StarWars. A Lifetime with Darkness. Padawan

[GorMartsen]

Repulsorlift engines were fine. Well, three out of five, but I didn't need more than that.

They whined a bit wrong at first, making me worry, but then settled, showing all green on the dashboard, even if it was on the edge of yellow.

Did he really hope I would escape on this?

Buckling up, I raised the ramp with a screech and tuned the radio to the Temple Control frequency.

"Temple Control, this is Jedi Knight Lose, over," I called, grimacing from the static in the speakers.

"Jedi Knight Lose, Temple Control. Go ahead. Over," a bored voice broke through the static loud enough to understand.

"Requesting a corridor from Gate Z-East-67 to the Engineering Bay," I said, double-checking the old flimsi clipped to the dashboard. "Over."

"Class? Over," they called back. No concerns, no identification, really. Just give me your profile size.

Why am I surprised?

"Cargo-shuttle. Over," I reported. It was a cargo shuttle now, as far as I was concerned.

"Stand-by."

That was expected, really. But I had a thing or two to do, too. Rising into the air, I moved the shuttle closer to the gate and tried to sync my wrist-comm with the shuttle's navigation comm. I needed an up-to-date map of the area around Temple.

It finally beeped, and I brought it on the screen, mapping my path, just in case. I had to go up two levels from under the City level, then do a half circle around to the west side…

"Jedi Knight Lose, Temple Control. Confirm departure from Gate Z-east-67 to the Engineering Bay. Over," the radio came to life again.

"Affirmative. Gate Z-East-67 to the Engineering Bay. Over," I replied, focusing back on controls. Still green.

"Roger. Sending flight plan. ETA 2 min. Over," Temple Control replied, and my navcomm beeped, receiving flight path. I had to give a bit wider arc around Temple than I had expected.

"Confirmed. ETA 2 min. Over," I called back, realising that… I forgot to figure out the Gate itself. But to my surprise, it began to open on its own.

Not that I was about to complain.

—

Touching down in Engineering Bay, a bit rough and almost losing power on one engine, I began to power everything down and lowered the ramp.

"Temple Control, Jedi Knight Lose. Flight complete. Appreciate the vectoring. Over," I called over the radio.

"Roger. Flight closed. Temple Control out," I heard over the static. They were no fun.

Leaving the captain's key in, I unbuckled and stood, touching the dashboard for the last time. It was nice to fly again.

Leaving the pilot cabin, I walked through the shuttle to the ramp, now more carefully looking around. The shuttle didn't look like something from a scrap yard. Whoever flew it before took good care of it, so that even two hundred years sitting in the hangar failed to erase it.

"Master Jedi," someone called as I stepped on the landing pad, and I looked around for the so-called Master.

"Master Jedi," repeated a red-skinned human, approaching me.

Right.

"Just a Knight. Knight Lose," I replied, instinctively extending my hand.

They grinned with their sharp teeth and grabbed my hand with both hands, wildly shaking.

"Engineer Valt, Epsin Valt," she introduced herself.

It took me a moment to realise that a handshake wasn't really a widespread gesture, but apparently for this woman it meant something more than a simple greeting.

"So, how can we help you?" she continued, finally releasing my hand, and I resisted the instinctive desire to touch my missing braid.

"Need a full inspection, but I am short on time," I said, glancing back at the shuttle.

"Assault-Class shuttle, modification two. A bit rare now. Most of them have already retired, but don't worry. We will patch it up," she enthusiastically chattered, pulling out her datapad and already typing something. "You will be on your way to Thanium in no time."

"Right," I drawled.

"Hm," she frowned and looked up at me. "This one is in our database, but it says it was decommissioned one hundred and seventy-two years ago."

"Sounds about right," I agreed with a nod. "It was collecting dust in Z-East Hangar."

"Oh, that makes sense," she replied with a smile, but I wasn't sure it did to me. "With that daunting news from the Thanium sector, we need every ship we can put to use."

Osik, I really need to check on the news.

"Then you better inspect that hangar. I am sure you will find a few more fly-capable ships… after a proper service," I replied with a smile. "Just finish this one first. I have a ten-ton medical cargo to deliver."

"Sure thing, Jedi Knight Lose. What's your frequency? I will call you back as soon as it's ready," she said with a wide smile, and I pushed a few buttons on my wrist-comm to share my contacts.

