Shade Aero
Yes... Pulling myself together turned out to be no easy task. The Force has never thrown easy paths my way, and it wasn't about to start now. As if the glitches from the past hounding my every step weren't enough, they decided to finish me off at the end by dragging me almost entirely through an echo of the past.
I wouldn't be surprised if I've gained a few gray hairs. Why? Because the "movie" came with smells, emotions, sensations... Mmm, unforgettable impressions! I especially liked seeing Terra and Saros leading their troops. I felt a surge of pride for the kids... and my heart dropped into my boots when the strike hit them. I managed to recover, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, events began to gallop forward again.
I saw battles, I saw peaceful life, I saw Hadiya and Vessira. Neither of them ever remarried after I left. Despite the fact that I had severed the bond—which is painful enough—Vessira continued to cherish what remained, as did Hadiya. It's interesting that I was never "buried." I was written into history as the one who would one day return to Tython, and it simply couldn't be any other way. Terra spoke of this too. Despite everything, she believed—believed to the very end—and knew that I was alive, just lost among the stars. And even if I wasn't found, the knowledge remained.
It hit me particularly hard when that knowledge turned into faith. I was held up as an example of one capable of turning the tide of an entire war. We—our foray—saved the system from the Rakata. A desperate situation, against us the Infinite Empire, against one single star system, but we won. And later, when things were dire, that situation was cited as an example. Voices... they were everywhere, the same words in different ways. "Do not give up, do not retreat. Do not give up, do not retreat... Do not give up, do not retreat..." they were simply driving me mad and making me clutch my head.
Faith—faith in me, in what we did, in the idea that with my return better days would come—it forced the Hadian Empire to move forward and sometimes commit mad, reckless acts, throwing themselves into losing battles and emerging as victors. I simply couldn't believe what I had managed to spawn. Yes, I taught Terra and Saros to hold on, to stand until the end, and if they fell—to get up and keep going. To strike the enemy where he least expects it, and to strike so that he cannot recover. But I never imagined what this would turn into.
Besides that, I managed to see Hadiya's funeral as well. I experienced it as if I were there. After that, I realized the Force drags you through the strongest imprints, the most vivid and significant ones.
I got to see my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The kids didn't let me down; at the very least, looking at the way they grew up, I could be proud of my descendants, which made it even more bitter to watch them die. And the most disgusting part was that it wasn't the Force influencing my emotions... it was merely showing me, nothing more.
Damn... The last time I was twisted like this was when I descended into the Chasm. But this time, everything was... different. I just watched—and realized that my life remained back there. And, essentially, I died again... I died along with Tython, along with my loved ones. And now—it was time to start a new life.
Anger and resentment seethed within me over what happened to my descendants. I felt a grim amusement, because despite all the attempts of this universe—the Tythonians are alive. I am alive—which means the Terrans will be heard of again. Yes, I missed my girls, and it was all the more painful to see them, but they are gone; moreover, they have even merged with the Force and are now in a better world, while it's still too early for me to relax. After all, the Force gave me a chance to live another life. Considering what I saw... I cannot slack off. I simply don't want all of this to be forgotten—everything my descendants went through, my girls, myself—I don't want it all to be in vain. So enough resting, Shade, it's time to get to work!
I even cheered up a bit. Of course, there's no point in seeking revenge or proving anything to anyone—those times are long gone. But reviving what was started back then—that is worth it. The Hadian Empire will return, and this time I will try to ensure it has teeth so sharp that no one would even dare look at it sideways. The Mandalorians look excellent in terms of regular forces; all that's left is to pull them out of the gutter and feed them properly. But first things first.
With that intent, I left the meditation hall. Passing through the halls to the elevators, I found the Mandalorians near them.
"Welcome back, Shade. How are you?" Zerronis asked immediately.
"I'm fine."
"Are we going down?" Dis nodded toward the open elevator shaft.
"Yes. We need the service corridor."
"The sewers?" Kaut clarified.
"Technically—yes," I smirked. "But in reality, it's a passage to another elevator."
"What about that descent we found?"
