The journey was, frankly, boring. For three whole days, we remained in single cabins with no way to leave. Food was brought twice a day and slid through a special slot in the door, as if we were common prisoners.
It wasn't that the conditions were unbearable. A room three by four meters, equipped with a shower, a bed, and a desk. Imperial minimalism at its finest.
The solitary confinement grated on my nerves slightly, but I had the fortitude and patience to meditate for hours on end, train, and then meditate again. The harsh regimen established by the Grand Inquisitor had become hard-wired into my brain.
But judging by the sounds, the other children were having a difficult time.
A few times, I heard the muffled screech of metal and the snap of blaster fire. Something told me that far fewer potential Inquisitors would leave this ship than had boarded it.
In the dead silence, when the lights shifted to night-cycle and the cabin was plunged into gloom, you could hear quiet sobbing or incoherent muttering if you pressed your ear to the wall. Once or twice, I heard rhythmic thuds, as if someone were beating their head against the bulkhead.
Solitude bred fear and despair, sinking my neighbors even deeper into the Dark Side.
I don't know how our journey would have ended had it lasted a few days longer, as the despondency was soon replaced by irritation. I could clearly feel waves of aggression radiating from the adjacent cabins.
But we reached our destination.
Through the viewport, I could clearly see our ship weaving between jagged cliffs. It was a bit unpleas. It was unpleasant to realize you were helpless while stone walls flashed by just meters from the hull. One wrong turn of the yoke and everyone would perish.
Suddenly, the view outside turned to pitch black for a few seconds. Then, the intolerably bright glare of hangar lights struck my eyes.
With a soft hiss, the door opened, releasing the prisoners. The children hadn't looked particularly healthy before, and they looked even worse now. Some were haggard, their bones jutting out from gaunt faces. Others muttered to themselves, staring at the floor with their heads in their hands.
But there were those who stood at attention, calmly watching our escorts. A few even allowed themselves to lean against the wall, surveying the others with undisguised contempt. Only a couple of kids looked like they had remained "normal."
Standing in the corridor were the Priestesses, merging into a single entity in that inexplicable way of theirs. It was impossible to focus on just one; my gaze kept slipping away. Yet, I could feel their piercing stares fixed on each of us. I fought the urge to shudder and shake off the unpleasant sensation.
"Everyone, follow us. Do not fall behind. Anyone who attempts to flee will be severely punished."
Hidden inside the mountain was a massive, awe-inspiring complex. It was a sophisticated, multi-level system of tunnels, yet it felt intuitive and direct. There were no confusing labyrinths; you always knew where you needed to turn. It felt as though everything here had been built with a ruler.
We were led to individual rooms on one of the lower levels. No one objected. Most of the children were trembling in sheer terror of the red figures with their mask-like, frozen faces. Some were grieving their separation from their parents; occasional sobs and mournful wailing could be heard.
Yet, no one demanded to be sent back; everyone obeyed the Priestesses' orders as one. Apparently, the Imperial conditioning was yielding exclusively positive results, or perhaps I simply hadn't seen the negative ones. It was entirely likely that such an intrusion into the mind could turn a sentient being into a vegetable. Ha, in that case, I could consider myself lucky.
There were barely thirty of us "lucky" ones. Some children weren't even eight years old yet. It's hard enough to live in the same space with ordinary children, but when they are adolescents, and especially when they are being influenced by the Dark Side...
Before my eyes, one of the children, in a fit of hysteria, crushed a small droid passing by. But with a flick of a Priestess's hand, he went silent instantly. Another attacked his neighbor simply because the boy wouldn't stop mumbling.
Some watched the ensuing brawl with indifference, others with fear, but there were those who savored the spectacle. Thank the Force, we were soon led to our new quarters.
The room turned out to be small but perfectly habitable. A metal bed, a desk with a computer terminal, and a private refresher with a shower and other necessary hygiene facilities. That was it.
The place resembled a cell more than a place for rest and leisure. But it was better than a communal barracks or having nothing at all. Apparently, minimalism and asceticism were the foundations of Imperial design.
I didn't get a good look at the interior layout, though. The corridors were largely indistinguishable from one another. No other rooms were visible along the way, and the brisk pace didn't allow for focus.
On the bed lay neatly folded clothes: dark, loose-fitting trousers, a long, ash-colored tunic, and a black belt with a pair of magnetic mounts.
Quickly shedding my old, worn-out rags, I stepped under the hot spray of the shower. It felt incredible. During the flight, I had managed to almost completely restore my body, so now I was washing away the final traces of fatigue.
Emerging invigorated and refreshed, I donned the new outfit. Well, I must look interesting. The tunic was longer than expected, reaching my knees, and the wide belt squeezed my sides uncomfortably, though the trousers fit like a glove.
