The arrival at Coruscant marked a new turn in my life. The planet, which I could see through the cockpit, was impressive and a little scary. There were so many people here, so many emotions, that a real cacophony was created. I can understand if this needs to be endured for a day, maybe two, but to LIVE near such a thing... No, spare me. We were only flying through the upper layers of the atmosphere, and I was already feeling uneasy. Good thing I can not only close my emotions but also screen myself from others'.
"Impressive?" Qui-Gon asked proudly, nodding at the anthill outside the window.
"Stressful. Too many people," I shook my head.
"You don't like sentient beings?"
"That's not it. I prefer an open and straightforward society, ready to support its neighbor."
"I agree. But alas, there is no such society," Dooku sighed. I didn't argue, nor did I try to prove anything.
Correcting the route, we entered the course for the landing pad of the Jedi Order temple. Hm... Interesting. The Order stands on a weak source of the Light Side of the Force. Essentially—expected; in the past, they always tried to allocate such places, so why change traditions now? Though I, for one, tried to stay away from any sources, to hell with them.
"Look! Over there, the Senate building," Qui-Gon pointed to a giant disc. "And that, the temple of our order itself." The finger moved and now pointed to a huge monumental structure built in the traditional Tythonian style, namely—in the form of a truncated pyramid. Five small towers on top, a spacious plaza around it.
"I see that over tens of thousands of years, our traditions have reached even here."
"M?" Dooku turned to me.
"Familiar architecture, I'm saying. The central tower, what's in it?"
"The central spire, also known as the 'Temple Spire,' is considered the main one among the others. Ancient texts of the founding Jedi are kept in it. And also, in this place, Jedi give themselves to reflection."
"Reflection on their own stupidity?" I looked sideways at Dooku. "Well. The architecture remained, the sanity fell off. Hiding ancient sacred texts in such an... open place? Guys... it's epic, but if I had suggested such a thing to one of the Temple Masters in my time, I would have been sent to the moon. For comparison, in the Kaleth Temple, the Temple of Knowledge, any knowledge was stored in such bunkers that even a nuclear bomb wouldn't reach them."
"M..."
"By the way. Such spires stood on our temples, but they carried a defensive function. Force field generators were installed in them to protect the temple from Force storms. By 'Force,' I mean, literally, working on the Force."
"In your time—it was a vital necessity," Dooku remarked.
"In our time—temples were built as defensive fortifications, with bunkers and anti-aircraft mounts," I smirked.
"…"
"What? Don't look at me like that; it's all from Tython's fauna. 'Trust in the Force, but don't mess up yourself,' as the saying goes."
Approaching the landing platform, I saw a small welcoming delegation, in which a small green long-eared something was present. Landing the vessel, we went to the exit. The Jedi were calm as boas; they had already gotten used to my company, whereas outside a light nervousness was felt.
"Master Shade, do you ever take off the mask?" Qui-Gon clarified as I wiped the visor.
"Usually no."
"Why?"
"Because it is a symbol."
"A symbol of what?"
"That before you die, you will see your reflection in its visor." I looked at Qui-Gon. "Don't bother with it, Qui-Gon. Just a calling card," I brushed it off. Not going to tell them that I just don't want to show my mug?
"I think I understand where the Sith borrowed the same thing from," Dooku looked at me sideways.
"Maybe."
The ramp opened, and we went outside in turn. Dooku went first, then me, and Qui-Gon last. At my appearance, gazes were immediately glued to me, which made me feel for a moment like a curious animal from a zoo. The emotions that reached me from some Jedi at this were indescribable. Interest mixed with dislike.
"Greetings to you in the Jedi order, guest from the past," a green long-eared goblin stepped forward. "Master Yoda, my name is."
"Shade Aero. Pleased to meet you, Master."
"Mutual, this feeling is. To hide in the Force, like you do, eh?" The master approached me closer, peering carefully into the visor.
"And not only in the Force. Just an old habit." I removed the camouflage. "On Tython, there's no way without it."
"Yes... Dangerous, your world was. But here, nothing to fear you have; enemies we are not to you. Another question here—should we fear you?"
