The Force of Magic [Star Wars SI]

[Vyraco]

It's Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, The Prophet of the Waaagh!


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQ7opAsUOQI&list=RDFQ7opAsUOQI&start_radio=1

 

[FTR2017]

Amazing work, methinks Palpy will run into inconveniences should the 'disposable asset' turn out to be tougher to chew than he expects after a stunt in learning--and converting to Hecate.

And that healer troll is a hoot, no wonder he was such a success--his smile was made from angels!

 

[Xx_BoneIdle_xX]

And then there are these Jed-eyes.

Click to shrink...

Typo: Jedi

 

[Boroda Orka]

Typo: Jedi

Click to shrink...

It's deliberately mangled)

 

[Boroda Orka]

We made it to Corellia without incident and in relative comfort, though I still found myself missing the apartments on Coruscant. The Consular, now proudly bearing the name Rung, was a fairly comfortable ship—at least compared with the shuttle and the Hammerhead. It was a relatively old vessel that had seen action in a couple of conflicts, including the Hyperspace War, but we'd bought it secondhand in good condition.

At the shipyards themselves, I ended up having quite an argument with some young engineer. Upgrading the ship's guts with newer, more powerful systems wasn't a problem, but when it came to rearranging the cabins, I eventually had to fall back on the argument of "I want it this way because I want it this way."

It even got as far as a meeting with one of his older superiors. The man listened to us, listened to the engineer, gave him a tired look, and asked, "What, exactly, is fundamentally impossible about altering the passenger compartments of a Consular-class vessel—a modular ship of our own manufacture?"

After a brief exchange in fluent engineer-speak, the supervisor suggested that Shmi, Romri, and I go enjoy "the excellent caf in our customer lounge, where everything is completely free." The look on his face made the unspoken rest of the sentence perfectly clear: while I teach this wet-behind-the-ears idiot a thing or two.

After tasting the caf, I remarked quietly enough for only my own people to hear that Shmi's was much better. The Togruta, already sinking her teeth into a pastry, nodded in agreement, while Skywalker gave me an appreciative smile.

"The caf here is pretty good," the former slave said, shaking her head and giving us a look of gentle reproach as she defended the local fare.

"If it were bad, I wouldn't be drinking it," I snorted.

"But the pastries are amazing. Try one, Boss," Romri said once she'd finished chewing.

I saw no reason to refuse and gave the local cuisine its due. The pastries really were excellent.

We sat there for about fifteen minutes before a polite young woman came over and escorted us to another engineer, one who had already been briefed on what we wanted. This man looked a little older than the first, though not by much. After discussing the "project" with us, he pointed out the weak spots, quickly sketched out his own rough version on the hologram, explained his reasoning in a way that was actually easy to follow, and named the price—which was, I have to say, rather substantial. Romri clutched at her chest and squeaked, "My heart!" Shmi giggled, and I shook on it with the engineer. Well, figuratively speaking. What I actually did was ask where I needed to sign to authorize the professionals to start developing the project.

I practically had to drag Romri out of the engineer's office by one of her lekku—she was already itching to start haggling the price down right then and there.

"My little aurodium Togruta," I said soothingly, stroking the hand I was still holding. "What's got you so worked up? That's only a rough price. They haven't even drawn up the project yet, much less given me a proper estimate. What are you going to haggle over now? Once we have all the paperwork in hand and something concrete to argue about, then we'll think about it. It's not like buying a blaster from a Toydarian! They're practically going to take our bird apart bolt by bolt—replace the reactor, hyperdrive, engines, part of the hull plating, the life-support systems. You said yourself it'd be expensive and difficult."

"You could've bought a brand-new Consular for less," the girl said, looking at me with tears in her eyes.

"Romri, you were the one saying we needed to upgrade the hyperdrive to a Class One," I sighed. "And there are better options than the standard package for pretty much everything else too."

The Togruta only let out a shaky sigh, clearly mourning the credits. Never mind that they were mine—she was suffering sympathy pains.

"But just imagine," I murmured into her ear, slipping an arm lightly around her shoulders. "You'll have a shower... your own personal shower."

"A shower..." the Togruta whispered, eyes lighting up as she clenched a fist and raised it in a determined little gesture. "For a private shower, any girl would kill without a second thought!"

Shmi was laughing softly beside us. Catching the look I gave her, the woman put on the same determined expression as Romri, repeated the gesture with her arm, and asked with a cheerful smile:

"Who do we kill, Boss?"

"What bloodthirsty women we have in this crew," I said with a smile, shaking my head as the female half of the crew laughed. "And while they're busy scratching their heads over the project, I say we all head down to Corellia. I hear the beaches there are absolutely incredible!"

Tano was delighted by the prospect, while Skywalker looked practically radiant with happiness. Hardly surprising—after so many years in the desert, getting to see actual seas and oceans had to feel like a dream.

---

Corellia greeted us with warm sunshine, fresh air... and customs. I was so sick of them I couldn't think of a single printable word to describe it. As if the regular officers weren't enough—and they were absolute hellhounds—there was a young Jedi there too.

That green little troll of a Jedi got on every last one of my nerves, mind-fucked me senseless, and left me feeling a sudden, burning sympathy for the Sith!

As if that weren't enough, those sadists descended on Arvik. They made him drain his flamethrower, threatened to "temporarily confiscate" every rocket for his launcher, and made him empty the fuel from his jetpack, leaving him with nothing but his blaster. By that point, the Mando's helmet was practically radiating bloodlust. Then, after I took off my amulet—which immediately began radiating power once it left the masking field of my robe—and handed it over to be logged and inspected, since the damn thing was big enough to smuggle spice in, Greenie started in on me. Apparently it was a Force artifact, and just who exactly was I supposed to be, walking around with such a lovely name as Siith?

Ooooh... And after I showed him all my documents again and told him I knew members of the Jedi Council personally—that he could check with Masters Windu, Yoda, Yaddle, or Rancisis if he wanted—the bastard somehow managed to become even more obnoxious.

"We're not going to bother the Council over something this trivial," the asshole told me with the most infuriating smile imaginable. Hand over the amulet and the dagger, he said, and go with the Force—but those two? Absolutely not. Who knew what those things even were...

I thought it over for a moment, then turned to the others.

"All right, people. Screw Corellia, the beaches, and the ocean. Fuck it. Let's head back. We'll stop somewhere else later—preferably somewhere with intelligent life."

The others looked disappointed, but for the most part they backed my decision with a chorus of agreement. I turned back to the "politely smiling" Jedi and bared my teeth at him in a vindictive grin.

"And you, Greenie—and you officers too—pass this up the chain: never, NEVER, will the Jabiim Mages' Guild sell you so much as the shittiest little artifact. Not one Corellian will ever be trained at our Academy! Not for any amount of money or promises!" I fixed the green bastard with a hard stare as confusion began to creep across his face. "Anything we sell to the Order will come with one condition: that it is NOT passed on to your green-robed brotherhood. And even if you decide not to tell your superiors about this, when your shipyards eventually ask me, 'Why Kuat and not us?' I'll give them the exact date, time, customs checkpoint number, and your names. And when the higher-ups realize exactly what opportunities you personally pissed away for the entire system, your asses are in for an unforgettable adventure."