My mission was becoming more and more doable.

"Now, do you know where I can order rations? I don't think the two-hundred-year-old supplies survived," I asked, moving on to the next point in my checklist. "I have a few credits to spare."

—

"Librarian Tan," I greeted the white togruta.

I found her where I always did, at her station in the library.

"You are late," she said instead of a greeting, and I wasn't sure if she even realised I had been absent for two days by now.

"I have a mission," I cut to the core. "And I need a summary on Ryloth and fresh star maps for navcomm."

She didn't react and kept typing, but when I was ready to repeat myself, she grabbed a random datapad and began uploading something.

"Here," she said, passing it to me, "and return LB-101 in one piece, or at least its head."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, accepting the datapad and checking files.

By accident—or really not—it was the same datapad I had copied the old star maps onto before, but now it also contained a new galaxy-wide star map update, a profile of Ryloth, and a collection of holobooks. Neat.

"Librarian Tan! I object! I am Librarian Droid, not the field-ready one!" butted in the droid itself, and I nodded in agreement.

I had had enough of this menace last week. I didn't need him on the shuttle with me for another two.

"It speaks Ryloth, knows their customs and a thing or two about handling cargo," she replied, changing my mind. I needed one. Yesterday.

—

"Healer Vo," I greeted the purple minx from the doorframe of her office.

"Knight Lose," she replied with a smile, looking away from whatever she was reading, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. "How may I help you?"

"I got a mission," I said with a shrug, fully entering. "I thought I would check in before leaving."

"Thanium sector, too?" she asked worriedly, and turned to her terminal. "Let me see your vaccination records."

"No, not there. Ryloth," I replied, taking a seat. I was sure I felt the level of her anxiety drop significantly.

"Well, yours are up to date, so you should be fine," she turned back to me and asked casually, too casually. "For long?"

"On paper, two weeks, but who knows," I said, and sadness bloomed in my chest. By now, I wasn't even sure if we both felt it or if I was just picking up on her emotions.

"What about going out somewhere when I'm back?" I asked, surprising myself.

"Out?" she asked.

Right. Jedi.

"You know, see some places, eat some food?" I tried to explain, and another wave of mixed emotions hit me, almost drowning in them.

It was getting ridiculous.

"I like that, Knight Lose," she replied calmly, but for some reason I felt like she was about to squeal.

"Well, see you then," I said, standing up.

"May the Force be with you, Knight Lose," she said, her smile dimming slightly.

"And with you, Healer Vo," I replied, not running out. Just tactically retreating.

I had to check on the droid and rations delivery. I didn't trust LB-101 yet to handle that.

—

Walking back into Engineering Bay, I immediately spotted the Engineer Valt standing beside my shuttle, watching droids load pallets through the open ramp.

Walking to the ship, I didn't need to look for LB101. His blue frame appeared on the top of the frame as he beeped something in binary, orchestrating droids.

"How is it going?" I asked, stopping behind Engeener Vault, and she jumped with a squeal.

"Here you are! That is for you," she said in a rushing voice and pushed the datapad into my hands. "All fixed, no issues. Read it. Cya!"

Watching her run away, I reflectively touched behind my right ear and looked at the datapad in my hands.

What was that?

Opening the first file—a maintenance report—I began reading it, walking up the ramp. The repulsorlifts were refitted with newer, higher-capacity units. It promised increased lift or drop from orbit…

Sidestepping droids, I glanced from the datapad at the mounting pallets with food supply along the centreline and nodded. Food was here.

"LB101, report when you're done; I will be in the cabin," I said, already deep in the report again.

The Hyperdrive was fine; no issue found.

"Of course, Master Lose."

 

[GorMartsen]

"Master," I said as soon as my call was answered.

I was already at the MediCorp Group distribution hub, loading cargo. But droids did all the work, and I just had to wait for it.

And watch LB-101 trying to command them.

"You know, you can call me Yad now, right?" he asked.

"In due time, Master," I replied, smiling.

"Did you forget something?" he asked next, but before I said a word, he continued. "You know you can come anytime. I didn't change the passcode."

"I'll keep that in mind, Master, but no. I got a mission. Leaving Coruscant in an hour, tops," I said, feeling warm. I wasn't the only one missing things. "Could you keep an eye on my chinar tree? I will send you the passcode."