Suddenly, a mechanical voice, though clearly human, crackled through the computer speakers. Even through the static, I could hear a certain snideness, as if the owner were mocking everything around him.
"Everyone, report to the grand training hall. For the idiots who haven't read the manual and the code of conduct: follow the glowing red arrows. Anyone who is late will be punished, and believe me, it will be very painful and very long. You have seven minutes. The clock is ticking."
Despite the jovial tone, I had no desire to be on the list of latecomers. I threw open the door and broke into a sprint.
I was lucky to quickly find the floor-mounted markers. But in my intense focus on not missing a turn, I nearly collided with a fellow sufferer.
I had no idea who he was or what his species might be. He looked human, but his bright blue skin made it clear he was not. I didn't have time to notice anything else.
Exchanging a glance with the stranger, we bolted further down the corridor. Neither of us was ready to be punished on the very first day. I was sure his memories of interacting with the Inquisitor, or whoever had processed them, were just as fresh as mine.
Tearing through several hallways, we burst into a massive hall. Dark stone served as the primary building material for this chamber. Enormous red banners hung from the walls. The scarlet colors further emphasized the general gloom of the room. The Imperial crest stood out as a black blotch over each exit. Furthermore, the walls practically radiated the Dark Side.
Something told me these were no ordinary stones used in the room's finishing. Perhaps the walls had been transported from an ancient Sith temple? Very likely.
While I surveyed the hall, my "running partner" slowly slid down the wall, trying to catch his breath. Well, that wasn't surprising; judging by his physical condition, he might well have been one of the survivors of the Purge.
I wondered how many other former Jedi younglings were here. The Emperor had shown unprecedented leniency by allowing them to live and serve his designs.
Tellingly, we were the first to arrive. Just how poor was the group's overall training? How did they expect to be useful if they were this weak?
While I had time, I decided to examine the hall more closely. I felt we hadn't been gathered here for nothing; something was bound to happen. Better to scout the terrain in advance.
The scale was impressive. A hundred meters by a hundred, maybe more. The far end of the hall was lost in shadows, and the lamps didn't provide enough light to see everything. In dark niches, I could see various training apparatuses. Several familiar metal spheres lay in different parts of the hall. In one corner, droids stood like slumped dolls. I wondered what they were for.
While I wandered slowly through the hall, another ten people ran in. When the last one was inside, the metal doors closed with a dull thud. The lights went out, and a second later, a hologram of a figure in a hooded cloak appeared in the center.
It was impossible to catch even a single detail to identify who was before us. Species, gender, age. All were a mystery. The figure's face was hidden behind a mechanical mask. A raspy voice with that familiar, mocking intonation echoed through the hall.
"Welcome, young talents. Every one of you is capable of serving the Empire and the Emperor. You have been chosen to become his sword. Here, you will be forged into true warriors who will not bring shame upon the honor of their Master!"
I could feel the atmosphere among the children shift at the mere mention of the Emperor. Despondent faces lit up with smiles, and their eyes shone with fanatical devotion.
"Remember only three rules. First: the words of any instructor are equal to the Emperor's command. Second: the best gets the most opportunities. Third: We don't care what happens to you. Once a month, there will be evaluations to identify the best. What you do is up to you, but those who occupy the bottom of the rankings will be liquidated. The Emperor has no use for weaklings!"
"Now, to the main theme of our gathering. We will now assign each of you a rank. It's simple: the last one left standing is number one, and so on down the line." At his words, the droids standing by the wall activated, their eyes glowing from within. "Good luck! You may only leave this place once the objective is met. Or, if you are lucky enough to destroy all enemies. If you strike them in the chest or head, they will deactivate; if you hit other body parts, they will cease to move them. And here are your tools for inflicting grievous bodily harm. Don't worry, you won't die from one hit, but losing consciousness or being injured is easy."
The hologram vanished, and in its place rose a platform laden with weapons. Lightsaber hilts shimmered in the dim light. Different lengths, shapes, and curves. Take your pick.
The children stood in indecision, glancing at one another. Some sidled toward the rack, while others backed away from it.
While everyone stood in bewilderment, the droids activated their lightsabers in unison. The low hum that always accompanies this fearsome weapon echoed throughout the room.
As it turned out, they were positioned near every wall. There were many enemies. A hundred of the living machines, closing the ring around the terrified children.
Stepping up to the platform, I sifted through several hilts and finally found the one that felt best in my hand. Thank the Force, the clankers were still moving slowly, giving us time to figure out what to do; there was no need to rush.
