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Yeah putting it to the test is one way to say it
Great chapter new minions get
Hopefully theses ones don't get themselves killed of early
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The Force of Magic [Star Wars SI]
- Thread starter Boroda Orka
- Start date
Great chapter new minions get
Hopefully theses ones don't get themselves killed of early
Chapter 11
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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"Children are the flowers of life. On the graves of Mentors."
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
I don't like people. And not because I don't know how to cook them, as Ir'rina used to say. I don't mean hatred or contempt by that. I'm simply more comfortable alone most of the time. Teenagers double that dislike, sometimes even triple it. Restless, impulsive, capricious, and quarrelsome. Not all of them, of course, and not out of any malice, but still. But children... I looked at the little red-haired girl, about five years old. Freckles, enormous curious yellow-green eyes, and two funny little braids! Hell, I wasn't taking her along as my apprentice's tagalong! All five were coming as an added bonus to this little darlingâthat was how adorable she was. Even stern Cordelia was looking at her with an involuntary smile.
And she wasn't afraid of me in the slightest. She looked at me with those clear eyes of hers, and I could read curiosity in them. More than thatâI could see delight! I just couldn't figure out why yet: a red-eyed man in a black robe usually wasn't the sort of sight that inspired admiration.
"Are you our new daddy? Why are you glowing like that? Are you sick? Your eyes are all wed!!!"
She would have kept pelting me with questions, adorably mangling her r's, but her sister shushed the girl and pulled her into a hug, looking at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Mr. Siith, Karray is just little," she blurted out, while I fell into thought. For several seconds, I stared silently at the girl. Glowing? But there shouldn't have been any visible effects, and the robe was supposed to suppress any stray emissions. Except it wasn't active, because I'd wanted to fill the reservoirs to the brim first. I'd simply grown used to the artifacts I wore giving off a faint glow in the sorcerous spectrum. Which meant...
"Siith?" But I merely waved Cordelia off and crouched down beside the girl. She was still looking at me with curiosity, while her sister was clearly frightened now.
I couldn't sense any personal mana from the little girl with the braids, but this world washed away the energy generated by one's own core, preventing it from accumulating to any significant level. An aura-diagnostic spell showed me exactly what I would expect from a young, weak sorceress. Seven mana-channel outlets. Seven times fewer than I had. Not a critical limitation, really, even in my own world. And here, where the ocean's magic practically forced its way into your aura to fill it, it mattered even less. Of course, the risk of damaging her core was higher than mine, but proper training and the peculiarities of this world would offset that danger.
"I'm not your new daddy." The main thing was not to smile while looking at this little darling. Everyone was already on edge and had probably imagined all sorts of things about how I was going to start eating the little tyke right then and there, without even bothering with salt. Still, I tried to keep my face relaxed and my gaze and voice friendly. "I'll be your Mentor. Yours, your sister's, and her friends'. That's not the same as a father, of course, Karray, but a Mentor is also a very important person to a spellcaster. I still remember my own Teacher with respect and gratitude, even though many years have passed since my apprenticeship ended."
I patted the girl on the head and winked at her. Her sisterâI really needed to learn the teenagers' names, by the wayârelaxed a little, though she was still watching me warily. The rest of my future apprentices looked more surprised than anything by the scene unfolding in front of them.
"You're going to teach her too? I thought you were only planning to work with the older ones?" Cordelia, walking beside me toward our transport, was still radiating distrust and suspicion.
"She's the same as me. Those five will become mages, but she'll become a sorceress. Of course, the girl is still too young for serious training, but there are special developmental games and toys that won't be hard to make myself." Once I was settled inside the transport, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then let out a deep sigh. "More and more things to do."
"Afraid you won't be able to handle it?" my companion asked with a mocking snort.
"No. It's just depressing. I've been working exclusively on my own projects for quite a long time now, and suddenly I have to rearrange my priorities. It's not really a problem, though. A long life guarantees that sooner or later you'll have time for everything. So I plan to help you, train up a batch of spellcasters, establish decent conditions in this world, and at the same time carry out the research we'll need both for my purposes and for yours. Then, once I have more free time, I'll get back to my own affairs."
"Alto only made a deal with you for supplies of certain things, not for help improving our whole world. And you're being a little too optimistic. 'Establish decent conditions in this world,' hah! That could take decades, if not a century!"
The girl was looking at me as though I were an idiot. I, incidentally, was staring back at her with equal bewilderment.
"Oh, even a blind man can see that your cousin wants nothing but the best for his homeworld. I'm sure that once the Nimbus's needs are taken care of, he'll start thinking bigger. More likely, you're already thinking aheadâperhaps you've even discussed it and made plans." I gave the girl a condescending look. Weather control alone would make life on Jabiim considerably easier. If nothing else, it could provide a stable "window" for trade with the outside world.
The girl pursed her lips. Her expression made it clear I'd guessed right, so I raised the corners of my mouth in the faintest hint of a smile and continued.
"And what's the problem with the timeframe? If it takes a century, then it takes a century. There's a right way to hurry. If setting up a workplace in the mansion could be sped up without sacrificing quality simply by putting in more effort myself, then working with an entire planet is not something to rush. I can wait. It's no great hardship. And afterward, perhaps I'll even be able to recruit one of my apprentices into my own team. I'm used to working alone, of course, but having an assistant who shares my beliefs and ambitions would make life much easier."
Cordelia... was staring at me. There was really no other word for it. Just staring, shock written all over her face. What was with her? Ahhh, wait. I think I got it...
"How old are you, sorcerer?" the girl whispered, sounding almost lost.
Right. Of course. My age.
"Hmm..." How old was I, actually? I began my training at fourteen, said goodbye to my teacher three decades later, and set out on my first journey. Ten years after that came the first war I took part in, followed by my first period of seclusion, which lasted almost a century. Then I was talked into teaching at one of the academies, though I only lasted two decades before another war began, one that dragged on for half a century... Then I met Ir'rina and returned with her to my little "hermit's corner," followed by a hundred happy years of research together, interrupted only by the occasional journey... And after that, two centuries of solitude. Let's round it off a little. "About six hundred by my world's reckoning. Our days are almost the same length. How long is a year here?"
"Three hundred and sixty-eight," the girl replied, staring at me blankly.
"Right. Ours is four hundred... So that makes me... somewhere around six hundred and fifty by your calendar. But that's only approximate. I might've forgotten something or counted wrong, and I never really kept records."
"Holy fucking shit," came the driver's voice from the front seat, followed by an agreeing grunt from the soldier beside him.
"Yeah... Wait! What did you just say, Sergeant?" Cordelia flared with anger. "Just drive, and I don't want to hear either of you talking about this, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
"Ahem... Siith, is that a normal lifespan in your world?" the girl asked, calming down just as quickly as she had flared up.
"For some spellcasters, yes. Some people with no connection to magic also find ways to extend their lives. And certain races can be naturally long-lived as well. But normally, the lifespan of our kindâhumansâis eighty to a hundred and twenty years. Provided, of course, that a person lives a healthy life, eats properly, and keeps themselves in good physical condition. Rejuvenation rituals, which some mages make their living from, are extremely expensive, but still available to ordinary people, and can extend a life by anywhere from five to fifty years, depending on the ritual itself."
"Mmm... And you'll be able to teach those rituals to your apprentices?"
"Of course. Except for the really dark ones involving mass sacrifices of sentients. Sorry, but I'm not going to unleash anything like that on this world." I sighed sadly, looking out at the rain beyond the transport window. "They'll figure those out for themselves eventually, unfortunately."
"You know those too?" There it was againâthat aggression. The girl was practically overflowing with indignation, as though I had just begun performing a grand ritual to summon an Archdemon right before her eyes and had already raised the knife over the first innocent infant.
"Of course I do, Cordelia." I let some irritation creep into my voice as I gave an annoyed shrug. This was starting to wear on me. "I know a great many things, but that doesn't mean I use them, understand? You carry a weapon on your belt, but I don't get angry with you just because you can"âI stressed the wordâ"start killing innocent people indiscriminately. Knowledge matters. Being able to identify a spell as it is being cast is essential if you want to choose the right protective magic. Idiots who turn up their noses at necromancy, malefic arts, demonology, or the schools of Darkness and Chaos will die the first time they run into an enemy who practices them. Anyâlet me repeat, anyâcompetent spellcaster who wants to stay alive is obligated to know what threats they may encounter in life. To tell undead from a necroconstruct, a chimera from a creature of Chaos, a true vampire from a raised ghoul. Those squeamish prissies only live long by planting their asses in court positions and pompously preaching about the greatness of the Light. And even that lasts only until their verbal diarrhea insults a powerful malefic."
My speech sent the girl retreating into thought. Some of the concepts were clearly unfamiliar to her, because certain words had been replaced with frankly amusing equivalentsâfor example, "malefic" came through as "evildoer," which was basically accurate. She had grasped the general meaning, but the general's cousin needed some time to process it.
"Tell me, why do you always assume the worst about me?" I decided to break the silence, looking at the girl questioningly. Pulled from her thoughts, she first stared at me in surprise, then gave a crooked smile.
"It's my job to think the worst of everyone. Alto is our commander. He works out patrol routes, looks after us, leads us into battle, defending our world. He takes enemy fire on his shield and spills their blood with sword and blaster. My job is to make sure our people can fight the creatures who rob us and carry us off into slavery without having to fear that another creature just like them, only disguised as a friend, might start shooting them in the back. So no offense, sorcerer. You yourself told my cousin that we've known you for less than a week. Maybe you're a wonderful red-eyed sentient who wouldn't hurt a fly, but you appeared out of nowhere, tell us incredible things, and for some reason no one understands, you want to shower my world with benefits. Of course I'm looking for a catch."
"Oh... I see. Yes, I've spent quite a lot of time alone... I've gotten badly out of practice with things like this." I let myself smile, making a vague gesture in the air with one hand. "At least now I understand your suspicions. A job is a job. And as for this supposedly inexplicable 'benefiting the world,' I've already explained my reasons. I help you improve conditions back home, and in return, you don't interfere with my research. Everyone wins. My apprentices will be able to consult me when necessary, and I'll be able to order the components and materials I need through Jabiim's official channels. And if I decide to go travelingâand I willâI'll have somewhere to come back to."
"You put rather too much faith in people and their gratitude," the womanâwho, as I understood it, headed the Nimbus security serviceâsaid, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"Not at all." I gave her a thin smile. "You and your cousin don't strike me as idiots, so in time you'll understand that an experienced, loyal sorcerer is an extremely valuable asset. There aren't many like me even in my own world. Duels, wars, failed experimentsâthey all take their toll. So a competent spellcaster is welcome anywhere, simply because having one around is profitable."
We rode on in silence after that. Cordelia was clearly thinking about something, while I reflected with mild amusement on the fact that she doubted people's gratitude yet was willing to discuss her secrets in front of two soldiers. Then it occurred to me that they were most likely from her own service, and perhaps among her most trusted people... In that case, it made sense. The hope that they might one day be granted a life-extension ritual could encourage both usefulness and loyalty. In any case, I shook my head. That was her business.
By evening, we had finished settling the children in. They were given three rooms in the mansion. This time, the furniture was ordered from the city: three bunk beds, desks for studying, wardrobes, chairs, and bedside tables. Cordelia, incidentally, had taken care of that while we were still on the road, contacting someone over a horribly crackling radio. Teachers were found to handle the children's standard subjects, but at my insistence, the rest of the curriculum was stretched out by a third. I needed their brains to have enough room left to absorb my own science as well. A physical-training instructor would also be moving in with us permanently. Along with mental exhaustion, an apprentice needed to be worn out physically tooâa basic truth for anyone raising young walking disasters. A busy, tired child had less chance of breaking their own neckâor, in our case, blowing off their own head or someone else'sâbecause the urge to go looking for adventure came less often when they were in that state.
For Karray, I made several wooden toys that "glow weally cool," earning myself a hug and a shout that I was "the bestest ever-ever." That was actually kind of nice. The toys themselves changed color and the intensity of their glow whenever they interacted with magic, flickered, and gave off "warmth" or "coolness" within the range of sorcerous perception. I'd make her plenty of other developmental things later, but this would be enough for the first few days. The girl couldn't do anything yet, and these bits of wood would serve as a passive stimulus for her gift.
Because of her, incidentally, I had to remove all the surveillance spells first and then set them up again in disguised form. The very first question she asked after getting out of the transport was, "What's that thing glowing?" That, together with a little finger pointed straight at the surveillance spell above the front doors, forced me to dispel all the observation spells except those. Then, under Cordelia's suspicious gaze and with my face carefully mysterious and unreadable, I told her that Karray herself would explain to me what kind of spells they were once she'd learned enough.
I even took the trouble to go to the kitchen myself and ask Maria whether she could handle feeding the growing crowd. For some reason, the girl turned red and rather haltingly assured me that the workload would increase, of course, but she didn't think it would cause any serious problems. I nodded, asked her for a mug of caf, and decided to assign kitchen duty among the apprentices. Five days in the week, five teenagersâwhat was that if not a sign from above? Heh-heh. When the kitchen magician objected, I told her that, first, work builds character, and second, learning to cook from a master like her was something they'd have to pay for anywhere else.
The girl really had no reason to be shy: she had both talent and skill. I had always respected true professionals, and cooks with a golden touch were something I rarely came across. Leaving the thoroughly flushed kitchen magician alone and taking Quartermaster with meâhe was sprawled across one of the tables like a monument to gluttonyâI headed for the workshop. I'd furnished it, sure, but I still needed to lay the proper enchantments on it. If I went without sleep for one day, nothing terrible would happen. But only one, I told myself sternly. Ir'rina had always scolded me when I buried myself in work for several days straight, and she had been rightâa proper routine made it possible to work more efficiently. The mind needed proper rest.
"How did it go, Cordelia?" The general looked tired as he sat in his "temporary" office. Every Nimbus base had rooms like this. Stratus tried to visit them all, talk to the soldiers, keep an eye on their training, and take part in patrols, but the duties of command still had to be done.
"I'm fuâ... freaking out, Alto. Either he's lying through his teeth, or we've taken in a genuine monster." The girl dropped wearily into an armchair and nodded her thanks to Roger as he set a cup of caf in front of her. "According to him, he's in his seventh century!!!"
"So what?" the general shrugged calmly. "That green stump who's in charge of the Jedi is supposed to be about a thousand years old already, or somewhere around there."
"The point is, he calls himself human. Like you and me. And I doubt he's mistaken about us being the same speciesânot after healing four humans. Here are the reports." The girl placed three folders on the desk. "I recommend you destroy them after you've read them. Life-extension rituals, Alto. He talked about them as casually as if there were nothing remarkable about it. Our sorcerer has no idea that half the galaxy would kiss his ass for something like that, while the other half would try to kidnap him and force him into their service! And he plans to teach those rituals to the children he's recruited!"
Stratus pulled the folders toward himself and looked questioningly at his cousin. The archaic way the reports had been writtenâarchaic even by Jabiim's standardsâsurprised him.
"I didn't want the information digitized. Everything's on flimsi, all handwritten. Either lock it in a safe afterward or burn it." The girl took a sip of caf and grimaced slightly. "And we found a cook for him who's far too good. I had no idea Maria could cook that well. No offense, Roger."
The young man merely smiled faintly at that. Making caf really wasn't one of his strong suits, nor was cooking in general. And he had already had a chance to appreciate his fellow soldier's skill. He had even started thinking that he ought to begin courting her before someone else took an interest in that treasure.
Cordelia rubbed her forehead hard. Annoyance, exhaustion, and irritation flickered across her face.
"Tomorrow I'm sending another one of my people over there as the children's physical-training instructor. They can help Sergiy while they're at it. I'm sending the people I trust most, Alto, and they don't exactly grow on trees. And I still need to find teachers who know how to keep their mouths shut... Oh, and the sorcerer was pushing to get those samples sent over. Says he'll start training the children in the next few days and he'll need materials. He also needs some kind of consumables for the weather sorcery."
"The first shipment will be there tomorrow," the general said in a reassuring tone. "You should get some rest, Cordelia."
"Rest... and who's going to do the work? That... what's her name? Hecate? Ah... Fine, I'm off. I'm up to my ass in work..."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
I don't like people. And not because I don't know how to cook them, as Ir'rina used to say. I don't mean hatred or contempt by that. I'm simply more comfortable alone most of the time. Teenagers double that dislike, sometimes even triple it. Restless, impulsive, capricious, and quarrelsome. Not all of them, of course, and not out of any malice, but still. But children... I looked at the little red-haired girl, about five years old. Freckles, enormous curious yellow-green eyes, and two funny little braids! Hell, I wasn't taking her along as my apprentice's tagalong! All five were coming as an added bonus to this little darlingâthat was how adorable she was. Even stern Cordelia was looking at her with an involuntary smile.
And she wasn't afraid of me in the slightest. She looked at me with those clear eyes of hers, and I could read curiosity in them. More than thatâI could see delight! I just couldn't figure out why yet: a red-eyed man in a black robe usually wasn't the sort of sight that inspired admiration.
"Are you our new daddy? Why are you glowing like that? Are you sick? Your eyes are all wed!!!"
She would have kept pelting me with questions, adorably mangling her r's, but her sister shushed the girl and pulled her into a hug, looking at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Mr. Siith, Karray is just little," she blurted out, while I fell into thought. For several seconds, I stared silently at the girl. Glowing? But there shouldn't have been any visible effects, and the robe was supposed to suppress any stray emissions. Except it wasn't active, because I'd wanted to fill the reservoirs to the brim first. I'd simply grown used to the artifacts I wore giving off a faint glow in the sorcerous spectrum. Which meant...
"Siith?" But I merely waved Cordelia off and crouched down beside the girl. She was still looking at me with curiosity, while her sister was clearly frightened now.
I couldn't sense any personal mana from the little girl with the braids, but this world washed away the energy generated by one's own core, preventing it from accumulating to any significant level. An aura-diagnostic spell showed me exactly what I would expect from a young, weak sorceress. Seven mana-channel outlets. Seven times fewer than I had. Not a critical limitation, really, even in my own world. And here, where the ocean's magic practically forced its way into your aura to fill it, it mattered even less. Of course, the risk of damaging her core was higher than mine, but proper training and the peculiarities of this world would offset that danger.
"I'm not your new daddy." The main thing was not to smile while looking at this little darling. Everyone was already on edge and had probably imagined all sorts of things about how I was going to start eating the little tyke right then and there, without even bothering with salt. Still, I tried to keep my face relaxed and my gaze and voice friendly. "I'll be your Mentor. Yours, your sister's, and her friends'. That's not the same as a father, of course, Karray, but a Mentor is also a very important person to a spellcaster. I still remember my own Teacher with respect and gratitude, even though many years have passed since my apprenticeship ended."
I patted the girl on the head and winked at her. Her sisterâI really needed to learn the teenagers' names, by the wayârelaxed a little, though she was still watching me warily. The rest of my future apprentices looked more surprised than anything by the scene unfolding in front of them.
"You're going to teach her too? I thought you were only planning to work with the older ones?" Cordelia, walking beside me toward our transport, was still radiating distrust and suspicion.
"She's the same as me. Those five will become mages, but she'll become a sorceress. Of course, the girl is still too young for serious training, but there are special developmental games and toys that won't be hard to make myself." Once I was settled inside the transport, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then let out a deep sigh. "More and more things to do."
"Afraid you won't be able to handle it?" my companion asked with a mocking snort.
"No. It's just depressing. I've been working exclusively on my own projects for quite a long time now, and suddenly I have to rearrange my priorities. It's not really a problem, though. A long life guarantees that sooner or later you'll have time for everything. So I plan to help you, train up a batch of spellcasters, establish decent conditions in this world, and at the same time carry out the research we'll need both for my purposes and for yours. Then, once I have more free time, I'll get back to my own affairs."
"Alto only made a deal with you for supplies of certain things, not for help improving our whole world. And you're being a little too optimistic. 'Establish decent conditions in this world,' hah! That could take decades, if not a century!"
The girl was looking at me as though I were an idiot. I, incidentally, was staring back at her with equal bewilderment.
"Oh, even a blind man can see that your cousin wants nothing but the best for his homeworld. I'm sure that once the Nimbus's needs are taken care of, he'll start thinking bigger. More likely, you're already thinking aheadâperhaps you've even discussed it and made plans." I gave the girl a condescending look. Weather control alone would make life on Jabiim considerably easier. If nothing else, it could provide a stable "window" for trade with the outside world.
The girl pursed her lips. Her expression made it clear I'd guessed right, so I raised the corners of my mouth in the faintest hint of a smile and continued.
"And what's the problem with the timeframe? If it takes a century, then it takes a century. There's a right way to hurry. If setting up a workplace in the mansion could be sped up without sacrificing quality simply by putting in more effort myself, then working with an entire planet is not something to rush. I can wait. It's no great hardship. And afterward, perhaps I'll even be able to recruit one of my apprentices into my own team. I'm used to working alone, of course, but having an assistant who shares my beliefs and ambitions would make life much easier."
Cordelia... was staring at me. There was really no other word for it. Just staring, shock written all over her face. What was with her? Ahhh, wait. I think I got it...
"How old are you, sorcerer?" the girl whispered, sounding almost lost.
Right. Of course. My age.
"Hmm..." How old was I, actually? I began my training at fourteen, said goodbye to my teacher three decades later, and set out on my first journey. Ten years after that came the first war I took part in, followed by my first period of seclusion, which lasted almost a century. Then I was talked into teaching at one of the academies, though I only lasted two decades before another war began, one that dragged on for half a century... Then I met Ir'rina and returned with her to my little "hermit's corner," followed by a hundred happy years of research together, interrupted only by the occasional journey... And after that, two centuries of solitude. Let's round it off a little. "About six hundred by my world's reckoning. Our days are almost the same length. How long is a year here?"
"Three hundred and sixty-eight," the girl replied, staring at me blankly.
"Right. Ours is four hundred... So that makes me... somewhere around six hundred and fifty by your calendar. But that's only approximate. I might've forgotten something or counted wrong, and I never really kept records."
"Holy fucking shit," came the driver's voice from the front seat, followed by an agreeing grunt from the soldier beside him.
"Yeah... Wait! What did you just say, Sergeant?" Cordelia flared with anger. "Just drive, and I don't want to hear either of you talking about this, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
"Ahem... Siith, is that a normal lifespan in your world?" the girl asked, calming down just as quickly as she had flared up.
"For some spellcasters, yes. Some people with no connection to magic also find ways to extend their lives. And certain races can be naturally long-lived as well. But normally, the lifespan of our kindâhumansâis eighty to a hundred and twenty years. Provided, of course, that a person lives a healthy life, eats properly, and keeps themselves in good physical condition. Rejuvenation rituals, which some mages make their living from, are extremely expensive, but still available to ordinary people, and can extend a life by anywhere from five to fifty years, depending on the ritual itself."
"Mmm... And you'll be able to teach those rituals to your apprentices?"
"Of course. Except for the really dark ones involving mass sacrifices of sentients. Sorry, but I'm not going to unleash anything like that on this world." I sighed sadly, looking out at the rain beyond the transport window. "They'll figure those out for themselves eventually, unfortunately."
"You know those too?" There it was againâthat aggression. The girl was practically overflowing with indignation, as though I had just begun performing a grand ritual to summon an Archdemon right before her eyes and had already raised the knife over the first innocent infant.
"Of course I do, Cordelia." I let some irritation creep into my voice as I gave an annoyed shrug. This was starting to wear on me. "I know a great many things, but that doesn't mean I use them, understand? You carry a weapon on your belt, but I don't get angry with you just because you can"âI stressed the wordâ"start killing innocent people indiscriminately. Knowledge matters. Being able to identify a spell as it is being cast is essential if you want to choose the right protective magic. Idiots who turn up their noses at necromancy, malefic arts, demonology, or the schools of Darkness and Chaos will die the first time they run into an enemy who practices them. Anyâlet me repeat, anyâcompetent spellcaster who wants to stay alive is obligated to know what threats they may encounter in life. To tell undead from a necroconstruct, a chimera from a creature of Chaos, a true vampire from a raised ghoul. Those squeamish prissies only live long by planting their asses in court positions and pompously preaching about the greatness of the Light. And even that lasts only until their verbal diarrhea insults a powerful malefic."
My speech sent the girl retreating into thought. Some of the concepts were clearly unfamiliar to her, because certain words had been replaced with frankly amusing equivalentsâfor example, "malefic" came through as "evildoer," which was basically accurate. She had grasped the general meaning, but the general's cousin needed some time to process it.
"Tell me, why do you always assume the worst about me?" I decided to break the silence, looking at the girl questioningly. Pulled from her thoughts, she first stared at me in surprise, then gave a crooked smile.
"It's my job to think the worst of everyone. Alto is our commander. He works out patrol routes, looks after us, leads us into battle, defending our world. He takes enemy fire on his shield and spills their blood with sword and blaster. My job is to make sure our people can fight the creatures who rob us and carry us off into slavery without having to fear that another creature just like them, only disguised as a friend, might start shooting them in the back. So no offense, sorcerer. You yourself told my cousin that we've known you for less than a week. Maybe you're a wonderful red-eyed sentient who wouldn't hurt a fly, but you appeared out of nowhere, tell us incredible things, and for some reason no one understands, you want to shower my world with benefits. Of course I'm looking for a catch."
"Oh... I see. Yes, I've spent quite a lot of time alone... I've gotten badly out of practice with things like this." I let myself smile, making a vague gesture in the air with one hand. "At least now I understand your suspicions. A job is a job. And as for this supposedly inexplicable 'benefiting the world,' I've already explained my reasons. I help you improve conditions back home, and in return, you don't interfere with my research. Everyone wins. My apprentices will be able to consult me when necessary, and I'll be able to order the components and materials I need through Jabiim's official channels. And if I decide to go travelingâand I willâI'll have somewhere to come back to."
"You put rather too much faith in people and their gratitude," the womanâwho, as I understood it, headed the Nimbus security serviceâsaid, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"Not at all." I gave her a thin smile. "You and your cousin don't strike me as idiots, so in time you'll understand that an experienced, loyal sorcerer is an extremely valuable asset. There aren't many like me even in my own world. Duels, wars, failed experimentsâthey all take their toll. So a competent spellcaster is welcome anywhere, simply because having one around is profitable."
