I don't know how much time has passed, but everything was like a fog… Consciousness returned in bursts: I would suddenly perceive a new layer of information about my surroundings. But it overloaded my infant brain. Yes, in the end, that strange cry I heard turned out to be a child's cry. And it was the cry of my new body. Completely unexpectedly, I became that very transmigration. For the next couple of days, I desperately tried to study my surroundings. But this damn child's body hindered me… It was physically weak. It took me several days, and it felt like I almost broke my neck in the process. The breakthrough came when I saw a droid. A real robot…
It had several arms, and a soft blue light flowed from its eyes. The robot moved on wheels… And why it had many arms, I also understood quite quickly. It turned out to be a "jack of all trades." It cleaned the house, fed me, and cooked. Considering the surroundings, I had already figured out a list of possible universes… Or no, a list of universes is possible, but what if the world is original? New, never described… If I can navigate universes, then in such a case – hardly. But no… My doubts and fears were dispelled when, albeit slightly distorted, one of my parents uttered the word "Jedi"… Everything suddenly became clear.
Star Wars, the legendary universe. If The Lord of the Rings defined the trends of fantasy, then Star Wars defined the trends of science fiction for many years. Initially, this universe was not such an incredible behemoth. But after the release of the trilogy with Luke, endless comics, books, and then even games poured out. The universe was filled with life by hundreds, if not thousands, of characters. This universe turned out to be quite cruel to everyone… Both Sith, and Jedi, and other sentient beings. And, honestly, I wouldn't want to end up in this universe. What's more… I would just want to die… Haven't I suffered enough? Why do I have to live on in this dangerous and cruel world?
And… Honestly, a child has a thousand opportunities to die… To commit unconscious suicide. Or conscious… But for some reason, I couldn't or didn't want to… Probably because of my mother. At first, I avoided Mayla Flaingstar; the memory of how my first parents treated me was still fresh. So Dennis and Mayla Flaingstars were the same to me. But this conviction shattered like glass shards. Mayla loved to hold me close and mutter something in the local language. I didn't know what she was saying then; the language in Star Wars is a bit different. Completely different letters, although the Star Wars characters speak English in the original, which I know better than many.
And this behavior of my mother began to change something in me… I began to reciprocate this tall woman. She was beautiful, both for me and for my father. Myla Flaingstar is tall, slender, with a proper face, clearly not belonging to the Caucasian race. And her ears were pointed, like elves… Yes, she is definitely some kind of elf, it seems that in the Star Wars universe there were several races with similar characteristics… Her skin color was quite pale. And my father, Dennis Flaingstar, turned out to be a stout man of the same race, but shorter than my mother. If I were to estimate, she is, approximately, by my feelings – about two hundred centimeters, while my father doesn't even reach one hundred and eighty.
What created such a strange couple? After all, by my own admission, my mother is incredibly beautiful, and the standards of the SEFI and earthly ones are not particularly different… However, Dennis Flaingstar had one remarkable feature. His eyes were purple. And I somehow noticed my own reflection. For a person of this age, my height, I think, was standard… A cute, chubby face, so that's what makes my mother care so much about me… Besides the standard maternal instinct… Well, and most importantly, besides the pointed ears, my eyes were the same shade as my father's.
And they gave me a speaking name… Well, well… The Skywalkers had a speaking surname: those who walk in the sky. And I have both. Light Flaingstar. The light of a flying star, beautiful, damn it. Although I would have preferred my name as Leonid Ivanov, but, apparently, I will have to get used to the new circumstances… The fact that I have long, pointed ears means that I am like an elf… It seems that all races with such ears and pretty faces, in all possible universes – always live long. Yes… This time I will live a long life for myself. Maybe I won't even have problems finding a partner, or poverty? After all, I now have a family, and they turned out to be quite well-off. The house was beautiful and filled with light, there were many windows. Now there will be no more mistakes, Leonid Ivanov… No, now Light Flaingstar will live his life with dignity according to his criteria, so that he is no longer ashamed. I must change… Become better… So much self-persuasion and zero! Zero result! How many times have I decided for myself that I will be a confident man, living for myself against all odds… And so many times I have failed… But now I must succeed. I have everything. I just need to define my future…
"Master Light," a voice said from behind, which I immediately recognized as the droid's. I began to understand the language little by little, it was fundamentally different from what I knew, but I quickly drew parallels and now, by eleven months, I understood speech. "You are forbidden to leave your territory, in the form of the playroom, without my supervision or your parents. I will have to transport you to your place."
