One of the first lessons in the temple and meeting the instructor
"So, kids, allow me to introduce myself—Bagiran Naron…" began a tall man in a blue cloak, a sword at his belt, and a fitted combat suit—if not outright armor. But…
"You're the guy who was standing in the corridor!" I came at him right away, stepping to the front. The man clearly hesitated, but still found his footing.
"You must be mistaken…"
"Not once! I remember your aura perfectly. Back then you were really surprised, and now you're downright shocked." Snickers ran through the group, but…
"Alright, calm down. Even if that's true—how did you see?" the guy narrowed his eyes.
"Like I'd tell you everything," I fold my arms across my chest and turn away demonstratively. "Why should I share personal information with someone who not only doesn't say hello, but also vanishes into thin air and won't even admit it? I don't talk to sketchy people!" He choked, and I continued. "Not talking!"
"To what kind of people?"
"Sketchy. Now Master Garos—that's a different story. At least he's polite."
"Pfft-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…" a bright female voice rang out in the hall. Turning, we saw a young Sith woman who, doubled over by the wall, was cackling like mad. "Ha-ha-ha… oi, amana lusa… ha-ha-ha… asara halun."
"Tsikuna, stop," the newly revealed Master of Disappearing cut in, but the girl couldn't be stopped.
"Oh, I can't… Bagi, they've called you all sorts of things, but to hear that from a child… where did you stand out like that?" that strange creature asked, wiping tears away.
"I just went to see what kind of newcomers we got," the Master looked back at us.
"And he saw you, yeah?" The man didn't answer, but I received an entire crowd of baffled stares. "What's your name, kid?"
"Shade," I answer, squinting at this odd lady. No idea who she is, but the level of the Force in her is huge. Maybe like Mom's…
"And your last name?"
"Aero."
"Oooh… Well, Bagi—pray. You just made HER son look like an idiot. MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!"
"Where did I end up…" I whisper with just my lips.
"Sorry, you're probably confused?" she addresses me. "Relax. My name is Tsikuna. Aara is my best friend. We made the pilgrimage together across all nine temples. Qigong Kesh is my temple. And one more thing—if this 'sketchy'—" she looked at the man, "—gives you trouble, just tell me. I'll put him in his place in no time."
"Uh…"
"Alright then, kids—I can see you're settling in little by little. So, I wanted to say: welcome to Qigong Kesh. Hope you like it here," she addressed the stunned group. "Alright, I have to go. Good luck, Bagi. And remember—it's HER son," the last words sounded like a curse. Or a sentence.
"Yeah, I got that already," the man muttered, hiding the lower half of his face behind a protective collar.
Silence fell in the hall. People exchanged glances and kept peeking at the Master, while the Master himself stared at the passage where the Sith had disappeared.
Taking a couple steps, I tug his sleeve.
"Master Bagi, can I ask something?" He looked at me like he was ready to kill me right here and now, but after a deep inhale-exhale, he answered.
"Ask. Why not."
"What do you specialize in?"
"Managing auras and your own body using the Force. And maintaining your physical condition."
"Got it."
"Listen, kid. How did you see me? I hid my aura—no one can even feel me in the Force."
I think for a moment. Strange: in my "sonar" I saw him clearly. Or rather, his outline, behind which there was emptiness—with emotions.
"Accidentally." I shrug and smile.
"Oh yeah?" he looked at me like Müller looking at Stierlitz.
"Yeah," and I put on the most honest eyes I'm even capable of. Laughter came from behind me—my classmates.
***
You know, the place is clearly not bad. At the very least, it's obvious why Mom insisted on this specific temple. Tsikuna, the Master of the temple, is a very active girl… well, woman. Turns out she has a husband and a couple sons, but they're already Trailblazers. And what's most interesting—she's pushing forty. FORTY by local time is like seventy by what I'm used to. And the main thing is, Mom is the same age—yet by appearance you can't physically give either of them more than twenty-five to thirty.
But alright, that's just lyrical. The point is the temple. After arriving on the planet Tython, the ancient starships—the Tho Yor—scattered to different regions of the planet, near which the temples were founded. One of the Tho Yor came to a mysterious desert whose sand swallowed any sounds. Any at all. Completely. Call out to a person a hundred meters away, and they most likely won't hear you. Closer—they might. But farther—no.
Here, near the ancient ship floating in the air between curved stone spires, the Je'daii Order founded the Temple of Force Understanding. The sheer size of the temple was mind-blowing. The main buildings of the temple were located in a complex system of underground tunnels and natural caverns. Walls protected the cave entrances from desert sand, and the cave walls protected from the scorching sun. The mild climate inside the temple was maintained by six giant air conditioners deep within it, operating on the interface of electricity and the Force.
In the center, there was a spacious inner courtyard, and above it hung the Tho Yor. By the way, this is my first time seeing a ship like that. The ship itself looked like a massive three-dimensional diamond with four main engines and eight maneuvering thrusters. No windows or doors were visible, but the ship was radiating the Force like crazy. Like I'm standing next to a reactor, no other way to describe it. It was physically impossible to get inside the ship, and no one dared damage it, so the vessel became something like a monument.
"Sh-a-a-a-ade!" one of the Twi'leks suddenly latched onto my neck. "Why are you off to the side, friend? Come with everyone!"
The moment people learned my "authority level," I instantly jumped from the "mommy's boy" tier to the "best friend" tier. Damn, it's nauseating. Though not with everyone, yeah.