We rode on in silence after that. Cordelia was clearly thinking about something, while I reflected with mild amusement on the fact that she doubted people's gratitude yet was willing to discuss her secrets in front of two soldiers. Then it occurred to me that they were most likely from her own service, and perhaps among her most trusted people... In that case, it made sense. The hope that they might one day be granted a life-extension ritual could encourage both usefulness and loyalty. In any case, I shook my head. That was her business.
By evening, we had finished settling the children in. They were given three rooms in the mansion. This time, the furniture was ordered from the city: three bunk beds, desks for studying, wardrobes, chairs, and bedside tables. Cordelia, incidentally, had taken care of that while we were still on the road, contacting someone over a horribly crackling radio. Teachers were found to handle the children's standard subjects, but at my insistence, the rest of the curriculum was stretched out by a third. I needed their brains to have enough room left to absorb my own science as well. A physical-training instructor would also be moving in with us permanently. Along with mental exhaustion, an apprentice needed to be worn out physically tooâa basic truth for anyone raising young walking disasters. A busy, tired child had less chance of breaking their own neckâor, in our case, blowing off their own head or someone else'sâbecause the urge to go looking for adventure came less often when they were in that state.
For Karray, I made several wooden toys that "glow weally cool," earning myself a hug and a shout that I was "the bestest ever-ever." That was actually kind of nice. The toys themselves changed color and the intensity of their glow whenever they interacted with magic, flickered, and gave off "warmth" or "coolness" within the range of sorcerous perception. I'd make her plenty of other developmental things later, but this would be enough for the first few days. The girl couldn't do anything yet, and these bits of wood would serve as a passive stimulus for her gift.
Because of her, incidentally, I had to remove all the surveillance spells first and then set them up again in disguised form. The very first question she asked after getting out of the transport was, "What's that thing glowing?" That, together with a little finger pointed straight at the surveillance spell above the front doors, forced me to dispel all the observation spells except those. Then, under Cordelia's suspicious gaze and with my face carefully mysterious and unreadable, I told her that Karray herself would explain to me what kind of spells they were once she'd learned enough.
I even took the trouble to go to the kitchen myself and ask Maria whether she could handle feeding the growing crowd. For some reason, the girl turned red and rather haltingly assured me that the workload would increase, of course, but she didn't think it would cause any serious problems. I nodded, asked her for a mug of caf, and decided to assign kitchen duty among the apprentices. Five days in the week, five teenagersâwhat was that if not a sign from above? Heh-heh. When the kitchen magician objected, I told her that, first, work builds character, and second, learning to cook from a master like her was something they'd have to pay for anywhere else.
The girl really had no reason to be shy: she had both talent and skill. I had always respected true professionals, and cooks with a golden touch were something I rarely came across. Leaving the thoroughly flushed kitchen magician alone and taking Quartermaster with meâhe was sprawled across one of the tables like a monument to gluttonyâI headed for the workshop. I'd furnished it, sure, but I still needed to lay the proper enchantments on it. If I went without sleep for one day, nothing terrible would happen. But only one, I told myself sternly. Ir'rina had always scolded me when I buried myself in work for several days straight, and she had been rightâa proper routine made it possible to work more efficiently. The mind needed proper rest.
"How did it go, Cordelia?" The general looked tired as he sat in his "temporary" office. Every Nimbus base had rooms like this. Stratus tried to visit them all, talk to the soldiers, keep an eye on their training, and take part in patrols, but the duties of command still had to be done.
"I'm fuâ... freaking out, Alto. Either he's lying through his teeth, or we've taken in a genuine monster." The girl dropped wearily into an armchair and nodded her thanks to Roger as he set a cup of caf in front of her. "According to him, he's in his seventh century!!!"
"So what?" the general shrugged calmly. "That green stump who's in charge of the Jedi is supposed to be about a thousand years old already, or somewhere around there."
"The point is, he calls himself human. Like you and me. And I doubt he's mistaken about us being the same speciesânot after healing four humans. Here are the reports." The girl placed three folders on the desk. "I recommend you destroy them after you've read them. Life-extension rituals, Alto. He talked about them as casually as if there were nothing remarkable about it. Our sorcerer has no idea that half the galaxy would kiss his ass for something like that, while the other half would try to kidnap him and force him into their service! And he plans to teach those rituals to the children he's recruited!"
Stratus pulled the folders toward himself and looked questioningly at his cousin. The archaic way the reports had been writtenâarchaic even by Jabiim's standardsâsurprised him.
"I didn't want the information digitized. Everything's on flimsi, all handwritten. Either lock it in a safe afterward or burn it." The girl took a sip of caf and grimaced slightly. "And we found a cook for him who's far too good. I had no idea Maria could cook that well. No offense, Roger."
The young man merely smiled faintly at that. Making caf really wasn't one of his strong suits, nor was cooking in general. And he had already had a chance to appreciate his fellow soldier's skill. He had even started thinking that he ought to begin courting her before someone else took an interest in that treasure.
Cordelia rubbed her forehead hard. Annoyance, exhaustion, and irritation flickered across her face.
"Tomorrow I'm sending another one of my people over there as the children's physical-training instructor. They can help Sergiy while they're at it. I'm sending the people I trust most, Alto, and they don't exactly grow on trees. And I still need to find teachers who know how to keep their mouths shut... Oh, and the sorcerer was pushing to get those samples sent over. Says he'll start training the children in the next few days and he'll need materials. He also needs some kind of consumables for the weather sorcery."
"The first shipment will be there tomorrow," the general said in a reassuring tone. "You should get some rest, Cordelia."
"Rest... and who's going to do the work? That... what's her name? Hecate? Ah... Fine, I'm off. I'm up to my ass in work..."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
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readsalot
Experienced.
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Guys In for a shock when he realises the goddess is real XD
Also, I realised that Siith does not need to invite the other gods Into the universe, Hecate can pass on the option to other mages/sorcerers he's training and give them the chance to do it.
And most likely they will if they are bribed enough.
Would add more to the chaos
I'm 50/50 on that
Treangulator
Not too sore, are you?
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Chapter 12
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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Hard... So hard... An unbearable torment beyond words: I hate waking up... Especially when I only went to bed three hours ago. And to make matters worse, it wasn't Luritta waking me up, but M-3PO.
"At least I got everything done," I rasped in a voice that barely sounded like my own. Sitting up, I grabbed the mug of caf from the bedside table.
"Master, I would like to point out that such a daily routine is harmful to your health. Humans require seven to nine hours of sleep," my new property chimed in. I merely waved him off as I headed for the bathroom, casting a simple healing spell on myself along the way. A sentient nag of a golem. If someone had told me about such a thing, I wouldn't have believed them.
Before the teenagers started breakfast, I sat down at the table and delighted them with the news about kitchen duty. I saw no enthusiasm on their faces, and the boys even came out with something along the lines of, "We're men; women are supposed to do the cooking." I ignored their words and did full justice to the excellent food. But once everyone had eaten, I asked whether they had enjoyed it. Remarkable unanimity, I snorted to myself as I listened to them sing the praises of our kitchen magician's cooking.
"There are ten of us here already, kids, and there's only one Maria. Cooking for a horde this size is hard work. Now, if you're fine with tasty food turning into slop, then I suppose we can do without kitchen duty..." I gave my future apprentices an ironic look as they started chiming in from all sides that they'd "help, fine, whatever." There we go. That's more like it.
After that, things really got moving. The teachers wouldn't start coming to the house for another few days, so I gathered all five of them in the attic. While giving them an introductory lectureâexplaining the possibilities of sorcery, the basics, and the various paths they could pursueâI was also putting together some more advanced toys for Karray.
It was amusing to watch the children sneak glances at the wood flowing from one shape into another. I had added a few extra effects during the enchanting as well, so the little animal figures would flare with webs of runes one moment and multicolored lights the next. Children needed to see the beauty of magic so they wouldn't lose interest during the first couple of months of dull theory and meditation. I even found myself slipping into a kind of peaceful state. It felt as though I had taken a break from constant workâwork I loved, but which was difficult and exhausting. Maybe having to put my own projects aside for a while wasn't such a bad thing after all?
"Mr. Siith," one of the boys, Dan, cut in. "You said that spellcasters are divided into mages and sorcerers, and that sorcerers can see magic. And you also said that magic is everywhereâan ocean of it. But Karray only saw your things glowing. Why is that?"
"Just call me Siith. Teacher is fine too. I don't like all those sirs and masters. Back to your question: seeing and sensing are things you have to learn as well. Humans are... mm... too material. And the material world is too bright for usâit keeps us from making out the colors of the world of magic. Just as sunlight renders any attempt by the moons to light your path pointless. An untrained sorcerer can easily live the life of an ordinary person and die without ever realizing what they were. But there is one common trait, especially in children: young sorcerers interpret sensations from magic through feelings they already know. For example, a stone saturated with the elemental power of fire will feel 'warm' to themâbut not warm to the touch. More like... it somehow feels warm."
The children laughedâall except the sisters. Karray nodded solemnly, as if confirming, Yes, that's exactly right, while her older red-haired sister fell into thought, clearly remembering something.
"Yes, it sounds funny, but I heard something like that myself from one young spellcaster. And then, as children grow older, they train themselves to ignore such 'nonsense.' Though they still tend to get rid of obviously cursed or dangerous things if they're poorly disguised. There was a case, for example, when a young man inherited a mansion and threw out one of the paintings. 'It always frightened and irritated me,' he said. Later it turned out that the damned thing had been feeding on the lives of his relatives. So, something like that. As for why Karray could see my artifacts glowingâthat was because they were unnatural and had no concealment spells. Free magic is everywhere. We're used to it, we live in it, and seeing it requires special techniques. Without them, a sorcerer simply experiences the world as more alive, colors as brighter, emotions as stronger... But foreign magicâmagic that isn't 'natural,' that has been transformed by a spellcaster's auraâis clearly visible to any sorcerer."
About ten days later, I finally found the right components for the weather-control ritual. Stratus wanted to combine the trial clearing of the clouds with the departure of a couple of ore haulers that were currently waiting for a "window" in the cloud cover, but I talked him out of it. This would be my first attempt in this worldâwho knew how the weather would behave here, on a sphere?
So there we stood beneath an umbrella-like dome stretched over both us and the patch of ground where the ritual figure was to be drawn. The children were practically devouring Alto with their eyes, while he calmly sipped caf from a special thermos, making me envy him beyond measureâI hadn't thought to bring any from home myself. Cordelia, wearing a sleepy, disgruntled expression, glanced at each of us in turn. She didn't like mornings either. Funny, but in my eyes, that fact outweighed her constant suspiciousness and difficult temperament. So I liked her better for itâespecially in the mornings.
Alto, incidentally, had met my apprentices a few days earlier. After we talked in the library, I talked him into putting on a little performance with me. To be honest, I expected another dose of skepticism, but the general surprised me by taking the matter seriously. "This isn't a performance, sorcerer. It's the truth, and it's necessary," were his exact words. Then the two of us went to the sitting room, where Emthreeâas I had taken to calling the gole... droidâhad gathered the children.
Stratus spoke for no less than ten minutes. He addressed each of them by name and explained how important what they were doing was for Jabiim. He knew that both boys and the military-minded girl had been orphaned in a Trandoshan raid. Choosing his words skillfully, he soon had all three practically pawing at the ground, so eager were they to start producing protective charms for the Nimbusâto save the fighters who would then keep the enemies of their world away from other civilian families. He spoke about the respect and status the young mages would earn once their training was complete. With a smirk, he added that they wouldn't be stingy with credits either, so they wouldn't have to worry about food or comfort, which earned an understanding smile from Taria, the blonde who had a healthy respect for financial security. He told Karray how lucky she was to have such a caring sister in Karina, and promised that he and the entire Nimbus would protect them and make sure no one harmed them.
Talent. I could only marvel inwardly. Alto was an extraordinarily gifted manâin war and in dealing with people alike. Even now, while preparing the site for the magical ritual, I found myself remembering that moment and feeling genuine respect for the general. I could work with people like that.
I leveled out a circle of ground fifteen meters across, dried it, and packed it down. Then I surrounded it with a force barrier to keep the water out and began drawing the patterns. For nearly an hour I moved around the circle, tracing the necessary lines and symbols and placing the components where they needed to be for everything to trigger correctly. After that came the application of the required constructs, designed to launch all the processes in the proper sequence. The final touch was setting the mana reservoirs in place to power the ritual.
According to my preliminary calculations, both the mana supply and the durability of the ritual structure should be enough for two or three hours of operation, and although I knew the ritual well, safety still had to come first.
First, we were a long way from any inhabited settlements, with one exception. There were no civilians there, only a Nimbus garrison. It had been arranged that way in case pirates happened to be waiting in orbit around the planet. I'd overheard Cordelia telling her cousin that "there won't be any problemsâthe cover story is airtight."
Second, about half a kilometer away, a protected zone had been set up. All the components used in the magical construction had been studied, but they were still new to me, and proper precautions were necessary even if there was only the faintest chance of failure. So I started a ten-minute timer, and all of us climbed into the nearby transport and headed for the designated area.
** Same place. Alto Stratus **
"It's started," the red-eyed sorcerer said with satisfaction, tilting his head back to look at the sky. They stood beneath a transparent dome that protected them from the rain and gusting wind. Around them, drawn on the dry, level ground, was a figure that Siith had described as "protective circuits, just in case."
The sky erupted in a succession of brilliant lightning flashes, and a second later the surrounding air filled with peals of thunder. They sounded like an artillery barrage. The noise was so powerful he could feel it vibrating through his insides. The clouds churning overhead began to move. They hadn't been still before, of course, but now there was a strange sense of order to their motion. Cordelia, standing beside him, said something, but over the fury of the elements her voice was impossible to make out. Judging by her expression, though, his cousin was swearing again.
A few minutes later, it was already easy to make out the clouds overhead gathering speed as they moved in a circle. Lightning flashed without end, and thunder rolled continuously, bringing on a mild headache and, at the same time, a strange sense of childlike delight. Glancing at the children, the general was surprised to see little Karray sitting on the shoulders of a terrifyingly grinning Siith, happily chattering away to him, every now and then looking up at the sky in delight and waving her arms excitedly. Apparently, the sorcerer had somehow muffled the cannonade of the storm for the two of them, because they were clearly able to talk without any trouble.
Alto was not an especially trusting man. Politics quickly cured a man of excessive openness and of trusting every stranger he met... Though the latter was hardly a good trait even for ordinary people. Despite that, the general considered himself an honest man. Honest and fair.
That was exactly why, back at that transit point, he had decided not to send his people to handle the conversation, but to meet the strange visitor to Jabiim personally and thank him. After all, the man really had helped the people of that settlement. He had done what the Nimbus could not have done in time. And when Alto entered the medical station, he saw the stranger treating his fellow Jabiimites. There was no showy politeness or concern, and yet not a single patient even cried out during the healing. In halting phrases, the red-eyed man gave them instructions and asked for caf. Alert and, it seemed, satisfied with the work he had done, he showed no sign of nervousness or doubt. To be completely honest, though, their conversation had been shaped not only by the general's gratitude, but also by the power the sorcerer had demonstrated: killing the entire lizard landing force at once was a very good reason to be polite to a sentient.
At first, Alto thought the Temple had finally sent a Jedi to help. Well, at least now, flashed through his mind. For centuries, Jabiim had cried out for help, begged for it, demanded it! And in return there had been either silence or some bureaucratic: "We will certainly look into your problem." The general ground his teeth, remembering the fury those little bureaucratic notes had sent him into every time he read them.
Then came the misunderstanding, and the visitor was taken for a Sith. The enemies of the Jedi Order had been wiped out nearly a thousand years ago, and Alto had only ever taken a passing interest in them. Terrible, horrible, evil, wicked things, according to the Order of the "Republic's defenders," they were little more than a bogeyman and a swear word. At the time he had thought: To hell with what they say. This Sith helped my people. He deserves a chance. I need to watch him, see what he's really like. Maybe everything they say about his kind is just propaganda. History is written by the victors, and the Sith were the losing side.
A risk, yes. But the red-eyed man had earned a measure of trust.
In the end, the sorcerer turned out to be... who the hell even knew what. Everything he told them inspired doubt and suspicion, but he only smiled that unsettling smile of his and said outright that doubt was a good thing. He didn't like working with gullible idiots, so he would demonstrate everything himself.
And he did.
He had been demonstrating his abilities even before that conversationâmaking little bone trinkets that provided excellent protection against blasters, healing people, and using magic that let vehicles cross the mud of their homeworld as if they were driving on a smooth road...
And now the sorcerer was demonstrating his skill again, Alto thought as he watched a patch of clear sky appear at the center of the rotating disk of clouds. The small cloudless opening grew wider and wider, like the opening iris of an airlock door.
"The doors to space..." the general whispered, not even trying to hide his smile. Soon he would see the sun and a clear sky. For a Jabiimite, that was a genuine joy. And he would do everything in his power to make sure his people felt only that joy, not the fear that bandit landing ships might come plunging down from the cloudless sky.
The sorcerer had not lied to him once so far. Of course, that still wasn't enough to trust him blindly, but Stratus was a man of honor. If Siith truly helped his world, the general would do everything he could to repay him. The main thing was that it must not come at his homeland's expense.
Half an hour later, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were circling in a ring around a vast expanse of clear sky. Sunlight gently warmed the smiling people below.
But their smiles didn't last long.
A rapidly growing speck appeared in the clear sky.
"General," the sorcerer said, drawing his attention as he pointed at the sky and at a... remarkably detailed hologram hovering above his palm. "That's it."
"A Gozanti," Cordelia clicked her tongue beside him. "Cargo hold's probably been modified for hauling slaves."
Alto frowned, running through the options in his head, while Siith bared his teeth in a frightening grin and asked an unexpected question.
"Is that thing expensive?"
"A hundred and fifty thousand credits for a new one," Alto answered automatically. "They've only recently hit the market..."
"One hundred and fifty thousand sounds excellent! Not as good as two hundred, but better than one hundred," the red-eyed man muttered, rubbing his hands together. A little animal's face poked out from the collar of his robe, sniffing the air excitedly with its funny little nose and letting out funny little squeaks. Siith gently scratched the creature under the jaw and smiled. "Yes, yes, Quartermaster. Smells like profit. I want to take a look at that flying coffin... Right, I suggest we head back to our people. As soon as that Gozanti lands, I'll shut down the ritual, and then this baby isn't getting away from us... General, if your radios have the range, order your troops to hide in the forest. No point risking them right now. I'll show you how I used to hunt bandits back home. Heh-heh-heh..."
Sitting in the passenger compartment and looking out the window at the rain once again pouring from the gloomy sky, I whistled a tune I had heard from my beloved long, long ago. I managed to convince both Stratuses after all. Oddly enough, Cordelia backed me almost immediately, and after her, Alto let himself be talked into it as well. Our wheeled steed had been covered with all the necessary concealment spells, which immediately drew questions from both cousins.
After a short drive, we climbed out into the fresh air and took cover behind a small grove not far from where the flying coffin was coming down. On the way, I'd arranged for them to let me inspect the prize and pay me half its value once it had been appraised. Fairly simple work on my endâneutralize the crew and the landing party, while Alto and his people handled the administrative side of things. I could have haggled, but I couldn't be bothered. Besides, I had no idea where to sell the thing, how to move it, or where to get it appraised. Half the price was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
I handed Karray over to Cordelia, told everyone to stay behind me and a little off to the side so that, if anything happened, a stray blaster bolt wouldn't hit them, and quickly headed toward the enemy. As long as they knew what to look for, they wouldn't lose track of me; to everyone else, all of us were hidden by the concealment spells.
This time, things were even simpler than the first. No need to pick and choose: everyone there was an enemy. And when I saw the mix of bandits, my enthusiasm reached new heights. Variety! A variety of sentients! I counted at least four different species among the raiders. There were about thirty-five sentients inside the transport, and another four were searching the buildings of the small settlement. Lucky me. Heh-heh-heh.
Today I'd be testing a new construct and conducting an experiment at the same time. Its core was a complex analytical module designed to gather information about the test subjects' minds. "Assembling" it took around twenty minutes. I wasn't worried about the others: Jabiimites were no strangers to getting soaked in the rain, and they were dressed for it.
Once the main construct was ready, I used "Sense Life" and "Search for Intelligence" to keep track of the enemies and loaded every target with influence and information-gathering modules. I activated the spell complex... The first effects began to show among the humans. Yawning, sluggishness, calm and peaceful expressions gradually settling over their faces. The others weren't far behind, though. Next came the humanoid creatures with strange tentacles on their heads, and then the rest followed.
From time to time, pockets of resistance flared up when the sentients realized something was wrong and tried to shake off the drowsiness, slap themselves awake, or say something over the radio, but the intelligent construct simply increased the pressure. Their anxiety faded, giving way to apathy and indifference. Less than forty minutes later, every marked target was sleeping soundly wherever they happened to have settled down. I was especially pleased by one crew member who had returned to the starship and left the entrance open behind him. And besides a sleeping Gozanti ready for the taking, I now had a data package containing information on the properties of the targets' minds. I transferred a copy from the construct into a little glass trinketâit would hold for a couple of days, and by then I'd find somewhere more suitable to store it.
It all ended rather boringly. The general called in his troops, who quickly flew in from the forest on their flying boots, disarmed everyone, stripped them down to their underwear, and tied them up. According to Cordelia, the ship really had been modified for use by slavers, and there were eighteen sentients in the hold who had already been captured somewhere else. They were all asleep, and when they woke up, they would already be in the firm clutches of Security. Some of the captured raiders had been promised to me for experiments and soul capture, while Cordelia had decided to keep the rest in custody for the time being. The slaves would be released after they had been checked.
"It was all somehow... too easy," Alto said, standing beside me.
"Pfft, it only seems easy to you! Three hundred years ago, I wouldn't have been able to pull off a spell like that! I simply wouldn't have had the knowledge. You can't even imagine how much time it took just to gather the information needed to begin developing it. And how many years the work itself took!!! As one old sorcerer used to say: 'The only thing that's easy is scratching your ass.'"
Cordelia laughed beside me. I really ought to translate Rung's Reflections for her sometimeâthere was plenty of that sort of thing in there. I think I even had an uncensored version somewhere, copied directly from the original.
"Siith," the general said, drawing my attention. "You look very... sinister right now. And tell me, is what your animal is doing normal?"
Quartermaster was sitting on the face of one of the sleeping raiders, intently... taking a dump right in his eye.
"He's establishing dominance over the enemy. Crushing him morally and asserting himself," I explained with complete composure, shifting my gaze to the captured property. Someday, I'd fly off in something like that to explore the mysteries of this universe.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
"At least I got everything done," I rasped in a voice that barely sounded like my own. Sitting up, I grabbed the mug of caf from the bedside table.
"Master, I would like to point out that such a daily routine is harmful to your health. Humans require seven to nine hours of sleep," my new property chimed in. I merely waved him off as I headed for the bathroom, casting a simple healing spell on myself along the way. A sentient nag of a golem. If someone had told me about such a thing, I wouldn't have believed them.
Before the teenagers started breakfast, I sat down at the table and delighted them with the news about kitchen duty. I saw no enthusiasm on their faces, and the boys even came out with something along the lines of, "We're men; women are supposed to do the cooking." I ignored their words and did full justice to the excellent food. But once everyone had eaten, I asked whether they had enjoyed it. Remarkable unanimity, I snorted to myself as I listened to them sing the praises of our kitchen magician's cooking.
"There are ten of us here already, kids, and there's only one Maria. Cooking for a horde this size is hard work. Now, if you're fine with tasty food turning into slop, then I suppose we can do without kitchen duty..." I gave my future apprentices an ironic look as they started chiming in from all sides that they'd "help, fine, whatever." There we go. That's more like it.
After that, things really got moving. The teachers wouldn't start coming to the house for another few days, so I gathered all five of them in the attic. While giving them an introductory lectureâexplaining the possibilities of sorcery, the basics, and the various paths they could pursueâI was also putting together some more advanced toys for Karray.
It was amusing to watch the children sneak glances at the wood flowing from one shape into another. I had added a few extra effects during the enchanting as well, so the little animal figures would flare with webs of runes one moment and multicolored lights the next. Children needed to see the beauty of magic so they wouldn't lose interest during the first couple of months of dull theory and meditation. I even found myself slipping into a kind of peaceful state. It felt as though I had taken a break from constant workâwork I loved, but which was difficult and exhausting. Maybe having to put my own projects aside for a while wasn't such a bad thing after all?
"Mr. Siith," one of the boys, Dan, cut in. "You said that spellcasters are divided into mages and sorcerers, and that sorcerers can see magic. And you also said that magic is everywhereâan ocean of it. But Karray only saw your things glowing. Why is that?"
"Just call me Siith. Teacher is fine too. I don't like all those sirs and masters. Back to your question: seeing and sensing are things you have to learn as well. Humans are... mm... too material. And the material world is too bright for usâit keeps us from making out the colors of the world of magic. Just as sunlight renders any attempt by the moons to light your path pointless. An untrained sorcerer can easily live the life of an ordinary person and die without ever realizing what they were. But there is one common trait, especially in children: young sorcerers interpret sensations from magic through feelings they already know. For example, a stone saturated with the elemental power of fire will feel 'warm' to themâbut not warm to the touch. More like... it somehow feels warm."
The children laughedâall except the sisters. Karray nodded solemnly, as if confirming, Yes, that's exactly right, while her older red-haired sister fell into thought, clearly remembering something.
"Yes, it sounds funny, but I heard something like that myself from one young spellcaster. And then, as children grow older, they train themselves to ignore such 'nonsense.' Though they still tend to get rid of obviously cursed or dangerous things if they're poorly disguised. There was a case, for example, when a young man inherited a mansion and threw out one of the paintings. 'It always frightened and irritated me,' he said. Later it turned out that the damned thing had been feeding on the lives of his relatives. So, something like that. As for why Karray could see my artifacts glowingâthat was because they were unnatural and had no concealment spells. Free magic is everywhere. We're used to it, we live in it, and seeing it requires special techniques. Without them, a sorcerer simply experiences the world as more alive, colors as brighter, emotions as stronger... But foreign magicâmagic that isn't 'natural,' that has been transformed by a spellcaster's auraâis clearly visible to any sorcerer."
