Professor Kane slowly scanned the lecture hall of the "Archeotechnology" specialization. Alex hadn't chosen this direction by chance—after last year's discoveries, he needed official access to ancient technologies. Even if that access was limited.
"Welcome to the course 'Industrial Archaeology and Technological Standards'," Kane began. "Here, we study not only modern production processes but also their historical development."
On the walls hung datasheets of factories from various corporations—from the shipyards of "Corellian Engineering" to the production lines of "Kuat Drive Yards." Alex recognized some of them from Kyle's stories about his family business.
"Mr. Jans," the professor addressed his classmate, "your family owns a navigation system manufacturing business. Can you tell us about the technological processes?"
Kyle straightened up: "We use standard production templates, Professor. They've been passed down in our family for hundreds of years."
"And who created these templates?"
"Well..." Kyle hesitated. "My grandfather said they were based on even older templates. Our ancestor bought them from someone. But I don't know for sure."
Alex felt a familiar sensation—his weak connection to the Force reacted to hidden truths. After two years of studying archives, he had learned to recognize this signal.
"Interesting," Kane nodded. "And can anyone explain the principle of a hyperspace navigator?"
Silence fell. Alex knew the answer—he had studied fragments of Rakatan technologies in Professor Shane's classified materials. But he didn't want to reveal such knowledge.
"No one?" The professor activated the holoprojector. "Strange, don't you think? This technology defines the entire galactic civilization, yet no one can explain how it works."
A diagram of a navigation core appeared in the air—a crystalline structure surrounded by field generators.
"We know the sequence of actions," Kane continued. "Apply power, activate fields, enter coordinates. But do we understand the physics of the process?"
Alex cautiously raised his hand: "Professor, are there any theoretical foundations? Research into the principles of operation?"
"Excellent question, Mr. Korren." Kane looked at him intently. "Theories exist. The problem is that most of them are created to explain existing technologies, not to develop them."
He switched the projector. Now it showed a timeline of technological development.
"Look at the dates. Hyperdrive—twenty-five thousand years ago. Repulsorlifts—twenty-three thousand. Turbolasers—twenty thousand." Kane paused. "And what fundamentally new thing has been invented in the last three thousand years? The last breakthrough innovations were after Revan's time; then there was a breakthrough in droid construction."
Alex knew the answer from archival research but remained silent. After the incident with the neuro-interface and military interference, he had learned to be cautious.
"Only improvements," a student from the front row finally said. "More efficient versions of existing technologies."
"Precisely, Miss Taylor. We improve, but we don't invent. Why?"
"Perhaps the ancient engineers created perfect designs?" Kyle suggested.
"Or," Kane slowly turned to the board, "we don't understand the principles well enough to create something new."
He activated a new diagram—the production line of a factory on Drall.
"The 'Corsec Engineering' factory has been producing navigation computers for eight thousand years. Do you know what's interesting? The main production modules have practically not changed during this time."
"So, the technology was perfect," said a student from the back.
"Or no one knows how to improve it without risking breaking everything," Kane countered.
Alex recalled Jack Tolcho's stories about "strange" artifacts that smugglers sometimes found. Ancient devices that worked better than modern counterparts, but no one could understand their principles.
"Professor," he asked cautiously, "what happens when engineers try to study the basic principles instead of just copying?"
Kane looked at him for a long time: "Good question, Mr. Korren. Has anyone worked in large-scale production?"
Several students raised their hands.
"Mr. Vane, tell us about your internship at the KIK shipyards."
"We followed strict protocols," the student replied. "Any deviations from standard procedures were strictly forbidden."
"Even if you had ideas for improvement?"
"Especially then. We were told that freelancing could lead to disaster."
"And if someone still asked uncomfortable questions?"
The guy hesitated: "Those were usually transferred to other departments. Or fired."
Alex remembered Professor Shane's classified materials. How many researchers had faced similar treatment over the millennia?