"That's a decoy. It's a well-known fact that bunkers are built under such fortifications... The only difference is how well it's reinforced and at what depth it's located."
"Well, yeah..."
Stepping to the edge, I looked down.
"Follow me."
Jumping off, I plummeted several levels. Immediately after landing, I blew the doors open with the Force and stepped aside, making room for the others. Right, now this way...
"Guys, don't you find this a bit creepy?" Dis asked over the internal comms.
"What exactly?"
"We're alone, on a dead planet, in a dead system, somewhere in the ass-end of the world that you still have to figure out how to get to."
"And?" I asked the Mandalorian.
"What do you mean 'and'?! The very realization of this fact fills me with..."
"Terror," Warren chuckled.
"Terror is what happens after you're in the fresher," the laugher choked, while I looked back. "I was going to say—awe."
"You're right, Dis. There really is something to it," Kaut agreed. "For example, we could pull out a clan flag and declare the planet our property."
"Everyone thinks of something, but Kaut thinks of money," Zer sighed.
"Actually, de jure, this is my planet, as is the entire system."
"Then we don't even need a flag. No one's going to contest it anyway."
"Who? Tell me, who here is going to contest anything?" Dis exclaimed.
"That's the beauty of it!"
Talking about nothing in particular, we reached the next shaft.
"Here."
"Shall we cut?"
With a wave of my hand, I ripped the doors out.
"That works too," Dis shrugged, while Warren approached the edge.
"Hm... How many floors?" the Mandalorian asked, peering down.
"Not floors. It's a straight shaft three hundred meters deep. After the Infinite Empire's attack, Hadiya decided to play it safe... A good habit, by the way."
"Remind me again—Hadiya is...?"
"The Queen of Shikaakwa, the Hadian Empire was named in her honor, and she is my wife."
"Ah... Got it."
Stepping into the void, I fell downward. Just before landing, I struck the ground with a Force wave, compacting the elevator wreckage and clearing a landing spot.
Breaking through the doors, I entered a hall where we were met by a reinforced vault door. Behind me, jetpacks hissed, and one by one, the Mandalorians stepped out to join me.
"Are you going to break this too?"
"No. This will have to be cut."
Igniting my saber, I plunged it into the door and began slowly moving it in a circle, cutting out a disk half a meter thick.
"Don't touch the walls, and don't even go near them," I said, noticing Dis's curiosity.
"Why?"
"When this was built, pressurized acid was installed there. Judging by the fact that everything is intact here, it's likely still there, and I don't want to test what's happened to it over such a long period of time."
"Oh..."
"Shade, is there another way in besides the elevator?"
"A ladder in the elevator shaft."
"And besides that? What if the shaft gets blocked?"
"The bunker is designed on the mole principle. If unwanted guests make it down here—the shaft is detonated and the bunker remains untouched. Once everything settles down, the system will begin a gradual ascent of the entire structure to the surface."
"Shade... Your wife wasn't just a paranoid. She was a PARANOID!"
"I know, Kaut. And besides, she has a ridiculously bloated inner hamster that yours still has a long way to grow to match."
"Inner... hamster?"
"The internal beast characterized by the hoarding of material goods."
Having finished the cut, I kicked the plug inward.
"Well then. Be guests in my home."
"Usually, hosts don't cut through their own doors."
"Things happen."
Climbing inside, I looked around. From the looks of it—it was in very good condition, I'd even say—perfect. It was clear that the source located somewhere here had preserved everything, if not in its original state, then in a perfectly acceptable one.
"Any surprises?"
"No. It's safe here. At least, it should be."
"Are you joking?"
"Well, my gut feeling is resting easy."
"Ah, well, if it's the gut feeling, then of course everything's fine."
The bunker itself, which we found ourselves in, was a small three-story house for twenty souls. Essentially, ten rooms, two people per room. A kitchen, which also served as a living room and lounge. A modular warehouse, a reactor room—that was basically it. Outwardly, the bunker was simple and without frills, but in reality, it was the quintessence, a concentration of the Hadian Empire's advanced technologies. It was quite something even in my time. And what it was capable of by the time the Empire fell, I wouldn't even venture to guess.
