So. Allow me to introduce myself. Formerly Alexei Igorevich, now Shade Aero. A young man of twenty-five who died of brain cancer in his world and was born in this one. How? I have no idea, but I console myself with the thought of "by force." In a previous life, I was quite a person. Complicated. No, not so much complicated as free. Yeah, that's better. As it happens, the quote, "You must," or "You have to," used to give me uncontrollable fits of anger. What happened to the offender in such cases, you don't have to say, I can only say that nothing good. How did I not get beaten up like that? Well, formally, no one could dig into me, because the note about "mentally ill man with a tumour in his head" was stronger than reinforced concrete. And informally, I could stand up for myself. Thanks to my mother, who took me to fight clubs when I was a kid. I didn't come on too strong.
And even though I was considered a psycho at best, my head was very, very good. I just wasn't comfortable with the limits. But I wasn't a scumbag either. My personal moral standards were often in conflict with the generally accepted ones. Hence the conflicts. Trying to suck up to get a higher position? No way! Bend under the rudeness of superiors? Get punched in the head and walk away! Watching arseholes harassing children? I'd rather hang myself than walk by.
You think it's hard to live like that? You're absolutely right. But hard doesn't mean impossible. I had a good job in a normal(!) team, and good relationships. I had my own life with a close circle of people who shared my opinion, I had what I valued and what was worth fighting for. And I fought for it. At least I tried.
Yes, I had a good heart. Many people told me that, but I would just say no and just bring my "brothers" and "sisters" in misfortune small gifts. And I myself was offered to stay in the house of death, but thanks, no thanks. I lived free and left free, trying to take as much as I could from life.
But who knew that this would not be the end, but only the beginning?
***
I came round slowly. Very slowly. The sensations came back slowly, piece by piece. It was like someone was putting me back together. And during the assembly it was dark, quiet, warm and calm. Very calm. No, I'm lying. I could hear muffled incomprehensible sounds, which I could not make out. I myself, judging by the sensations, was lying curled up. Alas, my senses were dulled.
Time seemed to be stretched out, but there was no need to hurry. Thoughts came in waves, and his muscles sometimes cramped. And though it was unpleasant, at such moments I realised that my arms and legs were intact. And it lasted until I finally came to my senses and tried to move consciously. As soon as I did so, one simple fact finally dawned on me - I was floating in something. Furthermore, my hunch about my posture was confirmed. I was indeed lying in a ball. The first conscious thoughts that came to mind I really, really didn't like, but I couldn't see any other explanation. Making notes, I just waited, mentally praying for my own delirium.
After I came to my senses, it was as if I could see the world... No, not see it, but feel it? I don't know, it's hard to explain. It was like waves were coming from me. They had no colour, but as they passed through space, they reflected different coloured contours in it. Here are incomprehensible humanoids, here are buildings, and this looks like some kind of device. And there was nothing to say about incomprehensible light representations, which I could sometimes observe.
The waves coming from me travelled very far, and the most interesting thing was that I could control their frequency and range. So, I found out that if I sent powerful waves too often, not only I would quickly switch off, but I would also have time to catch a gagging coming from somewhere outside of me, mixed with severe dizziness and weakness.
I decided not to do that anymore, so I minimised these impulses to a radius of a couple of metres. But that was enough for me. Different, incomprehensible imprints of auras, unknown devices and structures. I couldn't understand or make sense of anything, but what bothered me most was the aura I was in. Fuzzy, but so familiar. Like mine, but at the same time a little different.
The questions kept piling up, and there were no answers. I could only continue to study what I was seeing, nothing more. And after a while I realised that it was definitely getting crowded. Acting more on instinct, I tried to move a little, and suddenly it started.
I don't know what was going on, but I felt an echo of terrible pain, and I started to be pushed out of the way. Not only did my weight feel oddly different, but it was hard to breathe. Spasms twisted my lungs, but that was nothing.