Following my lead, a few more kids grabbed weapons. Soon, everyone was standing with ignited blades. A few children even took up combat stances I didn't recognize, including my blue-skinned partner.
The red glow of the blades illuminated pale faces. I could see beads of sweat rolling down many foreheads. Some hands were shaking violently, causing blades to swing dangerously close to their neighbors. Rasping, tense breathing could be heard from all sides.
But there were also those burning with the desire to engage, held back only by the number of opponents. No one wanted to take that first step; everyone was afraid.
"I suggest we stick together!" The tallest of the children, a blonde boy with blue eyes who had taken an unfamiliar fencing stance, spoke with a voice that was already breaking. "It will be easier if we repel their onslaught together. Then we can last longer."
Oh, you fool. Standing in a rank with people whose knees are knocking with fear? It would be easier to commit ritual suicide. Half of them will just scatter, and the rest will fall like "brave" but stupid martyrs.
Well, there's no point in me participating in this meat grinder. The rules state I must stay on my feet, not necessarily win. I'll work with that.
To the surprise of the others, I took a running start and vaulted over the slowly advancing droids. I landed about ten meters behind the ring, which was tightening around those left behind.
It wasn't entirely smooth, though. Two droids turned and began to follow me with slow, plodding steps. Well, let's play tag. I'm not proud; I highly respect a tactical retreat.
I noticed a few other figures leap out of the encirclement and head for different corners of the hall. Those who wanted a fight attacked the droids. It didn't look like they would last long.
I jogged toward the far corner of the hall, putting as much distance as possible between us, looking back periodically. While it didn't cause me discomfort at first, their speed increased with every passing minute. Soon I was running at full tilt, and the tin cans showed no signs of falling behind, closing the gap with every second.
At the edge of my awareness, I heard pained screams from the defenders. Several droids were breaking through the ranks. Small bodies already lay on the ground, showing no signs of life. I couldn't see clearly from here, but it looked like some limbs were twisted at unnatural angles.
Only the former Temple younglings were holding out, with the smallest children huddled behind their backs. The droids attacked methodically, not swarming all at once, as if giving the defenders a chance to show what they could do.
Suddenly, one of the defenders threw up his hands with a cry, but instead of a droid, it was his neighbor, who had been holding off two machines, who was flung away. A small Zabrak practically impaled himself on the enemies' blades and slumped over.
Screaming something incoherent, the boy responsible tried to rush to his unintended victim, but was immediately struck by a lightsaber and collapsed to the floor.
But there were other children, those who had followed my example. Three dark figures were tearing across the hall at considerable speed, with their metallic executioners following them like they were on a tether.
One of them leaped high and grabbed a ledge, hanging there securely. Judging by his posture, he intended to stay there until the end of the execution.
The wall speakers crackled to life with the familiar voice.
"Well, I see you aren't bored. But we could go on like this for a long time. I suggest we speed up the process."
A signal sounded, and the floor tile I was standing on began to rise slowly. All the sections that made up the floor began to grow upward starting from the walls, forcing the survivors toward the center.
With a wild cry, the boy hanging from the ledge fell as his handhold treacherously vanished from beneath his fingers. They were already waiting for him below; a quiet whimper followed, and then everything from that side went silent.
There were three of us left. If we converged in the center, we were finished, so I would try to buy time at my position. A scarlet blade snapped out of my weapon's hilt.
A green blade, leaving a barely perceptible trail, flew toward my head at high speed, but it met my block. The blades began to draw toward each other again, but after this month, I was already used to their idiosyncrasies. Precognition warned me that the second machine would soon strike.
A Force push threw back the first, and my energy blade once again absorbed the impact. This time it was stronger than the last, echoing through my arms as a flash of pain. No matter; the Master's strikes had been far more terrifying!
Another strike, and another; with the inevitability of a battering ram, they forced me back. My muscles turned to lead in mere seconds. It felt as if a heavy transport were trying to run me down at full speed, accelerating with every pass.
One of the techniques the Master had so diligently beaten into me flashed through my mind.
A step back, while simultaneously using a circular motion to parry the blade away from my body. Another step back and diagonally, followed by a sharp, springy pivot on one foot. The blade, describing a scarlet arc, slammed into the droid's neck. Now, two rapid steps back. Just in time.
With its final movement, the droid nearly reached me. The blade hissed a centimeter from my face. But I had been faster. The light of its artificial eyes faded, and a broken metal doll fell at my feet. But that wasn't all.
The second opponent closed the distance with a long leap. I felt the danger more than I saw it. I tried to break the distance but failed. A blue blade grazed my forearm. A flash of pain surged through my body, and the saber tumbled from my suddenly weakened fingers.
I don't know what they did to the lightsabers, but now my arm was completely paralyzed and likely broken. But that didn't scare me; I'd had worse during training with the Master.