And back we went, noses held high and huffing with offended dignity. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another Jedi—a somewhat older woman—come over to Greenie and start asking him something, but by then I no longer cared. Corellia could go straight up Dozdrogodul's ass as a string of anal beads, along with all its sister planets. I was pissed at the lot of them. And so what if I hadn't gotten to spend any time on the beaches myself? I felt bad for the girls. Romri, at least, was a free woman, but Shmi and Suti had never even seen the sea. One had spent her life in the desert; the other had lived underground.

I could, of course, have tried contacting Windu, but... something in me rebelled at the idea. It would feel like I was some little kid running to complain to the scary grown-up. Petty revenge like this was childish too, of course, but my soul demanded that I dump one big, steaming, fragrant pile* of lost opportunities right on the Corellians' doorstep—let them choke on the smell. They'd find ways around my "sanctions," obviously, but at least it would inconvenience them and ruin their day. We, meanwhile, were off to Rendili.

---

"Boss, why not Kuat?" Romri asked over lunch in the common room. At the moment, we were on our way to Rendili, planning to finally get the work done on our Rung that we'd left undone on Corellia.

"Tours," I snorted. "Both places let visitors tour active shipyards. Supervised and with plenty of precautions, obviously, but it can be done. Rendili interests me more—they've got a lot of relatively small orbital facilities, and Alto wants us to put something like that in orbit over Jabiim someday. Nothing major, just enough to repair and service our little fleet. Maybe build a few smaller things too—we've got the ore for it. So I want to see for myself what a real orbital shipyard actually looks like."

"Yeah," the Mando nodded. "Kuat's got the Ring. No way we could pull off something like that."

"Right now, sure. Give it twenty or thirty years and we probably could—but it would take one hell of an effort. Not that Jabiim needs anything like that at the moment. I doubt we'll need it anytime soon, either. The Commander-in-Chief has his eye on building up our metallurgical industry."

"Aren't you worried it'll poison the planet?"

"No, we've accounted for that. I'm actually going to start training mages on Jabiim specifically to design and operate facilities that process ore into metal, and that process is far less toxic than most environmentally friendly methods used for the same job. Orbital facilities are probably cleaner, granted. And the waste can be recycled into something at least relatively useful."

For a couple of minutes, we ate in silence, but then Arvik asked another question. Ever since we'd set out for Corellia, the man had been unusually pensive, and now he was clearly turning something over in his head again.

"Boss, listen, I know this is kind of a personal question, but why are you doing all this? Training those spellcasters of yours and everything. Don't take this the wrong way—it's just that I've noticed you always grimace whenever the subject comes up."

"That's a deep question, and it deserves a fairly long answer," I said with a grin, glancing at the interested faces turned toward me. I wasn't about to explain all my reasons, of course. The goddess's request—and the possible reward for fulfilling it—were definitely staying to myself. "First and most importantly, I suppose, because I believe it's the right thing to do. Sorcery, whatever anyone may think of it, is first and foremost a science. The science of magic. And like any science, it requires both theoretical research and practical experimentation. The more people there are working to push that research forward, the better."

"And before long the galaxy will be crawling with mages shooting plasma from their fingertips," the Mandalorian said with a crooked smile.

"True enough, but believe me, Arvik, pulling off tricks like that takes a lot of study and a hell of a lot of training. Your average combat sorcerer, after a couple of years of lessons and practice, might be able to throw out a shot like that once every twenty or thirty seconds. And let's be honest—while he's standing there straining himself to shape the right construct with an aura that's barely developed, even the clumsiest Dug with grabbing limbs growing out of his ass would fill that 'god of war' with plasma up to the tonsils."

"Boss, that's not fair to Dugs," Romri giggled. "They're really agile, and jokes like that piss them off."

"Truth hurts," I said with a shrug. "Getting back to sorcerers: by the standards of my homeland, I'm an above-average one. I'm good when it comes to knowledge and considerably worse at applied sorcery. I've been through wars in my time, and every now and then I used to go out and wipe out bands of brigands, but the path of a combat sorcerer—with their almost reflexive casting of a limited repertoire of magical constructs—was never for me. There are, of course, certain little secrets, tricks, and toys that can make even a noncombat sorcerer considerably more dangerous, but those are usually the preserve of spellcasters from powerful bloodlines or exceptionally skilled specialists in fields that aren't, strictly speaking, combat disciplines. Necromancy, chimerology, artifact-making, golemcraft, healing, and plenty of other branches can offer enormous advantages once developed far enough. On top of that, all of them have countless points of overlap, reinforcing one another—sometimes quite dramatically. But!"

I gave my listeners a serious look, emphasizing the importance of what I was about to say by raising my fork.

"All of that takes an absurd amount of time and effort, people. Otherwise everyone back home would be a mage, understand? Mental discipline, determination, the willingness to spend years pursuing a goal—that's what it means to be a real spellcaster. The overwhelming majority of my countrymen master such a tiny fraction of the Art that calling them mages would be ridiculous. Light a campfire after five minutes of huffing and puffing while shaping the most primitive construct imaginable? Oh, yes! A Great Sorcerer! Lord of Magic! Child of Hecate! Bah. Skilled craftsmen do a little better—they pick a niche, memorize a handful of weaves, and spend their entire lives perfecting them, selling their services for money: charging mana reservoirs, casting reinforcement or waterproofing enchantments, making magical lamps, things like that. Anything truly complex takes a long time: gathering knowledge, developing the idea, then actually bringing it to life. You understand? Take the Jabiim speeders, for example. Those are my design."

I glanced at Ras, who was listening as closely as everyone else. He nodded to show that he understood what I meant.

"A design I simply handed over to a couple of my students. On their own, it would have taken them... a very long time to come up with something like that and actually build it." I stopped myself before giving a number. The Stratuses had asked me to keep that information quiet, and after giving it some thought, I agreed with them. "Now it'll become their family legacy—something that could keep the families of some of my first students prosperous for generations. Assuming they don't squander it all by resting on their laurels and sliding into stagnation and decline."

"Complicated..." the Togruta drawled.

"Well, what did you expect?" I snorted, giving the girl an amused look. "Wave your hands around, stomp your foot, recite a funny little rhyme, and that's it? Nooo. Academies give you an initial repertoire of spells as part of your tuition, along with the theory behind them. Spellcraft theory, construct modeling, ritual design, mathematics, physics, geometry, biology, anatomy. Magic isn't some kind of miracle. If you're creating a spell of your own, you need to know and understand how it's going to work. Mana is simply energy with an almost limitless potential for transformation and application. What matters is skill—and skill depends on your knowledge, experience, a developed aura—the tool you use to interact with magic—as well as your reserves and your mind. All of that together is what makes a true spellcaster. So," I said, glancing at the Mando, "you don't need to worry about the galaxy being overrun by mighty mages anytime in the next thousand years. Unless, of course, I decide to train someone personally and generously hand over my own developments to the student—like I'm doing with Karray and Karina on Jabiim."

"Jedi have it easier, though, me thinks," the Gungan put in. He had already demolished his portion and was now sprawled blissfully in his chair.