What we managed to find here wasn't much, but it wasn't little either. The computers would never start again, but the crystal storage drives they used were quite alive. They just needed to be carefully transferred to suitable reading equipment. Luxurious flower vases, carved tableware... The cutlery alone was a work of art. Hadiya couldn't do without a touch of luxury even here.
Alas, there were no holocrons lying around, though I really wished there were. The paintings and some luxury items also hadn't survived the test of time. The emergency kits prepared specifically for the residents—one kit per person—hadn't survived either.
But all of that was completely unimportant, because the most valuable thing was in the reactor. I felt that there was a weak Force source under the temple, well... here it was, before us. A reactor powered by the Unifying Force.
"Is it valuable?" Kaut clarified when we gathered to stare at the marvel of engineering. A cylindrical something, recessed into a special, tightly sealed protective casing.
"It's priceless, Kaut," I said, taking a step closer and placing my hand on the casing. A pleasant warmth passed through all barriers and touched my aura... "And it's in full working condition."
"What?!"
"Force-based technologies don't have an expiration date," I shook my head. "Time simply cannot touch them. Millions of years will pass, and it will still work. But not because they are so durable—though that too—but because the Force itself will restore them."
The sound of a cash register clicking rang out next to me. Almost in sync, we slo-o-owly turned toward the Mandalorian.
"What?"
"Fix your face," Dis bumped Kaut's shoulder.
"As if you can see it."
"Believe me, I can."
"Shade, had you reached these technologies?" Warren turned to me.
"Not in my time. I only saw the very beginning of the conflict, but even by then, we had advanced in studying Kwa technology."
"The what now?"
"Not what, but who. The Kwa—an even more ancient race. For a long time, their technology was considered a mystery, but with my appearance, we began to unlock those secrets. They used the Unifying Force, so my arrival was the key. And after me—my children took up the cause. As we can see, the result is before us."
"Wait. How... How can a reactor run on your sorcery? It's not like... electricity or something."
"The Force, Warren, is energy. It can be concentrated, directed, used," I said, demonstratively lighting a spark in my hand. "And it can be used for both creative and destructive purposes. And a Force reactor has roots very familiar to me."
"Is it definitely safe to touch this thing?" Dis clarified, assessing the reactor and its mountings.
"Definitely. The casing is intact, the mounts are fine, the reactor is stable," I ran my palm over the hull. "It's ready for extraction."
"Someone's going to be very happy."
"Double the rate!"
"Triple, Kaut. They'll pay any price."
"Shade, are you sure?"
"About what exactly?"
"This is your past, these are your technologies. Are you sure you want to sell?"
"We need the money more, Warren. And the technology... We won't be able to do anything with it," and adding in a more mocking tone: "Just like Rugess Nome."
"Um... Why?"
"The Infinite Empire spent its entire history trying to solve the mystery of these technologies—and failed. And these guys won't succeed either. But not because they're fools, no. You don't just need first-class specialists; you need specialists in the Unifying Force. And you're unlikely to find those in the entire galaxy."
"What about you?"
"I'm a warrior, not a scientist. The most they'll be able to do is understand and glimpse some principles. Perhaps—important ones. It's possible that some will push technology to a new level. But if they manage to squeeze out even a quarter of what's built into this," I patted the reactor, "even that will be a lot."
"M..."
"No, I know a thing or two about the Force, but THIS is truly a sky-high level," I anticipated the next question.
"Should I bring the cutter?"
"We'll just cut it out," I ignited my saber.
So, accompanying the work with conversation, we cut the mounts and moved the reactor to the ship. Along with it went the vases, utensils, data drives, and terminals. Yes, it was broken, but collectors will take even that.
Ultimately, we completely packed the ship with various tras—err... I mean, archaeological treasures. It got to the point where I even cut frescoes and inscriptions out of the walls. And when the hamster finally settled down and sprawled contentedly over the treasures, we left Shikaakwa.
***
Once the Unknown Regions were behind us and communication was restored, I decided to call the future buyers. After checking with Warren if he still had Damask's chip, during one of our evening cultural gatherings... (over pazaak and booze), I placed his wrist-link in the middle of the table and activated the call.
