulling Tihko Dorma to him and forcing him to his knees. "From this moment on, my orders will be your sacred law, and I advise you not to even try to break them. You will continue to pretend to serve the Huts, but I will become your true master. Do you understand me?"
Dorma, gasping for air and scratching his throat helplessly with his fingers, nodded convulsively.
The former Sith stopped choking his captive and threw a communicator at his feet.
"Here are my contacts. This way you can contact me if necessary."
The leader of the Claws nodded.
"And most importantly," Revan moved very close to Dorma, "don't even try to betray me."
The captive frowned, but nodded.
"Unconvincing," Revan shook his head. "It seems you just don't understand who you're dealing with."
"It's... you... kkh... don't understand," the clan leader croaked.
"Oh, I understand perfectly," the former Jedi grinned. "I wasn't born yesterday. But you're mistaking me for someone else."
"Mockingly: A stupid bag of meat."
"Do you see the droid?" Revan pointed to HK, who was sweeping his blasters from one stunned guard to another. "He alone can wipe out your entire, if I may say so, organization."
"With mockery: In about three minutes."
"And I can churn out many like him, very many," the former dark lord said threateningly, releasing a little of his dark, oppressive Force aura. "And you won't even notice when they come for you. After all, it could be just a regular protocol droid of one of your clients."
The captive coughed and swallowed heavily.
"And if even this hasn't convinced you that it's better not to mess with me, look here," Revan turned his head to one of the stunned guards. "Get up!"
The bodyguard's eyes flew open, and he shook his head, coming to his senses.
"Oh, my head..." the poor fellow moaned.
"You want to shoot yourself in the knee," the ancient Jedi pressed on the guard's consciousness with the Force.
"How I want to shoot myself in the knee!" the fighter moaned tiredly and, picking up a pistol lying nearby, pressed it to his leg.
A shot, a yelp, and a groan of pain.
"Did you get the point of the message?" the former Sith tilted his head, looking into Tihko's frightened eyes.
Stunned by what he saw, the young man nodded frequently, covered in a cold sweat. The man in the mask inspired primal terror in him! He had never met anyone so powerful! What were the Huts compared to him! This stranger could destroy the entire empire of those slugs with a single command! Lord... that name suits him!
At least, that's what the frightened teenager thought. And Revan had no intention of dissuading him. There was no need for him to know that only the weak-willed succumb to such persuasion. Not to mention that the Jedi had been cunning here, choosing from the guards someone who had dormant masochistic tendencies. After all, it's not that easy to make a sentient being harm itself.
"Yes, my Lord! I understand you!" the leader of the Blood Claws, kneeling, bowed his forehead to the floor, right at his master's feet.
Revan shook his head.
"Another fanatic," he thought. "It's always like this with me..."
However, the goal was achieved. The clan swore allegiance to their new secret leader. The Jedi acquired a barely visible mark on his left bracer, by which any informed sentient could understand that its owner was under the protection of the Claws.
At the end of the "introductory meeting," Revan discussed the issue of Watto's shop and the delivery of necessary spare parts with Dorma. He also hinted that the Toydarian would do well to understand when to keep his mouth shut, if he didn't want to lose it.
The next day.
Watto, who met Revan, was in a very gloomy mood. Apparently, the conversation with the Blood Claws had already taken place.
"Efficient," the Jedi noted mentally.
Grinding his teeth audibly, the Toydarian sold all the spare parts needed to repair the "Dump" for a symbolic 10,000 credits.
"Thank you for your generosity and prudence, esteemed Watto," Revan grinned under his mask.
"Yeah, sure," the merchant grimaced.
Overall, the former dark lord didn't need anything else from this shop. All that remained was to repair the ship and get away from this irritating planet.
But an image of Anakin flashed through his mind, making the Jedi stop at the very exit.
Revan wasn't eager to take on students. At least, not until he figured out what was what in this world. But he couldn't leave such a gifted boy unsupervised either.
As an option, he could have dropped him off with the Jedi, since Coruscant was planned as the next stop. But first, he needed to ascertain the boy's abilities.
An idea came to him.
"Esteemed Watto!" Revan called in a syrupy voice.
"What else?" the winged merchant responded grimly.
"I have another offer for you."
"What is it?" a hint of interest flickered through his unfriendly tone.
"I want to rent your slave, Anakin, to help me install the purchased parts. Of course, I'll pay."
The Toydarian squinted and scratched his chin.
On the one hand, he found the buyer unpleasant. Especially since he was dangerous, given that he was protected by the Claws, who had warned the shop owner to sit quietly and not blab.
But on the other hand... credits!
"For how long will he be needed?" Watto finally decided.
"No more than three days."