"Imagine," Kane continued, "that such a situation has been repeated in every factory, in every corporation, for thousands of years. What do we get?"
"A civilization that fears its own technology," Alex said quietly.
"Very accurate, Mr. Korren." The professor nodded. "We study what to do, but not why it works. We copy, but we don't understand."
After the lecture, Alex stayed in the auditorium. When the other students left, he approached the professor.
"Professor Kane, may I ask a personal question?"
"Of course, Mr. Korren. By the way, your questions today were very... insightful."
"Thank you. I wanted to ask—what if someone wanted to study these basic principles? Regardless of corporate restrictions?"
Kane studied his face carefully: "Is this for your thesis?"
"Not only. I'm genuinely interested in how everything really works."
"I understand." The professor sat on the edge of the table. "You see, Mr. Korren, official science has certain... boundaries. Corporations fund research that brings profit. Universities study what doesn't threaten the existing order."
"And unofficial science?"
"It exists. But it requires caution and independent sources of funding." Kane paused. "Do you have such sources?"
Alex thought about his savings from working with smugglers: "I'm young, maybe someday I can organize them."
"Then I can give you some advice. There are people who study... non-standard aspects of ancient technologies. But be careful—corporations don't like competition in this area."
"Can you give me contacts?"
"Not directly. But if you're truly interested..." Kane took out a tablet and wrote something down. "Here's the address of the private collection archive. Say you're coming from me."
In the evening, Alex went to the indicated address. It turned out to be a small antique shop in the old district of Coronet. The elderly owner, who introduced himself as Mac Duren, listened to him with interest.
"From Professor Kane?" Duren asked. "So, you're seriously interested in antiquities."
"Yes. Especially the technical aspects."
"I understand." Duren led him into a back room where display cases with various artifacts stood. "You see, young man, official museums don't show all the exhibits. They're interested in impressing people with their appearance. But here... here are collected antiquities whose value requires a certain education to understand."
He pointed to a device that Alex immediately recognized—a navigation processor, similar to those he had seen in the materials from the "Star Paths of the Galaxy" archive.
"Does it work?" Alex asked, feeling that familiar sensation.
"Oh, it works. And it works better than modern counterparts. Its age is about thirty thousand years."
"Where is it from?"
"A private collection. The owner worked for a large corporation until they asked him to leave."
Alex tensed: "And what happened to him?"
"He quit and continued his work. But they didn't leave him alone and recommended he stop. And when he refused... well, let's just say a corporation can be very persuasive."
"Is he here?"
"He visits sometimes. Victor Thane. A good engineer, but too curious for the corporate world."
Alex remembered the name. Through his connections with smugglers, he could find this Thane.
"Can I study this computer?"
"You can. But it will cost money. And time. And possibly peace of mind."
"How much?"
"Depends on the depth of the research. A superficial inspection—a thousand credits. A full analysis with documentation—ten thousand."
Alex quickly calculated his savings. About a hundred thousand credits, accumulated from operations with his father and uncle, plus work with Tolcho—enough for serious research.
"I'm interested in a full analysis."
"Then come back tomorrow evening. And bring the money."
Returning to the dormitory, Alex pondered what he had heard. The picture was becoming clearer. Corporations controlled not only production but also research. They used ancient technologies without understanding their principles and actively hindered attempts to gain that understanding.
But why? Out of fear of losing their monopoly? Or because of something more serious?
In his room, Alex took out his encrypted tablet where he kept notes on his research. New points were added to the list of facts:
"Corporations actively hinder the study of basic principles. Engineers who ask uncomfortable questions are pressured. There is an unofficial network of researchers of ancient technologies. Private collections contain functional Rakatan artifacts."
And at the bottom of the page, he wrote a new question: "What will happen if modern civilization learns the truth about its origin?"
The next day, after classes, he met Jack Tolcho at their usual bar. The smuggler looked tired—new wrinkles had appeared on his face, and his eyes held a certain anxiety.