I was picked up and taken down the corridor back to my room. Damn robot… Although he's right. There are many dangers in this world… I should think about a plan for my life. First of all, I should decide on a profession. For me, a translator, there will be no profession here. After all, there are protocol droids. So, I need to choose another one… I should decide on my education. And here you can choose for a long time. In Star Wars, there are many educational institutions, of course, most of them that come to mind are related to military themes, you have to justify the name. But I don't want to fight… I don't want to kill, one way or another. I want to live a simple life.
At the entrance, I heard joyful voices. My parents returned from work. Where did they work? My mother definitely worked as a maid, a couple of times I saw her in a themed costume… It was definitely not for role-playing with my father. Well, and my father, Dennis, was an engineer… Or a technician? At least, he wore a jumpsuit to work and after work. Five minutes later, the sound of approaching footsteps was heard. My mother, as usual, burst into the room, grabbed me, and with joy almost suffocated me with her "arguments" … It seems my father even had to fiddle with the droid when, to his misfortune, he advised him to check if all my ribs were intact after such hugs. He got the poor thing, a wrench right in the analyzer. My mother is strong.
And she does this every day when she comes home from work. She loves me so much that my father looked at me with envy. Although many should look at him with envy, he snagged such a beauty.
"Today I will cook," my mother told the droid and my father. "My son definitely loves my cooking," I adore it, to be honest. Many products are new to me, but my mother cooks wonderfully. Usually, I eat a kind of salad with fish.
The droid cooks it for me, but my mother does it better. She loves to cook, although she can't always find time for it. Today, they were clearly let go early, both her and my father. With a strange expression on her face, she handed me over to my father. He was already dressed in home clothes, while my mother could flaunt her maid costume almost twenty-four-seven. Humming something to herself, she flitted out of the room…
"Let's get back to training, Light," the man looked at me seriously. "It's time for you to prove your strength! Come on, son… You said 'Mom' when you were five months old. An unprecedented result for a Sephi! And now be a man… Say 'Dad'."
"Mom," I said, barely holding back laughter.
"Da-ad!" my father said, syllable by syllable, grimacing slightly. "D-a-a-d," he said, letter by letter. "The Great Sun," he sighed dramatically. "This is wrong!"
"Mom…"
My father facepalmed and, apparently, wanted to go to his workshop, but then Myla's call was heard. Time to eat… Picking me up, he ran to the kitchen with great speed, trying not to drop me. The kitchen in our house was quite spacious, we ate here. A table made of local trees stood in the center, and around it were six chairs. In general, as in my world, handmade things are highly valued here lately. If you have an item created by a master's hand, and not by a soulless mass producer, then you have a reason to be proud.
The Flaingstar family was quite well-off, so we had many such "things" as the table, covered with intricate swirls. And my father periodically made something in his workshop. Along the walls, there were several nightstands, stylistically resembling the table, a cooking stove, as I called it (at least, it resembled it), a rather large refrigerator stood opposite this very stove on another wall.
I was seated in a child's chair, and I didn't consider it a particularly humiliating circumstance. After all, I can enjoy my mother's cooking… The only thing that humiliated me in the first months of my life was soiling myself.
"Bon appétit!" Myla clasped her hands together, and Dennis repeated the gesture.