About ten days later, I finally found the right components for the weather-control ritual. Stratus wanted to combine the trial clearing of the clouds with the departure of a couple of ore haulers that were currently waiting for a "window" in the cloud cover, but I talked him out of it. This would be my first attempt in this worldâwho knew how the weather would behave here, on a sphere?
So there we stood beneath an umbrella-like dome stretched over both us and the patch of ground where the ritual figure was to be drawn. The children were practically devouring Alto with their eyes, while he calmly sipped caf from a special thermos, making me envy him beyond measureâI hadn't thought to bring any from home myself. Cordelia, wearing a sleepy, disgruntled expression, glanced at each of us in turn. She didn't like mornings either. Funny, but in my eyes, that fact outweighed her constant suspiciousness and difficult temperament. So I liked her better for itâespecially in the mornings.
Alto, incidentally, had met my apprentices a few days earlier. After we talked in the library, I talked him into putting on a little performance with me. To be honest, I expected another dose of skepticism, but the general surprised me by taking the matter seriously. "This isn't a performance, sorcerer. It's the truth, and it's necessary," were his exact words. Then the two of us went to the sitting room, where Emthreeâas I had taken to calling the gole... droidâhad gathered the children.
Stratus spoke for no less than ten minutes. He addressed each of them by name and explained how important what they were doing was for Jabiim. He knew that both boys and the military-minded girl had been orphaned in a Trandoshan raid. Choosing his words skillfully, he soon had all three practically pawing at the ground, so eager were they to start producing protective charms for the Nimbusâto save the fighters who would then keep the enemies of their world away from other civilian families. He spoke about the respect and status the young mages would earn once their training was complete. With a smirk, he added that they wouldn't be stingy with credits either, so they wouldn't have to worry about food or comfort, which earned an understanding smile from Taria, the blonde who had a healthy respect for financial security. He told Karray how lucky she was to have such a caring sister in Karina, and promised that he and the entire Nimbus would protect them and make sure no one harmed them.
Talent. I could only marvel inwardly. Alto was an extraordinarily gifted manâin war and in dealing with people alike. Even now, while preparing the site for the magical ritual, I found myself remembering that moment and feeling genuine respect for the general. I could work with people like that.
I leveled out a circle of ground fifteen meters across, dried it, and packed it down. Then I surrounded it with a force barrier to keep the water out and began drawing the patterns. For nearly an hour I moved around the circle, tracing the necessary lines and symbols and placing the components where they needed to be for everything to trigger correctly. After that came the application of the required constructs, designed to launch all the processes in the proper sequence. The final touch was setting the mana reservoirs in place to power the ritual.
According to my preliminary calculations, both the mana supply and the durability of the ritual structure should be enough for two or three hours of operation, and although I knew the ritual well, safety still had to come first.
First, we were a long way from any inhabited settlements, with one exception. There were no civilians there, only a Nimbus garrison. It had been arranged that way in case pirates happened to be waiting in orbit around the planet. I'd overheard Cordelia telling her cousin that "there won't be any problemsâthe cover story is airtight."
Second, about half a kilometer away, a protected zone had been set up. All the components used in the magical construction had been studied, but they were still new to me, and proper precautions were necessary even if there was only the faintest chance of failure. So I started a ten-minute timer, and all of us climbed into the nearby transport and headed for the designated area.
** Same place. Alto Stratus **
"It's started," the red-eyed sorcerer said with satisfaction, tilting his head back to look at the sky. They stood beneath a transparent dome that protected them from the rain and gusting wind. Around them, drawn on the dry, level ground, was a figure that Siith had described as "protective circuits, just in case."
The sky erupted in a succession of brilliant lightning flashes, and a second later the surrounding air filled with peals of thunder. They sounded like an artillery barrage. The noise was so powerful he could feel it vibrating through his insides. The clouds churning overhead began to move. They hadn't been still before, of course, but now there was a strange sense of order to their motion. Cordelia, standing beside him, said something, but over the fury of the elements her voice was impossible to make out. Judging by her expression, though, his cousin was swearing again.
A few minutes later, it was already easy to make out the clouds overhead gathering speed as they moved in a circle. Lightning flashed without end, and thunder rolled continuously, bringing on a mild headache and, at the same time, a strange sense of childlike delight. Glancing at the children, the general was surprised to see little Karray sitting on the shoulders of a terrifyingly grinning Siith, happily chattering away to him, every now and then looking up at the sky in delight and waving her arms excitedly. Apparently, the sorcerer had somehow muffled the cannonade of the storm for the two of them, because they were clearly able to talk without any trouble.
Alto was not an especially trusting man. Politics quickly cured a man of excessive openness and of trusting every stranger he met... Though the latter was hardly a good trait even for ordinary people. Despite that, the general considered himself an honest man. Honest and fair.
That was exactly why, back at that transit point, he had decided not to send his people to handle the conversation, but to meet the strange visitor to Jabiim personally and thank him. After all, the man really had helped the people of that settlement. He had done what the Nimbus could not have done in time. And when Alto entered the medical station, he saw the stranger treating his fellow Jabiimites. There was no showy politeness or concern, and yet not a single patient even cried out during the healing. In halting phrases, the red-eyed man gave them instructions and asked for caf. Alert and, it seemed, satisfied with the work he had done, he showed no sign of nervousness or doubt. To be completely honest, though, their conversation had been shaped not only by the general's gratitude, but also by the power the sorcerer had demonstrated: killing the entire lizard landing force at once was a very good reason to be polite to a sentient.
At first, Alto thought the Temple had finally sent a Jedi to help. Well, at least now, flashed through his mind. For centuries, Jabiim had cried out for help, begged for it, demanded it! And in return there had been either silence or some bureaucratic: "We will certainly look into your problem." The general ground his teeth, remembering the fury those little bureaucratic notes had sent him into every time he read them.
Then came the misunderstanding, and the visitor was taken for a Sith. The enemies of the Jedi Order had been wiped out nearly a thousand years ago, and Alto had only ever taken a passing interest in them. Terrible, horrible, evil, wicked things, according to the Order of the "Republic's defenders," they were little more than a bogeyman and a swear word. At the time he had thought: To hell with what they say. This Sith helped my people. He deserves a chance. I need to watch him, see what he's really like. Maybe everything they say about his kind is just propaganda. History is written by the victors, and the Sith were the losing side.
A risk, yes. But the red-eyed man had earned a measure of trust.
In the end, the sorcerer turned out to be... who the hell even knew what. Everything he told them inspired doubt and suspicion, but he only smiled that unsettling smile of his and said outright that doubt was a good thing. He didn't like working with gullible idiots, so he would demonstrate everything himself.
And he did.
He had been demonstrating his abilities even before that conversationâmaking little bone trinkets that provided excellent protection against blasters, healing people, and using magic that let vehicles cross the mud of their homeworld as if they were driving on a smooth road...
And now the sorcerer was demonstrating his skill again, Alto thought as he watched a patch of clear sky appear at the center of the rotating disk of clouds. The small cloudless opening grew wider and wider, like the opening iris of an airlock door.
"The doors to space..." the general whispered, not even trying to hide his smile. Soon he would see the sun and a clear sky. For a Jabiimite, that was a genuine joy. And he would do everything in his power to make sure his people felt only that joy, not the fear that bandit landing ships might come plunging down from the cloudless sky.
The sorcerer had not lied to him once so far. Of course, that still wasn't enough to trust him blindly, but Stratus was a man of honor. If Siith truly helped his world, the general would do everything he could to repay him. The main thing was that it must not come at his homeland's expense.
Half an hour later, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were circling in a ring around a vast expanse of clear sky. Sunlight gently warmed the smiling people below.
But their smiles didn't last long.
A rapidly growing speck appeared in the clear sky.
"General," the sorcerer said, drawing his attention as he pointed at the sky and at a... remarkably detailed hologram hovering above his palm. "That's it."
"A Gozanti," Cordelia clicked her tongue beside him. "Cargo hold's probably been modified for hauling slaves."
Alto frowned, running through the options in his head, while Siith bared his teeth in a frightening grin and asked an unexpected question.
"Is that thing expensive?"
"A hundred and fifty thousand credits for a new one," Alto answered automatically. "They've only recently hit the market..."
"One hundred and fifty thousand sounds excellent! Not as good as two hundred, but better than one hundred," the red-eyed man muttered, rubbing his hands together. A little animal's face poked out from the collar of his robe, sniffing the air excitedly with its funny little nose and letting out funny little squeaks. Siith gently scratched the creature under the jaw and smiled. "Yes, yes, Quartermaster. Smells like profit. I want to take a look at that flying coffin... Right, I suggest we head back to our people. As soon as that Gozanti lands, I'll shut down the ritual, and then this baby isn't getting away from us... General, if your radios have the range, order your troops to hide in the forest. No point risking them right now. I'll show you how I used to hunt bandits back home. Heh-heh-heh..."
Sitting in the passenger compartment and looking out the window at the rain once again pouring from the gloomy sky, I whistled a tune I had heard from my beloved long, long ago. I managed to convince both Stratuses after all. Oddly enough, Cordelia backed me almost immediately, and after her, Alto let himself be talked into it as well. Our wheeled steed had been covered with all the necessary concealment spells, which immediately drew questions from both cousins.
After a short drive, we climbed out into the fresh air and took cover behind a small grove not far from where the flying coffin was coming down. On the way, I'd arranged for them to let me inspect the prize and pay me half its value once it had been appraised. Fairly simple work on my endâneutralize the crew and the landing party, while Alto and his people handled the administrative side of things. I could have haggled, but I couldn't be bothered. Besides, I had no idea where to sell the thing, how to move it, or where to get it appraised. Half the price was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
I handed Karray over to Cordelia, told everyone to stay behind me and a little off to the side so that, if anything happened, a stray blaster bolt wouldn't hit them, and quickly headed toward the enemy. As long as they knew what to look for, they wouldn't lose track of me; to everyone else, all of us were hidden by the concealment spells.
This time, things were even simpler than the first. No need to pick and choose: everyone there was an enemy. And when I saw the mix of bandits, my enthusiasm reached new heights. Variety! A variety of sentients! I counted at least four different species among the raiders. There were about thirty-five sentients inside the transport, and another four were searching the buildings of the small settlement. Lucky me. Heh-heh-heh.
Today I'd be testing a new construct and conducting an experiment at the same time. Its core was a complex analytical module designed to gather information about the test subjects' minds. "Assembling" it took around twenty minutes. I wasn't worried about the others: Jabiimites were no strangers to getting soaked in the rain, and they were dressed for it.
Once the main construct was ready, I used "Sense Life" and "Search for Intelligence" to keep track of the enemies and loaded every target with influence and information-gathering modules. I activated the spell complex... The first effects began to show among the humans. Yawning, sluggishness, calm and peaceful expressions gradually settling over their faces. The others weren't far behind, though. Next came the humanoid creatures with strange tentacles on their heads, and then the rest followed.
From time to time, pockets of resistance flared up when the sentients realized something was wrong and tried to shake off the drowsiness, slap themselves awake, or say something over the radio, but the intelligent construct simply increased the pressure. Their anxiety faded, giving way to apathy and indifference. Less than forty minutes later, every marked target was sleeping soundly wherever they happened to have settled down. I was especially pleased by one crew member who had returned to the starship and left the entrance open behind him. And besides a sleeping Gozanti ready for the taking, I now had a data package containing information on the properties of the targets' minds. I transferred a copy from the construct into a little glass trinketâit would hold for a couple of days, and by then I'd find somewhere more suitable to store it.
It all ended rather boringly. The general called in his troops, who quickly flew in from the forest on their flying boots, disarmed everyone, stripped them down to their underwear, and tied them up. According to Cordelia, the ship really had been modified for use by slavers, and there were eighteen sentients in the hold who had already been captured somewhere else. They were all asleep, and when they woke up, they would already be in the firm clutches of Security. Some of the captured raiders had been promised to me for experiments and soul capture, while Cordelia had decided to keep the rest in custody for the time being. The slaves would be released after they had been checked.
"It was all somehow... too easy," Alto said, standing beside me.
"Pfft, it only seems easy to you! Three hundred years ago, I wouldn't have been able to pull off a spell like that! I simply wouldn't have had the knowledge. You can't even imagine how much time it took just to gather the information needed to begin developing it. And how many years the work itself took!!! As one old sorcerer used to say: 'The only thing that's easy is scratching your ass.'"
Cordelia laughed beside me. I really ought to translate Rung's Reflections for her sometimeâthere was plenty of that sort of thing in there. I think I even had an uncensored version somewhere, copied directly from the original.
"Siith," the general said, drawing my attention. "You look very... sinister right now. And tell me, is what your animal is doing normal?"
Quartermaster was sitting on the face of one of the sleeping raiders, intently... taking a dump right in his eye.
"He's establishing dominance over the enemy. Crushing him morally and asserting himself," I explained with complete composure, shifting my gaze to the captured property. Someday, I'd fly off in something like that to explore the mysteries of this universe.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
readsalot
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Chapter 13
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Boroda Orka
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"What is evil? Demons? Undead? Vampires? Women? Pfft. Graftersâthat's True Evil! Those spawn of darkness will bleed you dry in such a way that you'll still walk away pleased you managed to hand your hard-earned money over to the monster."
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
The days blurred together into a kaleidoscope of events, and strangely enough, it didn't bother me. Apparently, I'd grown a little tired of solitude during my seclusion. At least I felt no urge to ride off into the sunset, nor any need to sic Quartermaster on someone. Only Emthree was getting on my nervesâa real droid granny.
Pedantic, grumbling, argumentative, and annoying. Useful, though, yes. He didn't care about the faces I made when I was interrupted, my frightening smiles, or my grumbling. He even ignored my threats. "Master, it's lunchtime. Finish your work after you've eaten." "Master, it's time to go to bed. The efficiency of organics declines when they don't get enough sleep." He also brought me caf and various brews, and he was simply excellent at reminders. So despite the occasional urge to turn him into a pile of scrap metal, I restrained myself and was even a little grateful. The usefulness of the tin can outweighed the irritation he caused. And even that irritation was... mm... not exactly serious.
It was the fourth month of trainingâboth mine and the children's. Once I had dealt with the urgent matters, I got my hands on a piece of local technology for storing and studying information: a datapad. An amazing little thing, with an enormous number of functions. We had something similar back home, but if I was being fair, the craftsmen of this universe had left my world far behind. You could argue in our defense that there were vastly more of them, but those were just excuses. What I had in my hands was a device whose size and functionality simply blew every equivalent from my world out of the water. And the ability to connect to a "global network" was altogether beyond good and evil.
At my request, that datapad was loaded with study materials: books and instructional films. An enormous amount of information, the sheer scale of which filled me with horror at the thought of how much work it would take to master it allâand with delight for exactly the same reason. Cordelia also remarked, with obvious displeasure, that there was even more to be found beyond Jabiim. Many species had more advanced educational programs, all kinds of schools and academies where they taught practically anything one could dream of!!! Magnificent! Something to strive for!
So every waking hour was packed to the brim. I even managed to corner the kids' teachers from time to timeâsome things needed explaining even despite the full power of my intellect. Not that I couldn't have figured them out myself, of course. This was simply faster.
Part of my time went into studying this universe: social interactions, history, moral normsâwhich varied wildly from world to worldâand simply everyday life. It was necessary if I wanted to avoid awkward situations. Otherwise, I might offer Cordelia a cup of caf one day and find out I'd just proposed marriage... No, no, no. I'm far too young to get married!
I also spent a lot of time filling Alto's orders for the Nimbus. My apprentices were already on the verge of being able to churn out protective charms; all they needed was a little more practice, and then I could move their training on toward serious work with artifacts. As for me, I enchanted part of the Nimbus ground fleet, integrating artifacts into the vehicles that projected "Taash's Tread" and could operate for a week without recharging. I also created ten "charging stations" that allowed energy to be gathered into reservoirs more quickly, using artificially grown crystals supplied by Stratus as the reservoirs.
Some things had to be explained to the general as well: the difference between a reservoir and a mana pump, how drawing mana from the surrounding world differed from generating energy from captured souls, and the specifics of how each method worked and was used.
That day, I combined the children's lesson with my explanations for Alto and gathered everyone together.
In short, mana could be gathered into a reservoir. You created a special artifact constructâor sometimes a ritual one, if it was meant for a single useâthat pumped energy into the reservoir. In principle, it was all fairly simple, with one catch: size. The larger the construct, the "thicker" the flow, and accordingly, the faster the reservoir filled.
A simple amulet that repels animals, like the ones a friend of mine used to provide for the kids at an orphanage, made sense to supplement with a small module of this kindâa modest reservoir paired with a very low-cost effect. Just leave it on a shelf overnight, and by morning the amulet's reservoir would be full.
But that wouldn't work with my adaptive-protection amulet, nor with the robe or the knife. Their energy consumption was simply too high. And that was where three other methods came in: charging reservoirs with a soul prison, "manual" charging by pouring a spellcaster's reserve directly into the reservoir, and charging them with a large artifact mana pump. The amulet had no reservoirs of its own, so without a soul-battery it simply wouldn't work. The robe was the opposite caseâI hadn't been able to implement a mana converter based on a soul vault because it conflicted with some of the enchantments already laid on it.
For the vehicles, I set up reservoir charging using the third method. You take the crystal out of the artifact in the all-terrain vehicle, slot it into the mana pumpâwhich looks like a fifteen-meter diskâwait two or three hours, and you can "refuel" the next one. I planned to handle all enchanted equipment along the same lines. Making spellcasters work full-time as glorified fuel pumps was a lousy idea, while souls came with the inconvenient necessity of producing corpses. A charging station, on the other hand, doesn't ask to be fedâjust keep slotting crystals into it and take it easy.
That approach wouldn't work with charms, though, because they were single-use. They had no reservoirs; the mana reserve was poured directly into the material itself, and once that reserve was exhausted, the object broke down. Quick, cheap, and protectiveâbut only once.
Artifact-making was a vast subject in its own right. Take reservoir crystals alone: stability, energy capacity, how both depended on quality and size. I could have talked about it for hours, but for now neither the children nor Alto needed that level of detail. I was only beginning to compile a table of characteristics for the new materials. A pity I still hadn't found anything better than Crystal Dragon bones. Though... I was getting spoiled, of course. The only way to make a better reservoir would be from crystallized blood or tears of the Gods. Hecate had supplied me with magnificent materials for artifact-making that would last a very long time... or enough for something truly enormous, like a floating fortress. Though with that much, I could probably build a floating city instead. I'd only finished charging the robe from my own reserves a week agoâthe amount of energy it held was unimaginable.
In the end, Alto agreed that charging stations with mana pumps and reservoirs in the vehicles were the best solution, and we began putting the system into practice along the most troublesome patrol routesâplaces where the distances were simply too great and the troops sometimes couldn't get there in time. The charging-station components were manufactured to my designs and shipped to the mansion disassembled. There, right in the courtyard beneath an umbrella-dome, I enchanted them, and the finished kit was then sent off to whichever base needed it. There was no need for me to go alongâthe assembled construction activated automatically the moment a reservoir was inserted into its socket.
Fortunately, the Stratuses had taken my request for a "roomier" place to work and live seriously. In a week, we would be moving our work to a formerly abandoned industrial complex, now restored after falling into decline and shutting down a couple of decades ago. It had truly enormous spacesâthe kind I needed for working on oversized components. It also had a spacious, modern classroom by Jabiim's standards for the children, a room for them to relax in, and space set aside for an enormous library... which, of course, I would also have to fill. Sigh... sigh... sigh...
Later on, a residential building would be constructed on the grounds of the complex as well, but for now we'd have to commute back and forth. Fortunately, the trip took less than an hour, and we had our own transport now.
Some time ago, Alto, Cordelia, and I had sat down together and discussed where on Jabiim my efforts were needed. There were quite a few such areas. The transport alone, which ideally needed to be upgraded all across the planet, already amounted to several months of daily work. The artifact complexes for weather control were simplerâone for each major city, of which there were five on the planet. One was already nearly finished. As for the hovering boats, so far there was only a design for a twelve-person craftâthe size of a single Nimbus squad. We hadn't started production yet. And then there were the smaller thingsâamulets and charms, which for now I was churning out right in the middle of the lectures I gave the children.
Besides that, the Stratuses were very interested in the prospects of magical and technomagical ore processing, but during our discussion we put that project off for the future. As I understood it, the two of them were currently having problems with the powers that be. Well... "problems" might be putting it a bit strongly.
Trouble brewing, yes. No matter how carefully they hid our activities, no matter how thoroughly they kept me out of sight, a word here, a word there... and the rumors started spreading, each more astonishing than the last. As a result, the aristocracy had begun quietly making inquiries. For now, they were doing it lazily and without much enthusiasm, but that was how these things started.
I remembered the conversation the three of us had in the library yesterday. Over the past few months, we had started talking like that fairly often. Mostly with Cordelia, since she visited us more frequently. But Alto had also begun joining our improvised little get-togethers from time to time. In fact, it was through those conversations that I had come to understand the situation on Jabiimâand in the Republic as a wholeâmuch better. Nothing unusual. Just plain, simple corruption, understandable to any sentient. I honestly didn't know of a sentient society that was immune to it.
The Stratuses had very little love for the moneybags sitting at the top of the planet's power structure. They made little effort to hide the fact that they were lining their pockets, paying kickbacks to corrupt Republic officials, running all sorts of schemes... As far as I was concerned, they were even within their rights to a point. The land with the mines belonged to them, almost all the transports belonged to them, the industry... well, you get the idea. They weren't called the aristocracy for nothing. In practice, they were the owners of the planet. On the other hand, they were frankly shitty owners. Stupid and greedy. A prudent owner doesn't just get richerâhe invests in his holdings so he can get even richer!!! The plebs will always be dissatisfied, of course, but here it was a question of scale. And the scale was such that all Jabiim needed was a leader, and the flames of revolution would erupt. The constant bleeding of the population by pirates and slavers, poor medicine, endless shortages of practically everythingâeven locally produced goodsâan appalling standard of living for ordinary people, and brutal working conditions. It had all been piling up for years, while the problems only grew worse: with every generation, the "aristocracy" thought less and less about Jabiim, taking everything for granted, and more and more about their own purses.
"I don't understand, Alto. Why are you sitting there kneading your tits?" I finally snapped during yesterday's conversation, after he complained about yet another cut to the budget allocated to his troops.
"Excuse me?" The general clearly had no idea what I meant and looked at me in surprise over the rim of his cup, while Cordelia merely shook her head disapprovingly. Pfft... She was hardly shy about colorful language herself, and now suddenly she was the guardian of public morals.
"Why don't you just cut their throats?" I let my irritation show on my face. "The Republic clearly doesn't give a shit about any of this. You told me yourself that during that... brain-liquefying epidemic, they didn't even send you any aid. And that epidemic threatened to reduce the amount of goods you supplied to the Republic and cut the taxes flowing into its coffers."
The girl sitting with us put on a stern expression and had already drawn breath to speak, but I gestured for her to let me finish.
"Yes, yes, Cordelia, I can see how outraged you are. People were dying, and I'm talking about money. But you're thinking about it the wrong way. That's exactly how the bureaucrats in the Senate think: the money keeps coming inâeverything's fine. It stops coming inâsadness, disaster, tragedy. Stage a Night of the Long Knives, gut the aristocracy, and put people from your own little club into the positions that matter."
It was amusing to watch one cousin bristle with outrage while the other kept his face completely impassive. Only his sharp eyes showed that he was listening closely... and I saw no rejection of my words in them.
"It's simple. Keep paying the taxes and replace the crews on the ore haulers. Restrict traders' access to the Jabiimites... Quarantine, all that. Invent some nasty but nonlethal disease... Testicular liquefaction? How does that sound? Anyway, you hardly need me to teach you how to do this. That's it. With our weather, news of the coup won't reach the Republic's capital for another ten years. And by then it'll be too late to do anything about it."
Cordelia was outraged, while Alto chuckled quietly. That laugh brought a faint, knowing smile to my face, while the general's cousin practically choked on her emotions. She wasn't exactly a little girl anymore, yet idealism was practically pouring out of her. Though... something about it felt off. Forced, somehow... unnatural.
"I hear you, Siith." He shot a quick glance at his cousin, and she immediately relaxed back into her chair, no longer searching for something to say. She only glared darkly at both of us. "So, as I understand it, a development like that doesn't exactly... shock you?"
"Pfft. The only reason the regime hasn't changed yet is because of you and the Nimbusâthings on the planet have started getting a little better. I have eyes to see and ears to hear." And a whole pile of eavesdropping spells that faithfully supplied me with plenty of information, but they didn't need to know about those. Though they had probably figured that much out themselves. "There's only one question now: when are you going to decide to spill some blood? And if you mean the mass killing of those in power and how I feel about that, I honestly don't give a damn. Six hundred years is plenty of time to stop fainting at the words 'political assassination' and squealing like a virgin in a hayloft."
"Is it really that obvious?" Stratus smiled calmly. Cordelia, meanwhile, stopped playing the offended innocent and let the mask of outrage drop from her face. Her expression turned serious and attentive. The general had decided to stop playing games.
"Experience." I shrugged, taking a sip of the hot, fragrant drink. "I wasn't always a recluse, and magic wasn't the only thing that interested me in life. Youth, you know... all that."
"Ancient sage," Cordelia snorted sarcastically. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a faint mocking smile.
"Age matters not. What matters is who you feel yourself to be. Young I am. At heart."
The girl rolled her eyes toward the ceilingâshe found it incredibly irritating whenever I slipped back into my original way of speaking. And yes, I knew that. Heh-heh. But she reacted so emotionally that I simply couldn't help myself.
"Since you think a change of power is inevitable and the idea doesn't exactly... bother you..." The general fell silent, gathering his thoughts, while I gave an ironic snort. Here it comes. I'm about to get an offer I have absolutely no intention of refusing. "Maybe you could help us with that?"
"I'll help. To be frank, General, there's something I need. We make a deal, and an epidemic begins." Cordelia and Alto frowned at the same time; epidemics were not exactly fondly remembered on Jabiim. I, meanwhile, was already smiling in the finest tradition of cheerful maleficsâmerrily and with anticipation. "It'll be fast and relatively mild, with very few deaths. And those deaths, by some strange, mysterious, utterly incredible coincidence, will occur only among your political opponents. The only thing I'll need is something that was once part of each of them. Hair, blood, a nail clippingâanything except urine, feces, or saliva. You could even disguise it as routine medical testing. They feel unwell, go to a doctor, and during the examination a vial of blood somehow finds its way to me. How does that sound? You won't even need to go pew-pew."