"I can do that. May the Force be with you, Taren," he said.

"And with you, Master Yad," I replied, hanging up the call.

Looking over the city skyline, I felt strange. I used to be an adult in my past life, and here I was again. Leaving childhood behind twice felt really weird.

"Master Lose, Master Lose," I heard LB-101 say. "The cargo is secured, but I have to insist that we file a report. MediCorp droids need an upgrade."

"Maybe next time, LB. And call me Knight," I said, sighing.

"I must object. That's against protocols, Master Lose," LB-101 replied, coming to a stop a few steps away.

My wrist-comm beeped, showing me the MediCorp form requesting confirmation.

"So, we got everything?" I asked LB, scrolling through the form. It matched what I had in my files.

"Yes, Master Lose. The rations cargo, one ton, the medical cargo, ten tons, everything is on board AC-m2 and secured according to protocols Tl-100-" he began replying, but I ignored the rest, signing the form.

It was time to hit the road. Well, space in this case.

All by myself.

—

The stars rushed across the viewport, forming a blue-white tunnel of hyperspace, and I checked readings for the last time. It was all green, this time without edging into yellow.

Locking controls, I stretched in my seat, feeling hungry. Somehow in all the rush, I forgot to eat. It was good that I got that deal for a ton of rations. It was also a good time to check them out.

Glancing at the view—I wasn't sure I would ever get used to it—I rose from my seat and went out of the cabin to the galley slash common room. That was where I found LB, quietly sitting in the charging port.

Ignoring him, I checked the cupboards, expecting to find at least some rations already there, but found nothing except for the utensils and old caf machine.

Oh, that's what I forgot.

Glancing towards LB, I silently left, not really wanting to wake up that menace, at least yet. I was sure it would find me first, reminding me about work for Librarian Tan.

It was also a good chance to get to know my new buddy, the AC shuttle.

Walking out of the common room, I crossed the corridor and entered crew quarters, but there wasn't much to see. Just a few bunks and sealed closets. With mounting worry, I opened one and exhaled in relief. It had a few blankets, a fresh set of space-grade sheets, and toiletries. It seemed like Engineer Valt did a bit more than I had expected.

Glancing into the sonic shower cabin, tight and clean, I went back into the corridor and looked around. To the right was the pilot cabin, to the left the cargo bay, and across the corridor the common room, which I had already checked.

Which left cargo bay, where most likely rations had to be.

Passing the airlock, I looked around and pressed the switch by the exit. With a high-pitched noise, the lights turned on, but it didn't help much. Line upon line of crates stood from floor to ceiling, effectively blocking any light.

There wasn't even enough space to move between the crates, and only a narrow passage remained in the middle, leading to the ramp. It was really packed, and perhaps I had to be glad to have at least that. I still had another airlock entrance beneath the shuttle's belly, but it wasn't as accessible as the ramp.

Checking the manifest on the first few crates next to the airlock—medical equipment supplies—I began checking every single one along the passage. Until I reached the ramp itself.

But my rations? They weren't here.

Oh, for Force's sake.

Turning around, I marched back to the airlock. That blasted droid was gonna be the death of me. Where did he even put it all? One ton? Clearly not in the galley.

"LB, where are the rations?" I asked, walking into the common room.

"Greetings, Master," LB replied, waking up. "The rations cargo is secured safely in the cargo bay."

"That's great. Care to show me?" I said icily. I had spent fucking half an hour looking for it.

"That would not be possible, Master," the menace replied.

She asked only for its head to be returned.

"According to protocols, it is stored along the hull to maintain a proper balance," the thing said in such a convincing tone.

"LB, that wasn't cargo. That was my food supplies," I said, massaging the bridge of my nose.

"Ah. I wasn't aware, Master," LB said. "We certainly need to rebalance the cargo then."

"The next stop is thirty hours away," I said, sitting on the sofa. I really, really wanted to separate its head, even if he was technically right. Just as a precaution.

What a disaster.

 

[GorMartsen]

Being bored was no fun. Being bored and hungry? That wasn't even in the same orbit.

Hours ticked one by one, and all I had for it was hot water—thank you, Engineer Valt—and hot water with caf. Two hundred-year-old caf, to be precise, long since turned into a brick. I found it in one of the kitchenette compartments, searching for anything, really.