The device beeped steadily; seconds of waiting stretched out, which no one paid any attention to whatsoever. Talk about true professionals of indifference! This is who the Jedi should learn from. The men had returned from a galactic hole, with a dangerous wonder-weapon worth millions on board, a business talk with a buyer was about to happen, and they were playing cards. And I was right there with them. No, really—why not?
But when the computer beeped, indicating a connection, the voices went silent. Damask couldn't see us, just as we couldn't see him; the projectors were off, but nevertheless, we could hear each other perfectly.
"Hego Damask?"
"Yes."
"Good to hear from you, Mr. Damask. Is this line still... secure?"
"That is correct... The Sorcerer, if I am not mistaken?"
"Yes, yes."
"I take it that since you have used this chip, you have found something after all?"
"You could say that," I nodded and laid my cards on the table. Dis, in frustration, actually slammed the table, swearing quietly. Well, yeah—he had the second-best hand after mine... "Heh. Anyway, would you and your... business partner be interested in ancient decorative items? Flower pots, cutlery, stone tablets... About twenty-five thousand years old."
"Hm... Interested."
"Ve-ery good," with a wave of my hand, I swept my winnings toward me using the Force.
"Because along with these wonderful works of art, there is one interesting specimen... A very, very valuable specimen, as it fits your... requirements."
"You have me intrigued."
"This specimen—will be many times more valuable than the find we delivered last time. And most importantly—it is in full working condition."
"And does anyone else know about this find?"
"Naturally, absolutely no one. You are the first... and, I hope, the last who will hear about it from us."
"You please me more and more! I will notify Nome of your imminent arrival. I look forward to our meeting."
"Likewise, Mr. Damask."
With that, the connection cut off.
"Shade, aren't we going to sell the data crystals?" Dis clarified.
"No. Even though they work, the information on them, as we've seen, is recorded in a very peculiar way. On one hand, it won't interest them, and on the other—I already don't want to give it away."
"What's the point? It's twenty-five thousand years out of date."
"So am I."
"Got it."
"Even if these stones are valuable, Kaut, I won't sell them even if things get tight."
"What about me? I'm not saying anything, it's your property."
Picking up the cards, I recalled what we were able to find on the drives. There were plans, locations of caches, troop logistics, communication data, strategic sites. There were also some historical records, including information about me. Like, that I was the founder of the discipline, what I did for it, and so on. Basically, all the data from the Citadel's main servers, including personal ones, had been copied into the bunker.
I even managed to find family photos. Or rather, I know they're family photos, but they're labeled differently. And also—I was struck by the giggles when I saw myself in full height, in a pretentious pose, in a mask, with a Force Storm in the background. Someone's imagination really ran wild...
Only, if these very photos fall into the wrong hands... I could have big problems. Or not? Maybe I should slip my employers a couple of my photos? Maybe they'll be able to connect the dots... No, better not risk it. Because if the danger of the Terrans surfaces, then real problems will appear.
I hid it from the Mandalorians, but on one of the drives, there's a "fresh" history of the war that went on there. Ideally, it would be better to destroy it, but it's history. My history, the history of my descendants. Better to carefully put it in a safe, and hide and booby-trap the safe. That way, preservation is ensured, and it won't fall into the wrong hands. Until then, it'll stay with me.
"Alright, guys. Let's do another round, and then I'm off."
"Any plans?"
"Gotta work, work!"
"We are at work," Kaut spread his arms, emphasizing "work" with his tone. At the same time, he had a deck of cards in one hand and a bottle of light chemical alcohol in the other. "We're working brilliantly!"
"Absolutely," I laughed, swapping cards.
"So what do you want?"
"To draft a plan of action," the chatter died down, and the Mandalorians looked at me. "Soon we'll get the money... Big money. We'll find out exactly how much when it happens, but we'll get it. And what then?"
"The next mission," Warren shrugged. "It doesn't matter how much money there is, we'll always go from one mission to the next, because that's our life."