"Jack, I need information about a man named Victor Thane," Alex said. "A former corporate engineer, now doing private research."
The smuggler squinted: "And why do you need that?"
"Research interest. Perhaps our interests overlap. I'm meeting him soon and want to know if it's safe."
"A dangerous hobby, kid. Thane has problems with the corporates. But there's no danger from Thane himself. He's just an engineer."
Jack took a sip of whiskey and thought. The bar was noisy—glasses clinked, voices of patrons mingled, music played somewhere in the corner. But a tense silence hung over their table.
"I know Thane. A good specialist, but paranoid. And not without reason—after he was fired from Corsec, they watched him."
He fell silent, twirling the glass in his hand. Alex noticed that the smuggler was contemplating something.
"Jack, did something happen? You look worried."
Tolcho raised his eyes: "The war, kid. It's changing. And not for the better."
"What do you mean?"
"You see, this mess with the separatists has been going on for over two years. At first, it looked like a normal political conflict—a few systems decided to secede, the Republic sent an army, shots were fired. But the longer I think about it, the more strange things I notice."
Jack took another sip and continued: "Look, who benefits from this war? The Republic? They're spending trillions of credits on an army of clones, losing entire fleets. The separatists? Their planets are being bombed, their economies are collapsing. And who's making money?"
"Corporations?" Alex suggested.
"Exactly!" Jack slammed his fist on the table. "The military-industrial complex is working at full capacity. 'Kaminoan Cloning Factories,' 'Rothana Heavy Engineering,' 'Kuat Drive Yards'—they're all getting contracts worth trillions of credits daily. And you know what's most interesting?"
"What?"
"Many of these corporations supply weapons to both sides. Officially, they might be on the Republic's side, but through shell companies, they trade with the separatists."
Alex frowned. This reminded him of what he had learned about archeotechnology—corporations controlled and limited development for their own interests.
"But the war is real," he said. "People are really dying."
"Of course, it's real!" Jack gave a bitter laugh. "But look at the scale. Yes, it's terrible and has affected a few dozen, maybe a hundred planets. But that's a drop in the ocean, kid. There are millions of inhabited worlds in the galaxy. The war is limited in scope."
"Limited? It's limited?!"
"Only tens of millions of soldiers are fighting—clones, droids, militias. That's a lot for a single planet, but little for a galactic war. A real conflict of this scale would unleash trillions of soldiers. But it can't be ramped up quickly."
Alex thought. Jack was right—even from the news reports, it was clear that hostilities were concentrated in certain sectors, while most of the galaxy lived its normal life.
"So, someone is deliberately fueling the military-industrial complex?"
"Exactly. And it's the corporations. They put politicians in place, fund their campaigns, lobby for military contracts. Look at the Senate—half the senators have ties to big business."
Jack leaned back in his chair, his face looking grim in the dim light of the bar.
"You know, I've been a smuggler for many years. I've seen different conflicts, different wars. But this one... this one is like a bloody play. The directors sit on corporate boards, the actors die on the battlefield, and the audience pays taxes for their tickets."
"And what does Thane think about this?" Alex asked.
Jack chuckled: "You'll ask him yourself when you meet him. But be prepared for unpleasant discoveries."
A few days later, the meeting with Victor Thane took place in the same antique shop. The former engineer turned out to be a thin man in his forties with nervous movements and a constantly darting gaze. Alex noticed old burns of unknown origin on his hands.
"Jack says you're seriously interested in archeotechnology," Thane said, not looking up from his cup of coffee.
"Yes. And I'm willing to pay for information."
"Information is good. But first, tell me what you already know."
Alex chose his words carefully: "I know that many modern technologies are based on ancient principles. That corporations copy, but don't understand. And that there are mentions of an ancient race that created the foundations of our civilization."
Thane sharply raised his head: "What race?"
"The archives mention a name... Rakata."
Thane leaned back in his chair, his face paling: "How do you know that? This information is classified at the highest level!"