What a treasure.

Feeling a pleasant rush in my mind, I tried to think of something else to pass the time. Working with LB on whatever Librarian Tan had tasked it with was out of the question. I was still too touchy to deal with LB. Nor did I want to read about Ryloth.

I had already been bored to the brim.

Spinning the rock-solid package of the caf on the table, I looked around the common room.

What to do, what to do.

My hand froze mid-spin, and I looked at the package with an idea forming in my mind. This was an old shuttle… and perhaps there was something else, lost or hidden.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the Force, breathing in rhythm.

It was like back in my younglings years, playing a game of Hot and Cold. A game that Lare was so good at that she was banned from participating. Using the Force Sight was really defeating the purpose.

And really, I just wanted to pass the time.

But searching with the Force was only easy if you knew what you were looking for, not that much if you didn't.

What could possibly be hidden on a shuttle that was a war vessel? And one that belonged to Jedi before above all? Clearly not a stash of drugs. At least I hoped so.

Maybe blaster?

Feeling the pull, I mentally pulled on the thread and hooked it around my pinky finger.

That was a catch.

Opening my eyes, I stood up and, following the thread, walked out of the common room. The thread pulled me further to the left, towards the pilot cabin.

Huh.

Entering, I looked around, trying to work out where it might be hidden. The wide viewport with dashboard controls, two pilot seats, separated by hyperdrive controls and navcomp. A tight space.

False panels or beneath the floor?

Tugging on the thread, I followed the pull to my pilot seat. The one I had been using ever since I boarded the shuttle.

Left armrest.

Leaning over it, I looked for a hidden storage compartment in the armrest, but I saw no buttons or levels, and it didn't respond to touch or to being pressed directly against its sides. The Force then.

Open.

It clicked, opening a small gap, and I hooked the edge with the tips of my fingers, letting it open fully. The spring or whatever was used there was clearly exhausted after all those years.

Carefully checking inside with my right hand, I touched something metal—a handle—and slowly pulled it out, listening to the warnings in the Force.

It was all clear.

Bringing it out, I looked at it in the light of the cabin, as it settled heavily in my palm. It was some sort of old blaster—unknown make or model—most likely as old as the shuttle itself. If not older.

Flipping it to the side, I found the safety level and shifted it into the "on" position, but nothing happened. It was dead.

Checking the chrono on my wrist-comm, I sighed.

Twenty-six hours more.

—

Sighing, I looked at the table before me in the common room. The old blaster, the dead datapad of an old model, and a wupiupi coin that, who knew how, had ended up in the shower drain. It was all I had found playing a guessing game with the Force, and I was out of ideas about what to look for next.

"Master Lose," called me LB, and I looked up at it. It was still in its charging port, but its artificial eyes were focused on me.

"What is it, LB?" I asked.

"I must remind you that we are behind on the Earth modern history module. I calculated the optimal schedule, and—" it began, but I raised my hand, interrupting it.

"Later, LB," I said, landing face forward on the table. "I'll let you know when."

"As you wish, Master Lose, but I must report to Librarian Tan about lack of cooperation," it said.

Did it just try to blackmail me? Menace.

"And what would she do?" I asked, looking up. "Lock me in the red basement?"

I was joking, really. But it silently blinked back at me for a few seconds and then just shut itself down.

Huh?

Rubbing my face, I tried not to think about it.

Red basement, really?

But the ideas that flooded my mind were quite too much.

Groaning, I looked at my chrono.

Twenty hours until Corellia.

Fuck me sideways.

—

Standing in the middle of the corridor, I finally did what Lare always did. I used the Force Sight.

The shuttle slightly glowed in the Force, radiating with imprints more than two hundred years old. They were thin and blurry, but still present here.

The cargo bay, however, was just a massive blob of something, barely visible in the Force with its load, against the slightly glowing hull.

Turning to the crew quarters, I carefully inspected every visible line, but nothing—not a single compartment—was hidden behind a panel or anywhere, really.

The same was true in the pilot cabin, or in the airlock, hidden under the panel beneath my feet.

Nothing.

I felt cheated. It was a bust. Disabling the Force Sight, I rubbed my eyes and walked back into the common room.