"How long have you been planning this?" Surprise and suspicion were written all over Cordelia's face.
"While I was on my way here from that transit point, after Alto and I first met a few months ago. The soldiers didn't say all that much, nor did the people in the settlement, but anyone who knows how to listen can pick up on certain nuances. When people love their general and their rulers... not so much, this is usually where things end up. I don't much like getting involved in politics, but right now I... need some gratitude, yes."
"And what do you need? I'm telling you right now, no sacrificing babies or anything liâ"
I burst out laughing. We'd known each other for nearly half a year by now, and they were still projecting all those Jedi horror stories onto me. Though, to be fair, my appearance might have had something to do with that.
"Libraries, Alto. Just libraries dedicated to my patroness. Large onesâtruly large ones. In every city. With paper books and electronic archives. And each will have a section devoted to the Mistress of Magic. That section will contain only 'religious' literature, insofar as that term even applies to Hecate's cult: mostly philosophical works and reflections on the value of knowledge. No magical manuals, so you won't have to worry about 'wild mages' appearing."
"That... could be done. But why?"
"The more believers she has, the stronger the Goddess becomes. The more seekers who come there in search of knowledge, the more power she will gain. And I'll get some 'goodies' out of it." I smiled openly, but when I saw the lack of understanding on the Stratuses' faces, I decided to explain, while thinking that this must have been exactly how Ir'rina felt when she explained that word to me. That slight annoyance when people didn't understand you. "It means I'll earn Hecate's favor, and perhaps something more tangible as well."
"And what's the catch?" Cordelia's suspiciousness was... almost endearing by this point.
"None. I swear by Hecate's pantaloons!" I jokingly raised one hand in the gesture of taking an oath. And then realized I had... uh... screwed up a little, as my beloved used to say. Yeah. Back in my own world, there was practically no chance of attracting the Wisest One's attention with a joke like that, but here... while sitting in her only shrine... Ahem. I may have been a little too quick with the jokes. I realized that at the same moment a book smacked me in the back of the head. Straight through all my defenses.
Ow...
"Sss... Ow!!!"
"If he gets smacked over the head one more time, I'm signing up as a believer," Cordelia laughed delightedly, while I tried to dodge another projectile flying straight at my forehead.
Unsuccessfully.
"Ow, all right, I get it, I get it!!! Stop hitting me!!!" I shouted in exasperation, rubbing my forehead as I gave the general's cousin a reproachful look. "Can't even make a joke anymore. And what's with all this bloodthirstiness toward me, anyway?"
"You've got an infuriating grin, my brother in faith!" Cordelia bared her teeth at me happily. "And seriously, sorcerer, have you lost your mind, swearing by a woman's underwear?!"
And at the very edge of hearing, I caught an offended word spoken in an enchanting female voice.
That word was:
"Boor."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
The days blurred together into a kaleidoscope of events, and strangely enough, it didn't bother me. Apparently, I'd grown a little tired of solitude during my seclusion. At least I felt no urge to ride off into the sunset, nor any need to sic Quartermaster on someone. Only Emthree was getting on my nervesâa real droid granny.
Pedantic, grumbling, argumentative, and annoying. Useful, though, yes. He didn't care about the faces I made when I was interrupted, my frightening smiles, or my grumbling. He even ignored my threats. "Master, it's lunchtime. Finish your work after you've eaten." "Master, it's time to go to bed. The efficiency of organics declines when they don't get enough sleep." He also brought me caf and various brews, and he was simply excellent at reminders. So despite the occasional urge to turn him into a pile of scrap metal, I restrained myself and was even a little grateful. The usefulness of the tin can outweighed the irritation he caused. And even that irritation was... mm... not exactly serious.
It was the fourth month of trainingâboth mine and the children's. Once I had dealt with the urgent matters, I got my hands on a piece of local technology for storing and studying information: a datapad. An amazing little thing, with an enormous number of functions. We had something similar back home, but if I was being fair, the craftsmen of this universe had left my world far behind. You could argue in our defense that there were vastly more of them, but those were just excuses. What I had in my hands was a device whose size and functionality simply blew every equivalent from my world out of the water. And the ability to connect to a "global network" was altogether beyond good and evil.
At my request, that datapad was loaded with study materials: books and instructional films. An enormous amount of information, the sheer scale of which filled me with horror at the thought of how much work it would take to master it allâand with delight for exactly the same reason. Cordelia also remarked, with obvious displeasure, that there was even more to be found beyond Jabiim. Many species had more advanced educational programs, all kinds of schools and academies where they taught practically anything one could dream of!!! Magnificent! Something to strive for!
So every waking hour was packed to the brim. I even managed to corner the kids' teachers from time to timeâsome things needed explaining even despite the full power of my intellect. Not that I couldn't have figured them out myself, of course. This was simply faster.
Part of my time went into studying this universe: social interactions, history, moral normsâwhich varied wildly from world to worldâand simply everyday life. It was necessary if I wanted to avoid awkward situations. Otherwise, I might offer Cordelia a cup of caf one day and find out I'd just proposed marriage... No, no, no. I'm far too young to get married!
I also spent a lot of time filling Alto's orders for the Nimbus. My apprentices were already on the verge of being able to churn out protective charms; all they needed was a little more practice, and then I could move their training on toward serious work with artifacts. As for me, I enchanted part of the Nimbus ground fleet, integrating artifacts into the vehicles that projected "Taash's Tread" and could operate for a week without recharging. I also created ten "charging stations" that allowed energy to be gathered into reservoirs more quickly, using artificially grown crystals supplied by Stratus as the reservoirs.
Some things had to be explained to the general as well: the difference between a reservoir and a mana pump, how drawing mana from the surrounding world differed from generating energy from captured souls, and the specifics of how each method worked and was used.
That day, I combined the children's lesson with my explanations for Alto and gathered everyone together.
In short, mana could be gathered into a reservoir. You created a special artifact constructâor sometimes a ritual one, if it was meant for a single useâthat pumped energy into the reservoir. In principle, it was all fairly simple, with one catch: size. The larger the construct, the "thicker" the flow, and accordingly, the faster the reservoir filled.
A simple amulet that repels animals, like the ones a friend of mine used to provide for the kids at an orphanage, made sense to supplement with a small module of this kindâa modest reservoir paired with a very low-cost effect. Just leave it on a shelf overnight, and by morning the amulet's reservoir would be full.
But that wouldn't work with my adaptive-protection amulet, nor with the robe or the knife. Their energy consumption was simply too high. And that was where three other methods came in: charging reservoirs with a soul prison, "manual" charging by pouring a spellcaster's reserve directly into the reservoir, and charging them with a large artifact mana pump. The amulet had no reservoirs of its own, so without a soul-battery it simply wouldn't work. The robe was the opposite caseâI hadn't been able to implement a mana converter based on a soul vault because it conflicted with some of the enchantments already laid on it.
For the vehicles, I set up reservoir charging using the third method. You take the crystal out of the artifact in the all-terrain vehicle, slot it into the mana pumpâwhich looks like a fifteen-meter diskâwait two or three hours, and you can "refuel" the next one. I planned to handle all enchanted equipment along the same lines. Making spellcasters work full-time as glorified fuel pumps was a lousy idea, while souls came with the inconvenient necessity of producing corpses. A charging station, on the other hand, doesn't ask to be fedâjust keep slotting crystals into it and take it easy.
That approach wouldn't work with charms, though, because they were single-use. They had no reservoirs; the mana reserve was poured directly into the material itself, and once that reserve was exhausted, the object broke down. Quick, cheap, and protectiveâbut only once.
Artifact-making was a vast subject in its own right. Take reservoir crystals alone: stability, energy capacity, how both depended on quality and size. I could have talked about it for hours, but for now neither the children nor Alto needed that level of detail. I was only beginning to compile a table of characteristics for the new materials. A pity I still hadn't found anything better than Crystal Dragon bones. Though... I was getting spoiled, of course. The only way to make a better reservoir would be from crystallized blood or tears of the Gods. Hecate had supplied me with magnificent materials for artifact-making that would last a very long time... or enough for something truly enormous, like a floating fortress. Though with that much, I could probably build a floating city instead. I'd only finished charging the robe from my own reserves a week agoâthe amount of energy it held was unimaginable.
In the end, Alto agreed that charging stations with mana pumps and reservoirs in the vehicles were the best solution, and we began putting the system into practice along the most troublesome patrol routesâplaces where the distances were simply too great and the troops sometimes couldn't get there in time. The charging-station components were manufactured to my designs and shipped to the mansion disassembled. There, right in the courtyard beneath an umbrella-dome, I enchanted them, and the finished kit was then sent off to whichever base needed it. There was no need for me to go alongâthe assembled construction activated automatically the moment a reservoir was inserted into its socket.
Fortunately, the Stratuses had taken my request for a "roomier" place to work and live seriously. In a week, we would be moving our work to a formerly abandoned industrial complex, now restored after falling into decline and shutting down a couple of decades ago. It had truly enormous spacesâthe kind I needed for working on oversized components. It also had a spacious, modern classroom by Jabiim's standards for the children, a room for them to relax in, and space set aside for an enormous library... which, of course, I would also have to fill. Sigh... sigh... sigh...
Later on, a residential building would be constructed on the grounds of the complex as well, but for now we'd have to commute back and forth. Fortunately, the trip took less than an hour, and we had our own transport now.
Some time ago, Alto, Cordelia, and I had sat down together and discussed where on Jabiim my efforts were needed. There were quite a few such areas. The transport alone, which ideally needed to be upgraded all across the planet, already amounted to several months of daily work. The artifact complexes for weather control were simplerâone for each major city, of which there were five on the planet. One was already nearly finished. As for the hovering boats, so far there was only a design for a twelve-person craftâthe size of a single Nimbus squad. We hadn't started production yet. And then there were the smaller thingsâamulets and charms, which for now I was churning out right in the middle of the lectures I gave the children.
Besides that, the Stratuses were very interested in the prospects of magical and technomagical ore processing, but during our discussion we put that project off for the future. As I understood it, the two of them were currently having problems with the powers that be. Well... "problems" might be putting it a bit strongly.
Trouble brewing, yes. No matter how carefully they hid our activities, no matter how thoroughly they kept me out of sight, a word here, a word there... and the rumors started spreading, each more astonishing than the last. As a result, the aristocracy had begun quietly making inquiries. For now, they were doing it lazily and without much enthusiasm, but that was how these things started.
I remembered the conversation the three of us had in the library yesterday. Over the past few months, we had started talking like that fairly often. Mostly with Cordelia, since she visited us more frequently. But Alto had also begun joining our improvised little get-togethers from time to time. In fact, it was through those conversations that I had come to understand the situation on Jabiimâand in the Republic as a wholeâmuch better. Nothing unusual. Just plain, simple corruption, understandable to any sentient. I honestly didn't know of a sentient society that was immune to it.
The Stratuses had very little love for the moneybags sitting at the top of the planet's power structure. They made little effort to hide the fact that they were lining their pockets, paying kickbacks to corrupt Republic officials, running all sorts of schemes... As far as I was concerned, they were even within their rights to a point. The land with the mines belonged to them, almost all the transports belonged to them, the industry... well, you get the idea. They weren't called the aristocracy for nothing. In practice, they were the owners of the planet. On the other hand, they were frankly shitty owners. Stupid and greedy. A prudent owner doesn't just get richerâhe invests in his holdings so he can get even richer!!! The plebs will always be dissatisfied, of course, but here it was a question of scale. And the scale was such that all Jabiim needed was a leader, and the flames of revolution would erupt. The constant bleeding of the population by pirates and slavers, poor medicine, endless shortages of practically everythingâeven locally produced goodsâan appalling standard of living for ordinary people, and brutal working conditions. It had all been piling up for years, while the problems only grew worse: with every generation, the "aristocracy" thought less and less about Jabiim, taking everything for granted, and more and more about their own purses.
"I don't understand, Alto. Why are you sitting there kneading your tits?" I finally snapped during yesterday's conversation, after he complained about yet another cut to the budget allocated to his troops.
"Excuse me?" The general clearly had no idea what I meant and looked at me in surprise over the rim of his cup, while Cordelia merely shook her head disapprovingly. Pfft... She was hardly shy about colorful language herself, and now suddenly she was the guardian of public morals.
"Why don't you just cut their throats?" I let my irritation show on my face. "The Republic clearly doesn't give a shit about any of this. You told me yourself that during that... brain-liquefying epidemic, they didn't even send you any aid. And that epidemic threatened to reduce the amount of goods you supplied to the Republic and cut the taxes flowing into its coffers."
The girl sitting with us put on a stern expression and had already drawn breath to speak, but I gestured for her to let me finish.
"Yes, yes, Cordelia, I can see how outraged you are. People were dying, and I'm talking about money. But you're thinking about it the wrong way. That's exactly how the bureaucrats in the Senate think: the money keeps coming inâeverything's fine. It stops coming inâsadness, disaster, tragedy. Stage a Night of the Long Knives, gut the aristocracy, and put people from your own little club into the positions that matter."
It was amusing to watch one cousin bristle with outrage while the other kept his face completely impassive. Only his sharp eyes showed that he was listening closely... and I saw no rejection of my words in them.
"It's simple. Keep paying the taxes and replace the crews on the ore haulers. Restrict traders' access to the Jabiimites... Quarantine, all that. Invent some nasty but nonlethal disease... Testicular liquefaction? How does that sound? Anyway, you hardly need me to teach you how to do this. That's it. With our weather, news of the coup won't reach the Republic's capital for another ten years. And by then it'll be too late to do anything about it."
Cordelia was outraged, while Alto chuckled quietly. That laugh brought a faint, knowing smile to my face, while the general's cousin practically choked on her emotions. She wasn't exactly a little girl anymore, yet idealism was practically pouring out of her. Though... something about it felt off. Forced, somehow... unnatural.
"I hear you, Siith." He shot a quick glance at his cousin, and she immediately relaxed back into her chair, no longer searching for something to say. She only glared darkly at both of us. "So, as I understand it, a development like that doesn't exactly... shock you?"
"Pfft. The only reason the regime hasn't changed yet is because of you and the Nimbusâthings on the planet have started getting a little better. I have eyes to see and ears to hear." And a whole pile of eavesdropping spells that faithfully supplied me with plenty of information, but they didn't need to know about those. Though they had probably figured that much out themselves. "There's only one question now: when are you going to decide to spill some blood? And if you mean the mass killing of those in power and how I feel about that, I honestly don't give a damn. Six hundred years is plenty of time to stop fainting at the words 'political assassination' and squealing like a virgin in a hayloft."
"Is it really that obvious?" Stratus smiled calmly. Cordelia, meanwhile, stopped playing the offended innocent and let the mask of outrage drop from her face. Her expression turned serious and attentive. The general had decided to stop playing games.
"Experience." I shrugged, taking a sip of the hot, fragrant drink. "I wasn't always a recluse, and magic wasn't the only thing that interested me in life. Youth, you know... all that."
"Ancient sage," Cordelia snorted sarcastically. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a faint mocking smile.
"Age matters not. What matters is who you feel yourself to be. Young I am. At heart."
The girl rolled her eyes toward the ceilingâshe found it incredibly irritating whenever I slipped back into my original way of speaking. And yes, I knew that. Heh-heh. But she reacted so emotionally that I simply couldn't help myself.
"Since you think a change of power is inevitable and the idea doesn't exactly... bother you..." The general fell silent, gathering his thoughts, while I gave an ironic snort. Here it comes. I'm about to get an offer I have absolutely no intention of refusing. "Maybe you could help us with that?"
"I'll help. To be frank, General, there's something I need. We make a deal, and an epidemic begins." Cordelia and Alto frowned at the same time; epidemics were not exactly fondly remembered on Jabiim. I, meanwhile, was already smiling in the finest tradition of cheerful maleficsâmerrily and with anticipation. "It'll be fast and relatively mild, with very few deaths. And those deaths, by some strange, mysterious, utterly incredible coincidence, will occur only among your political opponents. The only thing I'll need is something that was once part of each of them. Hair, blood, a nail clippingâanything except urine, feces, or saliva. You could even disguise it as routine medical testing. They feel unwell, go to a doctor, and during the examination a vial of blood somehow finds its way to me. How does that sound? You won't even need to go pew-pew."
"How long have you been planning this?" Surprise and suspicion were written all over Cordelia's face.
"While I was on my way here from that transit point, after Alto and I first met a few months ago. The soldiers didn't say all that much, nor did the people in the settlement, but anyone who knows how to listen can pick up on certain nuances. When people love their general and their rulers... not so much, this is usually where things end up. I don't much like getting involved in politics, but right now I... need some gratitude, yes."
"And what do you need? I'm telling you right now, no sacrificing babies or anything liâ"
I burst out laughing. We'd known each other for nearly half a year by now, and they were still projecting all those Jedi horror stories onto me. Though, to be fair, my appearance might have had something to do with that.
"Libraries, Alto. Just libraries dedicated to my patroness. Large onesâtruly large ones. In every city. With paper books and electronic archives. And each will have a section devoted to the Mistress of Magic. That section will contain only 'religious' literature, insofar as that term even applies to Hecate's cult: mostly philosophical works and reflections on the value of knowledge. No magical manuals, so you won't have to worry about 'wild mages' appearing."
"That... could be done. But why?"
"The more believers she has, the stronger the Goddess becomes. The more seekers who come there in search of knowledge, the more power she will gain. And I'll get some 'goodies' out of it." I smiled openly, but when I saw the lack of understanding on the Stratuses' faces, I decided to explain, while thinking that this must have been exactly how Ir'rina felt when she explained that word to me. That slight annoyance when people didn't understand you. "It means I'll earn Hecate's favor, and perhaps something more tangible as well."
"And what's the catch?" Cordelia's suspiciousness was... almost endearing by this point.
"None. I swear by Hecate's pantaloons!" I jokingly raised one hand in the gesture of taking an oath. And then realized I had... uh... screwed up a little, as my beloved used to say. Yeah. Back in my own world, there was practically no chance of attracting the Wisest One's attention with a joke like that, but here... while sitting in her only shrine... Ahem. I may have been a little too quick with the jokes. I realized that at the same moment a book smacked me in the back of the head. Straight through all my defenses.
Ow...
"Sss... Ow!!!"
"If he gets smacked over the head one more time, I'm signing up as a believer," Cordelia laughed delightedly, while I tried to dodge another projectile flying straight at my forehead.
Unsuccessfully.
"Ow, all right, I get it, I get it!!! Stop hitting me!!!" I shouted in exasperation, rubbing my forehead as I gave the general's cousin a reproachful look. "Can't even make a joke anymore. And what's with all this bloodthirstiness toward me, anyway?"
"You've got an infuriating grin, my brother in faith!" Cordelia bared her teeth at me happily. "And seriously, sorcerer, have you lost your mind, swearing by a woman's underwear?!"
And at the very edge of hearing, I caught an offended word spoken in an enchanting female voice.
That word was:
"Boor."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
Last edited:
readsalot
Experienced.
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Treangulator
Not too sore, are you?
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Me thinks the better choice would be "kneading".
Like "kneading dough".
Also yeah, pantaloons? Oh Siith, who told you that's the goddess choice of underwear? What do you even understand in female fashion besides of how to take it off?
Last edited:
Boroda Orka
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Me thinks the better choice would be "kneading".
Like "kneading dough".
Thanks for pointing that out. It really does sound much better this way
Chapter 14
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and soon it would be a year since I arrived in this world. For three months now, Jabiim had been groaning under a new epidemic of an unknown disease that had swept across the entire planet like a hurricane. Well... "groaning" might be overstating it. At the moment, there were practically no complaints.
For the first two weeks, the planet teetered on the edge of hysteria: the Jabiimites remembered all too well how "Brain Rot" had ravaged the population. Fortunately, the army, with the active involvement of the Nimbus and its general, managed to prevent any unrest, and the disease itself did little to encourage activity. After the first outbreaks of panic, the initial statistics helped calm the population. The disease was unpleasant, but so far there had been no deaths, and once the doctors found a way to ease the symptoms considerably, the Jabiimites settled down completely.
The thing was, a healthy lifestyle and proper nutrition all but eliminated most of the symptoms, and even those were more unpleasant than frightening: weakness, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Pregnant women, who, along with children, barely noticed the illness at all, even joked, "Jabiim Feverâlet the whole world find out what morning sickness feels like."
Riding the wave of those jokes, even Cordelia Stratus, sporting a nobly greenish complexion and dark circles under her eyes during one interview, quipped, "I haven't given birth yet, but thanks to this Sith-damned bug*, I now have a pretty good idea of what to expectâand even more respect for the strength and patience of all mothers."
With each passing week, the doctors gathered more and more information, while Republic warships arrived in orbit to enforce the quarantine. Interestingly enough, the message sent out aboard one of the ore haulers had also included a plea for aid from the Republic... But the quarantine they set up. Doctors? Humanitarian aid? Medicine? Nothing. Alto just spat angrily at that.
He was sick too, by the way. But despite feeling awful and looking decidedly unwell, he made a point of appearing before the people and the troops as often as possible, driving his popularity among ordinary Jabiimites even higher. He even gave a couple of interviews, and some of his lines began circulating through the local network: "No illness can overcome my devotion to our homeland," "If I ever stop working for the good of Jabiim, it means I'm dead," "I don't have time to lie around in bedâthere's work to be done."
Meanwhile, the internal broadcasts were running an active public-information campaign. The scientists still hadn't found the pathogen, but they had established that drug addicts suffered the worst. Next came people who regularly drank hard liquor to excess. And within a couple of weeks, Jabiim entered a golden age of Healthy Living, with some doctors even beginning to cautiously praise the disease.
According to them, the epidemic might actually prove beneficial for the planet. Studies showed that the body was actively purging itself of harmful substances. Yes, the doctors said, the strain on the internal organs increased, but a healthy diet, vitamins, and moderate exercise would help the Jabiimites cope with it. Especially since the disease affected everyone differently and placed no extreme strain on the body. The only people truly at risk were those who had either been using hard drugs for a long time or continued to live in ways that amounted to self-destruction.
"How's a man supposed to have a proper drink anymore?" complained one of the farmers who grew food crops suited to the local climate, sitting with his friends over a mug of herbal tea. "You knock back a couple of glasses, and the next morning the hangover feels like you've been drinking nonstop for a month."
His friends responded only with nods and murmurs of agreement, while their better halves chattered merrily in the next room. Snatches of conversation drifted through: "Finally," "I'm actually glad," and "Let them stay sick a little longer."
At the first signs of the epidemic, the aristocracy had shut themselves away in their mansions and country villas, and at first they didn't get sick. Healthy, plump, rosy-cheeked politicians appearing on the internal broadcasts with calls to "stand together, grit our teeth, endure, and overcome" inspired nothing but simmering resentment among ordinary Jabiimites. And once word leaked onto the network that the epidemic had reached them too, schadenfreude began blooming among the people in all its glory.
The first death from the disease was met with alarm. One of the rich bastards had literally "shit himself to death," practically forcing his own guts out in the process. The fear faded after the fifth death, though: everyone who died belonged to the wealthy clique, and the kitchen-table experts began arriving at a simple conclusionâthe aristocracy were probably a bunch of junkies who had spent quarantine getting blasted on spice, convinced that Jabiim Fever would never reach them.
Those rumors were confirmed once the death toll passed two dozen and information about the deaths was released without sugarcoating anything, despite attempts to hush up certain details. The doctors' conclusion was unequivocal: the bodies of the deceased bore every sign of long-term drug abuse. After that, ordinary people began openly rejoicing at the deaths of others, and several reports showing off the dead aristocrats' lavish mansions only fanned the flames of schadenfreude. Some people even started calling the disease the People's Fever.
What finally broke the dam of public patience was the information that surfaced about the schemes the dead had been running: countless bribes, falsified workplace-accident statistics at their enterprises, safety violations, compensation withheld from injured workers. Some families had even made a practice of buyingâor, more often, simply abductingâgirls they took a liking to from poor families, then paying fat bribes to the police department to keep it all covered up. The cherry on top of that shit cake was the revelation that information on remote settlements and their security systems had been routinely fed to pirates and slavers.
It would have been funny if it weren't so grim, but ninety percent of what Nimbus Security uncovered was true. Not fabricated evidence, but real crimes. The "aristocracy" had quite literally been selling their own fellow citizens and profiting from their deaths. One recording of a conversation between an already-dead nouveau riche and his still-living heir even included the line, "It's no great loss. They can always breed more." Alto, to whom Cordelia sent the information first as it came in, flew into such a rage that one of his offices had to be completely refurnished afterward. Having lost his parents in just such a raid when he was a child, he finally stopped seeing what was happening as anything negative. In his eyes, the rich had gone from corrupt officials to traitors, and the epidemic had become an act of healingâhis homeland purging itself of parasites.
What came to light enraged the population so badly that the Stratuses had to work hard to calm people down. Appearing on the broadcasts, Alto promised the Jabiimites that as soon as the Jabiim Fever crisis was over, he would personally oversee the investigations, while for the time being he would deploy the Nimbus to lock the rich down in their estates. Just in case. Fortunately, the quarantine squadron was doing a fine job of scaring off pirates, so some patrol routes could be left temporarily uncovered. During a private conversation in the library, the general joked darkly that he had never imagined he would find himself keeping good Jabiimites from tearing those bloodsuckers apart.
Meanwhile, the "epidemic" continued successfully mowing down his political opponents, allowing Nimbus Security to stick its nose ever deeper into their closets, packed with the skeletons of their fellow citizens.
It got to the point where every death from the disease was greeted by the population with all but open cheers of joy and approval, while reading the obituaries became a favorite morning pastime. Several attempts by prominent politicians to flee the planet were also thwarted, and in one case, when the escape could not be stopped, the quarantine fleet destroyed the fat cat's yacht.
At the moment, however, the epidemic was winding down. Only a couple dozen names remained on the target list, while Alto and his team were already hard at work drafting a plan to nationalize the enterprises, ships, and mines belonging to the planet's richest politiciansâwho also happened to be its biggest bastards.