"Exactly. And who's going to lead? Who's going to raise Mandalore?" I threw out a trial lure and watched the Mandalorians.
"Let the Duke scramble, he's our... heh-heh, authority. And the clans aren't fools. As for us... we're just soldiers, Shade."
"You are—yes. But definitely not me."
"And who are you? Who were you before?"
"I thought Mandalorians didn't make a habit of asking about the past."
"We don't, so you don't have to answer. But in light of everything I've learned," Warren took a sip from the bottle. "I've only become more confused about who we actually found," and he gave me a look that suggested it would be better to explain. Not threatening, more a question of trust.
"Well... There's actually no secret here," I hummed. "As you all know, I can use sorcery—in other words, I'm Force-sensitive. My discipline is distinctive, special, not like other Force-users."
"Are you stronger?"
"Stronger or weaker depends on the specific being and their skills. But yes—in combat, I personally am stronger. After all, I was trained as a hunter..."
"Yes, I remember you mentioned them."
"But life turned out nothing like I envisioned it," I smiled sadly. "I wanted to fly, complete missions, and have no worries... just like you. But it didn't work out. There was a lot, a whole lot. Some of it I've already told you."
"Yes, but how did it happen that Hadiya is your wife? From your stories, it sounded like you weren't of royal blood at all."
"I once found a child on the street. She was scared and needed help. I had a choice—turn her in, or help. I liked her; I even thought she was funny. So I chose the latter—that's how we met. I jokingly told her to grow up when the little one took a shine to me. Well... Two years later... Two Tythonian years," I clarified, "she came back and reminded me of my words. That's when I realized how deep I'd gotten and who I'd crossed paths with. Many tried to kill her, and usually, she handled it herself. But when things got heated, I intervened. I stood behind her like a shadow and watched this girl rise to become a queen. Eh... If she were here, she'd have Mandalore out of the gutter in no time and have the Republic on its knees."
"That talented?"
"She was very talented, Kaut. I'm not even close to her level, but... She still taught me a lot. So even though I trained as a fighter, I was forced to be a leader. Also, I had a negotiator-teacher; we often went on negotiations together, so I know how to talk. Again, the ability to discern lies and sincerity in a conversation helps me immensely with that."
"I see."
"So... it was thanks to you that the Hadian Empire was born?" Warren clarified.
"Yes."
"And you sired the Terrans too?"
"Something like that. Terra is my daughter, and Saros is my son. My son led the Empire, Terra—the order. That was the division of power."
"Interesting. But I saw a Cathar in the photo, and Terra looks like..." Zerronis trailed off meaningfully.
"That's right. I had two wives. The second was Vessira; we studied together. In my world, that was perfectly normal. And also—at least back then—Cathar often took several brides. Physiological characteristics."
"I see. Well, our girls wouldn't stand for that," Dis chuckled. "At best, you'd get a punch to the face. And the kidneys. With boots. Hard."
"And that's 'at best'?"
"Yes. Because at worst, your own clan would exile you in shame, and the bride's clan would bury you somewhere. The reverse is also true."
"Harsh. Can a conflict be resolved peacefully?"
"Only if you both quietly and peacefully agree without involving anyone else. After all, you have to take responsibility for your words and actions, and not flirt with a partner if you don't want to build a relationship with them."
"Really?" I arched my eyebrows in mock surprise. "Warren!"
"What?"
"Your sister was flirting with me!"
"When?!" the warrior was either taken aback or delighted.
"When you guys got back from the mission."
"Ah... Pfft!"
"What do you mean 'pfft'?!"
"Exactly what it means. If she were flirting with you, you'd know it."
"Eh... What?"
"She would have told you in plain Basic that she had designs on you and invited you to take part in several of her missions."
"What an unusual way to ask someone on a date..." I said, quietly stunned, while swapping cards and raising the bet. "But do people at least give girls flowers?"
"Flowers? What for?!" Dis was genuinely surprised. "Give her a grenade launcher! A hand-held one. Or better yet—crushgaunts. I guarantee you, there's no better gift."
"Unless it's a combat starship," Zer smirked.