"Alright. But he must come to me every morning for a chip check," the Toydarian demanded. "I don't want my slave to be stolen too."
"And I had no such intention," the Jedi feigned indignation.
"Cunning old merchant," Revan thought. "So, it won't be possible to quietly take the boy off the planet. Well, we'll have to find another way."
"Then it's agreed."
The interlocutors shook hands.
When Anakin learned that he would be helping his new acquaintance repair his ship, the boy practically jumped for joy. His passion for technology was strong, after all.
"Perhaps Vaneer could have been as fascinated by ships, droids, and hyperdrives as this boy," Revan thought sadly. "Or perhaps he was."
The Jedi sharply pulled himself together. It was unbecoming to get attached to this child. Especially since the future was still uncertain.
The repairs went quite quickly. Despite his age, the boy understood the ship's systems quite well. Almost as well as Revan himself.
On board the smuggler's transport, which bore the nickname "The Dump," the former Sith allowed himself to walk without a mask, seriously fearing that the name would stick.
Seeing his new friend's face for the first time, Anakin was surprised that he was still very young, despite acting like a very experienced adult.
The Jedi was flattered by the compliment, although he understood that it couldn't have been otherwise. After all, the experience from his past life was still there.
While the repairs were underway, Revan secretly observed the boy, noting any manifestations of the young guest's abilities. And there were many. The eyesight, inherited by the ancient lord from one of the parents of his new body, allowed him to discern the subtlest streams of the Force that enveloped the boy. He unconsciously directed them, making them help him in diagnostics and repairs. And once, the former Jedi even noticed how one of the tools shifted slightly, moving under the small hand that was trying to find it.
Despite his age, the boy had already experienced a lot. A slave's life is not easy, no matter how you look at it. But he still managed to remain bright and pure of heart, which made the Jedi increasingly doubt that this child could grow into the monster he saw when they first met.
Besides, he couldn't have imagined that about his friend Alec either, until they both fell into darkness.
Anakin was a curious child and asked his new friend many questions. Who he was, where he came from, what he did, what adventures he had. Everything interested him. There wasn't much interesting on Tatooine, especially for a slave.
Revan gave the boy roughly the same story he told Mel, about an unsuccessful hunt and long wanderings in memory of his deceased father.
In turn, the Jedi tried to find out about the boy's origins and determine the extent of his awareness of his abilities.
And so, on the third day, when the repairs were fully completed, Revan decided to speak more or less frankly to clear the air.
"Anakin, have you heard anything about the Force?" the former Sith asked when they had finished a simple meal of rations.
"The Force?" the boy asked, surprised and interested. "What is it?"
"The Force... hmm... how can I explain it to you?" Revan pondered. "It is an invisible energy field generated by all living beings, even the smallest, that surrounds and binds everything in the universe together. An elusive and intangible companion and helper to some gifted sentient beings."
"Gifted?"
"Yes," the ancient master nodded. "For example, have you heard of the Jedi?"
The boy nodded excitedly.
"Yes! I've heard of them! They are good! Defenders of justice, peacemakers, and so on..." Anakin tried to recall as much as possible. "They've come to Tatooine a few times. They freed two slave children."
"Aha. So, the Seekers are still scouring the galaxy and recruiting younglings," Revan thought. "And they have an extremely positive reputation. The HoloNet didn't describe them in such detail."
"And you, Vaneer, are you a Jedi?" the boy suddenly asked.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, you didn't start talking about the Force for no reason. And... I don't know... there's a strange feeling around you."
The Jedi noted the boy's quick wit.
"Well, I won't hide it, I am one of the gifted and I once trained at the Jedi Temple."
"Wow! Really?" the young man jumped up excitedly.
"Really."
"Cool!"
Revan smiled at the child's openness.
"Moreover, you are also gifted," the former Sith stunned the boy.
"What?! Me?!"
Anakin couldn't utter a word, his eyes wide open.
"Yes, I'm almost sure of it."
"So, I can also train with the Jedi?" the boy asked hopefully. "And they'll come to free me? Or, no! You came to free me! Right?"
And what could he answer to such a sincere question? No? I'm just passing through? But he couldn't confirm the boy's assumptions either.
"Not exactly," Revan shook his head. "I ended up on Tatooine by accident."
Anakin grew sad.
"But I promise you, I'll figure something out," the man said, patting the boy's hair encouragingly.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Suddenly, the ancient lord felt the familiar presence of another Force adept. And not just one. It seemed like two. Definitely light, though not shining with fanatical devotion to the Jedi Order's ideals. Or perhaps, all knights nowadays don't have particularly bright auras?
In any case, Revan had no plans to be discovered yet, so he quickly masked his presence.
The two adepts were clearly approaching the planet.
"Well, let's see who has graced us with their presence," the ancient thought.