"I never thought it could go this smoothly," Alto drawled thoughtfully, sipping one of Maria's brews.
"Smoothly?! Alto, are you... out of your mind?" Cordelia choked out indignantly. "My people and I have been running ourselves ragged to keep everything from going... off the rails!!! I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two months!!!"
"You really shouldn't do that," I remarked calmly. Then, imitating Emthree, I elaborated: "Organics require seven to nine hours of sleep for normal functioning."
If looks could set people on fire, I'd probably have been rolling around on the floor right then, trying to put myself out.
"You know, Siith... I can't decide what I want more," Cordelia hissed, boring into me with a heavy glare. "To hug you to death for helping us lance this festering boil on the body of our worldâor just strangle you because of that smug little grin of yours. Thanks to you, I've been suffering through this fucking morning sickness for three months now!!!"
"I had absolutely nothing to do with that. You two were the ones who said, 'Let us share all the hardships of the illness with the people of Jabiim.' Noble, of course, but that was your decision. Don't go blaming the mentally healthy one here for your own idealism."
"He called us psychos too," the girl said, looking at her cousin almost plaintively.
"And who's healthy these days?" Stratus said thoughtfully, then looked warmly at his cousin. "Forgive me. You know what I mean. I didn't mean to diminish your contributionâor your people'sâin the slightest. It's just... now we can pull the whole thing off with so little bloodshed... And there'll be practically no trouble afterward. Even those who officially did business with those bastards won't object much to the changes. We'll keep selling them ore at the same prices, at least at first, and funnel the kickbacks into the budget. That money alone will be enough to improve living standards, modernize and expand the armed forces, buy a number of warships... And if we manage to pull off an operation to get the money in their accounts transferred into the planetary budget..."
The general narrowed his eyes dreamily and took another sip.
"And how are those 'airspeeders' of yours coming along?" Cordelia asked after a minute of silence, putting particular emphasis on the last word as she glanced at me.
"Twelve are already finishedâjust enough for a company and a half**. Twenty hours of flight time, six hours to recharge the reservoir at a charging station, a top speed of around two hundred kilometers per hour. Each one can easily carry twelve people in full gear, plus up to two hundred kilograms of additional equipment, and has a maximum flight altitude of about fifty meters. Another couple of machines, and the apprentices will be able to handle all the routine production work themselves. I'll only have to do the final enchanting. Unfortunately, they won't be able to manage that part on their own for another year or twoârote memorization only gets you so far. But overall, the kids are doing great. I haven't even called anyone a stupid bantha in the past month."
"That's quite an achievement," Alto snorted.
"Oh, he works all of them so hard the Hutts would be jealous. It's only his precious Karray he fusses over," Cordelia ratted me out.
"Be jealous in silence. And anyway, have a little one of your own and cuddle her all you want. You've gotten into the habit of stuffing Karray with sweets, and that's bad for her teeth!"
"You're jealous, old-timer!"
"I'm not old! I'm in the prime of my life!!!"
"So no objections to the jealousy part, then?!"
"Madhouse..." Alto closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch our bickering, though the smile he was trying to suppress rather spoiled the effect of his ostentatious disapproval of the chaos we were causing.
To be fair, for some time now I'd been privately thinking of both of them as friends. Nothing brings people together quite like a planet-wide epidemic that was actually an incredibly complex, mana-hungry curse, political assassinations, and a coup d'Ă©tat. Yeah.
I wasn't even bothered by Cordelia's constant checks anymore. The girl remained true to herself and her paranoia, periodically putting out feelers about my future. The bait varied. Recently, for example, she'd offered me a post in the future government they were now actively putting together: "We'll make you Minister of Education." Yeah, sure, I'm running so fast I'm tripping over myself. That's exactly the kind of shit my life is missing, I swear. Absolute authority over five blockheads and M-3PO is more than enough for me; they already do a splendid job of fraying my nerves.
The most I'm willing to take on is temporarily running a school for training mages someday. And even then, I'll happily dump it onto the first pair of shoulders sturdy enough to carry the load. I'll offer advice. Sometimes.
At first I had my doubts, wondering how the local sorcerous fraternityâthe Jediâwould react, but after looking into the matter properly, I came to the conclusion that there shouldn't be any problems. Dozens of different cults flourished across the galaxy, from harmless idiots to outright dark-as-hell associations of necrophiliac perverts. And even the latter were hunted with remarkable laziness. So the "Mages of Jabiim" would most likely provoke nothing more than a visit from a couple of guys in robes carrying glowing sticksâthose things look nothing like swords, and I know what a sword looks like; Alto has one, after allâwho'd come to ask, "So, what exactly are you doing here? Oh, working for the good of this mudball? Carry on, then. Carry on."
If the Sith hadn't been wiped out, though, then yes, I'd have had to think about it a little more. Those guys were a rough bunch, assuming what I'd read about them wasn't lying.
Coruscant. Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine
At today's Senate session, Palpatine pushed through a decision to send Jabiim a shipment of humanitarian aid, along with a large supply of medicines and medical equipment. He even placed the matter under his personal supervision.
It was easy enough to do. All he had to do was pull up the history of Jabiim's requests to the Senate and lay it before the senators, and it became obvious just how bad things were there. Slaver raids, brutal weather conditions, and the relatively recent "Brain Rot" epidemic that had severely thinned the planet's population all served to highlight just how little attention the Republic paid to small worlds on the periphery. And just how much he, Chancellor Palpatine, cared about the well-being of the people. Unlike his predecessor. In fact, Sheev had spent less time persuading the senators than using his eloquence to make it look as though persuading them had been difficult.
The disease itself wasn't dangerous. According to the data being sent from the planet to the quarantine fleet along with requests for aid, there had been very few deaths. Only a few hundred. And that was with nearly the entire population infectedâclose to a hundred million sentients. There was also evidence that the new illness, which had been dubbed Jabiim Fever, posed almost no threat to a healthy body. The only ones truly at risk were those who were heavily poisoning themselves with drugs and alcohol.
And that was excellent as well. When the media covered the story, everything could be framed as: "Only thanks to the Republic's actionsâand the Chancellor's timely attention to the problemâwere mass casualties averted." Combined with the planned reforms and the coming fight against corruptionâor, more precisely, against those corrupt officials who were currently getting in his way, and those who needed to start being purged todayâaid to a world struck by an unknown disease would be one more brick in the impregnable wall of his reputation as a champion of everything good against everything bad. Democracy, the ideals of the Republic... Blah-blah-blah...
His plan was entering a new phase. His Master was dead, the crisis on Naboo was over... somewhat unexpectedly, but that was no great concern. The Skywalker boy had been taken in for Jedi training. All that remained was to show the kid a little interest and care from time to time. Sheev Palpatine was a kind and grateful man, after allâone who would never forget the child who had done so much to help his homeworld. The boy could barely reach the controls of a starfighter, yet somehow managed to destroy the droid control ship. No one was surprised when the Chancellor promised to keep an eye on him.
Maul, on the other hand, had disappointed Sidious... Went and died so uselessly... Defeated by a boy, a naive girl, and a Padawan... Well, at least he managed to kill Qui-Gon Jinn. The tool had served its purpose, giving the Jedi's bloated self-importance one last good kick on the way out. Loyal... perhaps the Zabrak's only truly outstanding quality had been his loyalty. Unfortunately, his pride and overconfidence outweighed even that virtue. Palpatine had never regarded him as a true Sith Lord, so in a way, he even felt relieved by Maul's defeat.
Still, he'd had to cover his tracks. The Jedi were trying to find the second Sith, but Maul's ship had been almost completely destroyed, there was no recovering any data from it, and in any case it had somehow "gone missing" while being transported to Kuat. His former apprentice's droid had had its memory wiped and now had a new owner. Once that and the remaining loose ends had been dealt with, all that was left was to wish the Jedi good luck hunting for the Sith sitting right under their noses. On Coruscant. Holding the highest office in the Republic.
And he had work to do... He needed to strengthen his position. A whole nest of snakes had already taken note of the Supreme Chancellor's "kind and pliable" nature and were making plans for how they would manipulate him. He would have to play along, gather as much dirt on them as possible, and subtly nudge those snakes toward the decisions he needed. Pick the most promising among them and turn them into his supporters. That Chagrian, Mas Amedda, for instance, looked very promising. And those who didn't make the cut... they would fall in the fight against corruption.
He also needed to weaken the Jedi and prepare the ground for their eventual destruction. And, of course, prepare the Republic's transition to a new order. With him at the head of it, naturally.
Author's note:
*"Sith-damned bug"âin the GFFA, the word "Sith" was sometimes used much like our "devil," so the expression didn't particularly surprise anyone, while Cordelia got a little extra enjoyment out of taking a jab at Siith.
**Nimbus company: 100 people (2 platoons). Platoon: 50 people (4 squads). Squad: 12 people. (Thanks to the excellent videos by Elven Tanker on YouTube.)
And here's a magnificent mug of our protagonist, courtesy of one of the readers of the original Russian story. An enormous, inhuman thank-you to the supremely talented Hook and Aircoat (or Mr.Dog, as the signature says)âthis chapter is dedicated to you and your talent!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
For the first two weeks, the planet teetered on the edge of hysteria: the Jabiimites remembered all too well how "Brain Rot" had ravaged the population. Fortunately, the army, with the active involvement of the Nimbus and its general, managed to prevent any unrest, and the disease itself did little to encourage activity. After the first outbreaks of panic, the initial statistics helped calm the population. The disease was unpleasant, but so far there had been no deaths, and once the doctors found a way to ease the symptoms considerably, the Jabiimites settled down completely.
The thing was, a healthy lifestyle and proper nutrition all but eliminated most of the symptoms, and even those were more unpleasant than frightening: weakness, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Pregnant women, who, along with children, barely noticed the illness at all, even joked, "Jabiim Feverâlet the whole world find out what morning sickness feels like."
Riding the wave of those jokes, even Cordelia Stratus, sporting a nobly greenish complexion and dark circles under her eyes during one interview, quipped, "I haven't given birth yet, but thanks to this Sith-damned bug*, I now have a pretty good idea of what to expectâand even more respect for the strength and patience of all mothers."
With each passing week, the doctors gathered more and more information, while Republic warships arrived in orbit to enforce the quarantine. Interestingly enough, the message sent out aboard one of the ore haulers had also included a plea for aid from the Republic... But the quarantine they set up. Doctors? Humanitarian aid? Medicine? Nothing. Alto just spat angrily at that.
He was sick too, by the way. But despite feeling awful and looking decidedly unwell, he made a point of appearing before the people and the troops as often as possible, driving his popularity among ordinary Jabiimites even higher. He even gave a couple of interviews, and some of his lines began circulating through the local network: "No illness can overcome my devotion to our homeland," "If I ever stop working for the good of Jabiim, it means I'm dead," "I don't have time to lie around in bedâthere's work to be done."
Meanwhile, the internal broadcasts were running an active public-information campaign. The scientists still hadn't found the pathogen, but they had established that drug addicts suffered the worst. Next came people who regularly drank hard liquor to excess. And within a couple of weeks, Jabiim entered a golden age of Healthy Living, with some doctors even beginning to cautiously praise the disease.
According to them, the epidemic might actually prove beneficial for the planet. Studies showed that the body was actively purging itself of harmful substances. Yes, the doctors said, the strain on the internal organs increased, but a healthy diet, vitamins, and moderate exercise would help the Jabiimites cope with it. Especially since the disease affected everyone differently and placed no extreme strain on the body. The only people truly at risk were those who had either been using hard drugs for a long time or continued to live in ways that amounted to self-destruction.
"How's a man supposed to have a proper drink anymore?" complained one of the farmers who grew food crops suited to the local climate, sitting with his friends over a mug of herbal tea. "You knock back a couple of glasses, and the next morning the hangover feels like you've been drinking nonstop for a month."
His friends responded only with nods and murmurs of agreement, while their better halves chattered merrily in the next room. Snatches of conversation drifted through: "Finally," "I'm actually glad," and "Let them stay sick a little longer."
At the first signs of the epidemic, the aristocracy had shut themselves away in their mansions and country villas, and at first they didn't get sick. Healthy, plump, rosy-cheeked politicians appearing on the internal broadcasts with calls to "stand together, grit our teeth, endure, and overcome" inspired nothing but simmering resentment among ordinary Jabiimites. And once word leaked onto the network that the epidemic had reached them too, schadenfreude began blooming among the people in all its glory.
The first death from the disease was met with alarm. One of the rich bastards had literally "shit himself to death," practically forcing his own guts out in the process. The fear faded after the fifth death, though: everyone who died belonged to the wealthy clique, and the kitchen-table experts began arriving at a simple conclusionâthe aristocracy were probably a bunch of junkies who had spent quarantine getting blasted on spice, convinced that Jabiim Fever would never reach them.
Those rumors were confirmed once the death toll passed two dozen and information about the deaths was released without sugarcoating anything, despite attempts to hush up certain details. The doctors' conclusion was unequivocal: the bodies of the deceased bore every sign of long-term drug abuse. After that, ordinary people began openly rejoicing at the deaths of others, and several reports showing off the dead aristocrats' lavish mansions only fanned the flames of schadenfreude. Some people even started calling the disease the People's Fever.
What finally broke the dam of public patience was the information that surfaced about the schemes the dead had been running: countless bribes, falsified workplace-accident statistics at their enterprises, safety violations, compensation withheld from injured workers. Some families had even made a practice of buyingâor, more often, simply abductingâgirls they took a liking to from poor families, then paying fat bribes to the police department to keep it all covered up. The cherry on top of that shit cake was the revelation that information on remote settlements and their security systems had been routinely fed to pirates and slavers.
It would have been funny if it weren't so grim, but ninety percent of what Nimbus Security uncovered was true. Not fabricated evidence, but real crimes. The "aristocracy" had quite literally been selling their own fellow citizens and profiting from their deaths. One recording of a conversation between an already-dead nouveau riche and his still-living heir even included the line, "It's no great loss. They can always breed more." Alto, to whom Cordelia sent the information first as it came in, flew into such a rage that one of his offices had to be completely refurnished afterward. Having lost his parents in just such a raid when he was a child, he finally stopped seeing what was happening as anything negative. In his eyes, the rich had gone from corrupt officials to traitors, and the epidemic had become an act of healingâhis homeland purging itself of parasites.
What came to light enraged the population so badly that the Stratuses had to work hard to calm people down. Appearing on the broadcasts, Alto promised the Jabiimites that as soon as the Jabiim Fever crisis was over, he would personally oversee the investigations, while for the time being he would deploy the Nimbus to lock the rich down in their estates. Just in case. Fortunately, the quarantine squadron was doing a fine job of scaring off pirates, so some patrol routes could be left temporarily uncovered. During a private conversation in the library, the general joked darkly that he had never imagined he would find himself keeping good Jabiimites from tearing those bloodsuckers apart.
Meanwhile, the "epidemic" continued successfully mowing down his political opponents, allowing Nimbus Security to stick its nose ever deeper into their closets, packed with the skeletons of their fellow citizens.
It got to the point where every death from the disease was greeted by the population with all but open cheers of joy and approval, while reading the obituaries became a favorite morning pastime. Several attempts by prominent politicians to flee the planet were also thwarted, and in one case, when the escape could not be stopped, the quarantine fleet destroyed the fat cat's yacht.
At the moment, however, the epidemic was winding down. Only a couple dozen names remained on the target list, while Alto and his team were already hard at work drafting a plan to nationalize the enterprises, ships, and mines belonging to the planet's richest politiciansâwho also happened to be its biggest bastards.
"I never thought it could go this smoothly," Alto drawled thoughtfully, sipping one of Maria's brews.
"Smoothly?! Alto, are you... out of your mind?" Cordelia choked out indignantly. "My people and I have been running ourselves ragged to keep everything from going... off the rails!!! I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two months!!!"
"You really shouldn't do that," I remarked calmly. Then, imitating Emthree, I elaborated: "Organics require seven to nine hours of sleep for normal functioning."
If looks could set people on fire, I'd probably have been rolling around on the floor right then, trying to put myself out.
"You know, Siith... I can't decide what I want more," Cordelia hissed, boring into me with a heavy glare. "To hug you to death for helping us lance this festering boil on the body of our worldâor just strangle you because of that smug little grin of yours. Thanks to you, I've been suffering through this fucking morning sickness for three months now!!!"
"I had absolutely nothing to do with that. You two were the ones who said, 'Let us share all the hardships of the illness with the people of Jabiim.' Noble, of course, but that was your decision. Don't go blaming the mentally healthy one here for your own idealism."
"He called us psychos too," the girl said, looking at her cousin almost plaintively.
"And who's healthy these days?" Stratus said thoughtfully, then looked warmly at his cousin. "Forgive me. You know what I mean. I didn't mean to diminish your contributionâor your people'sâin the slightest. It's just... now we can pull the whole thing off with so little bloodshed... And there'll be practically no trouble afterward. Even those who officially did business with those bastards won't object much to the changes. We'll keep selling them ore at the same prices, at least at first, and funnel the kickbacks into the budget. That money alone will be enough to improve living standards, modernize and expand the armed forces, buy a number of warships... And if we manage to pull off an operation to get the money in their accounts transferred into the planetary budget..."
The general narrowed his eyes dreamily and took another sip.
"And how are those 'airspeeders' of yours coming along?" Cordelia asked after a minute of silence, putting particular emphasis on the last word as she glanced at me.
"Twelve are already finishedâjust enough for a company and a half**. Twenty hours of flight time, six hours to recharge the reservoir at a charging station, a top speed of around two hundred kilometers per hour. Each one can easily carry twelve people in full gear, plus up to two hundred kilograms of additional equipment, and has a maximum flight altitude of about fifty meters. Another couple of machines, and the apprentices will be able to handle all the routine production work themselves. I'll only have to do the final enchanting. Unfortunately, they won't be able to manage that part on their own for another year or twoârote memorization only gets you so far. But overall, the kids are doing great. I haven't even called anyone a stupid bantha in the past month."
"That's quite an achievement," Alto snorted.
"Oh, he works all of them so hard the Hutts would be jealous. It's only his precious Karray he fusses over," Cordelia ratted me out.
"Be jealous in silence. And anyway, have a little one of your own and cuddle her all you want. You've gotten into the habit of stuffing Karray with sweets, and that's bad for her teeth!"
"You're jealous, old-timer!"
"I'm not old! I'm in the prime of my life!!!"
"So no objections to the jealousy part, then?!"
"Madhouse..." Alto closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch our bickering, though the smile he was trying to suppress rather spoiled the effect of his ostentatious disapproval of the chaos we were causing.
To be fair, for some time now I'd been privately thinking of both of them as friends. Nothing brings people together quite like a planet-wide epidemic that was actually an incredibly complex, mana-hungry curse, political assassinations, and a coup d'Ă©tat. Yeah.
I wasn't even bothered by Cordelia's constant checks anymore. The girl remained true to herself and her paranoia, periodically putting out feelers about my future. The bait varied. Recently, for example, she'd offered me a post in the future government they were now actively putting together: "We'll make you Minister of Education." Yeah, sure, I'm running so fast I'm tripping over myself. That's exactly the kind of shit my life is missing, I swear. Absolute authority over five blockheads and M-3PO is more than enough for me; they already do a splendid job of fraying my nerves.
The most I'm willing to take on is temporarily running a school for training mages someday. And even then, I'll happily dump it onto the first pair of shoulders sturdy enough to carry the load. I'll offer advice. Sometimes.
At first I had my doubts, wondering how the local sorcerous fraternityâthe Jediâwould react, but after looking into the matter properly, I came to the conclusion that there shouldn't be any problems. Dozens of different cults flourished across the galaxy, from harmless idiots to outright dark-as-hell associations of necrophiliac perverts. And even the latter were hunted with remarkable laziness. So the "Mages of Jabiim" would most likely provoke nothing more than a visit from a couple of guys in robes carrying glowing sticksâthose things look nothing like swords, and I know what a sword looks like; Alto has one, after allâwho'd come to ask, "So, what exactly are you doing here? Oh, working for the good of this mudball? Carry on, then. Carry on."
If the Sith hadn't been wiped out, though, then yes, I'd have had to think about it a little more. Those guys were a rough bunch, assuming what I'd read about them wasn't lying.
Coruscant. Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine
At today's Senate session, Palpatine pushed through a decision to send Jabiim a shipment of humanitarian aid, along with a large supply of medicines and medical equipment. He even placed the matter under his personal supervision.
It was easy enough to do. All he had to do was pull up the history of Jabiim's requests to the Senate and lay it before the senators, and it became obvious just how bad things were there. Slaver raids, brutal weather conditions, and the relatively recent "Brain Rot" epidemic that had severely thinned the planet's population all served to highlight just how little attention the Republic paid to small worlds on the periphery. And just how much he, Chancellor Palpatine, cared about the well-being of the people. Unlike his predecessor. In fact, Sheev had spent less time persuading the senators than using his eloquence to make it look as though persuading them had been difficult.
The disease itself wasn't dangerous. According to the data being sent from the planet to the quarantine fleet along with requests for aid, there had been very few deaths. Only a few hundred. And that was with nearly the entire population infectedâclose to a hundred million sentients. There was also evidence that the new illness, which had been dubbed Jabiim Fever, posed almost no threat to a healthy body. The only ones truly at risk were those who were heavily poisoning themselves with drugs and alcohol.
And that was excellent as well. When the media covered the story, everything could be framed as: "Only thanks to the Republic's actionsâand the Chancellor's timely attention to the problemâwere mass casualties averted." Combined with the planned reforms and the coming fight against corruptionâor, more precisely, against those corrupt officials who were currently getting in his way, and those who needed to start being purged todayâaid to a world struck by an unknown disease would be one more brick in the impregnable wall of his reputation as a champion of everything good against everything bad. Democracy, the ideals of the Republic... Blah-blah-blah...
His plan was entering a new phase. His Master was dead, the crisis on Naboo was over... somewhat unexpectedly, but that was no great concern. The Skywalker boy had been taken in for Jedi training. All that remained was to show the kid a little interest and care from time to time. Sheev Palpatine was a kind and grateful man, after allâone who would never forget the child who had done so much to help his homeworld. The boy could barely reach the controls of a starfighter, yet somehow managed to destroy the droid control ship. No one was surprised when the Chancellor promised to keep an eye on him.
Maul, on the other hand, had disappointed Sidious... Went and died so uselessly... Defeated by a boy, a naive girl, and a Padawan... Well, at least he managed to kill Qui-Gon Jinn. The tool had served its purpose, giving the Jedi's bloated self-importance one last good kick on the way out. Loyal... perhaps the Zabrak's only truly outstanding quality had been his loyalty. Unfortunately, his pride and overconfidence outweighed even that virtue. Palpatine had never regarded him as a true Sith Lord, so in a way, he even felt relieved by Maul's defeat.
Still, he'd had to cover his tracks. The Jedi were trying to find the second Sith, but Maul's ship had been almost completely destroyed, there was no recovering any data from it, and in any case it had somehow "gone missing" while being transported to Kuat. His former apprentice's droid had had its memory wiped and now had a new owner. Once that and the remaining loose ends had been dealt with, all that was left was to wish the Jedi good luck hunting for the Sith sitting right under their noses. On Coruscant. Holding the highest office in the Republic.
And he had work to do... He needed to strengthen his position. A whole nest of snakes had already taken note of the Supreme Chancellor's "kind and pliable" nature and were making plans for how they would manipulate him. He would have to play along, gather as much dirt on them as possible, and subtly nudge those snakes toward the decisions he needed. Pick the most promising among them and turn them into his supporters. That Chagrian, Mas Amedda, for instance, looked very promising. And those who didn't make the cut... they would fall in the fight against corruption.
He also needed to weaken the Jedi and prepare the ground for their eventual destruction. And, of course, prepare the Republic's transition to a new order. With him at the head of it, naturally.
Author's note:
*"Sith-damned bug"âin the GFFA, the word "Sith" was sometimes used much like our "devil," so the expression didn't particularly surprise anyone, while Cordelia got a little extra enjoyment out of taking a jab at Siith.
**Nimbus company: 100 people (2 platoons). Platoon: 50 people (4 squads). Squad: 12 people. (Thanks to the excellent videos by Elven Tanker on YouTube.)
And here's a magnificent mug of our protagonist, courtesy of one of the readers of the original Russian story. An enormous, inhuman thank-you to the supremely talented Hook and Aircoat (or Mr.Dog, as the signature says)âthis chapter is dedicated to you and your talent!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
readsalot
Experienced.
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Damn he look badass, the eyes are super cool,
Fellow Human
Soup Master
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I thought we had an extra decade, prep time is important.
Vyraco
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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This. Is. Awesome!
YOU. Are Awesome!
Just read this story in one sitting, and all I wish is for you to write faster.
Maybe think about putting it in NSFW and other platforms (SB, SV,...) for more exposure, it deserves to be noticed and read by everyone
YOU. Are Awesome!
Just read this story in one sitting, and all I wish is for you to write faster.
Maybe think about putting it in NSFW and other platforms (SB, SV,...) for more exposure, it deserves to be noticed and read by everyone
Chapter 15
New
Boroda Orka
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"Good mowning, Daddy!"
"Good morning, Karray. And I'm Mentor!"
"Daddy!"
"Mentor!"
"Daddy!"
"Mentor!!!"
"Da-ddy!!!"
The little red-haired disaster climbed into my lap and hugged me, grinning from ear to ear and showing everyone around that she was missing two upper front teeth and one lower one. Uuu... Forbidden move! Cheating!!! But the little menace didn't give a damn about the rules!
"Master," my droid spoke up from beside me. "You have been trying for a year to teach this child the proper form of address, with no success. With all due respect, Master, your mentoring skills appear insufficient."
"Yes, Emthree, I think you're right." I gently stroked the girl's back. These little arguments had long since become nothing more than a game. The girl was drawn to me. At first, that surprised me quite a bit. Then I simply accepted it: mysterious and winding are the ways of a child's mind. "Let's eat."
"I can do it myself!" Karray cried cheerfully, settling more comfortably on my lap and grabbing a spoon.
I moved my own plate farther out of her reach. We had some delicious milk porridge for the child, and Luritta was just setting it down in front of her. Smiling softly, the girl took my spoon from the little fidget's hand and gave her her own utensil insteadâa smaller one.