"Master Lose," LB greeted me, once again in working order, but I ignored him, dropping onto the sofa and sighing heavily. Time was crawling here.

My gaze landed on Engineer Valt's datapad on the table, and I grabbed it, deciding to finish up on reading the spec file.

Where did I stop?

Right, the Armour and Weapon.

The hull armour integrity was at 78%, and Engineer Valt left a note that it exceeded the requirement for civilian use by 35%.

The frontal and ventral energy shields, on the other hand, were at full capacity, somehow, ready for atmospheric re-entry at max speed. Or jumping into heavy skirmish.

The chin-mounted turret was marked as removed, stating post-war regulations, which was fine by me. The same was noted for the repeating laser cannons previously mounted on each side of the ramp, and I tried to remember whether I had seen them. I had not.

Shrugging, I scrolled to the next page and looked at the next item on the list. Rocket pods on each wing, twenty unguided rockets each. All marked empty. The note stated that removing pods wasn't possible at this time and to come back later to replace them with an extra fuel tank or additional cargo pods.

Clicking on the pods description, I studied the compatible ammunition, rubbing my nose. HE-FRAG rockets intended to suppress ground forces. Nothing fancy.

Yawning, I closed the description and checked if there was anything else left on file. But it was the end.

Putting the datapad back on the table, I looked at the empty cup of caf and back at the caf machine.

Nah, I finally felt like sleeping.

Glancing at the door, I decided against bunk either. The sofa was already here, and my robes were too.

Lying down, I tightened them around myself and closed my eyes.

Sleep. A bit of sleep was all I was asking for.

 

[GorMartsen]

Notification: I've updated all three first chapters of the "Knight" Arc. Nothing major, but a few scenes have been added.

 

[GorMartsen]

"No!" I screamed, lurching up.

My hand missed the end of the sofa, and I saw stars as pain surged through my head after hitting the table.

Ouch.

Massaging the right side of my head, just above my ear, I forced a breath in as the dream began to fade from my mind. But yellow eyes—my eyes—still glowed in my mind, a wicked smile and a red lightsaber through my Master's chest.

Glancing at the chrono on my left wrist, I checked the time. Then checked again.

"LB, how long was I out?" I asked, typing on the wrist-comm. It showed the same time, too.

"According to my inner clock, you were asleep for eighteen hours and seven minutes. According to my sensors, the deep sleep phase lasted only one hour and forty-one minutes. For your species, it reads as abnormal patterns…"

Groaning, I fell back on the sofa and stared at the common room ceiling as LB continued to list what was wrong with me. As if I didn't know it.

"… I highly suggest reporting to Healing Halls on our return to perform maintenance."

"Thanks, LB," I replied, sitting up and rubbing my face.

I had less than an hour before exit in the Corellian system.

Food, caf!

And sure, I needed to rebalance cargo first. But! I had a few credits left, and I felt like spending them.

A quick stop at any space station would be fine, as long as I avoid playing Sabac.

But first, I had to take a shower, I decided, sniffing under my armpit. It smelled like a horse corral on a summer day.

—

The sonic shower was shit.

Walking out of the shower cabin, I didn't feel freshened. If anything, I felt like being sandblasted. Thoroughly.

Hanging my old clothes on the hook in the shower cabin, I tapped the control panel to activate the clothes-washing mode.

It beeped, throwing a warning on the screen—low on something—and the cabin sealed, flashing with ultraviolet light.

Five minutes.

It was efficient, fast and handy. And yet, standing nude in the crew quarters, I was thinking about forming a habit of carrying spare clothes.

Perhaps even packing a kit bag for all my future missions.

And while at it, I might add everything I might need, like a cup, utensils, caf and spare wrist-comm. And a few bricks of military rations.

Why even wait? I could do it all right on my first stop on Corellia.

The shower beeped, showing green on the panel, and I opened the door. My clothes looked clean now, even ironed, and I began to dress as the smell of ozone drifted out.

And perhaps a bottle of perfume wouldn't be amiss, either.

Oh, right.

I also needed a bottle of something strong, maybe even Corellian brandy. I did promise myself to find one for my Master's Master remembrance.

Fastening the belt around my waist, I clipped back my lightsaber and jumped a few times.

I felt ready. A quick stop to fix the cargo and buy a few things. Should be fine.