"Oh, don't remind me," I grimaced. "'Feel the Force, guide the Force,' all in the finest traditions of Eastern-style monks—only somehow even more obscure. Sorcerers have it easier: you go through your first initiation with any practicing mage, learn how to control your aura... and then you're off on a journey millions of kilometers long, one that often ends for a very simple reason: laziness."

"No offense, Boss," the Togruta giggled as the others smiled knowingly, "but that doesn't sound any damn easier."

I looked at those muzz— mug— faces, waved it off, and popped another bite of food into my mouth. Even Suti was smiling, though hers was more sympathetic than amused.

"Sorry," Romri said, making her eyes big and pitiful as she spread her hands—nearly poking Koit in the eye with her fork in the process. "And getting back to Arvik's question: why didn't you just recruit a chosen few and concentrate all that power in a small inner circle of your own?"

I gave the girl a skeptical look. She didn't seem to be joking...

"Look at it this way: suppose I settle down on Jabiim, recruit a dozen 'Padawans,' and start training them. Secretly, 'under cover of darkness,' so no one outside our little circle ever learns about my 'mighty order.' What are we supposed to live on? Sell amulets? How long do you think it would take smart people to connect a suspicious little group of sentients with the sudden appearance of magical artifacts? Even if we sold them in the farthest corners of the galaxy, sooner or later someone would start pulling at the thread—and besides, you need contacts to sell anything in the first place. Magic or no magic, there's a reason sentients are called sentient—they have brains. Eventually some very serious men and women would come knocking and suggest that I share. Suppose we killed them all. Then they'd send more people, and we'd kill those too, move somewhere else, and repeat the whole cycle. Sooner or later, enough people would come after me that it would turn into an actual war—and I'm not omnipotent."

I took a sip of caf, squinted in pleasure, and gave Shmi a grateful nod. She smiled back.

"And then there's the problem of my students getting fed up with living like that. They want to eat well, sleep comfortably, and show everyone how 'powerful' they are—not spend their lives hiding in the shadows. Give it enough time and, best case, they run away from me. Worst case, they sell me out for money or kill me once they learn what kind of security measures I've put in place. So in the end, I either go live somewhere in the mountains with the goats, or I deal with society—which, in my case, means Jabiim, represented by the Stratus cousins. And we came up with the whole 'share the knowledge' strategy together, because sooner or later everyone is going to find out anyway. Then we're right back to the first scenario, only on a planetary scale—with a blockade fleet parked overhead, like Naboo."

---

We spent a full two weeks at one of the Rendili shipyards. It ended up costing less, though, because some of the orbital facilities were sitting idle.

After a bit of negotiation, they even allowed us onto the worksite, though they very firmly asked us not to get in the way. So for most of the work on the Rung, Shmi, Ras, Romri, and I were just observers, occasionally pestering the engineers and foremen with questions whenever they were in a good mood and had some time to spare. Most of the workers were happy enough to answer, though. I think the professionals were a little flattered that the client was actually interested in their work instead of constantly hounding them to go faster. Romri and Shmi were also a pretty good incentive for most of the male technicians to be extra helpful. Ras, meanwhile, somehow managed to strike up a romance with one of the women working on the ship.

So much so that by the time the work was finished, Risha Trant had signed on with us as the ship's engineer and mechanic.

At the same shipyard, we stocked up on maintenance droids, bought ourselves an astromech of the "bucket on wheels" variety, and picked up some "exclusive" hyperspace route charts. Romri explained that there wasn't much truly exclusive about them, but they did include several safe routes that our navcomputer didn't have.

And then we took off for the sea. Our destination was the Togruta homeworld, Shili. The planet lay in grid square L-8, relatively nearby—Rendili was in M-11—and for anyone with a ship boasting a Class One hyperdrive, it was practically next door. Romri promised us an introduction to her family, authentic Togruta cuisine—meat, meat, and more meat—seas, beaches, gorgeous landscapes in red, orange, and white, hunts for the local predators known as akuls**... and absolutely no customs! What a wonderful planet!

---

Author's Notes:

*"Fragrant pile" — a pile that has already been dumped, but won't make its presence known or start stinking until sometime in the future. Came up with that one myself.

**An akul is a large, dangerous predator with a powerful body covered in reddish fur. It moves on four legs and is known for its powerful jaws. Akuls breed well in captivity, and albino specimens have occasionally been born. (Honestly, I have no idea how this thing is supposed to pluralize. If I got it wrong, please correct me.)

---

Original Russian story

You can find more chapters on my Patreon.

The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.

 

[readsalot]

absolutely no customs! What a wonderful planet!

Click to shrink...

That certainly sounds amazing
Also lol, Corellia lost something very awesome XD
They will be kicking themselves and the assholes behind the incident

 

[FTR2017]

Methinks that the Corellians will live long enough to regret this, as their competitors get the upper hand on them, mocking them all while at it.

As for Palpy? Once he learns about this, he'll be cackling as he'll be receiving benefits so long as he chooses not to strangle the gold egg-laying goose!

 

[Boroda Orka]

"Well, basically, I finally lost my patience, Alto. So if they come sniffing around the JMG later, don't agree to anything. We won't be able to supply the whole market anyway, so we'll have to pick and choose. Better to stick with Kuat and Rendili. Kuat's been buying our ore for a damn long time already, and the Rendili folks struck me as a pretty decent bunch."

"Got it. Won't be a problem," Alto's hologram said with a grin. "So, how's the vacation?"

There was something in the way he asked it—an irrational hint of reproach, along with a trace of envy so faint it was almost imperceptible.

"That's it? Just like that?" I asked, surprised by how easily the Commander-in-Chief had waved away the prospect of selling anything magical to Corellia.

"Yeah, just like that," Alto snorted. "We've already sent the first shipment of metal ingots to Kuat. The shipbuilders liked the quality, so they've promised us favorable contract terms for more of the same. I also arranged to have the ships escorting our transports repaired and serviced there. We'll rotate them through, and as long as we keep trading with the Kuat shipyards, the whole fleet should stay in good shape."

"Well, good. I was worried I'd messed up some plans of yours," I admitted. And I really had been worried—though, admittedly, the thought had only occurred to me after I'd calmed down.

"Bit late to start worrying now," came an annoyed female voice from just beyond the edge of the hologram. I recognized Cordelia immediately. The image pulled back slightly, revealing the two cousins in full.

"Cordelia, good to see you," I said with a smile. Her face became a study in skepticism. "Hey, what's with the face? I really am glad to see you! How's Karray? How's Karina?"

"They're both fine," the stern head of Internal Security said, softening a little. "You could check in with your own Guild more often, you know. The girls miss a certain red-eyed sorcerer who, the entire time he's been away, has spoken to them exactly one damn time—and every other time has only sent letters with training plans and instructions! Siith, do you even have a conscience?"

"The Quartermaster ate it," I said, promptly throwing my pet under the speeder when he chose that exact moment to poke his head out of my pocket.

"Ooooh! That furry little bastard can eat more than just women's underwear and food from the kitchen?!" Cordelia shouted angrily, fixing the hamster with a murderous stare. The little beast merely twitched his nose in response, looking utterly innocent. "Only you could end up with a fetishist for a pet!"

"Did you ever actually catch him red-handed?" I asked, putting on an offended expression to match the little beast's innocent face. "If not, then it's all slander and malicious lies! He only got caught once... uh... slipped up once... mm... And anyway, Luritta forgave him!"