My apprentices watched the whole thing with almost no interest; they saw scenes like this regularly, a couple of times a week. Only Karina smiled as she watched her sister, occasionally turning a languid, cow-eyed village-girl gaze on me. That look filled me with annoyance and a certain amount of unease. The reason for it was obvious enough. What to do about it was another question entirely.
I have no idea what thought processes were going on inside that cute red head of hers, but the silly little idiot had developed a crush on me. And I'd been one hundred percent sure nothing like that would happen: my affectionate smile could make orcs turn pale, so surely it ought to scare off underage girls. But... here we are. Maybe it was because Karray was so attached to me, maybe it was the teacher effect, or maybe she was just a little pervert with a thing for men who looked like serial killers?
A real predicament, basically. During lectures, this lovestruck fool listened attentively for maybe the first ten minutes; then her gaze would turn hazy, and she'd start looking at me with that idiotic, dreamy expression on her face. It would probably pass with timeâfirst crushes were perfectly normal. But at the moment, an otherwise very bright girl was taking a serious hit to her effectiveness.
Romance, in general, had turned into a real "pandemic" in our household. The boys were courting the other two girls, Sergiy had started dating Luritta, the physical-training instructor was even marrying one of the kids' teachers, and Roger, Alto's adjutant, was making a determined play for Maria... And that was where I was genuinely worried.
If I frankly didn't give a damn about everyone else's love lives, our cook was a different matter... Her peace of mind ranked second only to my own. Though, come to think of it, maybe even first! So one evening, when that dandy was here, I intercepted him for a serious talk.
"Listen closely, Roger." I caught him by the shoulder in one of the corridors. "I've noticed you've started dangling your little bells around our Maria. So here's a warning, lad: if, Goddess forbid, you upset our darling cook, I'll make your life very entertaining, you little shit, and even Alto won't be able to help you. The moment I find out you've hurt herâand I will find out, don't doubt thatâyou can say goodbye to your equipment. And don't get me wrong, I won't lay a finger on you. It's just that one not-so-fine day, a sausage will fall out of one trouser leg and your balls out of the other. Have I made the prospects sufficiently clear?"
For several seconds, the stunned Roger just stared into my eyes, then started nodding frantically.
"Good. That's a good lad." I clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, which made the general's adjutant go pale and swallow hard. "Off you go, then. And remember: Maria should be the happiest girl on Jabiim whenever you're around her."
Youth, I thought, watching with satisfaction as the lad walked away with a slightly twitchy gait. All that lovey-dovey stuff was secondary, but if the quality of my meals dropped, I might actually start killing people. Romantic troubles were like that: everything slipped from your hands, you thought about your wounded little heart instead of the job... and next thing you knew, the meat on the table was dried out, oversalted, and generally just over-un-delicious. So the lad needed to understand just how important his relationship was to his equipment... in every sense of the word.
My reminiscing about terrorizing the younger generation was interrupted by Cordelia's arrival. Now there was someone romance gave a very wide berth. The girl was so formidable that, for all her beauty, the men around her weren't thinking about her assâthey were thinking about how to get as far away from her difficult personality as quickly as possible.
"Hey, everyone! Luritta, does Maria have anything else to snack on back there? And a mug of caf, please." The girl dropped wearily into one of the empty chairs as our housekeeper left the room. "Crazy night. I only managed to doze off for a couple of hours."
"You really shouldn't do that," I said with a faint smile, while my apprentices murmured their greetings. "Organics require seven to nine hours of sleep for normal functioning."
"Tch, sorcerer, don't you start getting on my nerves too, all right? For Hecate's sake!"
"But Master is absolutely right, ma'am. According to my..."
"Emthree, you shut up too, you bore." The girl was clearly irritated, and at my questioning look she explained why. "There was a break in the clouds last night. A shipment from Coruscant arrived for us. Medicines, medical equipment, humanitarian aid. I was... very surprised. Those corrupt assholes in the Senate finally decided to help us! Only took them a hundred fucking years. Though maybe it's because of the new Chancellor. The accompanying documents say he's taken personal charge of the epidemic situation."
"Is the shipment at least useful?"
"You bet! There's ten times more bacta alone than all the reserves on our entire planet put together! And the equipment is all brand-new, straight from the factories. We can easily modernize a couple of hospitals now." The girl was already practically glowing with genuine happiness, with no trace of her earlier irritation left. She really did love Jabiim and cared about it every bit as much as her cousin did. "And then there's the standard humanitarian stuff. Tents, clothing, military rations, salt, heaters... We'll find a use for all of it. The rations are definitely going into the emergency stockpilesâtheir shelf life is long, and every batch was produced literally a month ago. We haven't found a single substandard item so far. Maybe the new Chancellor really does have them all by the balls over there. Usually those crooks love palming off defective goods and obsolete junk."
And just like that, abandoning all the important businessâshe was pretty thoroughly exhausted, after allâshe switched her attention to the little girl sitting on my lap.
"How's my little Kavvy? Did you miss Auntie Kovdelia?"
"I'm not Kavvy!" the girl declared belligerently, waving her spoon and nearly poking me in the eye. "I'm Kavvay! Did you bwing me candy?"
"Right," I cut into the conversation, putting some sternness into my voice, because Cordelia was already reaching into her blouse with an indulgent smile. "No sweets while there's still porridge on your plate! Eat up!"
"Daddy's a tywant," the little girl drawled sadly, scooping up another spoonful of porridge with a doomed expression.
"I'm not a tyrant, I'm his henchman," I laughed, and Cordelia snorted right after me. Well, what? A general who seizes power is a tyrant any way you look at it. And since I'm part of his gang, that makes me a bona fide henchman.
"Listen, sorcerer," the head of Nimbus Security said once we'd finished eating and the children had already left the dining room. "You told us how old you are, right? So why are you so... spry? Your appearance, fineâmagic and all thatâbut you don't act like an old geezer, you know?"
"Heh." That really was an amusing question. For me. "Because I want to live." Seeing the lack of understanding in her eyes, I decided to elaborate. "Humans are short-lived sentient animals. Relatively short-lived, of course, but our lifespan is limited by nature: a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty years, and that's it. And our brains are wired for exactly that span of time. If you ever spend time with a truly long-lived species, you'll notice that they're incredibly unhurried. Deliberate. Rarely in any hurry to get anywhere. Even the way they talk makes them sound slow: smoothly, with pauses, taking their time to choose the right words. To them, it's perfectly normal to say something like, 'See you soon. I'll be passing through your city again in about fifty years.' They're in no hurry to live the way we are. Hell, the elves back in my world often keep trees as pets!!! Partly because trees can actually live a very long time!"
While Luritta cleared away the dishes, I smiled at her, gestured for another mug of caf, and returned to the conversation.
"I really am old by human standards, but I'm young in spirit, understand? There are still things in life that interest me. Believe me, not everyone is that lucky. But if the drive to keep living ever runs out... Imagine that every goal has been achieved, every dream fulfilled. What's left to live for? That's it. The end. There's simply no point in extending your life again: you're tired, you're sick of everything. For a while you still flounder around, trying to find a new purpose, taking up whatever happens to come your way. Sometimes you even get genuinely interested in something for a while. But with every iteration, that interest becomes more and more hollow, until one day you simply realize it's time to stop, because the 'spark has gone out' and the 'grain of sand is gone.'"
I smiled bitterly, remembering dozens of people I'd known who had stopped living. Some to a knife or a spell, and some exactly the way I had just described.
"That's why it's so important for us to stay... passionate about things! That's why I'm not dropping everything right now to bury myself in research, but helping solve Jabiim's problems instead. The longer I can't devote myself fully to what I love, the more I'll... miss it, understand? The real problem with immortality isn't overcoming the inevitable death from old age, as those who have only just begun living tend to thinkâit's overcoming boredom. The only ones who truly live for a very long time are those who are genuinely consumed by something. Researchers, scientists, inventors, politicians, warriors, killers, madmen and maniacsâall those so deeply immersed in what they love that they're simply too busy to bother dying. Whether it's power, magic, war, or science doesn't matter. There's too much to do to get distracted by something as stupid as death."
"I think I understand," the girl said thoughtfully, giving me a look that was rather difficult to read. In return, I gave her a mocking smile.
"Sorry, Cordelia, but I seriously doubt that."
"No, I really did understand. I didn't feel it, of course, but I understood what you meant."
The girl headed toward the stairs leading to the bedroomsâshe had probably decided to get some sleep at our placeâwhile I remained slightly puzzled. She had been oddly serious when she left my company. Maybe she really had understood?
The "epidemic" on Jabiim ended a month later, and two weeks after that, the Stratuses' plan was put into action. People who shared Alto and Cordelia's values were installed in key positions. True Jabiimites, as the general called them. The investigative machine quickly spun into motion. The reputations of families that only recently had been second only to God on the planet were rapidly sinking to the bottom of the mire.
As Alto put it, both in public and in private, "They were lucky to die before all this came to light." Of course, there were those who suspected something was off. Anyone with enough standing in society was simply given access to the investigation materialsâthe findings were going to be made public anyway. In ninety percent of cases, that worked better than any blackmail or coercion. Especially when the doubters were shown some of the more memorable "sights."
For example, private prisons for sex slaves, home videos featuring them, or the swamp burial ground where some kidnapping victims had found their final resting place. And the footage of specialists recovering the girls' remains left few people unmoved. As for the financial crimes, there was no point even talking about themâthe sheer amount of that filth that surfaced was unbelievable. None of this, of course, erased the questions surrounding such a conveniently timed epidemic, but it did dull the urge to dig too hard for answers.
In three months, elections were to be held for the planet's leaderâthe new head of Jabiim's government. The Stratuses weren't even considering playing dirty: it was already obvious who would win. Especially after the general laid the aristocracy's filth out for everyone to see. Everyone who had survived from the rich men's factionâeven those who were spotless before the lawâhad become politically dead. The Jabiimites simply would not forgive them for having any friendly ties to thieves, murderers, rapists, and slavers.
Meanwhile, the provisional government was running itself ragged, picking up the abandoned reins of power, restoring the chain of command, and studying every possible course of action. Things worked out nicely with the rich men's accounts, by the way. Necromancy works wonders, yes. The Shadow of Life provided all the information we needed; fortunately, I had pieces of the deceased on hand, so there were no problems with getting things done quickly. Which meant Jabiim's rather lean budget would soon be receiving some very welcome infusions of very, very large sums.
Meanwhile, I was choosing buildings or plots of land for the future libraries. They wouldn't be built right away, of course. I'd told Alto myself there was no need to bleed the budget dry. Whenever he could manage it was fineâI wasn't in any hurry, and Hecate perceived time differently anyway. A year or a hundred years made little difference to her. But I was picking the best locations I could. Places with enough room for a park around them. My idea was to cover the library building and a small area around it with a rainproof dome, while artifacts inside would provide sunlight. Why the hell not? We'd disguise them as a weak force field and lamps.
We could plant trees from other planets, beautiful flowersâspecies that needed lots of sunlight and simply didn't grow here. But reading real paper books while sitting on a bench beneath a tree... now that would be magnificent! We'd put up stalls selling caf and ice cream! Though there'd be no need to put them up ourselves. We'd just set aside a few small spots suitable for vendors, and they'd come on their own. People would be drawn in. Even Cordelia approved of the ideaânot just a library, but a genuine place for cultural recreation. Jabiim didn't have many places like that.
When I told her about the idea while we were sitting in the house library, she listened very carefully. She even set aside one of the adventure books from my world that she'd been reading during her rare breaks. And the next day, she pressed a chip with five thousand credits into my hand. I was surprised, and she just muttered, "My contribution to your project. Consider it a donation."
"Cordelia, there's no need for this. Hecate doesn't requiâ"
"Just take my money, sorcerer." The girl shot me an angry look, shoved the chip into my hand, and strode decisively toward the door. Right at the threshold, she stopped, stood there for a couple of seconds, then clicked her tongue in irritation and turned back toward me.
"I just like your idea! I want to be part of it, understand? People call our world a mudball, but if they start calling it 'the mudball where people love books,' I'll like that a whole lot better."
The slam of the door put an end to our conversation and left me listening to her retreating footsteps. I have no idea how she managed it, but somehow even her footsteps sounded irritated. I looked down at the chip. A fairly large sum by galactic standards, and certainly by the standards of this world. I knew the girl didn't make a habit of using her position and connections for personal gain, so this was a rather... substantial contribution.
Coruscant. Jedi Temple.
"Master, you've seemed rather thoughtful these past few days. More than usual."
"Something has happened. Significant changes in the Force, I feel. Even through the shadow of the dark side. But no details do I have. Troubling, this is."
"Sith?"
"Perhaps. Know, I do not. Darkness I do not feel, but neither light. That the future has changed, I know. Another path, the hearts of many have chosen, and their first steps upon it they have taken. A road, yes. Like a bridge over an abyss, the paths of many it changes. Finished only recently, it wasâI felt the final stone laid. Understand me, do you, Master Windu, hmm?"
"Vaguely," the man nodded gravely.
"Lucky you. Understood nothing myself, I did. Depressing, that is."
The dark-skinned Jedi glanced sideways at the small but mighty Jedi walking beside him. A faint, slightly mocking smile played across the Grand Master's face. And people call Drallig a troll, Mace thought. They just haven't spent enough time talking to Yoda.
Author's note:
We now have a composite sketch of the underwear thief, undead-devourer, ladies' favorite, and all-around killer hamsterâQuartermaster! Let's thank Mr.Dog for the generosity with which he shares his talent with us!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
"Good morning, Karray. And I'm Mentor!"
"Daddy!"
"Mentor!"
"Daddy!"
"Mentor!!!"
"Da-ddy!!!"
The little red-haired disaster climbed into my lap and hugged me, grinning from ear to ear and showing everyone around that she was missing two upper front teeth and one lower one. Uuu... Forbidden move! Cheating!!! But the little menace didn't give a damn about the rules!
"Master," my droid spoke up from beside me. "You have been trying for a year to teach this child the proper form of address, with no success. With all due respect, Master, your mentoring skills appear insufficient."
"Yes, Emthree, I think you're right." I gently stroked the girl's back. These little arguments had long since become nothing more than a game. The girl was drawn to me. At first, that surprised me quite a bit. Then I simply accepted it: mysterious and winding are the ways of a child's mind. "Let's eat."
"I can do it myself!" Karray cried cheerfully, settling more comfortably on my lap and grabbing a spoon.
I moved my own plate farther out of her reach. We had some delicious milk porridge for the child, and Luritta was just setting it down in front of her. Smiling softly, the girl took my spoon from the little fidget's hand and gave her her own utensil insteadâa smaller one.
My apprentices watched the whole thing with almost no interest; they saw scenes like this regularly, a couple of times a week. Only Karina smiled as she watched her sister, occasionally turning a languid, cow-eyed village-girl gaze on me. That look filled me with annoyance and a certain amount of unease. The reason for it was obvious enough. What to do about it was another question entirely.
I have no idea what thought processes were going on inside that cute red head of hers, but the silly little idiot had developed a crush on me. And I'd been one hundred percent sure nothing like that would happen: my affectionate smile could make orcs turn pale, so surely it ought to scare off underage girls. But... here we are. Maybe it was because Karray was so attached to me, maybe it was the teacher effect, or maybe she was just a little pervert with a thing for men who looked like serial killers?
A real predicament, basically. During lectures, this lovestruck fool listened attentively for maybe the first ten minutes; then her gaze would turn hazy, and she'd start looking at me with that idiotic, dreamy expression on her face. It would probably pass with timeâfirst crushes were perfectly normal. But at the moment, an otherwise very bright girl was taking a serious hit to her effectiveness.
Romance, in general, had turned into a real "pandemic" in our household. The boys were courting the other two girls, Sergiy had started dating Luritta, the physical-training instructor was even marrying one of the kids' teachers, and Roger, Alto's adjutant, was making a determined play for Maria... And that was where I was genuinely worried.
If I frankly didn't give a damn about everyone else's love lives, our cook was a different matter... Her peace of mind ranked second only to my own. Though, come to think of it, maybe even first! So one evening, when that dandy was here, I intercepted him for a serious talk.
"Listen closely, Roger." I caught him by the shoulder in one of the corridors. "I've noticed you've started dangling your little bells around our Maria. So here's a warning, lad: if, Goddess forbid, you upset our darling cook, I'll make your life very entertaining, you little shit, and even Alto won't be able to help you. The moment I find out you've hurt herâand I will find out, don't doubt thatâyou can say goodbye to your equipment. And don't get me wrong, I won't lay a finger on you. It's just that one not-so-fine day, a sausage will fall out of one trouser leg and your balls out of the other. Have I made the prospects sufficiently clear?"
For several seconds, the stunned Roger just stared into my eyes, then started nodding frantically.
"Good. That's a good lad." I clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, which made the general's adjutant go pale and swallow hard. "Off you go, then. And remember: Maria should be the happiest girl on Jabiim whenever you're around her."
Youth, I thought, watching with satisfaction as the lad walked away with a slightly twitchy gait. All that lovey-dovey stuff was secondary, but if the quality of my meals dropped, I might actually start killing people. Romantic troubles were like that: everything slipped from your hands, you thought about your wounded little heart instead of the job... and next thing you knew, the meat on the table was dried out, oversalted, and generally just over-un-delicious. So the lad needed to understand just how important his relationship was to his equipment... in every sense of the word.
My reminiscing about terrorizing the younger generation was interrupted by Cordelia's arrival. Now there was someone romance gave a very wide berth. The girl was so formidable that, for all her beauty, the men around her weren't thinking about her assâthey were thinking about how to get as far away from her difficult personality as quickly as possible.
"Hey, everyone! Luritta, does Maria have anything else to snack on back there? And a mug of caf, please." The girl dropped wearily into one of the empty chairs as our housekeeper left the room. "Crazy night. I only managed to doze off for a couple of hours."
"You really shouldn't do that," I said with a faint smile, while my apprentices murmured their greetings. "Organics require seven to nine hours of sleep for normal functioning."
"Tch, sorcerer, don't you start getting on my nerves too, all right? For Hecate's sake!"
"But Master is absolutely right, ma'am. According to my..."
"Emthree, you shut up too, you bore." The girl was clearly irritated, and at my questioning look she explained why. "There was a break in the clouds last night. A shipment from Coruscant arrived for us. Medicines, medical equipment, humanitarian aid. I was... very surprised. Those corrupt assholes in the Senate finally decided to help us! Only took them a hundred fucking years. Though maybe it's because of the new Chancellor. The accompanying documents say he's taken personal charge of the epidemic situation."
"Is the shipment at least useful?"
"You bet! There's ten times more bacta alone than all the reserves on our entire planet put together! And the equipment is all brand-new, straight from the factories. We can easily modernize a couple of hospitals now." The girl was already practically glowing with genuine happiness, with no trace of her earlier irritation left. She really did love Jabiim and cared about it every bit as much as her cousin did. "And then there's the standard humanitarian stuff. Tents, clothing, military rations, salt, heaters... We'll find a use for all of it. The rations are definitely going into the emergency stockpilesâtheir shelf life is long, and every batch was produced literally a month ago. We haven't found a single substandard item so far. Maybe the new Chancellor really does have them all by the balls over there. Usually those crooks love palming off defective goods and obsolete junk."
And just like that, abandoning all the important businessâshe was pretty thoroughly exhausted, after allâshe switched her attention to the little girl sitting on my lap.
"How's my little Kavvy? Did you miss Auntie Kovdelia?"
"I'm not Kavvy!" the girl declared belligerently, waving her spoon and nearly poking me in the eye. "I'm Kavvay! Did you bwing me candy?"
"Right," I cut into the conversation, putting some sternness into my voice, because Cordelia was already reaching into her blouse with an indulgent smile. "No sweets while there's still porridge on your plate! Eat up!"
"Daddy's a tywant," the little girl drawled sadly, scooping up another spoonful of porridge with a doomed expression.
"I'm not a tyrant, I'm his henchman," I laughed, and Cordelia snorted right after me. Well, what? A general who seizes power is a tyrant any way you look at it. And since I'm part of his gang, that makes me a bona fide henchman.
"Listen, sorcerer," the head of Nimbus Security said once we'd finished eating and the children had already left the dining room. "You told us how old you are, right? So why are you so... spry? Your appearance, fineâmagic and all thatâbut you don't act like an old geezer, you know?"
"Heh." That really was an amusing question. For me. "Because I want to live." Seeing the lack of understanding in her eyes, I decided to elaborate. "Humans are short-lived sentient animals. Relatively short-lived, of course, but our lifespan is limited by nature: a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty years, and that's it. And our brains are wired for exactly that span of time. If you ever spend time with a truly long-lived species, you'll notice that they're incredibly unhurried. Deliberate. Rarely in any hurry to get anywhere. Even the way they talk makes them sound slow: smoothly, with pauses, taking their time to choose the right words. To them, it's perfectly normal to say something like, 'See you soon. I'll be passing through your city again in about fifty years.' They're in no hurry to live the way we are. Hell, the elves back in my world often keep trees as pets!!! Partly because trees can actually live a very long time!"
While Luritta cleared away the dishes, I smiled at her, gestured for another mug of caf, and returned to the conversation.
"I really am old by human standards, but I'm young in spirit, understand? There are still things in life that interest me. Believe me, not everyone is that lucky. But if the drive to keep living ever runs out... Imagine that every goal has been achieved, every dream fulfilled. What's left to live for? That's it. The end. There's simply no point in extending your life again: you're tired, you're sick of everything. For a while you still flounder around, trying to find a new purpose, taking up whatever happens to come your way. Sometimes you even get genuinely interested in something for a while. But with every iteration, that interest becomes more and more hollow, until one day you simply realize it's time to stop, because the 'spark has gone out' and the 'grain of sand is gone.'"
I smiled bitterly, remembering dozens of people I'd known who had stopped living. Some to a knife or a spell, and some exactly the way I had just described.
"That's why it's so important for us to stay... passionate about things! That's why I'm not dropping everything right now to bury myself in research, but helping solve Jabiim's problems instead. The longer I can't devote myself fully to what I love, the more I'll... miss it, understand? The real problem with immortality isn't overcoming the inevitable death from old age, as those who have only just begun living tend to thinkâit's overcoming boredom. The only ones who truly live for a very long time are those who are genuinely consumed by something. Researchers, scientists, inventors, politicians, warriors, killers, madmen and maniacsâall those so deeply immersed in what they love that they're simply too busy to bother dying. Whether it's power, magic, war, or science doesn't matter. There's too much to do to get distracted by something as stupid as death."
"I think I understand," the girl said thoughtfully, giving me a look that was rather difficult to read. In return, I gave her a mocking smile.
"Sorry, Cordelia, but I seriously doubt that."
"No, I really did understand. I didn't feel it, of course, but I understood what you meant."
The girl headed toward the stairs leading to the bedroomsâshe had probably decided to get some sleep at our placeâwhile I remained slightly puzzled. She had been oddly serious when she left my company. Maybe she really had understood?
The "epidemic" on Jabiim ended a month later, and two weeks after that, the Stratuses' plan was put into action. People who shared Alto and Cordelia's values were installed in key positions. True Jabiimites, as the general called them. The investigative machine quickly spun into motion. The reputations of families that only recently had been second only to God on the planet were rapidly sinking to the bottom of the mire.
As Alto put it, both in public and in private, "They were lucky to die before all this came to light." Of course, there were those who suspected something was off. Anyone with enough standing in society was simply given access to the investigation materialsâthe findings were going to be made public anyway. In ninety percent of cases, that worked better than any blackmail or coercion. Especially when the doubters were shown some of the more memorable "sights."
For example, private prisons for sex slaves, home videos featuring them, or the swamp burial ground where some kidnapping victims had found their final resting place. And the footage of specialists recovering the girls' remains left few people unmoved. As for the financial crimes, there was no point even talking about themâthe sheer amount of that filth that surfaced was unbelievable. None of this, of course, erased the questions surrounding such a conveniently timed epidemic, but it did dull the urge to dig too hard for answers.
In three months, elections were to be held for the planet's leaderâthe new head of Jabiim's government. The Stratuses weren't even considering playing dirty: it was already obvious who would win. Especially after the general laid the aristocracy's filth out for everyone to see. Everyone who had survived from the rich men's factionâeven those who were spotless before the lawâhad become politically dead. The Jabiimites simply would not forgive them for having any friendly ties to thieves, murderers, rapists, and slavers.
Meanwhile, the provisional government was running itself ragged, picking up the abandoned reins of power, restoring the chain of command, and studying every possible course of action. Things worked out nicely with the rich men's accounts, by the way. Necromancy works wonders, yes. The Shadow of Life provided all the information we needed; fortunately, I had pieces of the deceased on hand, so there were no problems with getting things done quickly. Which meant Jabiim's rather lean budget would soon be receiving some very welcome infusions of very, very large sums.
Meanwhile, I was choosing buildings or plots of land for the future libraries. They wouldn't be built right away, of course. I'd told Alto myself there was no need to bleed the budget dry. Whenever he could manage it was fineâI wasn't in any hurry, and Hecate perceived time differently anyway. A year or a hundred years made little difference to her. But I was picking the best locations I could. Places with enough room for a park around them. My idea was to cover the library building and a small area around it with a rainproof dome, while artifacts inside would provide sunlight. Why the hell not? We'd disguise them as a weak force field and lamps.
We could plant trees from other planets, beautiful flowersâspecies that needed lots of sunlight and simply didn't grow here. But reading real paper books while sitting on a bench beneath a tree... now that would be magnificent! We'd put up stalls selling caf and ice cream! Though there'd be no need to put them up ourselves. We'd just set aside a few small spots suitable for vendors, and they'd come on their own. People would be drawn in. Even Cordelia approved of the ideaânot just a library, but a genuine place for cultural recreation. Jabiim didn't have many places like that.
When I told her about the idea while we were sitting in the house library, she listened very carefully. She even set aside one of the adventure books from my world that she'd been reading during her rare breaks. And the next day, she pressed a chip with five thousand credits into my hand. I was surprised, and she just muttered, "My contribution to your project. Consider it a donation."
"Cordelia, there's no need for this. Hecate doesn't requiâ"
"Just take my money, sorcerer." The girl shot me an angry look, shoved the chip into my hand, and strode decisively toward the door. Right at the threshold, she stopped, stood there for a couple of seconds, then clicked her tongue in irritation and turned back toward me.