"No. I do not want to create problems for you, Master Yoda. And I will not burden you with my presence for long. As soon as I get answers to my questions, I will leave immediately."
"Hm... Hurrying somewhere are you?" the green Master smiled.
"No, I just don't want to bother you with my views on the Force. And also..." I looked sideways at some Devaronian, "not everyone finds my company pleasant."
"Don't worry about that, Shade. Propose I do, our traditions to learn better, so to mutual understanding we come. Come. Impolite it is to keep a guest on the threshold," the Master said, climbing into his repulsorlift chair.
As soon as he settled comfortably in his means of transport, I was introduced to the other members of the welcoming delegation. As it turned out, the Rodian who disliked me was Knight Rodon. I, you see, didn't fit into his concept of the world. Another sensitive who would have preferred to put me back to sleep was the Devaronian Raynor. I don't know what his position in the order is, but he has the face of a Chekist who has spotted a mole.
Other Masters... I mean, knights and masters, treated me with more loyalty and generally didn't show negativity. Well, almost, if you don't count a huge point of distrust, and only because in their eyes I looked like a Sith. Only two maintained a real Jedi apathy toward me—Yoda and his current apprentice, Ki-Adi-Mundi. The latter seemed to me a real Jedi through and through; he only lacked a joint for the full picture.
Following the Jedi, we ended up in one of the main corridors of the temple.
"Our temple is not only a place of learning but also a home for Jedi," Rodon began to lecture importantly, pointing with a hand to the corridor. "Here we master the Force and the traditions of our order."
"Everything as usual," I commented quietly, glancing at Yoda. "So it was before, and so it remains."
Receiving a dissatisfied look, I smirked.
"Silence, silence. Please, tell me."
Thus began my tour of the temple. Study rooms for younger Jedi were located around the base of the Tower of First Knowledge, where students received assignments on the history of the order.
"Wait, what is this tower?" I interrupted the narrator.
"In our temple, five towers there are," Yoda began. "The main one—the 'Temple Spire.' Ancient knowledge is kept there. Then in numbered order, the towers stand. The first—for the Jedi High Council. It is in it that the twelve members of the High Council sit, considering various matters of the Republic. I, Master Dooku, and Master Raynor members of it are. A vital role the council plays, for the right it has to decide the fate of the entire Jedi order. In such a way, to influence the entire Galactic Republic capable we are."
"Well. They were administrators, and they've remained so," I sighed mentally. On the other hand, it's for the best. When you have a force with a club over your head capable of giving a good wallop, sentient beings usually actually become sentient and do less junk. Hadiya checked personally.
"In the second spire, the Council of First Knowledge is located. With questions it deals, for the resolution of which the wisdom of the oldest masters is needed. Recommendations to the High Council it gives, and to any other Jedi who needs advice."
"I take it this council's membership is the smallest?"
"Correct, you are. No sense there is to keep many advisors when one single and most wise is needed."
"Heh."
"In the third spire, the Council of Reconciliation is located. With the search for peaceful resolutions to conflicts it deals, and the entire Republic it covers."
"We had something similar, with small caveats. The High Council saw a conflict and sent one, but more often two Je'daii there. One tried to negotiate peacefully, but if it didn't work, the second settled the matter with a sword."
"A crude method, that is."
"But effective," I shrugged. "For ten thousand years—not a single global conflict."
"Hm..."
"And what's in the fourth spire?"
"The Reassignment Council is there. It deals with the placement of young Jedi who have not become padawans to any of the Masters."
"Um... From this point on, can I have more details?"
"What exactly to know wish you?"
"How can it happen that a Master wouldn't take a padawan as a student? In our time, the very idea would have been considered absurd. Yes, a master and his student didn't always find a common language; I went through that myself, but nonetheless, a master was always found for a student. Even if everyone was busy, someone was always found to take on that burden. Why is it not so with you?"
"Weak a student may turn out to be and the junior Jedi trial not pass. The reassignment council to one of the service corps directs him after that."
"I understand. Oh..." I shook my head.