Our conversation was interrupted by Alto's laughter. When his cousin shot him a puzzled look, he just waved a hand and said, "Make sure you watch the recording later."

I chuckled to myself too. Cordelia could get worked up at the drop of a hat, but she never took it past friendly banter.

"All right, so how's the vacation going? At least tell us something," the former Nimbus general said once he'd stopped laughing.

"Mixed. Mostly interesting—I've learned a lot of new things. I'll tell you what happened in the capital in person. And I changed ships like I'd planned. After thinking it over, I decided to keep the Consular."

"Weren't you planning on getting a Diamond?" Cordelia asked in surprise, while her cousin merely raised an eyebrow.

"Well... the Consular was cheaper, and modifying it was faster. The Diamond is considerably bigger, and I've got far too many ideas for one of those. We could've easily been stuck at the shipyard for a month—I'd have wanted to cram in a hangar, a pool, a sauna... and I didn't want to waste that much time. Same crew size too, even with droids—and that gets expensive. Maintenance is a lot more complicated as well. Besides, I've got an idea. I'll tell you about it when I get back. And for that particular plan, the smaller the starship, the better. The shipyard handled all the preparations I needed, but I'll actually put it into practice back home on Jabiim."

At those last words, I saw both cousins' eyes light up with satisfaction. I paused for a second, thinking... Ah. Right. Home—Jabiim. They just liked hearing me call it that.

"We're about to land on Shili. We'll do some hunting, see how the locals live, stuff ourselves with meat, soak our bellies in the oceans, and then move on. I'll send you some holorecordings."

"Th-th-thank you, Siith," Cordelia said with a smile that somehow managed to look almost threatening. Alto's face twisted strangely too, for some reason... Very suspicious, I thought, snickering nastily to myself.

---

Romri's homeworld turned out to be a lot of fun. I met her family. Togruta were incredibly social people, so the sheer number of sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and assorted other relatives of our Togruta with the soul of a dwarf who were eager to meet us was simply staggering.

The Togruta turned out to be sociable, cheerful, good-natured people. Their tribes did have a kind of elder-junior hierarchy, but nothing excessive. No one was bowing and scraping, and people spoke to one another casually, though elders—whether by age or social standing—were still treated with respect.

After spending a full day with our little red Togruta's parents and closest relatives—and stuffing ourselves with meat to the point of near-death—we headed for the coast, where there was a settlement inhabited by even more of her relatives, though supposedly not such close ones. Once we arrived and started meeting everyone, I actually began to doubt that. The villagers were wary at first, but the moment they learned that Romri had come to visit with friends... "Yes, yes! Little Romri's back for a visit! That Romri." So, naturally, another feast courtesy of our hospitable hosts awaited us, along with a marathon of stories from us about life out in the galaxy.

Even Arvik, responsibility incarnate, gave up trying to organize my protection with just himself and his two companions. The Mando took off his helmet, happily swapped stories about his life, listened to tales of local customs, and drank weak alcohol with everyone else. I was the only one who didn't drink, and even then, refusing turned out to be a real challenge.

When the conversation turned to the bane of the locals—the akuls—our Mando immediately perked up. In fact, those animals were thought to be one of the reasons Togruta society had become so communal in the first place. These days the predators weren't nearly as dangerous, but back in the old days, before the locals had decent weapons, they'd had no choice but to band together against the toothy threat. Hunters were held in high regard: they protected gatherers and other civilians and organized hunts that supplied most of the settlements' food. Togruta were predominantly carnivorous, and while they could digest plant matter, they held meat in very high regard.

What caught the Mando's interest was one of the traditions practiced by Togruta hunters. Alone, armed with nothing but a spear and a knife, the brave hunter would head out into the night and return with the carcass of a slain akul. Doing so earned prestige, respect, a reputation as a badass hunter, and an exclusive piece of montral jewelry made by the women of the tribe from the beast's teeth.

After hearing that story, the Mandalorian spent a couple of minutes thinking, then asked a string of questions about the predators' habits and where akuls could be found nearby—and started taking off his armor. Once he was down to nothing but his undersuit, Arvik borrowed Koit's spear after removing its power cell, strapped his own knife to his belt, and, with great ceremony, asked the Gungan to keep an eye on his armor.

Koit puffed up with pride. A Mandalorian's armor meant an enormous amount to its owner, and leaving it in the Gungan's care was a powerful gesture of trust and respect. After listening to equally solemn assurances from the long-eared Gungan that the Mando's gear would be perfectly safe, Arvik disappeared into the darkness, promising to return with an akul carcass in a couple of hours.

"Romri, uh..." I was a little baffled. "What was that about?"

"He's a Mandalorian," the Togruta said with a shrug, taking a sip of the local drink. "Arvik loves this kind of thing. Don't worry, Boss, he's a damn good fighter. I'm pretty sure he really will come back dragging a dead akul with him."

Romri giggled and flicked her eyes toward the clusters of young women from the tribe, who were whispering animatedly among themselves.

"And when he drags that carcass back, he's going to be in for quite a surprise," our beauty said with a mysterious look.

"Boss-sa," Koit said, dropping into a seat beside us, already a little tipsy. "Tell me, how do folks on Jabiim treat non-humans?"

"Haven't you already picked out a place for your house?" I asked, surprised by the Gungan's question.

"Ah, not asking for myself. Plenty of Gungans on Naboo don't like how friendly we've gotten with the Naboo humans," Koit said, flicking his ears. "Been thinking about it for a while, though. Jabiim's got plenty of water, plenty of room. Think your big Boss, Stratus-sa, would take in some of my people?"

"Hmm..." I thought about it for a few seconds. "I can't say I've ever noticed anyone treating other races or species badly. We barely have any non-humans at all, but that's mostly because hardly anyone is lining up to move to Jabiim in the first place. Tell you what—I'll just ask Alto about it. I doubt he'd object to a Gungan enclave, as long as they obey Jabiim's laws, of course."

"Thanks, Boss-sa. You're a good human. If you were a Gungan, I'd introduce you to my little sister. Ooh, she's a beauty now, though!"

"Thanks, Koit," I laughed at the cheerful thoughts going through the guy's head. "You're a good Gungan too. I've been pretty lucky with sentients these past few years, come to think of it. Aside from pirate scum and assorted bandits, it's been one pleasant acquaintance after another."

"Except for that Naboo Chancellor," Koit snorted. "Don't trust him, Boss-sa. Them Naboo humans are all sneaky liars and thieves, though."

"Don't worry about it," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Politicians are almost never honest, so I know what I'm dealing with."

"And yet you praise him," the Gungan objected, giving me a sidelong look.

"I do. Compared with the Republic's previous leaders, Palpatine stands out—and in a good way. He fights corruption. Not all of it, of course; I'm sure he leaves the useful kind alone, gathering information and stockpiling dirt on the right people. But you can't fix a situation like that by magic. Sheev takes his time, moving step by step and trying to improve things however he can. If he goes off the rails and starts purging everyone in sight, he won't last a year." I scratched my beard thoughtfully. "The fact that he came to see me personally, without guards and with only his aide, tells me he has phenomenal instincts and excellent intelligence, Koit—not that he suddenly found some savage from a mudball fascinating. He wanted something from me, but the way he went about getting it only speaks in his favor. Not a trace of arrogance, not a single demand. I knew that he knew that I knew he wanted something. And I gave it to him. I promised cooperation, guaranteed his people first priority once commercial training begins, and laid out what we can offer and the prospects for mutually beneficial cooperation."