I, in turn, glanced at my portion, assessing what had been cooked. Not the largest portion combined local fish and local vegetable stew… Why do I say "local"? Because the flora and fauna of the Star Wars world differ from the flora and fauna of Earth. And I don't know the names of these vegetables, fruits, and fish with animals. And this is despite the fact that I, in essence, know the canon quite well… That's precisely why I intend to stay away from Jedi, Sith, and so on… Even Palpatine's rule, I agree to tolerate, thankfully, despite the excesses – he won't touch anyone without reason… Or will he? That's already Sidious's quirk, who, it seems, will soon begin his training with Hego Damask.
Having slightly pierced my portion with a glance, I tried to grab the cutlery, feeling the affectionate gazes of Myla on me. My hands are quite strong for a child, although not enough. In general, sometimes I felt strange things. My body literally filled with strength, although afterwards I lay down and almost moaned from pain… Oh, damn it… The Star Wars equivalent of a fork, scraping against the plate, slipped out of my hand and rushed to the floor… Yes, come back! And here again… Strange sensations spread through my body, the fork obediently jumped into my hand, and I just realized that I had problems.
I am clearly gifted. That is – a larva of the gifted.
"Well done, Light," Myla smiled softly. "That was beautiful."
Not at all! I glanced at the fork, which was in my left hand. If I am capable, albeit unconsciously, of using the Force, then my name is already in the Holocron. When I reach a certain age, I still don't remember exactly how many, a local monk will come to take me to the Jedi Temple… To train, to study, to observe celibacy and poverty. I wish I had been born gifted on Corellia. The Conclave on that planet is much better than the "Main Jedi." Despite the fact that I finished Myla's food, and she cooks excellently, my mood was irrevocably spoiled.
"And this is His Majesty Alaric, Light," my mother pointed to a holographic photo projection. "Just so you know – he has been the ruler of our nation for almost two hundred years. He is incredibly wise and intelligent."
My parents showed me holographic photos of some of their acquaintances and relatives. What's interesting is that everyone in my father's lineage, the Flaingstar lineage, had purple eyes and they were all much shorter than ordinary Sephi. Sometimes we went for walks… And Tustra, as a planet, naturally fascinated me… No, it had classic urban solutions, like busy speeder lanes. But all this harmonized beautifully with parks and green spaces. The King perfectly understood the importance of ecology, none of his people wanted to turn their planet into a second Coruscant… However, the capital of the Galactic Republic is not the worst; there are planets that have suffered even more due to technology.
By the way, Alaric is shown to me for the eighth time already, apparently, they are afraid I'll forget. And it's understandable, probably, from my parents' point of view. After all, Alaric is their employer. My mother is the chief maid of the Royal Palace, and my father works there too, in the hangar, as a technician. Many more photos flashed by when they showed the Chief Technician, who was also the Head of the Hangar – a shadow crossed Dennis's face, apparently, my father can't stand his boss. After all, Dennis himself is quite reserved. And if his face contorts just at the mention of another person, then this person is beyond ordinary dislike.
"We will show you the palace soon, Light. As the son of His Majesty's servants, you have the right to interact with the children of other courtiers…"
Children? I will interact with children? Memories unexpectedly brought up a couple of pictures of such communication back in the orphanage.
"You'll be fine, Light," my father patted me when I clung to his sleeve. "Dad will protect you, if anything."
"I don't want to…"
"You have to, Light," Myla said calmly. "You can't live in society and be free from it. Besides, it's interesting."
Well, to each his own… I still haven't recovered from the news of my midi-chlorian significance… Around the age of two, I no longer made fun of my father. Myla's mother visited us, besides the standard nagging of a mother-in-law, which boiled down to the fact that the chief maid of His Majesty, who came from an ancient lineage, could not marry a simple hangar technician… But Ronim Miral, my father's boss, was quite equal to Myla in status, my grandmother marveled at my abilities in the Force… Strangely, her dislike for my father turned into love for me… And she was also proud that I could become a Jedi Knight in the future… It's as if they don't care that I might die on one of the missions and that officially I won't have children. Of course, one can leave the Order, but it seems to me that my relatives do not even consider such a thought… That I would leave the Order? Grand Master Yoda himself is a friend of our King. The option of leaving, I suppose, was not even considered. And they were preparing me psychologically for this…
That someday a Jedi would come for me and take me from my warm home to the huge Temple on Coruscant. To raise me as a monk… But before that, I still had to make my debut. High-born Sephi introduced their children to society at the age of four or five, presenting them to their acquaintances. And the children of servants also belonged to the high-born, after all – many of the King's servants came from nobility. Some positions were almost hereditary. Like with my mother, for example. And my debut took place two years later, when I turned four.