"You do not approve of the approach?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"They will be considered second-rate. No, supply and rear services are very important, but that should be understood by both those at the front and those in the rear. Otherwise, the former will consider the latter second-class beings."
"Yes... Such a problem we have, but to solve it we strive. How was it with you?"
"Not at all. If you failed the exams, you died. Tython does not forgive mistakes. But at the same time, if you were weak and likely to fail, you were told so directly, and there was nothing shameful in stepping off the track on your own. We had another problem; those who wielded the Force often considered non-sensitives below them, but in recent years it was somehow easier with that." After a pause, I added: "In my final years."
"Hm..."
Along the way, the technical feature of the spires was explained to me as well. Each was equipped with a powerful transmitter used for contact with Jedi on missions or with other beings of distant worlds, if necessary for the Councils. For this reason, the Temple is located significantly higher than other buildings, having few or no interferences for its antennas.
"Masters, I apologize for interrupting, but I want to clarify. Is the library in the Tower of Knowledge?"
"No. In the North Wing, the archives are kept."
"Praise the Force... For a moment I thought you had stuffed them right into the tower," I sighed with relief. The locals haven't completely Jedi'd their brains away yet.
"Hm..." I was looked at with dissatisfaction, but they remained silent.
Gardens are laid out around the central spire, providing products for the sustenance of Jedi in the Temple. Of course, they won't fully cover the needs, but for the most part—very good self-sufficiency. And there is also the "Agricultural Corps," which stands apart from the main order.
They showed me a new addition as a kind of curiosity—the temple hangars, where both single-seat fighters and small shuttles were housed. Previously, it was as if to the side and outside, and now it's inside. Notably, directly beneath the hangar were entire workshops. Professionally equipped workshops in which any existing ship could be disassembled and reassembled piece by piece.
Yes... This zone I appreciated; the equipment there is what's needed. But the absence of masters with Force Forging I, on the contrary, did not appreciate and was generally disappointed. Modern "Force Forging" has devolved to the point that the most these unique individuals can do is assemble their own sword, and even that assembly takes a quite long time.
I cracked up when I saw the young Jedi. The little ones scattered from me like cockroaches from light, and to my ears occasionally came "Sith" with various additions: "A Sith in the temple?!", "What is a Sith doing here?", "I thought the Sith were extinct", "That's a Sith!". Dooku's entire look at this pointedly reminded me: "Well, I told you."
Well. Some have spoiled my reputation... But I won't repaint it anyway, though I'll leave a point against some. For later. Because why not. Who do we have regarding Sith? I only know Palpy, and he probably hasn't even been born yet. Oh...
The rest of the inner temple is unremarkable. Natural light enters here through a row of windows. Here are the private rooms of padawans and knights. The most influential and respected masters occupy rooms near the towers of the Temple. In these premises, there are separate computers and holoprojectors allowing access to scientific works. Also located here are large classrooms for teaching large groups of junior Jedi, and training halls for perfecting lightsaber skills.
In one of them, they offered me a training fight. So to speak, for a visual comparison of the old and new techniques. To miss the chance to look at the "youth" was beyond my strength, so I agreed.
"So. Who will be my opponent?" I smirked, looking over the escort.
"Masters, may I?" Qui-Gon stepped forward and, receiving an affirmative answer, switched to me. "What are the rules?"
"Do you have a rule of 'mock death'?" I turned to the Masters.
"What rule is that?" Yoda became interested.
"It was born along with the Force Sword. It is when you deliver a fatal blow with a deactivated weapon—and thus victory is awarded to you."
"Hm..."
"Or else, until three falls," I shrugged.
"Three falls?"
"You need to drop the opponent on the floor... but the probability of injury is higher in that case, and fights usually take longer."
"The first rule I propose to use, yours," Yoda concluded.
"Excellent! Then may I have my weapon?"
Yoda once more examined my swords, which Dooku had handed to him, after which he returned them. They almost jumped into my hand themselves, so glad they were to return to their master.
"On position." I nodded toward the floor.
In the hall, besides the escorts, there were also ordinary guys who had gathered to gape at the sparring. The training we had interrupted, I confess, also didn't impress me. Moreover, it seemed to me that I was seeing not fighters, but dancers, or show-offs. I hope Qui-Gon will disabuse me of this...