I took a sip of the brew made from a blend of unusual local herbs and gave the Gungan a searching look.

"I was dealing with a clever politician—the head of state. Yes, it's a great honor, it's flattering, and I happen to enjoy flattery. And all of that, Koit, is exactly why I think the Chancellor is the right man for the job. He's intelligent, wise, dangerous, and powerful—but intelligent, wise people don't slaughter the bantha that gives them milk unless they have a damn good reason."

"Sounds like the description of a first-rate bastard," Romri put in, tossing in her two credits as she listened to our conversation.

"That's exactly why I'm saying I like Palpatine. In my opinion, a politician should be a bastard. The important thing is that he be a decent one," I chuckled. "The Supreme Chancellor makes decisions that affect the lives of billions—decisions that make things better for some and worse for others. A soft-hearted, kindly ruler... I don't know. I've never seen much respect for rulers like that. They usually ended up with nicknames like the Weak, the Foolish, the Fat, and so on. Unless they happened to live in an age when everything in their realm was already going well. Then they might not get a nickname at all. They'd just go down in history with a number attached to their name—Branor the Eighth or whatever."

"They're all bastards," the Gungan said sadly, his ears drooping as he took another sip of his drink.

"Not all of us, Koit. I'm wonderful! That's why I try to stay as far away from politics as possible. If I do end up stepping in it, of course—like what happened on Coruscant—I try to do it with style. But as far as I'm concerned, even running the JMG is already way too much!"

The celebration was gathering steam. Ras and his Rendili girlfriend had gotten well into the local drink and were now doing their best imitation of Togruta dances in the firelight alongside the merrymaking locals. Koit wasn't about to be left out either and had borrowed someone's spear to show off something Gungan—one of their war dances, apparently. It looked impressive, actually. The weapon hummed in the skilled spearman's hands, tracing intricate patterns at incredible speed, and Koit moved in a way that swept every thought of him being funny or clumsy-looking clean out of my head. He was a good warrior—the kind of man whose spear was a deadly weapon, not just a stick with a sharp end.

The whole celebration was taking place in the village's large central square. The houses themselves were more or less modern, and landspeeders and airspeeders were parked here and there, but in the middle of the settlement the locals had lit bonfires, dragged out hides, low benches, and short tables, and were making merry "the way our ancestors used to." Somewhere nearby, drums were pounding away, wind instruments were blaring, and strings were jangling, all of it coming together into lively music that somehow reminded me of orcish festivals.

It all looked incredibly colorful and was a stark contrast both to Coruscant and to the time we'd spent at the Rendili shipyards. The Togruta women were an especially pleasant sight. Slender, athletic, graceful predators who weren't exactly burdening themselves with much clothing provided my eyes with no shortage of aesthetic enjoyment. Even Romri, who kept casting sidelong glances at my pleased mug from time to time, eventually ran off somewhere and came back dressed in traditional attire.

"Well? How do I look?" the Togruta asked, twirling on her heels.

"Absolutely stunning, our little aurodium treasure," I clicked my tongue appreciatively, admiring Tano in her traditional dress. "Can't take my eyes off you."

"Come on," the smiling Togruta said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the dancers. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Suti pulling off some incredible moves of her own, dancing something fast, bright, and energetic in the middle of a circle of admiring Togruta, who clapped along to the music for her.

There was a genuinely happy smile on the Twi'lek's face, and I felt a small pang of guilt. Suti had lived for dancing, and I, insensitive red-eyed bastard that I was, had never even stopped to think that she might miss it. I made a big mental note to ask her to dance for us every now and then. The girl worked hard enough as it was, throwing herself completely into her studies.

"Romri," I tried to fend off the prospect of having to dance myself. "I'm not much of a dancer!"

"I'll teach you. There's nothing complicated about it," the little red Togruta laughed.

And then came the task of teaching yours truly Togruta dancing. I had to alter my robe first because it kept getting in the way, after which I proceeded to demonstrate my formidable talents. Not that I was actually a bad dancer. An experienced chimerologist rarely has the luxury of being out of shape or poorly coordinated. I simply wasn't much of an enthusiast. Still, I wanted to ruin the girl's celebration even less than I wanted to dance, so I did my best.

We danced for quite a while, with breaks here and there. During those, the winded Togruta kept shooting surprised looks at me, standing there and breathing perfectly normally. And, overall, I actually enjoyed myself. There were no rules, no schedule, no idiots staring. Everyone was just having fun. Some people drank while half-reclining on hides and chatting, others stuffed themselves at the tables and then went off to "work off the meat" on the dance floor, and a few barely left it at all. Young couples were making the most of the darker corners, and every now and then one would disappear off toward the houses... All in all, a good party. I approved.

About an hour and a half after setting off on his hunt, our Mando came back carrying a good-sized akul carcass across his shoulders—orange in daylight, though in the firelight it looked almost blood-red. Arvik caused an absolute sensation among the locals, who erupted into cheers and praise. The carcass was taken off his shoulders and carried away somewhere into the darkness, while Arvik himself was hoisted into the air and carried around in celebration, given time to put his armor back on, and then dragged into the circle of hunters who had accomplished the same feat. There were six of them in the village: five grim, scar-covered men and one woman.

"Well, that's it," Romri giggled. "Now they're going to get him drunk and grill him with questions, and after that they'll torture him with their own stories—the same ones everyone in the village has heard a thousand times already."

"What a terrifying monster," the Twi'lek said, hugging herself around the shoulders. She'd already drunk and danced her fill, so she'd come back to us tired and happy.

"Come on, Arvik may not exactly be handsome, but monster is a bit harsh," the Togruta objected.

"Nooo! I meant the animal!" Suti protested, flailing her hands while I burst out laughing.

Romri stared at her in stunned silence for a couple of seconds, then burst into peals of laughter when Koit added, "So that's what you think of your commander, Romri!" That even made Shmi—who had spent the whole evening sitting quietly and watching the celebration with a smile—laugh out loud.

"Here we go—watch!" Romri said once she'd stopped laughing, pointing toward some commotion among the bonfires. "Whoa, four of them at once!"

And sure enough, four women split into pairs and started sparring in two small clearings the dancers had made room for. They knew what they were doing; even Koit occasionally offered approving comments. But when he remarked, "Very good, though. Especially for women," Romri snorted.

"Our men are bigger and tougher than our women, but that doesn't mean the women are weak. When the men went off to hunt or fight, it was the women who protected the village and the children from akuls. When the men were wounded and couldn't go hunting, we went instead. On Shili, it used to be—and sometimes still is—deadly dangerous not to know how to defend yourself. All Togruta are predators, and all Togruta are strong."

"Then why don't you swing a spear around like that, though?" the Gungan snorted.

"Because I have blasters," the girl replied, flashing her teeth.

Meanwhile, the two winners faced off against each other to see who was stronger. That fight ended fairly quickly, and the champion of the little tournament ran off in the direction where they'd carried the akul's carcass.