"I studied the university archives thoroughly," Alex replied evasively.
"I see." Thane looked at him for a long time, as if assessing him. "If you know about the Rakata, then you understand the scale of the problem."
"What problem?"
Thane stood up and walked to the window overlooking the inner courtyard. A few stunted trees grew there, with city birds flitting between them.
"We live in a civilization of the dead, kid. We use the technologies of a race that destroyed itself. And we're repeating their mistakes. But at least they created their civilization themselves."
He returned to the table and took out a familiar artifact—the navigation processor.
"This is thirty-five thousand years old. It works better than anything modern factories produce. Do you know why?"
"Because we don't understand the principles?"
"Because it works as the creators intended." Thane put the artifact into a special container. "Corporations don't just restrict research out of greed. They're afraid of what can be found."
"Afraid of what, exactly?"
Thane sat opposite Alex, his voice becoming quieter: "And do you know where the real power in the galaxy lies?"
Alex thought. Jack had spoken of corporations, but perhaps there was something more.
"Probably with financial capital? With those who control banks and credit? Muuns?"
Thane laughed, but his laughter sounded bitter: "No, kid. Money is a tool, but not the source of power. Real power lies with those who control technology. And it's not even production."
"I don't understand."
"Look." Thane activated a small holoprojector. A diagram of the galaxy appeared in the air, with trade routes marked. "Who decides which technologies will develop and which won't?"
"Corporations?"
"Corporations are just the executors. The decisions are made by those who own the basic technological standards. Who decides that hyperdrives will work in a certain way and not another. Who determines system compatibility. Who controls access to key knowledge."
Alex began to understand: "Technological consortia?"
"Closer. But that's not all." Thane switched the projector. Now it showed a timeline of technological development. "Look at this data. In the last twenty thousand years, not a single fundamentally new technology has been created. Only modifications of existing ones."
"So, someone is deliberately slowing down progress?"
"Not slowing down. Directing. Controlling. Imagine you own all the patents for the wheel. You can allow wheels to be made of wood, metal, plastic. You can control their size, shape, purpose. But no one can create a fundamentally new way of transportation because all alternatives will be blocked."
Alex felt goosebumps run down his spine. The picture was becoming more and more frightening.
"And who are these people?"
"They are not people," Thane said quietly. "It's a system. A self-sustaining structure that has existed for millennia. Corporations, politicians, scientists—they are all part of this system. And the system is interested in maintaining the status quo."
"But why?"
"Are you ready to learn this truth?" Thane asked.
"I am," Alex replied firmly.
"Then welcome to a world that officially doesn't exist," Thane smiled grimly. "And remember—there's no turning back. If you say yes, I'll recommend you to certain people. And you can take the money."
Alex nodded. He had long realized there was no turning back. He had learned too much, gone too far. All that remained was to move forward and hope that the truth wouldn't be fatal.
In the following days, Thane showed him his laboratory, located in the basements of an old industrial district of Coronet. But it wasn't like what he had in his own childhood. It felt grand and serious. Here, among humming generators and flickering holo-screens, was a collection of artifacts that surpassed anything Alex had seen in the university archives.
"This large crystalline processor," Thane pointed to a fist-sized device, "can perform calculations that would take a modern computer years. And this power cell has been working for twenty thousand years without recharging."
Alex studied the artifacts, feeling his understanding of reality crumble and rebuild. Each device was not just more advanced—it worked on principles that modern science considered impossible.
"How is this possible?" he asked, holding a crystalline data storage unit that could hold more information than all the libraries of Corellia.
"The Rakata understood nature at a level inaccessible to us," Thane explained. "They didn't just use physical laws—they rewrote them. And our civilization is built on the remnants of their technologies."
"But why can't we reproduce them?"
"Because it requires an understanding that the system doesn't allow us to obtain." Thane activated a holoprojector showing the structure of the modern galactic economy. "Look. All key technologies are controlled by a few dozen corporations. They own patents, production facilities, research centers."