Standing opposite each other, we took stances. I straightened up, spread my arms, and pointed the deactivated swords toward the ground, while Qui-Gon took a more traditional position with his sword raised to chest level. A moment, and his weapon turns on, while I am in no hurry to activate mine.
"Attack."
Qui-Gon went into the attack with a sharp lunge and from a jump tried to deliver a blow from top to bottom. Alas for him, I simply raised a hand, jerked it toward me, and the knight flew into the wall behind him. Despite this, he oriented himself in time, grouped, and pushed off the wall in the opposite direction. Taking a step back, I jerked my hand again, but downward this time.
Smack! went the floor, accepting a new client. Qui-Gon didn't reach me by literally half a meter, making an unplanned landing.
"Hm... One—zero."
I smirked, looking at the knight rising from the floor. Dooku was standing with his face turned away and covered by his hand, while Yoda was laughing quietly. The Chekist... this one didn't even change his face. He stands there, boring into me with his gaze. Don't look like that, sir, you're embarrassing me!
"Fine... It counts," Qui-Gon said, taking a stance, "now you attack!"
"Sure?"
"Yes."
"Well, look..."
I didn't run, but just stepped forward measuredly. It was a precise, confident, and tense step, as if an extra kilogram had formed on my legs. Qui-Gon was even somewhat lost from such a change; before this, I had walked perfectly normally. And then—a strike followed.
A sharp swing with a sword, with simultaneous activation, and Qui-Gon sets a block. The strike was of such force that I had to deactivate the sword so as not to cut through the Jedi, as he physically could not hold the block. Flying back, Qui-Gon again almost collapsed to the floor, but he stayed on his feet.
"Two—zero."
"Hey! This is sparring, not a survival tournament," the young Jedi protested.
"And what's the problem? This is my style. Crude, direct, and a little creative."
"Where is the creativity here?!"
"Well... you'll find out soon."
Well. Now Qui-Gon realized what he'd gotten into. I didn't use generally accepted, refined, and recognized "effective" styles. I simply didn't give the opportunity to use them; two out of three clashes with me already ended with this. Well, what of it? Just as my mother taught me, a won fight—is one in which you win in the first exchange of blows.
Qui-Gon realized this too and approached the next round in a much more thorough way. The poor Jedi went around me, not deciding to close in.
"Maybe I should attack?" I suggested.
"No, thank you. I've had enough. Better that you defend."
"P-h-ha-ha-ha-ha... Then attack. I've turned on the 'pathos ignoring of damage' skill." Cheering up, I turned off the swords, hung one on my belt, and waited for the attack.
I had to wait a long time. Qui-Gon made circles, choosing which side to approach from, but having decided, he went on the attack. A swing of the sword went, I felt the point of the strike, and-d-d... A step to the side, intercept Qui-Gon by the arm, twist the wrist, and a light tap with the deactivated sword right on the forehead.
"Three—zero. How are you?"
"Fine," Qui-Gon frowned, rubbing his arm. "What kind of style is that?"
"My mother and I invented it. It is a mix of two techniques, unarmed combat and metal sword combat. Since the old weapon is heavy, you can't swing it like an energy one. Therefore, there are hard blocks and strikes."
"I didn't see you blocking an attack."
"There was no need. Who's next?" I turned to the Jedi.
"If you are not against it, I would like to fight you." Dooku came out to me. Removing the gray cloak, the Master passed it to Qui-Gon.
"I'm all for it."
"And another thing. I propose to introduce a new rule. The use of the Force extends only to oneself. The fight will take place with swords."
"Hm... It seems to me there's a catch here." I folded my arms across my chest. "Let me guess, you're a master of sword fighting?" Dooku smiled. "Well, yes. Fine, whatever. Begin."
Returning to the initial state, I saw Dooku also take a stance opposite me. Unlike Qui-Gon, he stood with a straight back, kept his left hand behind his back, and the right, with the activated sword, in front of him.
