Asteroid fields in open space are like people, Kailas thought, watching a chunk of rock, resembling a shapeless piece of cheese, grow as it approached: it was riddled with passages made by mining equipment. The Force allowed him to do even more... To see with his inner vision the place where you need to go is not the most difficult thing an Adept can do.
Drifting in space, asteroid fields are the same as human communities: they are born from a few dust particles, grow, collide, merge or break apart, collide again... And either they are erased into useless dust, or they live their entire lives as they have become, or they become giants like this, if circumstances align favorably – gravity, proximity of other large debris, suitable approach speeds... And the end for all is the same.
The drill of a tunneler droid, which will leave only empty rock. And even that some manage to put to use, when there is nothing left to take from it, except for the stone mass, pierced by corridors. The corpse of a failed planet becomes a haven for parasites gnawing at the Empire's body.
His fate turned out to be the same. Who was he by human standards not long ago? A successful artist, exhibitions gathering full halls of galleries and a lot of enthusiastic feedback. Forgotten after an obituary in the press. "It's necessary," the recruiter told him, an officer with understanding and kind eyes. "It's necessary for the good of the Empire. You are special. The Chosen One. There are only a few like you in millions of sentient beings. Your gift will serve Peace and Order much better when we bring it to perfection."
And he believed.
And how could he not believe when the impossible happened before his eyes?
How could he not believe when he himself began to achieve this impossible?
Until now, he had only put his gift into paintings, and sincerely believed that he simply had a talent for conveying his feelings to viewers with a brush and paints. It is known that viewers look at the paintings of a good artist, but at the paintings of a talented one – the paintings look at the viewers.
And then he was invited to meet in a modest office with a company name that meant nothing to him, in person. He went out of curiosity. And he left there a different person. With a different name. A different biography. Even his appearance was altered, not radically, but still...
Kailas smiled grimly at the asteroid, which was already blocking half of his view. When they exit the jump they just entered, the asteroid will look exactly like this. This stone mass had its appearance altered much more radically. It was unlucky. And it will be even more unlucky if he manages to complete the mission.
Not if, he corrected himself. When.
And his only reward will be his own conscience.
Because it was his conscience that now gave him missions.
Sometimes, in those rare moments when he had time to think, he would distantly marvel at his own naivety. It is rightly said about artists and poets – they are not of this world. And this world takes full advantage of it. With what eyes he looked at the teacher who chose him... Miraluka Jerec, a powerful Adept, who revealed his own capabilities to him. Who gave him a whole world that Kailas would never have known if he had remained simply a talented artist. Who gave him flight...
He idolized Jerec. He believed so blindly that he didn't even think when his teacher ordered him to submit a request for transfer to the ISB. He didn't think when Jerec would occasionally unobtrusively inquire about some details of the security operations. He was head over heels in his new job – and in training. The Force sang to him, the Force called and promised, the Force loved him when he piloted the ship through hyperspace, without established routes, directly, like birds fly – he was a bird!
And he was happy to serve his teacher, who had given Kailas this opportunity.
The realization came to him gradually. An occasional dropped "operation failed." Reports of dead or missing operatives. Not immediately, but Kailas understood that in most cases, these were the operations and people Jerec had asked about. For a moment, he felt cold, but he quickly dismissed the thought. It's just a coincidence, he told himself. The teacher is loyal to the Empire. He cannot be a traitor. He cannot be on the side of the Alliance. It's impossible.
It was so easy to convince himself that any of the operations could end in failure and the death of the employees involved. That a promotion was the result of his diligence and performance, not a way to gain access to more serious service secrets. That he was still serving the Empire...
Until one day Jerec asked him to gather some information about the Emperor.
Kailas felt as if he had been doused with cold water.
He looked at his teacher in confusion, not understanding if he had misheard, if he had imagined it? He even asked again – and received a quiet, ruthless answer:
"Do it."
Kailas remembered what happened next, when he said "no" to his mentor for the first time. His throat still ached when he returned to that moment in his memories. Half-strangled, destroyed, broken, he could only nod convulsively in sign of obedience. And then Jerec let him go, confident that he had achieved his goal.