"I just like your idea! I want to be part of it, understand? People call our world a mudball, but if they start calling it 'the mudball where people love books,' I'll like that a whole lot better."
The slam of the door put an end to our conversation and left me listening to her retreating footsteps. I have no idea how she managed it, but somehow even her footsteps sounded irritated. I looked down at the chip. A fairly large sum by galactic standards, and certainly by the standards of this world. I knew the girl didn't make a habit of using her position and connections for personal gain, so this was a rather... substantial contribution.
Coruscant. Jedi Temple.
"Master, you've seemed rather thoughtful these past few days. More than usual."
"Something has happened. Significant changes in the Force, I feel. Even through the shadow of the dark side. But no details do I have. Troubling, this is."
"Sith?"
"Perhaps. Know, I do not. Darkness I do not feel, but neither light. That the future has changed, I know. Another path, the hearts of many have chosen, and their first steps upon it they have taken. A road, yes. Like a bridge over an abyss, the paths of many it changes. Finished only recently, it wasâI felt the final stone laid. Understand me, do you, Master Windu, hmm?"
"Vaguely," the man nodded gravely.
"Lucky you. Understood nothing myself, I did. Depressing, that is."
The dark-skinned Jedi glanced sideways at the small but mighty Jedi walking beside him. A faint, slightly mocking smile played across the Grand Master's face. And people call Drallig a troll, Mace thought. They just haven't spent enough time talking to Yoda.
Author's note:
We now have a composite sketch of the underwear thief, undead-devourer, ladies' favorite, and all-around killer hamsterâQuartermaster! Let's thank Mr.Dog for the generosity with which he shares his talent with us!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
Vyraco
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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I think artists could be included here, as long as there is inspiration, there is always the next project.
Heavenly Mark
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Nice new star wars fic
Chapter 16
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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"Are you sure, Siith?" It was strange to see uncertainty in Cordelia's eyes. Even her voice sounded somehow hesitant and lost.
"It'll be fine! We fly out, we fly back. A two- or three-month adventure, tops. Don't worryâI'll have Emthree with me, the mercenaries, and... uh... what was the pilot's name again?"
"Ras. His name is Ras," the girl sighed, rolling her eyes. Then she cast a doubtful glance at my personal Lambda-class shuttle, the one I was planning to take on my little trip. "Maybe you should stay after all? What do you need those Twi'leks for?"
"Well, we don't have many of them. Only six on the whole planet, and those are captured bandits. Not enough data, like I already told you."
"Why do I get the feeling you just wanted an adventure for your old, wrinkled ass?"
"My ass is perfectly fine! Smooth and soft as a baby's!" Damn perceptive Cordelia. I really did want to travel. No, seriously! There were a fuckton of worlds out there, and I'd already spent three years getting soaked in the rain.
A lot had been accomplished in that time. Every city now had its own weather-control artifact. There were only two spaceports, so the other three cities were equipped purely for defense: if pirate ships appeared in the opening in the clouds, it would simply be closed.
We kept the quarantine in place for another two years, "because the pathogen responsible for Jabiim Fever had still not been identified." At the spaceports, all interaction with outsiders was handled exclusively through droids. Facility maintenance took place only after every transport carrying offworlders had departed, so the workers could go about their business in peace.
The Nimbus was now fully equipped with "Jabiim-made military transport airspeeders," which had been "designed specifically for the harsh weather conditions of their homeworld." What was more, two of my apprentices, who were already marriedâone of the military-minded boys and the mercenary-minded blondeâhad started a company producing "civilian models." They could also repair or enchant new Nimbus transports whenever necessary. Taria, the blonde, had very quickly shifted the lad's priorities from "I want to fight for Jabiim" to working for the good of the population. Work that paid well and didn't require risking his life. Clever girl. The two of them ended their formal training there, having decided to carve out a niche for themselves.
I don't judge them in the slightestâto each their own. Besides, the young couple hadn't cut ties with us; they often came by for advice and made regular use of my library for mages. So they were still improving their skills anyway. Specialized spellcasters were a perfectly normal thing as far as I was concerned. As a result, two- and five-seat airspeeders had already appeared. They were quite affordable for a Jabiimite with an above-average income. Their speed and maximum altitude were significantly lower, but their endurance had increased severalfold, and the reservoirsânow freely available for purchaseâonly needed to be swapped out about once a week.
The military-minded couple, on the other hand, were now with the Nimbus, heavily involved in producing amulets and charms. And they truly basked in the respect of their comrades. At first, the two of them felt self-conscious about not charging into battle with blasters at the ready, but after a few months they changed their minds. The special-forces troops turned out to be grateful men and women, and my apprentices weren't idiots. So in time, they came to terms with the fact that they weren't winning battles on the front linesâthey were saving lives through their hard work. Soldiers who had narrowly escaped death thanks to their amulets and charms made sure of that, never stinting on words of gratitude.
Karina and Karray were now my personal apprentices. The former had taken the new group of five prospective mages under her wing while I was away. She had stopped losing her head and staring at me with the eyes of a lovestruck cow. Not completely, but still. I did catch her giving me long, intent looks and shooting jealous glances at Cordelia, Maria, and even Luritta, but at least she no longer lost all reason. Quite the oppositeâKarina had proven so good at teaching that I'd begun training her as a generalist.
As for the little "Kavvy," she'd beaten me. I no longer resisted being called Daddy. I didn't call her my daughter, admittedly, but I'd grown deeply attached to the little one. Curious and restless, the nine-year-old sorceress was almost always at my side. Incidentally, getting out of taking her along on the planned trip had cost me a fair amount of nervesâand a promise to bring back something interesting. Little extortionist.
Cordelia came by just as often. Despite her constant flashes of anger, suspicion, or irritation toward me, she was soft and indulgent with the child. And in general, she was very sincere whenever the matter didn't involve some Nimbus secret or her cousin. No, there was no "romantic spark" between us or anything like that. Just mutual respect. The girl appreciated the three years I'd spent working for the good of her homeworld, as well as the fairly modest rates I charged for my work. Well, why not? I had virtually no expenses: Jabiim supplied all the materials, I didn't pay a single credit for the premises, and I had no staff on payroll. So for one person, the profit was very substantial. Substantial enough that, after consulting with the Stratuses, I ordered myself a shuttle, named it the "Great Turtle," hired a pilot, set aside money to hire several bodyguards, and still had funds left over. But to be honest, the price was a nasty surprise. That same Gozanti cost a hundred and fifty thousand brand-new, while this shuttle in an eight-seat configuration cost almost twice as much! They explained to me that its "guts" were high-quality and all that, but for now I still had trouble wrapping my head around it. Once I'd flown around in space for a while, I'd figure out all the finer points.
By the way, our former industrial complex, where we held our lessons, was gradually being rebuilt into the Jabiim School of Magic. The residential building they had originally planned, then abandoned after a while, would instead become a five-story dormitory. The first three floors would be for students, the fourth for teachers, and the fifth for the administration. Some of the former production halls would be converted into classrooms, while others would become rooms for practical training. It was very much a plan for the future, but both Alto and Cordelia had genuinely embraced it. They had seen the benefits mages brought to Jabiim and were making plans to integrate spellcasters into society. And me... well, I supported it. Why wouldn't I? It fit perfectly with my own plans, and besides, I liked the Stratuses and Jabiim.
I'd decided to go to Ryloth, the Twi'lek homeworld, because of a recent encounter with the Jedi. More precisely, it was the species of one of them that had given me the idea. Two Jedi had attended the opening of our first library in the capital six months ago. A master and an apprentice. The quarantine had already been lifted by then, so Alto sent me a message saying that two sentients in distinctive robes, with lightsabers hanging from their belts, were wandering around Choal and asking all sorts of questions.
I reached the capital just after they had visited the "airspeeder workshop." My former apprentices only shrugged when I asked about the Jedi. Yes, they'd stopped by, looked at the prices. Asked what principles the machines worked on, and were politely referred to the general or their teacher. For some reason, they kept waving their hands around in front of them in a funny way while asking about me. Overall, the sorcerers behaved civilly: "No one punches you in the face just for asking," as Rung once wrote.
For two days, those two disappeared into the capital, turning up here and there from time to time, talking to people. There were reports that they had met with representatives of the general's "opposition." Though in practice, that amounted to little more than a handful of disgruntled political corpses who still hadn't given up on making a fuss about their rights. A mixed bag of the stupidest or most stubborn. Alto kept an eye on them, but without going overboard: those particular sentients hadn't been implicated in any serious crimes, and disagreeing with Stratus's policies wasn't forbidden here.
We first met in person at the grand opening ceremony. The property of several former rich men had been confiscated, their mansions demolished, and in their place a ten-story cylindrical building had been erected. From the outside, the facade was completely covered in opaque, durable glass, and there were entrances on all four sides. Above each entrance was the symbol of the Mistress of Magic.
Each floor was a single circular space, with elevators in the center. Administration desks, reading tables, and an enormous number of bookshelves filled the rest. The tenth floor was reserved for the administration, while the basement housed a small print shop with an entirely magical production process.
Around the building lay a small but beautiful park with walkways, benches, and neat little fountains. The entire library grounds, park included, covered an area six hundred meters in diameter. An umbrella-dome stretched over it, and dozens of small suns hung from its inner surface, creating the impression of a bright, sunny day beneath it. At night, the suns went dark, and the inside of the dome was decorated with crescent moonsâyoung and old. Above the building itself, Hecate's symbol lit up. That was where we met the Jedi, during Alto's opening ceremony.
Two cloaked figures, their hoods thrown back, stood behind the crowd of locals and watched the planet's leader, Alto Stratus, give his speech.
The Council had sent Jedi Master Tholme and his Padawan, Aayla Secura, to the planet Jabiim. Not exactly one of the more important places in the galaxy. To be perfectly honest, it was a backwater even by the standards of the sector. The weather conditions made travel to and from the world difficult, which left the planet lagging badly in development. In every sense.
The mission had been arranged at the Chancellor's request. Palpatine had taken personal charge of the epidemic that had recently broken out on Jabiim, and once the quarantine was lifted, he asked the Jedi Council to pay the world a little attention. To assess the situation.
Master Yoda agreed, and so Tholme and Aayla set off for that rainy, gloomy world with a parting instruction from the master of masters: look around, get some rest, and unwind. The man snorted.
Rest. The planet had barely any places for that. As for sights, there were only swamps and forests, and the one thing that set this world apart from countless others like it was the endless rainâand the absurdly overblown prejudices about the Jedi. People literally hid their children from them the moment the pair introduced themselves. In general, the defenders of democracy were treated with chilly politeness.
And the oddities began the moment they arrived. First, their ship was inspected in orbit. Nothing in the mission briefing had mentioned that a small fleet of two Bounty-class frigates and five CR-70 corvettes trained their guns on anyone approaching the planet. Upon landing, they had to register, receive permits for temporary stay on Jabiim outside the spaceport grounds, and listen to a warning about the recent Jabiim Fever epidemic. With a completely impassive expression, the customs officer advised them not to leave the spaceport if either Jedi used hard drugs or abused alcohol.
Tholme merely shook his head reproachfully at the officer and laid a calming hand on the shoulder of the Twi'lek girl, who had nearly choked on her indignation. The customs officer only shrugged indifferently and said that warning visitors about it was part of his job.
Then came the information gathering, conducted under an endless curtain of rain. There was a meeting with representatives of the planetary administration, who answered their questions politely enough, but they were not granted access to the leader of the Jabiimites, Commander-in-Chief Alto Stratus. "The GenâCommander has a great many matters demanding his attention, honored Jedi. His next available appointment is in three months. Would you like me to schedule you?" Attempts to press the point that they were representatives of the Jedi Council got them nowhere: "The Commander does not care who you are. If you wish to meet with him over something other than an emergency, then join the regular queue."
The leader of the opposition, on the other hand, received them immediately, and the conversation left them with a... mixed impression.
"Master, I think he's insane. Who would infect an entire planet?"
"It certainly looks that way, Aayla. His assumptions are far too incredibleâespecially with no evidence to support them," the Jedi said, shaking his head. "You studied the reports, didn't you? The epidemic and those deaths brought so much filth to light that I wouldn't be surprised if the collapse of all his hopes really did drive the man out of his mind. And besides, the situation here hardly looks like the military tyranny this sentient claims it is."
The deaths caused by the mysterious disease had indeed been remarkably convenient. But the forensic reports also supported the media's official version. Secura had been unpleasantly surprised by the sheer number of drug addicts among the planet's ruling elite. Tholme, however, had not.
"Cargo traffic here is too light, and the population isn't wealthy enough. Shipping very cheap narcotics to this world simply wouldn't be profitable, but truly expensive spice for the eliteâthat's another matter. So yes, Aayla, it's entirely plausible. Especially against the backdrop of how bleak life is on this planet."
And then they stumbled across something unusual. Or rather, noticed it. Airspeeders. There weren't many of them, but they cruised calmly through the atmosphereâan atmosphere practically guaranteed to wreck sensitive electronics. There was a reason wheeled vehicles were the most common form of transport on the planet. Repulsorcraft wore out and broke down at an insane rate.
Their questions eventually led them to a married couple of... mages. And to a conversation that yielded absolutely nothing.
"Ask the Commander."
"You should ask the Teacher."
"Maybe you'd like to buy an airspeeder? It would improve your mobility."
When Tholme tried to use a mind trick on the manâ"You will tell me about your Teacher"âhe got a sullen reply:
"No, I won't. Knowing him, he'll tan my ass with a switch again, and my ass isn't government property."
The Jedi left the workshop... bewildered. Neither master nor apprentice quite knew what to make of it.
And now they were at the opening of the new library in the capital. By Coruscant standards, the building wasn't impressive, but for Jabiim it was genuinely beautiful. And there was no constant rain, so both of them were actually enjoying the warmth beneath the rays of the little pseudo-suns hanging overhead. Not even the red-eyed man of indeterminate age standing to Aayla's right spoiled the experience. At first Tholme had taken him for a Jediâtheir clothing looked far too similarâbut there was no lightsaber at the man's belt. Only the sheath of a small knife or dagger.
"Look, Master! It's beautiful!" the Padawan said, spellbound. And she was right: with Stratus's final wordsâthat the library was dedicated to someone called Hecateâthe symbols above the library doors flared with silvery light, small fountains sprang to life, and the suns overhead blossomed into beautiful flowers of brilliant light.
"Yeah, turned out pretty well," the stranger standing beside them agreed with satisfaction. "Glad you like it, blue girl. Nice to know I didn't spend a week busting my ass enchanting all this for nothing. There'll be a rainbow over the fountains in a moment, too."
And sure enough, rainbows appeared over each of the small fountains. Tiny ones, but they made the whole place feel even more magical. The Jedi, however, were no longer looking at the beauty around them. Their attention was fixed on the man in robes that looked remarkably similar to their own.
"Ahem..." The Jedi cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. "I'm Jedi Master Tholme, and this is my Padawan, Aayla Secura. And you are...?"
"Siith is my name," his interlocutor said with an unpleasant smile, making both Jedi tense and rest their hands on the hilts of their lightsabers. "Once again: that's my name, not... an affiliation with some order. My parents named me that. I'm a sorcerer. At your service."
The man gave a slight nod and began studying them with curiosity through those rather off-putting eyes of his. He paid more attention to the Twi'lek girl, and when he noticed the hint of irritation on her face, he gave an amused snort.
"Sorry, blue girl. It's just that I've hardly ever seen any Twi'leks. We only have a handful here on Jabiim, and they're all men. I'm curious."
"My name is Aayla Secura," the girl muttered.
"Yes, yes." The man waved a hand airily. "Sorry, Padawan Secura."
"Strange name," Tholme drawled, still keeping one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.
"It translates from my native language as 'one who lives despite all odds.' Perfectly normal name. Back home, 'tholmes,' for example, are temporary builders' hutsâthe ones they live in while construction is underway." The Padawan let out a quiet chuckle at that, but after glancing at her master, she quickly put on a serious face. "I heard you were looking for me? The teacher of those two blockheads?"
"Did you really beat that guy with a switch?" the young Twi'lek asked.
"He went and complained about it, did he? Pfft, what an idiot... That blockhead nearly burned the house down! If he can't absorb my wisdom through his ears, then I'll deliver it through his ass."
"But that's..."
"If the door to the mind is closed, knock from behind," the red-eyed man said, clearly quoting someone, his frightening smile flashing. "Why don't we go have some caf? There's a vendor stall over there. Master Tholme, do stop boring holes into me with that suspicious stare. It's rude, after all. I don't think I've given you any reason for aggression yet, and planning to hack me apart with a glowing stick just because my name gives you unpleasant associations is a bit much."
Tholme stared at him for several seconds, then gave a restrained nod.
"Fair enough," he said gravely, and the group headed toward the stall selling caf.
"And they're not sticks. They're swords," Aayla Secura commented on the sorcerer's words.
"See the general over there? Now that's a sword hanging from his belt. Yours, sorry to say, is a glowing stick. I've seen them on the Holonet. Oh, could you turn that thing on? I'd be curious to see one in person."
"Another time," the Jedi Master said firmly. "Not in the middle of a crowd. It is a weapon, after all."
Tholme was bewildered yet again. Something strange was going on on this planet. With the red-eyed man in particular. He could feel no movement of the Force in him. None at all. It was as if the man weren't Force-sensitive in the slightestâand yet he had introduced himself as a sorcerer. Was he hiding himself in the Force? Possible... So despite his outward composure, the Jedi was rapidly going through possibilities. His first thought had been that they had stumbled across a Sith, but after considering it rationally, Tholme discarded the idea. Someone being hunted by the entire Order would hardly expose himself so blatantly. A member of some other group of Force-sensitives? Or perhaps simply a technician who called technology magic? Maybe even just a charlaâ
"Daddy!" A shout from nearby interrupted the Jedi's train of thought. Their red-eyed interlocutor turned toward the sound, where two figures were hurrying over to them: a girl about the same age as his Padawan, and a child who looked around ten. The sorcerer broke into that off-putting grin of his at the sight of them. His daughters?
"Girls! You decided to come see the opening too?"
"Yep!" the younger one replied happily, wrapping the man in a hug. The older girl only nodded, casting an embarrassed glance at the Jedi. "Uncle Alto is awesome! As always!"
"Couldn't have said it better, kiddo," he said, stroking the girl's back before ruffling her hair to an indignant, "Aw, come on!" "How are things, Karina? How are the apprentices?"
"Fine, Teacher," the older girl sighed, while the younger one fixed her hair and muttered something aggrieved under her breath.
"Sorrow in your words I hear, young spellcaster," the man laughed, making Tholme nearly cough as he stared at the red-eyed man in surprise. The latter planted his feet wide apart, raised his gaze to the sky, clenched a fist on one bent arm, and proclaimed with theatrical grandeur and a hint of malicious glee, "Know all the pain of being a Teacher! Feel for yourself the full abyss of despair and horror that I once felt! Look nightmare in the eyes and find the strength to endure! Overcome unimaginable sufferingâand make spellcasters out of these monsters!"
"Hey, Dad! We weren't monsters!" the girl protested, planting her fists on her hips. "Well, my sister and I definitely weren't!"
"Remember this, Karray. To a Teacher, apprentices are always two things at once: a gigantic pain in the ass when their training begins, and a gigantic pain in the ass after it ends."
A few seconds of silence passed before Aayla Secura was the first to break it.
"What's the difference?"
"After the training, you're proud of that pain in the ass too," the red-eyed man burst out laughing, giving Karina a light pat on the shoulder. "Don't take it personally, apprentice. You were almost always a good girl. Unlike this little fidget here."
"Daaad!!!"
"All right, enough joking around. Girls, I need to talk to... Oh, right! Introductions! These two are Jedi. Master Tholme and his Padawan, Aayla Secura. Honored Jedi, this is Karray and Karina Boonâsisters, and my apprentices."
"Wow! Real ones?" the younger girl asked, staring at them in awe, while the older sister gave the visitors an interested once-over. Aayla puffed herself up importantlyâfinally, a normal reaction instead of gloomy stares. Unfortunately, the girl's next words made her choke, while Master Tholme's eyes widened in surprise.
"Make sure you invite us to the autopsy, Dad!!!"
"Karray," the man frowned, while the Jedi took a couple of steps back. "You can't say things like that to sentients right away. You have to lay the groundwork first, and only then ask whether they'd agree to vivisection."
"Who would ever agree to something like that?" the Padawan exclaimed, drawing her saber but not activating it. "Are you people insane, suggesting something like that to sentients? Who would ever want to die?!"
"Padawan, calm down." Tholme placed a hand on her shoulder. "Siith, care to explain yourself?"
"Why kill anyone?" the girl cut in. "No one's ever died from that with Dad. Quite the oppositeâyou'll be healthier afterward."
"Karray," the red-eyed man sighed reproachfully. "Please, be quiet. Karina, go buy your sister some juice while I calm down the test subjeâ uh... the Jedi."
The older girl nodded and, taking her sister by the hand, led the deeply offended child toward the stall.
"Forgive the girl. She's gotten very into chimerology and doesn't spend much time around people outside her usual circle," the man said with a perfectly straight face, though his eyes made it obvious he was enjoying every second of this. Aayla caught herself thinking that he reminded her somewhat of her previous Master, Quinlan Vos. And that slip about "test subjects" had probably been deliberate too. The man was simply having fun. "No one, of course, is going to subject you to either an autopsy or vivisection. Karray simply hasn't mastered diagnostic spells well enough yet, so I give her lessons where I show her more... detailed examples. Real ones. No one dies, and no one even feels any pain. But if you are interested in earning a couple hunâ"
"No, no, no! We're not interested!!!" Aayla cut the sorcerer off, wrapping her arms around herself.
"All right, all right! I'm not insisting." The sorcerer shrugged.
They did end up getting themselves some caf, and after taking one of the empty benches, they continued the conversation. Siith turned out to be a fairly decent conversationalist. It was only his smile that was off-puttingâa fact he was well aware of, and he even apologized for the inconvenience. "People who spend enough time around me eventually get used to it, but at first meeting I tend to scare people, yes," he explained.
The conversation itself was about nothing in particular. Tholme tried asking about Siith's sorcery, but the man only smiled and asked in return whether the Jedi would be willing to share their own secrets.
"Come now, you flew all the way to Jabiim, you're asking about my secrets, and you won't even agree to an autopsy! That's simply unfair!"
Aayla choked on her juice at that, while the Jedi Master merely smiled. There was no aggression coming from the sorcerer. Only mild irony and curiosity. When asked whether he could help arrange a meeting with Stratus, he simply shook his head.
"Alto can't stand you Jedi. If the Chancellor had come here, then yes. He's shown that Jabiim actually matters to him. But youâsorryâthe Commander won't even bother talking to you."
"But why? The Jedi are defenders of peace!" the Twi'lek girl protested.
"Yes, yes, defenders. Whatever you say," the red-eyed man drawled ironically. Then he pulled a datapad from beneath his robe, tapped at the screen a few times, and held it out to the girl. "Here. Statistics for the past hundred years. Jabiimites killed or abducted by pirates and slavers. Next page: orphans left without parents. Third page: deaths from epidemics and disease. There's no page showing how many Jabiimites the Jedi saved. Because you weren't here. And Senate aid is tucked away all by itself on page four. Personally from your Chancellor. Well, obviously he didn't buy it, pack it, and ship it himself, but he did oversee the process."
While the Jedi studied the datapad, the sorcerer pulled a funny little furry creature from inside his robe and began scratching its belly. Aayla found it terribly distracting; every so often, her fingers made involuntary grasping motions. The little beast was just far too cute.
"That's..."
"Regrettable," the sorcerer cut Tholme off, taking the datapad back. "I understand there aren't exactly many of you on a galactic scale. But you make a great deal of noise about yourselves. Defenders of peace, defenders of the Republic. So naturally, sentients start asking perfectly fair questions. If you are defenders, then where is the defense? And if there is no defense, can you really call yourselves that, hmm?"
The Jedi sighedâthe complaints were fair. The information he'd just seen was staggering. Meanwhile, the red-eyed man took a sip of caf, handed the furry little creature to the Padawanâwho had been staring at it without looking awayâand continued.
"And you know what the worst part is? You can't even say, 'We didn't know.' Not when you proclaim your 'protection' to the whole galaxy, and not when you were aware of the problems on this planet." The sorcerer stopped the girl, who had started to bristle, with a raised hand. "I'm not saying that you personally, Master Tholme and Padawan Secura, knew and did nothing. The Senate and the Jedi Council knew. The Jabiimites asked for help more than once. And you can't excuse it by saying there wasn't enough time, either. The entire three-thousand-year history of this planet is filled with hardship and disaster, and no one ever helped the locals deal with any of it. But they were always happy enough to collect taxes."
"So that's why everyone was reacting to us like that." The Twi'lek girl looked at her mentor. "Master, how did it come to this?"
"Unfortunately, Padawan, the Jedi are not all-powerful. There are worlds in the galaxy whose people feel much the same way as the Jabiimites do."
"Oh, all right, you can sort that out yourselves," the sorcerer snorted, holding out a hand to the little beast. It immediately leapt onto his palm and scampered up his sleeve, disappearing somewhere beneath his robe. "Or maybe you won't, but either way, that's your business. Different question: is there anything else I can help you with, apart from spilling my secrets and introducing you to the Commander?"
I couldn't help them. Though, to be fair, I hadn't intended to. They were little more than a curiosity to me. And I'd decided to step onto the stage myself. I showed a reasonable amount of goodwill, calmly explained why they weren't particularly welcome here, and spared Alto the trouble. Those two might have decided to push for a meeting with him, and if they succeeded, I wasn't sure Stratus wouldn't say more than he should.
We exchanged contact information before parting and said our goodbyes. Three days later, they left. Fair winds, as they say.
Funny thing was, they turned out not to be sorcerers. My spells showed some kind of strange picture. An ordinary human, an ordinary Twi'lek. No anomalies at all. Shame they never used their Forceâor maybe my spells simply couldn't detect whatever it was they used? No ide-e-ea.
Well, I chose Ryloth for several reasons:
First, everything there would be new to meâas it would be on pretty much any other planet.
Second, they might be nonhumans, but at least they're close enough to usânot some weird-ass monstrosities with legs growing out of their shoulders and arms out of their asses, like those... what were they called again... Dugs!