"No-no-no, better a Basilisk! For a gift like that, not only will the bride love you, her whole clan will."
"Right. I'll remember that. And what is this Basilisk? I've heard about it, but no one has really explained it."
"It's a Mandalorian pet," Kaut replied. "Its presence is an indicator of the clan's status."
"I don't recall seeing anything like that on Concord Dawn."
"Kaut isn't being precise," Warren said. "A Basilisk is a war droid built in the image and likeness of the original beast," setting his cards aside, the Mandalorian picked up a datapad. "This machine has a seat for a pilot or rider; some types of Basilisks include a full cockpit. The droid itself has the consciousness of a beast that obeys its master. My sister once wandered onto ancient battlefields with a squad, and they found a working Basilisk there, guarding its rider's armor. And that machine was at least seven hundred years old."
"Phenomenal durability..."
"Exactly. Here," I was handed the datapad, which I pulled to me with the Force. Hm... What an interesting machine. Looks like a bug. Large front legs, hind legs like a shrimp, has wings with repulsors, a couple of engines on its back, and weapons built into the snout and shoulders.
"Indeed, it's easier to see it once."
"Basilisks were an integral part of our culture."
"And where did they go?"
"The Republic banned them. Seven hundred years ago, when the 'preemptive strike' was delivered, we lost most of the Basilisks, and those that remained are hidden within the clans."
"And why were they banned?"
"This thing rips corvettes and starfighters to shreds. Yes, it loses to many machines in speed, but in maneuverability... This thing can hit top speed in absolutely any direction instantly, so hitting a Basilisk is something you still have to manage."
"And won't that be bad for the pilot?"
"Compensators," Warren shrugged. "Overall, the Basilisk is a very dangerous machine, capable of tearing apart corvettes, starfighters, and tanks, as well as providing support for infantry. And even if you hit it, it won't fall apart immediately."
"No wonder the Republicans developed an allergy to it," I muttered in admiration. They sure knew how to build things! "By the way, you guys lost again," I revealed my cards. The Mandalorians didn't even swear anymore. Dis collapsed face-first onto the table, Kaut phlegmatically separated a fifth of the pile—his share, so to speak—since I don't take the money. Warren and Zerronis were pondering the eternal. "Alright, keep playing."
Getting up, I left the Mandalorians and, climbing onto my bunk, delved into the datapad. Much remained to be done, and since funds would soon appear, I could draft a plan of action. Since I decided to stand up for Mandalore, for starters, it was worth understanding exactly what was happening there. Warren and the guys were unlikely to give me a clear picture; I needed to fly specifically to Mandalore and ask the authorities directly. Consequently, it would be possible to take some actions.
Next, I needed to figure something out with the people. Mandalore is fragmented; I need to somehow gather this entire heap into a single whole. And on Concord Dawn, there are individuals stirring up already murky waters... I'll need to take a closer look at those characters. Fomenting a civil war against the backdrop of a dying planet... You have to be completely out of your mind.
And then there's the revival of the Unifying Force adepts. One man in the field is a warrior, of course, but he won't make a difference; I need trusted individuals possessing my abilities. Ideally—it will be necessary to ensure that the Unifying Force adepts eventually displace both the Light and the Dark, because to hell with them. All of them! I mean the adepts, not the Force's specific manifestations, as this ideological war will never end.
And for the revival of adepts, I need a place... a safe place, funds, and time. Though, I need to be more thorough with this point. Finding an adept as a child is not as simple a task as it might seem, so we'll solve this as we go. And then, with loyal adepts, Mandalore, and resources, I can think about how to bring back the Hadian Empire. I... heh, could be called a prince, or a king, since Hadiya was a queen. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha... unbelievable, I wonder if my father knew where the path would lead me?
In any case, I have to start with Mandalore. And it still needs to be pulled out of the Republic... Right. And an army created. A full-fledged army capable of showing its teeth, along with tanks and a fleet. Yeah... For Mandalore. An army. Which is already a thorn in the Republic's side. Which gets smacked with a slipper at every rustle... Pfft, truly, easy paths are only for my dreams. Oh... I'll have to work on the reputation too.
***
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