"Saiya herself is going to pull the teeth from the akul Arvik killed, then make the ornament from them," Romri explained when she caught my questioning look. "Well, most of the work will already be done, but she'll remove the teeth herself, clean them, treat them, and set them into place. Then she'll present the beast's teeth to the one who killed it. And they fought because only the strongest unmarried woman among those who wanted the honor is supposed to make the ornament and give it to the hunter."

"And the fact that Arvik doesn't have montrals isn't a problem?" Shmi asked.

"Eh, he can wear it around his neck," the Togruta said with a dismissive wave. "It doesn't really matter. We just like decorating our montrals, and that way everyone can see the trophy right away. Come on, let's go dance some more!"

And so we danced, then rested, then danced some more, and after all that we scattered to the houses set aside for us and promptly passed out. It had been a damn good time—and tomorrow we still had the beach to look forward to! I even found myself, sinful thought though it was, feeling grateful to that green little troll. If he hadn't been such an asshole, we probably never would've ended up on Shili in the first place.

---

The morning after the celebration, once we got to the beach, we discovered that Arvik had apparently gotten roughed up pretty badly the night before.

With his armor and undersuit off and nothing on but his underwear, the Mando was sporting a back covered in scratches and several bruises across his shoulders and neck.

"The akul was a serious opponent," the Mandalorian said without batting an eye when he saw our puzzled looks.

"Uh-huh. Sure," the Togruta said, nodding as she examined the bruise on his shoulder. "Sneaky bastard, too. That bite mark looks exactly like a Togruta's."

"Saboteur akul, though," the Gungan said cheerfully, nodding along.

"Tough opponent," Arvik agreed with complete seriousness, adjusting the elaborate necklace around his neck. "Want to go diving?"

---

Original Russian story

You can find more chapters on my Patreon.

The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.

 

[Fellow Human]

"And yet you praise him," the Gungan objected, giving me a sidelong look.

"I do. Compared with the Republic's previous leaders, Palpatine stands out—and in a good way. He fights corruption.

Click to shrink...

Back on Jabim, didn't he compare the "kindly grandfather" Chancellor to a psycho Sorceror type who smiles at you one moment and the next throws you into experiment/torture room or something.

 

[Vyraco]

I always think it's super weird that Akul aren't extinct on Shili. For being a predator that endangered their people for all of their evolutionary history (and even today!) humans would have murdered the shit out of them, as soon as they achieved the (technological) upper hand. Guess Togruta just aren't human

 

[readsalot]

The akul was a serious opponent," the Mandalorian said without batting an eye when he saw our puzzled looks.

"Uh-huh. Sure," the Togruta said, nodding as she examined the bruise on his shoulder. "Sneaky bastard, too. That bite mark looks exactly like a Togruta's."

"Saboteur akul, though," the Gungan said cheerfully, nodding along.

"Tough opponent," Arvik agreed with complete seriousness, adjusting the elaborate necklace around his neck. "Want to go diving?"

Click to shrink...

Those akul are sneaky bastards. Gotta watch out for a quick dip into a pool, lake or wherever, will help out

 

[FTR2017]

I really love the exploration of the wider galaxy instead of embracing canon's rails as most do.

Siith better listen to his instincts telling him that Sheev is a bastard psycho sorcerer in hiding, 'lest said bastard think him easy pickings!

 

[Boroda Orka]

We spent two weeks on Shili. The sea was great. We swam so much that by the end of it, none of us even wanted to look at another wave.

Speaking of the sea, I should probably mention Shmi. She was genuinely happy. Every now and then, though, I caught a shadow of sadness on her face; I suspected those were the moments when she wished her son were there with her. But overall, she was absolutely delighted by the sheer amount of water. She didn't even want to learn how to swim, preferring to splash around in the shallows. "The thought of all that deep water beneath me gives me the creeps." More than anything, she simply reveled in the open sea like a little girl, every so often gazing in wonder at the endless waves stretching all the way to the horizon.

I absolutely loved Romri's homeworld. Her people showered us with gifts for the entire two weeks. Little by little, in small batches, but every single day. By the end of it, each of us had stacks of beautiful hides, piles of carved bone ornaments, several sets of traditional clothing—which Suti absolutely adored—and traditional weapons. Koit was especially thrilled by the latter, particularly the spears; our Gungan was a true enthusiast when it came to cold steel. Hell, the villagers even made furniture for us while we were there. We installed some of it in our cabins on special mounts, replacing the ship's standard interior fittings.

And all because I had disguised my large-scale study of the Togruta species as medical checkups and healing. Yes, I'm that shameless a bastard—and proud of my cunning, utter lack of scruples, and sheer genius. The sorcerer studies healthy Togruta to gather statistics, then treats the sick and crippled because now he knows how their bodies are supposed to work. Why, I'm practically the embodiment of a storybook villain. I even indulged in bouts of mad laughter and cries of, "Bring in the next test subject!" And they did, laughing at my "jokes" right along with me. Meanwhile, I amassed a mountain of data on the species, with everyone participating entirely of their own free will. The bravest even agreed to vivisection—painless and nonlethal, mind you.

So by the end of those two weeks, the locals had two completely healthy villages—their own and the neighboring one. We had a mountain of gifts, storerooms crammed with meat and local fruit, vegetables, and roots, and an absolute ocean of information on Togruta. And I had acquired a reputation as something close to a holy ascetic, personally sent to Shili by the Gods, the Force, and their precious little Romri.

Another benefit of our little operation, aside from the mountain of gifts, was the good reputation and free publicity—not just for me, but for the JMG as well. Shili might not be the most technologically advanced planet, but gossip was practically the ultimate information-delivery system. Give it a couple of months, and on the other side of the planet they'd be telling stories about "the great holy healer from Jabiim, a sorcerer from Jabiim's Mages' Guild." Sooner or later, that story would reach the Jedi, who would once again reassure themselves that I was practically dressed in white, despite the black robe.

And then all kinds of sentients would start coming to me for treatment. I'd work something out with Stratus and set up a waiting list for healing, with one condition: "If you come yourself, bring ten healthy members of your species with you—of both sexes." As for payment, we'd do it in the finest tradition of my world: charge according to what the patient could afford, which was essentially what had happened here anyway. An excellent idea, especially considering Karray's progress in chimerology. The little one needed practice, and she certainly wouldn't be the only chimerologist around.

Speaking of the Jedi, the idea worked even before we left. The day before our departure, we received a visit from the Order's local representative, Shaak Ti, along with her Padawan, Fe Sun. The meeting was perfectly calm and cordial. I suspected the older Togruta had contacted her superiors and gotten some information about me, because she greeted me as none other than "Master Siith."

The woman was, like every Jedi I'd met, calm and level-headed, and by the end of our conversation I'd decided she was pleasant company as well. She spoke with me for about half an hour, then went off on her Jedi business—training her apprentice, who was also a Togruta, though not from Shili. As far as I understood it, Shaak Ti was preparing her for something like a Jedi ranger role: someone meant to operate out in the wilderness with minimal contact with other sentients. Otherwise, I had no idea why you'd train an apprentice in the wildest parts of her homeworld, as Shaak Ti herself put it, "far from civilization."