A sharp change of stance, and the sword was pointed at me, and the Count went in a circle.
"Who first?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Heh..." Turning, I also went for the count, just as I once attacked Qui-Gon. Dooku didn't fail and immediately counterattacked.
A lunge forward, a swing of the sword, but it hits a hard block. However, the count himself has to jump back so as not to fall under my second weapon. Not stopping, I continued to press, and a new exchange of blows occurred.
Unlike Qui-Gon, Dooku already showed results. He often parried or dodged my strikes, not even trying to block them. Once he did, of course, step on that rake, and even held the block, except that was one sword, when the second immediately follows—the only choice is to dodge.
From the side, it probably looked funny. Essentially—there was neither sparring nor fencing; I just walked in circles after the retreating count and each time delivered such strikes that he physically could not apply his fencing skills.
Truth be told, when the fight dragged on and he was able to more or less get used to me, Dooku went on the counteroffensive. The sparring reached a new level, and now I wasn't chasing him but just fighting. Yes... the count fenced incomparably better than me, that's a fact. Except what's the use if I am not one who will fight "fairly," in the terms of modern Jedi?
So, having decided that I had entertained the public more than enough, gathered information, and warmed up myself, I moved to the final phase. With a sharp lunge, I intercepted his arm during a strike and, pulling it toward me, pressed the deactivated sword to his chest.
"That's all."
"Hm... Unexpected." He concluded calmly, rubbing his chest. "I understand correctly that you were taught as an assassin?"
"Correct. How did you come to that thought?"
"You were constantly checking yourself so as not to end the fight for real. I am familiar with the three-second rule, where victory is achieved practically immediately after the duel begins. Your movements are aimed at maximum efficiency, whereas Jedi are not killers. We are guardians of Peace and order, and in combat, we strive not to kill, but to disarm."
"That mercy may one day play a cruel joke on you." I shook my head disapprovingly. "One day a great woman said: 'Spare not the enemy, you will save a friend'."
"In the words, sense there is, yes..." Yoda intervened. "...but not the same, our order is, which you know."
I could only shrug at that. To another's temple with your own rules... well, you can go once.
"Returning to the sparring result. What else did you notice, count?"
"You are very hard to calculate. When I adapted to your manner of fighting and delivering direct hacking strikes, you changed it, starting to deliver thrusts more often. When I adapted a second time, you changed it again and started to use the 'Tràkata' technique."
"Masters, what do you think of our guest?" the Muun asked, looking over everyone present.
"Into a cage with him, and end of story. Or better to kill him."
"Master Raynor, you specifically—I will ask to refrain," the same Muun added calmly.
"Shade is strong. He is a hardened warrior who... it's unpleasant to admit, but stands above us in level," Dooku began. "Aggravating the conflict with him is not the best idea."
"But we cannot conclude an alliance with him either. A stranger he is, and a barbarian."
"I dare object to you, Master Pilo. A stranger he is—yes. But not a barbarian. For, despite the difference in views, he showed absolutely no aggression. Criticism? Yes. But we also criticize his views. Despite this, we calmly conduct communication, getting to know each other better."
"Master Yoda, why are you silent?"
"Debatable, all this is. A compromise find we must with him, so that conflicts do not arise."
"I propose to seize the equipment, issue documents and funds, explain what can and cannot be done, and let him go with a monitor drone."
"He won't agree to that."
"That is his problem. These are not the wild times of Tython; we live in a civilized world, and he either adapts to it or becomes a threat. I believe that leaving him at large in such a state is a very bad idea."
"You are in a hurry, Master. What if we go from the opposite? We have an unofficial staff of Shadows, to which Count Dooku and Raynor are assigned. What prevents us from carefully bringing him under Raynor's hand? He is alone, in an unknown world, has absolutely nothing in his hands, and has language problems besides. We could extend a hand of support and, with some flaws, unofficially take patronage over him. So it will be calmer for us, he is placed, and the order will support a strong fighter."
"A decision to make, we hurry," Yoda intervened. "Wait, we must. Dooku, Raynor, tomorrow to the library accompany him you must. Watch him carefully you must; too different we are..."
***
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