I would have to use my left, which I had also been taught. The hilt jumped into my hand and immediately saved me from another strike. Mechanical muscles pressed with incredible force, and the saber's blade began to sear the shoulder of my injured arm.
I don't know how long this mindless contest of strength lasted. The machine clearly dominated the human. The pain from the pressing blade brought serious discomfort. I don't know what made me take a further risk, maybe the Force, or maybe desperation.
Bending my knees, I deactivated the blade and stepped back sharply. The droid, losing its resistance, began to tumble forward. A circular step with a pivot, and its back was before me. The re-activated blade reached the opponent's vulnerable point before it had even fully extended. The second enemy slumped before me.
Catching my breath, I surveyed the battlefield. Only I and one other participant remained. It was that boy who had called for everyone to unite. He was circling the droids with massive leaps, sometimes literally squeezing between the ceiling and the rising floor.
But I could feel in the Force that he was doing so with the last of his strength. The other participants lay in dark heaps on the floor; some were hidden behind the rising blocks.
Suddenly, I realized the ceiling was too close to me; in a few more seconds, the top of my head would touch it. With a long leap forward, I cleared the danger zone, painfully clipping the sharp edges of the rising blocks.
Crying out with joy, the second participant changed direction and rushed toward me. Gasping for air, he rasped rather than spoke:
"Buy me a few minutes and we'll take them together..."
Precognition flared, but it told me the strike would come from behind! Ducking, I let a red blade pass over me, but immediately the Force threw me straight into a cluster of droids.
Bastard!
I saw his smug eyes and the repulsive smirk on his face.
Thrusting my hand to the side, I used the Force to alter my flight path. Slamming into a stone pillar, I struggled to stand. My damaged arm was now twisted at an unnatural angle, and my right leg throbbed with pain.
A red flash forced me to dodge. Two scarlet blades crossed with a dull hum. Rage gave me strength, yet every one of my strikes was parried. Occasionally, counterattacks followed, which I had to evade with great effort or by sacrificing already injured body parts.
Forgetting all techniques, I sought to crush my opponent with my raw power. Some insignificant child dared to oppose me!
But my swordsmanship wasn't enough. Twice I nearly lost because I was fighting left-handed. I could clearly taste the unpleasant metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
I must win! By any means!
A heavy blow forced me to my knees, struggling with all my might not to fall. Gold-flecked eyes stared directly at me. His face was so close, repulsive, twisted in a grimace of superiority.
No, no, no! The Force enveloped me, only to explode a moment later in a wave, throwing my enemy back.
Victory is mine!
Against the back of my head, I felt a slight gust of wind, followed immediately by a blow to the head.
******
"How do you like your new charges, Director?"
"To be honest, my Emperor? Poorly. Only two or three promising sentients; the rest are a pathetic sight. Most lack cruelty, cunning, and the thirst for battle."
"The pernicious Jedi upbringing shows itself. I expect that you will live up to my expectations."
"Have no doubt, my Lord. Under Count Dooku, I was responsible for gathering and training new acolytes. I dare hope they proved themselves in a positive light."
"That is precisely why I appointed you to this position. The children trained by you are quite good. However, the Grand Inquisitor maintains that they cannot yet be used in combat. If they prove incapable of it, you will have to resume their training."
That Inquisitor understands nothing; my pupils are more than ready! I would rather doubt his skills, who is he and where did he come from? When I was assisting the Count, he never once inquired about this individual.
"Do you doubt the correctness of my appointment?"
The voice had barely changed, but a shudder ran through the kneeling man's entire body. It felt as though invisible fingers were about to close around his throat and lift him off the floor.
Just as it had been back then, when he decided to take his pupils and reject the Dark Lord's offer. He had never been as terrified as he was then. What power one must possess to reach across half the galaxy to a man seen only as a projection!
Count Dooku, who had impressed him at their first meeting, seemed insignificant against the backdrop of true power. With such a man, it was possible to build a New Order, to realize all one's desires. One must always choose the right side. And that is always the side where it is most profitable for you to be.
"Not at all, my Lord. I simply do not possess all the information, so I spoke out of turn."
"Wonderful. I have high hopes for you, Director. In the coming six months, new charges will come to you. Some of the escaped children are still at large, and others will soon be found. I will be greatly displeased if you are unable to prepare worthy followers."
"Do not worry, my Lord. I have perfected the training system and added new types of drills. I assure you, those who survive the training will be worthy of your command. The Separatists could not allow me to realize all my ideas and developments; your resources, however, are practically limitless."
"I will be watching this project closely. I hope you will show me results within the coming year."
"I will not fail you..."
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