I also kept working on my own projects in the calm, relaxing atmosphere. Every now and then I'd take a datapad, a small table, and a chair out to the beach and work there in peace, sipping juice made from local fruit or caf and herbal brews. Suti often kept me company, working on her own studies. She'd also talked the village women into teaching her Togruta dances, which made her very happy; she took great pleasure in showing us the new dances she'd learned while dressed in local traditional clothing.

When we left, the entire village came out to see us off, and along with all the gifts, we took with us some very warm memories of that wonderful planet. No exaggeration—Shili was the best world I had ever visited, inhabited by some of the finest sentients I'd ever met.

The vacation was coming to an end, but the galaxy didn't seem any less full of interesting things. So the Rung was already headed for our next destination—we intended to see as much as we could with the limited time we had left.

---

*** Shili. The wilderness. A few days after the Rung departed. ***
​

"Master?" Fe Sun said, drawing her teacher's attention. "I want to talk about that... sorcerer."

"I'm listening," the Jedi Master said with an encouraging smile.

"I know he did a lot of good for the villagers here on Shili, but I think his real purpose was evil!" the girl blurted out, finally voicing what had been troubling her lately.

"And what makes you think that?" the Togruta asked, still smiling gently and looking at her apprentice with approval. Shaak Ti encouraged Fe to reason her way to answers for herself. Later, she would always discuss the girl's conclusions with her, gently correcting her where needed and smoothing out the rough edges.

"He's... suspicious! And creepy! When he looked at me and smiled, I got scared! I can't even imagine what someone must be thinking to smile like that! And he looked at everyone that way! He dresses all in black, he has red eyes... and his name is Siith!"

The Jedi Master allowed herself a quiet chuckle.

"There are countless races and species of sentients in the galaxy, Padawan. Their traditions, habits, and behavior can often seem strange or frightening to us. I agree that there is something unsettling about Master Siith's appearance. But remember this: a Jedi must judge by deeds, not by how a sentient looks. There have been cases in the Order's history when misunderstandings led to terrible consequences precisely because the Jedi... failed to understand the situation properly. The man we're talking about helped Master Tholme and his Padawan, rescued Knight Chatak from pirate captivity, met with Masters of the Order, among them Grand Master Yoda, and was granted an audience with Chancellor Palpatine. And here on Shili, he treated our people while refusing payment and accepting only symbolic gifts."

"He's still..."

"Suspicious," Shaak Ti agreed with a nod. "Though Master Rancisis is absolutely delighted with him—especially his sense of humor. But Padawan, the fact that the Order has not sent Knights or Masters after Master Siith does not mean he will not be watched. The same goes for his Mages' Guild. And remember this as well: not everything is what it seems. When you earn your Knighthood and begin traveling the galaxy on missions for the Council, you will meet countless sentients. Some will look dangerous and prove to be exactly that. Others will hide their vile nature behind pleasant smiles and an eagerness to please..."

The Jedi Master faltered and fell silent. Her apprentice waited patiently while her mentor considered whatever thought had just occurred to her.

"Fe, I need to think," the Togruta told her apprentice seriously. "Study on your own for a while. We may need to make some changes to your training plan."

"Master?" the young Togruta asked, watching Shaak Ti in surprise as she settled into a meditative pose.

"Patience, Padawan," the woman said with a reassuring smile. Then she closed her eyes and let her mind sink into serene stillness.

Jedi never stop learning. Younglings learn from their instructors in the Temple. Padawans learn from their Masters. And those who become full-fledged Jedi do not leave learning behind, devoting themselves to service and self-improvement until the very end. They draw wisdom from everywhere: from other Jedi, from their own experience, from the sentients around them, and, strange as it may sound, from their own Padawans. Today, Fe Sun had given Shaak Ti something to think about.

More specifically, she had made Shaak Ti question her approach to Fe's training. Jedi were diplomats, investigators, and warriors. Was Shaak Ti really doing the right thing by training her in places where encounters with other sentients were few and far between? And Togruta themselves... Her people on Shili were, for the most part, decent sentients. Their dangerous world fostered solidarity, mutual support, and empathy. Scum certainly existed, but encountering them was genuinely rare. Would Fe truly be prepared for what awaited her out in the galaxy after the kind of training Master Ti was giving her?

---

The vacation was over. I could say I was disappointed, but that wouldn't be entirely true. There was a little regret, sure, but I was practically itching to sit down and get back to real work. Besides, I'd had enough new impressions for a while. Everything in moderation.

After Shili, we flew to Mandalore—Arvik's ancestral homeworld. It was relatively close to the Togruta red-orange predator paradise. I wanted to see the cube-shaped cities rising from a planet whose biosphere had been completely wiped out during one of its conflicts.*

Honestly, Mandalore didn't impress me. The cities were smaller versions of Coruscant, and there was no nature to speak of—just wasteland. It looked a lot like the area around my Mentor's home. The locals themselves called their society "pacifist"...

Well... I could understand them, in a way. The Mandalorian way, as a philosophy, hadn't exactly brought their world much good.

"I'm Mando'ade, but even so, I've never actually been to Mandalore," Arvik said suddenly, sounding a little thoughtful as we left the spaceport and decided to take a walk through the city.

Customs, by the way, was handled fairly professionally. The rules were pretty similar to Corellia's, but the locals were polite, despite the sideways looks they kept giving Arvik in his armor. The Mando knew what to expect, so we'd left the nastier weapons aboard the ship, and the mercenaries carried only stun weapons. Ten minutes of instructions, signatures confirming that we'd read the basic rules for staying on Mandalore, a brief conversation between Arvik and the shift supervisor, and we walked out of the inspection post without any trouble.

"For me, this planet is the ancient homeland of my ancestors. The place where the philosophy I follow was born. That's all. I don't feel any real connection to it."

"Uh-huh." To be honest... I couldn't have cared less. I was just looking around with mild curiosity, feeling a little disappointed by the complete lack of anything interesting. No one had asked Arvik anything. He'd started talking on his own, which was a little unexpected. Maybe it had something to do with those occasional thoughtful spells he'd been having ever since meeting that Fett fellow, another Mandalorian.

"Again..." Romri muttered quietly, with a trace of melancholy in her voice. Apparently, someone had heard something like this before.

"Arvik, no offense, though," the Gungan joined in, "but I'm starting to get the feeling you're trying to convince yourself of that."

"In a way, yeah," the Mando said with a snort, taking off his helmet and resting it in the crook of his arm. "Far too often, when I'm around other Mando'ade, I hear people going on about the lost glory of our ancestors and how Mandalorians have degenerated into a bunch of pacifist bastards."

"And what's your take on it?" I asked, intrigued by the sarcastic edge in our stalwart warrior's voice.

"Simple, Boss. Long ago, the Taung came here from Coruscant after losing a war. They were the first Mandalorians. Thousands of years passed, war followed war, and history repeated itself. The Mando'ade yielded this world to the Mandalorians. That's what I call the local pacifists. But you know what the real problem is, Boss?" Arvik asked, then continued without waiting for an answer, sweeping a hand at our surroundings. "It's that the real Mando—the ones who wear the armor and make war their trade—have somehow gotten themselves hung up on this dead piece of ground. They howl themselves hoarse about how wrong the path these locals have chosen is. Why? What for? As if the clans care where they raise their children! We are warriors! If this planet wants nothing to do with us, then to the demons with it, as you like to say. The armor matters! The language matters! The prosperity of the clan matters! Raising the young matters! The Mand'alor matters—not the planet, but the leader! A real one. A worthy one! This world is nothing more than a place where true Mandalorians happened to live for thousands of years!"