Kailas dedicated the rest of his workday to preparation. When he left his post, he had a stack of identification cards in different names and positions – from simple couriers to field operatives, created retroactively for different dates, with meager and unremarkable dossiers. Kailas Varu, a student of Inquisitor Jerec, fully utilized a recently discovered loophole in the security system.
He left the planet the same day, with one of the unscrupulous traders who didn't register passengers if paid in cash. There, in the dirty hold, curled up in a hiding place, Kailas finally allowed himself a silent hysterical fit, in which he poured out his shock.
His mentor served not the Empire, not the Emperor – he served himself. He was gathering a team of trained specialists with whom he could seize the throne, and killing those who refused to swear allegiance to him. And he taught Kailas only what was beneficial. A Force pilot from a former artist turned out to be excellent. But Kailas could not even imagine that the Force, which he was ready to serve selflessly, could choke. Maim. Kill.
Now he knew that too. And he was ready to use Jerec's last lesson.
The next day, under the name Klaus Varma, he accessed the system and learned that his mentor had used all the information he had obtained to accuse the fugitive student of espionage and aiding rebels. There was no doubt: if he tried to restore his good name and expose the betrayal of the miraluka, they would not believe him.
He was no longer an Adept in the service of the Empire; he was a wanted criminal. But Kailas had not dismissed himself from this service. He had identification cards. If used wisely, without appearing on the capital planet, staying away from places where he could be identified by DNA or retina scan, he could last a long time. A very long time.
And he could do a lot. Not for himself – for the Empire. From below, it is easier to see those who gnaw at its roots.
Rebels were different, Kailas had learned long ago. His service in the ISB did not imply that only Kessel or execution awaited everyone who fell into its sights. There were many sincerely misguided people, who fell for emotional propaganda, and did nothing more dangerous than making statements in a bar under the influence. With such people, it was enough to talk to them like a human being, to explain what the victory of the Alliance would entail for ordinary citizens. None of them wanted disorder and defenselessness for themselves and their loved ones. Perhaps the rebels would establish order, some time after coming to power. But until then – what would happen to ordinary sentient beings, who would have no one to protect them from rampant crime?
Nothing good, and people understood that. Non-humans, for that matter, too.
Many among those who supported the Alliance were profiteers. They came to the rebels with their own goals, and cooperated with them as long as it was profitable for them. As soon as the insignia and identification of the ISB appeared on the horizon – the profit became illusory, and one could no longer remember such individuals. Unless they flashed in the criminal department.
It was on them that Kailas bet when he began his personal war. The Force told him who he could turn to to gain trust, the Force guided him when he looked for embedded agents and either helped them or disrupted the operation if he understood that Jerec was behind the operative. Several times he was on the verge of exposure, and he lost count of how many times he wanted to give up everything and stay in his deeply secret lair on Dantooine. A lake, a cave, and Aunt Shianu. A Force ghost who prevented him from falling into an abyss from which there is no return...
It would be so good to just live there, collect bird eggs, catch fish... Maybe even paint again, the Force would help him with that too, he was sure. You can create paint from clay if you think about it properly. And if he didn't figure it out – Aunt Shianu would suggest it. Kailas was afraid to even imagine how much this old woman knew when she went into the Force four thousand years ago. And how much she learned after...
Dreams, dreams... Kailas chuckled grimly. He knew he wouldn't last there even a few months. Not his nature, not his character. While he rests, the Empire fights, and his place is on the front lines of this war. Even with the stigma of a traitor, even constantly on the verge of death – but in the ranks.
Perhaps this operation will be his last deed. It was too dangerous where he was going. Too little chance of returning alive. But the Force whispered – and he obeyed it when he caught a quiet conversation about a secret terrorist base somewhere in an asteroid field, not tied to any system. They could only be talking about some old industrial development that had been depleted and abandoned, but the coordinates were preserved in old archives. If you know where to look, you can find many useful places...
Whoever organized this base knew what they were looking for. Kailas winced – another identification card would have to be put in the stack of used ones after he reported this location to the ISB. The operative would be written off as killed in action, and the case would be closed, and it would be impossible to use the same identity again. It would attract unnecessary attention.