"And so what?"
"And so, these corporations belong to even fewer financial groups. And those, in turn, are connected to technological consortia that control basic standards."
The diagram on the holoprojector showed a complex network of interconnections converging on a few central nodes.
"As a result, all decisions about technological development are made by a few hundred intelligent beings. And they are interested in nothing changing fundamentally."
"Why?"
"Because any technological breakthrough could destroy the existing system of control. Imagine if tomorrow someone invented a way to create hyperdrives at home. What would happen to the transport corporations? To the licensing system? To the control over trade routes?"
Alex began to understand the logic of the system. It was flawed, but consistent.
"So, they are consciously slowing down progress?"
"Not slowing down—directing. They allow only those technologies to develop that strengthen their control. And everything else is blocked or classified."
Thane walked over to another display case containing documents and holorecordings.
"Do you know how many inventors in the last thousand years have tried to create fundamentally new technologies? Thousands. And do you know what happened to them?"
"They were stopped?"
"In various ways. Some were bought, offered jobs in corporations, and their research was classified. Some were discredited, declared charlatans. And some were simply eliminated."
He showed a holorecording—a list of names with dates and brief comments.
"Dr. Kellen Mark. Developed a new type of energy source. Died in an 'accident' a month after filing a patent application. Professor Lina Site. Created a theory of instantaneous communication through hyperspace. Disappeared with all her research. Engineer Tom Ryder..."
"Enough," Alex stopped him. "I understand."
He felt a cold rage growing inside him. All these years he had thought he was living in a civilization striving for progress, but which had lost control over it. In reality, it was a system built on suppressing development.
"And what about the Clone Wars?" he asked. "Is that also part of this system?"
Thane nodded: "War is the perfect method of control. It justifies any restrictions, any expenses, any sacrifices. And at the same time, it enriches those who finance it."
"So, it won't end?"
"It will end when it fulfills its purpose. When it finally solidifies the system's control over the galaxy."
Alex left Thane's laboratory in a state of deep shock. Everything he believed in turned out to be an illusion. The Republic, democracy, progress – all of it was a facade hiding a system of control and suppression.
Returning to the dormitory, he pondered the connection between what he learned from Thane and his own experiences. The neuro-interface that killed Maru, the military's interference in Professor Shane's research, the classified archives – all of it were manifestations of the same system.
He remembered reading archives about the Jedi and the Sith. Even the Jedi Order seemed to be part of this system – they defended the existing order without questioning its justice.
And what about the Force? Was it also under the control of this system? Or, conversely, did it represent a way to break free from control?
Alex recalled his sensations when working with ancient artifacts. The tingling he felt when touching crystals. Perhaps it wasn't just sensitivity to the Force, but an ability to perceive technologies created using the Force.
The Rakata, according to the data he found, were a race that used the dark side of the Force to create their technologies. They achieved incredible power but ultimately destroyed themselves. And their technologies became the foundation of modern galactic civilization.
But what if the current control system was created specifically to prevent a repeat of the Rakata's fate? What if those behind the corporations and politicians knew about the danger of uncontrolled technological development?
On one hand, this explained the system's logic. On the other, it raised new questions. Who were these beings? How long had their organization existed? And what was their ultimate goal?
Alex understood that he stood on the verge of discoveries that could change not only his life but also the fate of the entire galaxy. But he also understood that every step forward made him more dangerous to the system. And sooner or later, the system would try to stop him.
As it had stopped thousands of other researchers over the centuries.
He suddenly realized the purpose of his life. Yes, he could be stopped, but he would serve as a stepping stone to freedom. Like Shane, like those thousands of missing researchers. Each of them left clues that would eventually free sentient beings.
And perhaps, he would find a way to destroy the system that had held the galaxy in technological slavery for millennia.
He took out his encrypted tablet and began to record his new findings. The picture was becoming clearer and more frightening.