"But that's not nothing, Arvik," I said with a shrug. "Sentients tend to grow attached to the place they call home. Still, I think I get what you mean. I've never been particularly attached to the land myself."

"And Jabiim? You call that home, don't you?" the Togruta asked in surprise.

"Jabiim..." I gave the girl a faint smile, which made one of the passersby stumble. "If I'm being completely honest, Romri, I used to feel absolutely nothing for that world. But Arvik had a point—the place itself doesn't matter. The people do. The Stratuses matter; they've become companions of mine, maybe even friends. Karray, my ward, matters. So does Karina, my apprentice. Very serious Rob—who is actually Ras—matters. My former students matter too, though not so much that I lose my mind worrying over their well-being. Even the people who serve in my manor matter to me, in their own way. And all of them, despite the climate, the endless rain, the ion storms and everything else, love their world. So if I don't particularly care which planet I call home, why not Jabiim? All those good people must have found something in it."

"So basically, Boss-sa, you just don't care," Koit concluded with a cheerful grin.

"Pretty much," I said with a simple nod. "And Arvik doesn't care either."

"That's about right," the Mandalorian snorted. "It just pisses me off that those of us who wear beskar'gam waste so much time and effort on a world that rejected us. There are pitifully few of us left in the galaxy as it is. And instead of forgetting about this place—or just letting it go—and focusing on rebuilding the clans, raising the young, growing stronger... Mando like those idiots from the Watch waste their time on bullshit like terrorism, revolutions, and coups."

The man drew a deep breath and looked with a kind of pity at the pedestrians hurrying back and forth and the speeders gliding along their routes. There was disgust in his eyes, sadness, and... a trace of understanding.

"And for what?" he said sadly, all the earlier fire gone from his voice. "For this patch of lifeless ground? For these people, every last one of them either dar'manda or descended from them? They abandoned their heritage. They left the path. They betrayed the Resol'nare! You can't become dar'manda and then suddenly change your mind and—boom—you're Mando'ade again! That's like... like a whore deciding she's done being a whore and announcing she's a pure maiden now! 'Take back Mandalore!' It's nonsense. Complete nonsense. You might as well say we should take back Coruscant because it was the Taung homeworld!"

"To be fair, their descendants aren't really to blame..." I began, but Arvik cut me off.

"It's not about the descendants or what their ancestors did. The point is, no one's stopping them. Any one of them can leave Mandalore, undergo the trial, and join a clan."

"Hah. Yeah, because passing your trial is sooo easy..." Romri laughed.

"If you want it badly enough, our little aurodium treasure, you'll find a way," the Mando said, baring his teeth. The Togruta only snorted and rolled her eyes. "If there's a will, there are options. But there isn't any will! Just like there's no point in clinging to Mandalore."

---

We spent less than a week on Mandalore. There was practically nothing to do there: a couple of trips out into the barren desert, mostly out of curiosity. On the last one, I performed an analysis ritual and got a general idea of the damage that had been done to the planet. We visited a couple of cantinas and tried the local food. I lost a thousand credits playing sabacc, which had Romri grumbling at me all evening. Our Mando got into a fight with a group of local pacifists who were taking themselves far too seriously. He ended up behind bars because of it, but getting him out turned out to be fairly simple: both the witnesses and the holocam recordings confirmed that he hadn't been the one to start the trouble.

After leaving Mandalore, we set course for Ossus. I wanted to see one of the monuments left behind by the ancient Sith-Jedi feuds. In the Adega system, we found a half-dead world occupied by a Jedi archaeological expedition. I'd already assumed we'd be politely—or not so politely—told to get lost, but the local Force-users turned out to be a pretty hospitable bunch. In exchange for a hundred kilos of meat and another hundred of fruit and vegetables from Shili, which we "gifted" to the Jedi, who were delighted by the prospect of some variety in their meals, we got two full days of guided tours with a lively, cheerful apprentice and a Knight who clearly loved his work.

The senior of the pair, a Gran named Shalak Zoko, buried us under a mountain of ancient history as he explained the purpose of the halls we wandered through in the excavated ruins of the local academy. The Knight was passionate about his work and an excellent storyteller, so everything he told us was genuinely fascinating. That was how I learned more about Tython, the world the Jedi had come from before settling here. About the balance maintained by the ancestors of the modern Jedi—the Je'daii. About how that balance had been broken, triggering cataclysms on their world and the first war among Force-users, who split into several factions.

His Padawan, a Miraluka named Laa Tanaka, wasn't particularly well versed in history, but she seemed to have ants in her pants and an incredibly easygoing nature. The young woman in the blindfold—barely more than a girl—bombarded Romri, Shmi, and Suti with questions about our travels. She grilled Koit about the Gungan underwater cities, and his stories ended up catching both her Master's interest and mine. She tried to draw our Mando into conversation too, but he simply put on his helmet and pretended he wasn't there. I didn't escape her attention either: "Are you really, really sure you're not a Sith?" "Can Jedi enroll in your Academy?" "How much would it cost?" "Are there any age limits?"...

All in all, it was engaging, interesting, and at times even fun. And the Jedi revealed yet another side of themselves to me. I already knew Force-sensitives did more than diplomacy and waving glowsticks around, but reading about Jedi archaeologists and actually meeting them were two very different things. I found these people much easier to relate to: they were passionate about their work, loved what they did, and practically lived for it. Pleasant sentients.

Next came a visit to Mon Cala, where we toured the underwater cities. Very unusual, though I can't say I have anything particularly specific to tell about the world. Beautiful underwater... landscapes, I suppose? An enormous variety of aquatic flora and fauna. Chilly relations between the planet's two native sentient species... And that's about it.

All in all, I'd had a pretty interesting vacation, I thought as I walked down the Rung's ramp, followed by the sentients who had become my crew and traveling companions. A large transport was waiting for us below, basically Jabiim's answer to a landspeeder. The only thing that made me slightly uneasy was Cordelia's far-too-stern expression as she stood there with her hands planted on her hips. She was giving my companions a suspicious once-over, paying particular attention to the women, and frowning more deeply by the second.

Hmm... Wonder what that's about?

---

Author's Note:

*The Mandalore canon used here comes from The Clone Wars. I know the hardcore Mando crowd will probably snort in contempt—but I just couldn't pass up the chance to meddle with the Kryze sisters' storyline.

---

Original Russian story

You can find more chapters on my Patreon.

The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.

 

[readsalot]

She was giving my companions a suspicious once-over, paying particular attention to the women, and frowning more deeply by the second.

Hmm... Wonder what that's about?

Click to shrink...

Heh someone's feeling jelly

 

[FTR2017]

Man, it must suck being the only sane Mando in a world of dar'manda.

Loved the tidbits of exploration and cultural differences between worlds.

 

[Vyraco]

I was kind of hoping he'd get himself a Mythosaur skull/bone, and try to make mini super dinos as pets or something