There were very few identification cards left. Enough for three or four more operations, if he was lucky. Then he would have to improvise. If there was anyone to improvise for... It wasn't for nothing that these scumbags managed to build such a structure right under the nose of the SB? They even chose a name for themselves... "Punishers," damn them... Have complaints against the authorities? Then present them to the authorities. By legal means, illegal means – that's up to each person's conscience. But what conscience can be talked about when they punish ordinary citizens, who don't think about any war, the civilians in the military's language? Their only crime is that they are citizens of the Empire. They are killed, the survivors are intimidated, and they consider themselves to be carrying out punitive functions?
He was the punisher here. When the ship reaches its destination, they will learn what just retribution is. Punishment. And he will do everything to make it the last thing they learn in their lives.
Of all those who acted against the Empire on the side of the Alliance, the terrorists were the only ones whom Kailas did not intend to understand, persuade, or spare. And he eliminated them by all available means. Including those that Jerec taught him during their last meeting.
Kailas sincerely hoped it was their last meeting. Because he fully realized how different their power levels were in duels using the Force. Jerec would kill him without effort, like an ant. All Kailas could do was secretly disrupt the miraluka's plans, and who knows, maybe ant bites would eventually be fatal for the Inquisitor who betrayed his Emperor?
If he dies on this base, there will be no one left to bite Jerec's heels. A good incentive to survive. But if it turns out that he can only leave the asteroid by going into the Force, he will have to take everyone with him. The last service he can render to his emperor. No one will know about it. No one will appreciate it – neither with a kind word nor a bad one.
But what, in essence, is the difference? An anthill does not keep the names of the ants that build, protect, and defend it, but they do not stop building, protecting, and defending because of it. And they die, if necessary, without any calculation for posthumous honors.
And even if they find out... Who would grieve for him? He buried his parents long before he became popular. His fans have long forgotten about him, perhaps his paintings are still hanging somewhere, with a mourning ribbon in the lower right corner as a sign of grief for the artist. He didn't have time to find a life companion – and that's for the best. What could he offer her now, besides constant fear for his fate, and the need to hide for the rest of her life, live a lie, and fear that the truth would be revealed?
A woman who decided to share his existence could still save herself if she cooperated, told everything she knew, and renounced him. Perhaps she would even be put under a witness protection program to save her from revenge – what if someone found someone to avenge him? He would certainly try to make them think so.
But what if they had children? Children who would then carry the stigma of a traitor father for life, who could not be proud of him, could not say to their peers: "And this is my dad..."
For a moment, Kailas choked with inhuman longing and pain. The Force is my witness – how he wished he had them – a woman who would wait for him, children who would proudly hold their heads high, calling him father... But he had already sacrificed all this back then, in that modest office of an unknown firm, signing non-disclosure agreements.
He could not have a family. Never. Because the past will always stand behind him, the past will always cast its shadow on him, the shadow of the miraluka Jerec, who taught him not to trust anyone.
An irretrievable loss. One of a long series of irretrievable losses. How many more will there be before his path finally ends?
Kailas stretched out on the bunk, closed his eyes. Soon, a guy who interested him would be assigned to him. He doesn't look like a convinced supporter of the Alliance, and even less like a terrorist. He'll need to probe him. But first – get into character. Put on a mask that will temporarily become his face. A joker and a merry fellow, for whom everything is as easy as pie, but with his own agenda. Such a person is more likely to win over a cabin mate, which resembles a cell more than anything. And see what he can get out of him, and then decide what to do.
Hardened during his secret work for the Empire, Kailas still tried to avoid unnecessary sacrifices. Every accidental death he couldn't prevent gnawed at him for a long time, and he couldn't dismiss it as an inevitable loss. Everyone who died so absurdly because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time was his personal miscalculation. He didn't want to increase the list of such miscalculations.
The guy could be here by accident, convinced he was just helping good people. He could have been deceived, promised a good profit or payment. In that case, he would have to do everything to get the kid home.
But if he is here because he shares the terrorists' beliefs... If he is willing to kill and intimidate peaceful people living their lives, obeying the law and harming no one...
There will be no mercy.