Before that, I, a child, was taught everything that a child could know by my grandmother from my mother's side, who moved in with us. More precisely, what the child of the Chief Maid of His Majesty should know. By the way, the position of Chief Maid was hereditary in my mother's family, which reminded me of some Empires and countries, however, I couldn't complain. After all, in the end, those who inherited their parents' positions were trained at the proper level from birth. Long-lived Sephi could afford to dote on even great-grandchildren and, as my grandmother says, "hammer a little bit of wisdom into their disobedient heads."
However, the training was not particularly strict. I was even allowed to rest, at least three to four hours a day. But I never spent this time on rest, remembering that I am gifted – I began heavy training in an attempt to control my gift. Why heavy? Because it's better to learn Force techniques from professionals, and I can only watch Jedi flashes on HoloNet, the local equivalent of YouTube. Using my datapad, I watched Jedi caught on video during their work and tried to repeat the most elementary thing I thought before – telekinesis. After all, it was this that I used for the first time in my life… I was looking for that feeling of interaction with the Force.
When I just wanted to lift a fork… After all, I have fourteen thousand midi-chlorians. I'm not Skovorodka, of course, but incredibly close to that value. According to the information I received, the average Jedi has between three thousand and about seven thousand. Of course, anyone can train to master level. But my training will be easier… Although I didn't want to become a Jedi, later I still accepted this circumstance as a given. I simply have no choice… Those who don't know the canon can say: oh well, just go away and that's it. But… A strong, potentially Gifted person is unlikely to find a peaceful life. That's a fact… One way or another, I will shine somewhere.
And the Jedi, if I'm honest, suit me ideologically the most. Despite the many shortcomings of the Order that formed after Ruusan, I still considered and consider them wonderful rational beings (Author's note!!! Attention! THIS IS MY GG'S OPINION! IT MAY CHANGE!). So I learned to use the Force… And lately, I've started to succeed. The thing is, I was trying to find a way to meditate to comprehend the Force. And each time I succeeded better and better… I should also pay attention to physical training, but I was already doing that, albeit not very actively.
My physical training coach turned out to be an old man… And there are such among the Sephi. Roger Mirt had fought in his time and was now living out his days in his homeland. He was almost three hundred and fifty years old… Although all he did was ordinary bodyweight exercises… And I was also forced to learn the "Code of Duties of a Future Servant of the King." Although I don't intend to become one… It contained everything: from personal hygiene to intellectual development and physical skills.
Alaric's palace looked truly majestic. And it was so not to please the vanity of the King, whom I only saw briefly. Alaric fully deserves this grandeur, which is tirelessly maintained by a huge number of servants and various workers. As I've already understood, he's a benevolent dictator. A rather rare type of dictator, whose goal is the prosperity of their entire people, not individual personalities with whom they are friends.
I was led to the rooms where children of absolutely different ages frolicked. I definitely saw almost adult teenagers sitting apart from the little ones, as well as very young ones, like me. The children were also clearly supervised by nannies. At the entrance to the richly decorated room, a middle-aged Sephi met us.
"Brought yours, Myla," she smiled at my mother.
The woman had dark hair, standard for our people, tied in intricate swirls, and pointed ears. She was also quite tall and towered over us all like a tower. The woman was dressed in a yellow, closed dress.
"My name is Erla," she leaned down to me. "I will be looking after you… And now go and meet your new friends, little Light. Don't be shy, and I'll talk to your mother for now."