—

The hyperdrive timed out, and the white tunnel beyond the viewport split into lines and then settled into stars. The brightest one shone slightly to my left, marked on the viewport as "Corellia", but I was a bit too far to make out more than that.

"Corellia Control, this is shuttle ACm2, identification JTAC-78t23, sending flight manifest. Over," I called, checking sensors and the navcomm display.

"ACm2, Corellia Control. Stand by. Over," a robotic voice replied, and seconds stretched as I looked into the viewport curiously.

Not that there was much to see. Just a black nothing with stars, but navcomm was highlighting ships one by one, as it received navigation updates from Control.

"ACm2, Corellia Control. Flight manifest received. Cleared to Station Z-7, Dock D-09. Navigation updates transmitted. Over," broke through speakers and navcomm showed a new line on the screen, requesting confirmation.

"Corellia Control, ACm2. Roger. Station Z-7, Dock D-09. Over."

Punching a few buttons, I confirmed the new course, disabled the autopilot, engaged the main engines, and set the shuttle on course.

This was fun, and I wasn't about to waste it.

The light of Corellia shifted left, disappearing from view, and I began approaching another dot—a space Station Z-7. One of the few hundred stop-by places across the system, a gas station, really. No one was mad enough to land on the planet itself for a quick stop to fill up the tank, stretch legs, or change the cargo.

Whining with repulsors, I flipped the shuttle 180 and flared with the main engines to bleed off my speed.

Fun.

"ACm2, who the fuck gave you the pilot's licence?" screamed the radio, and I glanced at the identifier. Station Z-7 Control.

Turning off the main engines, I pushed the repulsors to max and, a few seconds later, gently glided into the dock through the energy shield.

"Station Z-7 Control, ACm2. Ready to be docked. I didn't even scratch you. Over," I replied, fighting a smile on my face.

"ACm2. How may we help you, Jedi Knight Lose? Over," replied a female voice, followed by muffled swearing in the background.

Well, cat out of the bag…

"Station Z-7 Control, I need to rebalance the cargo. Over," I replied, confirming the locks on the landing gear before powering off the shuttle engine systems.

"Jack's brigade is on standby. 500 credits. Agreed? Over," a male voice butted in again, and I was getting an idea of how things were done here.

"Agreed. Send them in. Over," I replied, running through the post-flight checklist.

"ETA ten minutes, sending contact information. Over," he said, and navcomm blinked with an incoming message.

"Got it. Thanks. Over," I replied, sending it on my wrist-comm.

"Welcome to Station Z-7, Jedi," he said, cutting off the chatter.

What a fella.

Turning the captain's key, taking it out and hiding it in the pocket, I called the new contact.

"Jack's brigade. State your business," replied someone, and it took me a moment to place the accent. Toydarian.

"ACm2 here. Cargo rebalancing," I said, stretching up.

"Right right, Dock D-09. 500. I will be there in five," they replied and hung up.

Warming.

—

The ramp lowered down, and I breathed in the dry station air. It was a bit chilly here, and I let the Force through my body to warm up a bit. At that moment, the main gate into the dock opened, and a cargo flyer glided inside, turning sideways at my ramp. As it stopped, the toydarian flew out of the cabin, and I went down the ramp.

The faster this part was done, the faster I would be shopping.

"Jedi," they greeted me at the bottom, arms crossed. "Money first."

"Reader?" I asked, reaching into my pocket and showing the credit chip I got in the Temple.

The toydarian studied me for a second, but then reached for his waist and pulled out the reader, asking, "No wupiupi?"

"I have some," I replied, accepting the reader. "A hundred."

"Not enough. Credits would do," they replied, making a face.

I nodded, typing the agreed amount and transferring it from the chip.

"Do you know where I can find an old power cell for a blaster?" I asked, giving it back.

"What kind of blaster, Jedi?" they asked, suspiciously checking the reader.

"This one," I answered, pulling the blaster I had found out of the robe's pocket and showing it.

They signalled with a hand to pass it on, and I gave it to them.

"100 wupiupi and I get it delivered in ten," they replied after studying it for a few moments, opening the power cell slot in one fluid moment. "And a gas cartridge. It's empty."

"Deal," I smiled. "Now onto the rebalancing cargo. I need a few pallets of rations accessible from inside…"

 

[GorMartsen]