"Va'al, get off. Enough."
"Why are you so angry?"
"You're annoying."
"N-no, with that attitude toward your neighbor, they'll ship you off to Boganu."
"What if I punch you in the face?" I lift an eyebrow. In a couple takedus in the temple, I'd already managed to get into a fight a couple times—and win. Yeah, Tsikuna and the other Masters tore into me afterward, but at least it got through to many that they shouldn't try to piss me off.
"Oh, they're calling me over there. I'm running. See you," and he vanished. He already got it once when he pushed too far—he's not stepping on that rake again. He bails early.
With a sigh, I turn to Ramira. The most problematic Zabrak you can find in this world—believe it. Shy, soft, insecure. Master Garos is bending over backward trying to rid her of an inferiority complex, but it's not really working. People say kids are like clay: whatever you mold, that's what you get. Her parents were not only non-Force-sensitive, they were also from the lowest stratum, and that's trauma for a child from whom… from whom other lives will depend. The twins avoid her, calling her a pseudo-Zabrak, and the others aren't particularly friendly either. Only Lina is genuinely friends with her, and Vessira sort of supports her. At this rate, they'll literally beat all the potential out of this little one—and she does have it.
"So what are we sad about?" I ask the horned Zabrak girl with her head hanging. By the way, a pretty Zabrak girl.
"Marti told me to get lost. Shade, tell me—I'm a disgrace, not a Zabrak, right?"
"Oh, don't start, alright? You are who you are. Also—Marti is which one?" I hook an arm around her, and point with the other at three guys whispering in the corridor.
"Huh? Th-thanks. A-and… why do you need that?"
"I just want to know who's picking on such a cutie."
"Shade, don't… you're already… not really liked. Some people."
"Rami, either you tell me yourself, or I'll go and ask them. There's no third option. So?"
She blushes, but redirects my hand.
"There. Him. From the older groups. They say he can read people and talk about their talents."
"He can read people, huh? Then let's go—let him read me." I take her hand and pull her along like a tractor.
"Huh? Where?!" the Zabrak girl gawks.
"Where do you think? I won't allow my comrades to be insulted. Especially ones this cute, beautiful, and just wonderful," she turns even redder, but stops resisting.
"…and he says, 'should've slept less,' and laughs. Instead of helping clean up."
"Are you Marti?" I ask the human bluntly.
"Well, suppose I am. And who are you? This little runt's buddy?" he points at the girl behind me.
"But you can read, right? So read," I snap back.
"You're bold, acting like that. Didn't anyone teach you how to talk to your elders?"
"Nope. And anyway—my respect has to be earned. And you, 'pal,' insulted my friend." People exchanged looks and laughed. The whole group was four individuals.
"So you came to dispense justice?"
"Bingo."
"And can you?" At that moment, the whole group gave off a wave of threat at once. But at the same time, I see five figures approaching me. The twins, Vessira, Lina, and Gris (the same Wookiee. I am learning the language, and my 'client' is the teacher.) They walked up and simply stood behind me without saying a word.
"I can," I answer confidently, practically crushing the mental barrier with the Force. One thing is a small scuffle; another is a full-on brawl between two groups. The bully didn't hesitate long, then gave in.
"Fine. I apologize for my words to this young lady. Satisfied?"
"Completely." I turn and look into Ramira's astonished eyes. "What?"
"I thought you'd fight."
"Why?" we both asked at the same time. Trading a look, I wink at the guy; he only snorts, and we turn back to the girl.
"If you remember, fighting in the temple is forbidden," Mark spoke up. "And since you're relatively new, the main blame would fall on us. Your friend knows that very well. Right?"
"Yeah," I nod.
"The conflict isn't worth bruises. And this psycho—" he pointed at me, "—would definitely have taken it there. Right, Aero?"
"Exactly!" I snap my fingers. "Because there's no damn reason to pick on the little ones."
"I didn't pick on anyone. I just stated a fact."
Suddenly, a bell struck, cutting off our dispute.
"Looks like it's time for class. See you, Aero," the group literally dissolved into the corridors of the temple, as did the other students.
…Ramira stared after the older kids.
"By the way, why did you come over?" I ask the ones who gathered.
"They made us," one of the twins grumbled.
"Gru-u-u."
"No way! You threatened to rip our arms off if we didn't come!" the second twin exclaimed.
"But he was kidding," Lina sang softly, lightly bonking the Wookiee.
"Ru-gu-ra-ar," Gris happily patted the Miraluka on the head.
"Don't make excuses, furry doormat on legs. We'd never in our lives go save this useless klutz," I feel a searing wave of hurt flare from Ramira, and her hand squeezes mine a little tighter.
"If I were you guys, I'd carry her around in your arms," I throw in my five pens (local money). The hurt is replaced by surprise and confusion. And that second emotion came from everyone.
"Why?"
"To answer, I have to ask. Who do you think she is?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?"
"Well?" I press.
"Weak, with no talents."
"A worthless useless hack. She can't even say a word. How's she going to survive on Tython?" Another wave of hurt—this time at me. I feel the urge to hide and cry.
"Well, you're partly right," the urge intensifies; tears well up; and the female part of the group looks at me reproachfully. "Yeah, she's so-so as a fighter—but she doesn't have to fight. Her strength is something else." People listen more intently, and Ramira seems to stop breathing. "Healing."
The twins exchanged looks and smiled, but the little one… She was radiating such a cacophony of emotions I won't even try to sort them out.