Third, the situation on the planet leaves a lot to be desired too, and my funds should definitely be enough to live there in decent conditions until it's time to fly back.
And fourth, you can legally buy slaves there. I could pick out a married couple with a child and set up a whole servant dynasty for myself. Treat them well, pay them, give them decent living conditions, and they'll be tied to me more securely than by any contract. Cordelia objected, of courseâshe hated slaveryâbut I convinced her that those sentients would be better off working for me in decent conditions than rotting somewhere in slave barracks.
And lastly. I just found out what a vacation is! I want a vacation! And I want to spend it on the planet that happens to be the galaxy's main supplier of dancers and concubines! Heh-heh-heh.
I'd just make one little stop along the way and hire myself a couple of cutthroats. Good Jabiimites were often a rather morally squeamish lot, and having a few sentients around who weren't especially burdened by moral principles could come in handy. The main thing was that they looked civilized and presentable.
Original Russian story
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The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.
"It'll be fine! We fly out, we fly back. A two- or three-month adventure, tops. Don't worryâI'll have Emthree with me, the mercenaries, and... uh... what was the pilot's name again?"
"Ras. His name is Ras," the girl sighed, rolling her eyes. Then she cast a doubtful glance at my personal Lambda-class shuttle, the one I was planning to take on my little trip. "Maybe you should stay after all? What do you need those Twi'leks for?"
"Well, we don't have many of them. Only six on the whole planet, and those are captured bandits. Not enough data, like I already told you."
"Why do I get the feeling you just wanted an adventure for your old, wrinkled ass?"
"My ass is perfectly fine! Smooth and soft as a baby's!" Damn perceptive Cordelia. I really did want to travel. No, seriously! There were a fuckton of worlds out there, and I'd already spent three years getting soaked in the rain.
A lot had been accomplished in that time. Every city now had its own weather-control artifact. There were only two spaceports, so the other three cities were equipped purely for defense: if pirate ships appeared in the opening in the clouds, it would simply be closed.
We kept the quarantine in place for another two years, "because the pathogen responsible for Jabiim Fever had still not been identified." At the spaceports, all interaction with outsiders was handled exclusively through droids. Facility maintenance took place only after every transport carrying offworlders had departed, so the workers could go about their business in peace.
The Nimbus was now fully equipped with "Jabiim-made military transport airspeeders," which had been "designed specifically for the harsh weather conditions of their homeworld." What was more, two of my apprentices, who were already marriedâone of the military-minded boys and the mercenary-minded blondeâhad started a company producing "civilian models." They could also repair or enchant new Nimbus transports whenever necessary. Taria, the blonde, had very quickly shifted the lad's priorities from "I want to fight for Jabiim" to working for the good of the population. Work that paid well and didn't require risking his life. Clever girl. The two of them ended their formal training there, having decided to carve out a niche for themselves.
I don't judge them in the slightestâto each their own. Besides, the young couple hadn't cut ties with us; they often came by for advice and made regular use of my library for mages. So they were still improving their skills anyway. Specialized spellcasters were a perfectly normal thing as far as I was concerned. As a result, two- and five-seat airspeeders had already appeared. They were quite affordable for a Jabiimite with an above-average income. Their speed and maximum altitude were significantly lower, but their endurance had increased severalfold, and the reservoirsânow freely available for purchaseâonly needed to be swapped out about once a week.
The military-minded couple, on the other hand, were now with the Nimbus, heavily involved in producing amulets and charms. And they truly basked in the respect of their comrades. At first, the two of them felt self-conscious about not charging into battle with blasters at the ready, but after a few months they changed their minds. The special-forces troops turned out to be grateful men and women, and my apprentices weren't idiots. So in time, they came to terms with the fact that they weren't winning battles on the front linesâthey were saving lives through their hard work. Soldiers who had narrowly escaped death thanks to their amulets and charms made sure of that, never stinting on words of gratitude.
Karina and Karray were now my personal apprentices. The former had taken the new group of five prospective mages under her wing while I was away. She had stopped losing her head and staring at me with the eyes of a lovestruck cow. Not completely, but still. I did catch her giving me long, intent looks and shooting jealous glances at Cordelia, Maria, and even Luritta, but at least she no longer lost all reason. Quite the oppositeâKarina had proven so good at teaching that I'd begun training her as a generalist.
As for the little "Kavvy," she'd beaten me. I no longer resisted being called Daddy. I didn't call her my daughter, admittedly, but I'd grown deeply attached to the little one. Curious and restless, the nine-year-old sorceress was almost always at my side. Incidentally, getting out of taking her along on the planned trip had cost me a fair amount of nervesâand a promise to bring back something interesting. Little extortionist.
Cordelia came by just as often. Despite her constant flashes of anger, suspicion, or irritation toward me, she was soft and indulgent with the child. And in general, she was very sincere whenever the matter didn't involve some Nimbus secret or her cousin. No, there was no "romantic spark" between us or anything like that. Just mutual respect. The girl appreciated the three years I'd spent working for the good of her homeworld, as well as the fairly modest rates I charged for my work. Well, why not? I had virtually no expenses: Jabiim supplied all the materials, I didn't pay a single credit for the premises, and I had no staff on payroll. So for one person, the profit was very substantial. Substantial enough that, after consulting with the Stratuses, I ordered myself a shuttle, named it the "Great Turtle," hired a pilot, set aside money to hire several bodyguards, and still had funds left over. But to be honest, the price was a nasty surprise. That same Gozanti cost a hundred and fifty thousand brand-new, while this shuttle in an eight-seat configuration cost almost twice as much! They explained to me that its "guts" were high-quality and all that, but for now I still had trouble wrapping my head around it. Once I'd flown around in space for a while, I'd figure out all the finer points.
By the way, our former industrial complex, where we held our lessons, was gradually being rebuilt into the Jabiim School of Magic. The residential building they had originally planned, then abandoned after a while, would instead become a five-story dormitory. The first three floors would be for students, the fourth for teachers, and the fifth for the administration. Some of the former production halls would be converted into classrooms, while others would become rooms for practical training. It was very much a plan for the future, but both Alto and Cordelia had genuinely embraced it. They had seen the benefits mages brought to Jabiim and were making plans to integrate spellcasters into society. And me... well, I supported it. Why wouldn't I? It fit perfectly with my own plans, and besides, I liked the Stratuses and Jabiim.
I'd decided to go to Ryloth, the Twi'lek homeworld, because of a recent encounter with the Jedi. More precisely, it was the species of one of them that had given me the idea. Two Jedi had attended the opening of our first library in the capital six months ago. A master and an apprentice. The quarantine had already been lifted by then, so Alto sent me a message saying that two sentients in distinctive robes, with lightsabers hanging from their belts, were wandering around Choal and asking all sorts of questions.
I reached the capital just after they had visited the "airspeeder workshop." My former apprentices only shrugged when I asked about the Jedi. Yes, they'd stopped by, looked at the prices. Asked what principles the machines worked on, and were politely referred to the general or their teacher. For some reason, they kept waving their hands around in front of them in a funny way while asking about me. Overall, the sorcerers behaved civilly: "No one punches you in the face just for asking," as Rung once wrote.
For two days, those two disappeared into the capital, turning up here and there from time to time, talking to people. There were reports that they had met with representatives of the general's "opposition." Though in practice, that amounted to little more than a handful of disgruntled political corpses who still hadn't given up on making a fuss about their rights. A mixed bag of the stupidest or most stubborn. Alto kept an eye on them, but without going overboard: those particular sentients hadn't been implicated in any serious crimes, and disagreeing with Stratus's policies wasn't forbidden here.
We first met in person at the grand opening ceremony. The property of several former rich men had been confiscated, their mansions demolished, and in their place a ten-story cylindrical building had been erected. From the outside, the facade was completely covered in opaque, durable glass, and there were entrances on all four sides. Above each entrance was the symbol of the Mistress of Magic.
Each floor was a single circular space, with elevators in the center. Administration desks, reading tables, and an enormous number of bookshelves filled the rest. The tenth floor was reserved for the administration, while the basement housed a small print shop with an entirely magical production process.
Around the building lay a small but beautiful park with walkways, benches, and neat little fountains. The entire library grounds, park included, covered an area six hundred meters in diameter. An umbrella-dome stretched over it, and dozens of small suns hung from its inner surface, creating the impression of a bright, sunny day beneath it. At night, the suns went dark, and the inside of the dome was decorated with crescent moonsâyoung and old. Above the building itself, Hecate's symbol lit up. That was where we met the Jedi, during Alto's opening ceremony.
Two cloaked figures, their hoods thrown back, stood behind the crowd of locals and watched the planet's leader, Alto Stratus, give his speech.
The Council had sent Jedi Master Tholme and his Padawan, Aayla Secura, to the planet Jabiim. Not exactly one of the more important places in the galaxy. To be perfectly honest, it was a backwater even by the standards of the sector. The weather conditions made travel to and from the world difficult, which left the planet lagging badly in development. In every sense.
The mission had been arranged at the Chancellor's request. Palpatine had taken personal charge of the epidemic that had recently broken out on Jabiim, and once the quarantine was lifted, he asked the Jedi Council to pay the world a little attention. To assess the situation.
Master Yoda agreed, and so Tholme and Aayla set off for that rainy, gloomy world with a parting instruction from the master of masters: look around, get some rest, and unwind. The man snorted.
Rest. The planet had barely any places for that. As for sights, there were only swamps and forests, and the one thing that set this world apart from countless others like it was the endless rainâand the absurdly overblown prejudices about the Jedi. People literally hid their children from them the moment the pair introduced themselves. In general, the defenders of democracy were treated with chilly politeness.
And the oddities began the moment they arrived. First, their ship was inspected in orbit. Nothing in the mission briefing had mentioned that a small fleet of two Bounty-class frigates and five CR-70 corvettes trained their guns on anyone approaching the planet. Upon landing, they had to register, receive permits for temporary stay on Jabiim outside the spaceport grounds, and listen to a warning about the recent Jabiim Fever epidemic. With a completely impassive expression, the customs officer advised them not to leave the spaceport if either Jedi used hard drugs or abused alcohol.
Tholme merely shook his head reproachfully at the officer and laid a calming hand on the shoulder of the Twi'lek girl, who had nearly choked on her indignation. The customs officer only shrugged indifferently and said that warning visitors about it was part of his job.
Then came the information gathering, conducted under an endless curtain of rain. There was a meeting with representatives of the planetary administration, who answered their questions politely enough, but they were not granted access to the leader of the Jabiimites, Commander-in-Chief Alto Stratus. "The GenâCommander has a great many matters demanding his attention, honored Jedi. His next available appointment is in three months. Would you like me to schedule you?" Attempts to press the point that they were representatives of the Jedi Council got them nowhere: "The Commander does not care who you are. If you wish to meet with him over something other than an emergency, then join the regular queue."
The leader of the opposition, on the other hand, received them immediately, and the conversation left them with a... mixed impression.
"Master, I think he's insane. Who would infect an entire planet?"
"It certainly looks that way, Aayla. His assumptions are far too incredibleâespecially with no evidence to support them," the Jedi said, shaking his head. "You studied the reports, didn't you? The epidemic and those deaths brought so much filth to light that I wouldn't be surprised if the collapse of all his hopes really did drive the man out of his mind. And besides, the situation here hardly looks like the military tyranny this sentient claims it is."
The deaths caused by the mysterious disease had indeed been remarkably convenient. But the forensic reports also supported the media's official version. Secura had been unpleasantly surprised by the sheer number of drug addicts among the planet's ruling elite. Tholme, however, had not.
"Cargo traffic here is too light, and the population isn't wealthy enough. Shipping very cheap narcotics to this world simply wouldn't be profitable, but truly expensive spice for the eliteâthat's another matter. So yes, Aayla, it's entirely plausible. Especially against the backdrop of how bleak life is on this planet."
And then they stumbled across something unusual. Or rather, noticed it. Airspeeders. There weren't many of them, but they cruised calmly through the atmosphereâan atmosphere practically guaranteed to wreck sensitive electronics. There was a reason wheeled vehicles were the most common form of transport on the planet. Repulsorcraft wore out and broke down at an insane rate.
Their questions eventually led them to a married couple of... mages. And to a conversation that yielded absolutely nothing.
"Ask the Commander."
"You should ask the Teacher."
"Maybe you'd like to buy an airspeeder? It would improve your mobility."
When Tholme tried to use a mind trick on the manâ"You will tell me about your Teacher"âhe got a sullen reply:
"No, I won't. Knowing him, he'll tan my ass with a switch again, and my ass isn't government property."
The Jedi left the workshop... bewildered. Neither master nor apprentice quite knew what to make of it.
And now they were at the opening of the new library in the capital. By Coruscant standards, the building wasn't impressive, but for Jabiim it was genuinely beautiful. And there was no constant rain, so both of them were actually enjoying the warmth beneath the rays of the little pseudo-suns hanging overhead. Not even the red-eyed man of indeterminate age standing to Aayla's right spoiled the experience. At first Tholme had taken him for a Jediâtheir clothing looked far too similarâbut there was no lightsaber at the man's belt. Only the sheath of a small knife or dagger.
"Look, Master! It's beautiful!" the Padawan said, spellbound. And she was right: with Stratus's final wordsâthat the library was dedicated to someone called Hecateâthe symbols above the library doors flared with silvery light, small fountains sprang to life, and the suns overhead blossomed into beautiful flowers of brilliant light.
"Yeah, turned out pretty well," the stranger standing beside them agreed with satisfaction. "Glad you like it, blue girl. Nice to know I didn't spend a week busting my ass enchanting all this for nothing. There'll be a rainbow over the fountains in a moment, too."
And sure enough, rainbows appeared over each of the small fountains. Tiny ones, but they made the whole place feel even more magical. The Jedi, however, were no longer looking at the beauty around them. Their attention was fixed on the man in robes that looked remarkably similar to their own.
"Ahem..." The Jedi cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. "I'm Jedi Master Tholme, and this is my Padawan, Aayla Secura. And you are...?"
"Siith is my name," his interlocutor said with an unpleasant smile, making both Jedi tense and rest their hands on the hilts of their lightsabers. "Once again: that's my name, not... an affiliation with some order. My parents named me that. I'm a sorcerer. At your service."
The man gave a slight nod and began studying them with curiosity through those rather off-putting eyes of his. He paid more attention to the Twi'lek girl, and when he noticed the hint of irritation on her face, he gave an amused snort.
"Sorry, blue girl. It's just that I've hardly ever seen any Twi'leks. We only have a handful here on Jabiim, and they're all men. I'm curious."
"My name is Aayla Secura," the girl muttered.
"Yes, yes." The man waved a hand airily. "Sorry, Padawan Secura."
"Strange name," Tholme drawled, still keeping one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.
"It translates from my native language as 'one who lives despite all odds.' Perfectly normal name. Back home, 'tholmes,' for example, are temporary builders' hutsâthe ones they live in while construction is underway." The Padawan let out a quiet chuckle at that, but after glancing at her master, she quickly put on a serious face. "I heard you were looking for me? The teacher of those two blockheads?"
"Did you really beat that guy with a switch?" the young Twi'lek asked.
"He went and complained about it, did he? Pfft, what an idiot... That blockhead nearly burned the house down! If he can't absorb my wisdom through his ears, then I'll deliver it through his ass."
"But that's..."
"If the door to the mind is closed, knock from behind," the red-eyed man said, clearly quoting someone, his frightening smile flashing. "Why don't we go have some caf? There's a vendor stall over there. Master Tholme, do stop boring holes into me with that suspicious stare. It's rude, after all. I don't think I've given you any reason for aggression yet, and planning to hack me apart with a glowing stick just because my name gives you unpleasant associations is a bit much."
Tholme stared at him for several seconds, then gave a restrained nod.
"Fair enough," he said gravely, and the group headed toward the stall selling caf.
"And they're not sticks. They're swords," Aayla Secura commented on the sorcerer's words.
"See the general over there? Now that's a sword hanging from his belt. Yours, sorry to say, is a glowing stick. I've seen them on the Holonet. Oh, could you turn that thing on? I'd be curious to see one in person."
"Another time," the Jedi Master said firmly. "Not in the middle of a crowd. It is a weapon, after all."
Tholme was bewildered yet again. Something strange was going on on this planet. With the red-eyed man in particular. He could feel no movement of the Force in him. None at all. It was as if the man weren't Force-sensitive in the slightestâand yet he had introduced himself as a sorcerer. Was he hiding himself in the Force? Possible... So despite his outward composure, the Jedi was rapidly going through possibilities. His first thought had been that they had stumbled across a Sith, but after considering it rationally, Tholme discarded the idea. Someone being hunted by the entire Order would hardly expose himself so blatantly. A member of some other group of Force-sensitives? Or perhaps simply a technician who called technology magic? Maybe even just a charlaâ
"Daddy!" A shout from nearby interrupted the Jedi's train of thought. Their red-eyed interlocutor turned toward the sound, where two figures were hurrying over to them: a girl about the same age as his Padawan, and a child who looked around ten. The sorcerer broke into that off-putting grin of his at the sight of them. His daughters?
"Girls! You decided to come see the opening too?"
"Yep!" the younger one replied happily, wrapping the man in a hug. The older girl only nodded, casting an embarrassed glance at the Jedi. "Uncle Alto is awesome! As always!"
"Couldn't have said it better, kiddo," he said, stroking the girl's back before ruffling her hair to an indignant, "Aw, come on!" "How are things, Karina? How are the apprentices?"
"Fine, Teacher," the older girl sighed, while the younger one fixed her hair and muttered something aggrieved under her breath.
"Sorrow in your words I hear, young spellcaster," the man laughed, making Tholme nearly cough as he stared at the red-eyed man in surprise. The latter planted his feet wide apart, raised his gaze to the sky, clenched a fist on one bent arm, and proclaimed with theatrical grandeur and a hint of malicious glee, "Know all the pain of being a Teacher! Feel for yourself the full abyss of despair and horror that I once felt! Look nightmare in the eyes and find the strength to endure! Overcome unimaginable sufferingâand make spellcasters out of these monsters!"
"Hey, Dad! We weren't monsters!" the girl protested, planting her fists on her hips. "Well, my sister and I definitely weren't!"
"Remember this, Karray. To a Teacher, apprentices are always two things at once: a gigantic pain in the ass when their training begins, and a gigantic pain in the ass after it ends."
A few seconds of silence passed before Aayla Secura was the first to break it.
"What's the difference?"
"After the training, you're proud of that pain in the ass too," the red-eyed man burst out laughing, giving Karina a light pat on the shoulder. "Don't take it personally, apprentice. You were almost always a good girl. Unlike this little fidget here."
"Daaad!!!"
"All right, enough joking around. Girls, I need to talk to... Oh, right! Introductions! These two are Jedi. Master Tholme and his Padawan, Aayla Secura. Honored Jedi, this is Karray and Karina Boonâsisters, and my apprentices."
"Wow! Real ones?" the younger girl asked, staring at them in awe, while the older sister gave the visitors an interested once-over. Aayla puffed herself up importantlyâfinally, a normal reaction instead of gloomy stares. Unfortunately, the girl's next words made her choke, while Master Tholme's eyes widened in surprise.
"Make sure you invite us to the autopsy, Dad!!!"
"Karray," the man frowned, while the Jedi took a couple of steps back. "You can't say things like that to sentients right away. You have to lay the groundwork first, and only then ask whether they'd agree to vivisection."
"Who would ever agree to something like that?" the Padawan exclaimed, drawing her saber but not activating it. "Are you people insane, suggesting something like that to sentients? Who would ever want to die?!"
"Padawan, calm down." Tholme placed a hand on her shoulder. "Siith, care to explain yourself?"
"Why kill anyone?" the girl cut in. "No one's ever died from that with Dad. Quite the oppositeâyou'll be healthier afterward."
"Karray," the red-eyed man sighed reproachfully. "Please, be quiet. Karina, go buy your sister some juice while I calm down the test subjeâ uh... the Jedi."
The older girl nodded and, taking her sister by the hand, led the deeply offended child toward the stall.
"Forgive the girl. She's gotten very into chimerology and doesn't spend much time around people outside her usual circle," the man said with a perfectly straight face, though his eyes made it obvious he was enjoying every second of this. Aayla caught herself thinking that he reminded her somewhat of her previous Master, Quinlan Vos. And that slip about "test subjects" had probably been deliberate too. The man was simply having fun. "No one, of course, is going to subject you to either an autopsy or vivisection. Karray simply hasn't mastered diagnostic spells well enough yet, so I give her lessons where I show her more... detailed examples. Real ones. No one dies, and no one even feels any pain. But if you are interested in earning a couple hunâ"
"No, no, no! We're not interested!!!" Aayla cut the sorcerer off, wrapping her arms around herself.
"All right, all right! I'm not insisting." The sorcerer shrugged.
They did end up getting themselves some caf, and after taking one of the empty benches, they continued the conversation. Siith turned out to be a fairly decent conversationalist. It was only his smile that was off-puttingâa fact he was well aware of, and he even apologized for the inconvenience. "People who spend enough time around me eventually get used to it, but at first meeting I tend to scare people, yes," he explained.
The conversation itself was about nothing in particular. Tholme tried asking about Siith's sorcery, but the man only smiled and asked in return whether the Jedi would be willing to share their own secrets.
"Come now, you flew all the way to Jabiim, you're asking about my secrets, and you won't even agree to an autopsy! That's simply unfair!"
Aayla choked on her juice at that, while the Jedi Master merely smiled. There was no aggression coming from the sorcerer. Only mild irony and curiosity. When asked whether he could help arrange a meeting with Stratus, he simply shook his head.
"Alto can't stand you Jedi. If the Chancellor had come here, then yes. He's shown that Jabiim actually matters to him. But youâsorryâthe Commander won't even bother talking to you."
"But why? The Jedi are defenders of peace!" the Twi'lek girl protested.
"Yes, yes, defenders. Whatever you say," the red-eyed man drawled ironically. Then he pulled a datapad from beneath his robe, tapped at the screen a few times, and held it out to the girl. "Here. Statistics for the past hundred years. Jabiimites killed or abducted by pirates and slavers. Next page: orphans left without parents. Third page: deaths from epidemics and disease. There's no page showing how many Jabiimites the Jedi saved. Because you weren't here. And Senate aid is tucked away all by itself on page four. Personally from your Chancellor. Well, obviously he didn't buy it, pack it, and ship it himself, but he did oversee the process."
While the Jedi studied the datapad, the sorcerer pulled a funny little furry creature from inside his robe and began scratching its belly. Aayla found it terribly distracting; every so often, her fingers made involuntary grasping motions. The little beast was just far too cute.
"That's..."
"Regrettable," the sorcerer cut Tholme off, taking the datapad back. "I understand there aren't exactly many of you on a galactic scale. But you make a great deal of noise about yourselves. Defenders of peace, defenders of the Republic. So naturally, sentients start asking perfectly fair questions. If you are defenders, then where is the defense? And if there is no defense, can you really call yourselves that, hmm?"
The Jedi sighedâthe complaints were fair. The information he'd just seen was staggering. Meanwhile, the red-eyed man took a sip of caf, handed the furry little creature to the Padawanâwho had been staring at it without looking awayâand continued.
"And you know what the worst part is? You can't even say, 'We didn't know.' Not when you proclaim your 'protection' to the whole galaxy, and not when you were aware of the problems on this planet." The sorcerer stopped the girl, who had started to bristle, with a raised hand. "I'm not saying that you personally, Master Tholme and Padawan Secura, knew and did nothing. The Senate and the Jedi Council knew. The Jabiimites asked for help more than once. And you can't excuse it by saying there wasn't enough time, either. The entire three-thousand-year history of this planet is filled with hardship and disaster, and no one ever helped the locals deal with any of it. But they were always happy enough to collect taxes."
"So that's why everyone was reacting to us like that." The Twi'lek girl looked at her mentor. "Master, how did it come to this?"
"Unfortunately, Padawan, the Jedi are not all-powerful. There are worlds in the galaxy whose people feel much the same way as the Jabiimites do."
"Oh, all right, you can sort that out yourselves," the sorcerer snorted, holding out a hand to the little beast. It immediately leapt onto his palm and scampered up his sleeve, disappearing somewhere beneath his robe. "Or maybe you won't, but either way, that's your business. Different question: is there anything else I can help you with, apart from spilling my secrets and introducing you to the Commander?"
I couldn't help them. Though, to be fair, I hadn't intended to. They were little more than a curiosity to me. And I'd decided to step onto the stage myself. I showed a reasonable amount of goodwill, calmly explained why they weren't particularly welcome here, and spared Alto the trouble. Those two might have decided to push for a meeting with him, and if they succeeded, I wasn't sure Stratus wouldn't say more than he should.
We exchanged contact information before parting and said our goodbyes. Three days later, they left. Fair winds, as they say.
Funny thing was, they turned out not to be sorcerers. My spells showed some kind of strange picture. An ordinary human, an ordinary Twi'lek. No anomalies at all. Shame they never used their Forceâor maybe my spells simply couldn't detect whatever it was they used? No ide-e-ea.
Well, I chose Ryloth for several reasons:
First, everything there would be new to meâas it would be on pretty much any other planet.
Second, they might be nonhumans, but at least they're close enough to usânot some weird-ass monstrosities with legs growing out of their shoulders and arms out of their asses, like those... what were they called again... Dugs!
Third, the situation on the planet leaves a lot to be desired too, and my funds should definitely be enough to live there in decent conditions until it's time to fly back.
And fourth, you can legally buy slaves there. I could pick out a married couple with a child and set up a whole servant dynasty for myself. Treat them well, pay them, give them decent living conditions, and they'll be tied to me more securely than by any contract. Cordelia objected, of courseâshe hated slaveryâbut I convinced her that those sentients would be better off working for me in decent conditions than rotting somewhere in slave barracks.
And lastly. I just found out what a vacation is! I want a vacation! And I want to spend it on the planet that happens to be the galaxy's main supplier of dancers and concubines! Heh-heh-heh.
I'd just make one little stop along the way and hire myself a couple of cutthroats. Good Jabiimites were often a rather morally squeamish lot, and having a few sentients around who weren't especially burdened by moral principles could come in handy. The main thing was that they looked civilized and presentable.
Original Russian story
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The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published hereâbut with a bit of a delay.