And then there was the feeling of intermittent compression. It was as if the walls kept shifting and there was no way out. It wasn't enough that I had impressions and sensations, but fear was added to it. I reflexively pushed myself up with my legs, as if trying to escape, and oh wonder - I even manage to do something! I can see the light! I would have liked to make a joke about "at the end of the tunnel", but I was not in the mood for jokes.
The bright light slashed my eyes, the unpleasant cold hit my skin, and my ears exploded with a whole muffled cacophony of unpleasant sounds. The sound was joined by smells. Strange, unintelligible ones, and immediately following them, it was as if a fire was being lit in my lungs, so intensely they began to burn.
My 'wave' vision immediately erupted, filling the world around me with additional colours and emotions. Yes, yes, emotions. As the wave reflected off of this or that coloured object, an echo would come back to me, bearing the imprint of the emotion that the creature was experiencing. Thank... fuck knows who, for there were only three of these creatures and all were dominated by joy.
I tried to show my displeasure, but instead only a scream escaped my throat. The infantile cry of a newborn baby.
«"No... This can't be happening. It's nonsense! Nonsense!!! It's just not possible!" - Panic grips me in a steely embrace. I don't understand anything. I can't do anything. And goddamn it, that sucks....
But at the same time, the discomfort quickly fades into the background, and panic quickly gives way to hysteria. But before I can disperse, I'm quickly rubbed down and wrapped in something soft, and then handed over to someone. The very third aura, from which I was taken out, reeked of calmness and protection, and in my emotions there was just an inexpressible cocktail of positive feelings.
When I opened my eyes a little, I noticed a beautiful woman of about twenty-five years old. And okay, but SHE WAS RED. Light red skin, with white pigments on her face creating a predatory pattern. Instead of hair, something long and incomprehensible, and rather sharp teeth peeking out from under her lips, in a smile. The hysteria that had begun was blocked by a stupor, which was cemented by the next action: She kissed my head gently and pressed it to her breast, whispering softly. The voice was soft, gentle. As if by magic, I began to come to my senses. There were no thoughts. None at all. I didn't even realise I'd just fallen into a dream. Yeah, it was just a bad dream.
***
It's just a scary dream. Yeah, it's a scary dream. At least I've been in this body for eight days now, and I'm trying to correct my cognitive dissonance. Not only was I "reborn", but the second blow to my psyche came from the world itself. The first glitches turned out not to be glitches at all, and my "mum" is indeed a Togruta. A beautiful representative of one of the races of the ST world. My father, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen, as if I didn't have one.
The third blow to my psyche followed the second. Strangely suspicious word "Je'dai", pushing on not very good thoughts, and what the locals do, makes you open your mouth and stare in amazement. But at least now I know what the light shows are all about. Turns out I've seen Je'daiyans controlling the force. It's like real-life magic. And what's more, my parents... at least one of them, have the power, so, in theory, I could do the same. In fact, given what I've seen and done, I'm more than sure of it.
And now, with eyes full of joy, I suck breast milk with one single thought: "What time am I in?" That was the only question I was interested in, for I had already realised and was even happy about the world I had been thrown into.
And I didn't care that I was a baby. Now I understand perfectly well why people lose their memory of being at that age, but I am ready to pass this way in any form and format, simply because I died. Died in my world. The headache of the last days will stay with me forever, and therefore what I see around me can't be a glitch. And then: I breathe, feel, see and hear the world around me. I rejoice, like the simplest child, to the woman who tenderly breastfeeds me and gave me a second chance. And it doesn't matter what the world around me is, even if it is nonsense, because for the first time I have hope for a really happy life.
***
I'm not happy yet. Too soon. The real "surprises" were ahead of me. One of them is the local language, which was quite complex, but, thank the Force, also versatile enough to build complex structures. I'm also being taught the Togrut language separately by my mum. This language, if I may say so, was not much more complicated than the general one, for in addition to simple sounds created by vocal cords, it included growls, squeaks, clacking of tongue against teeth, and all this in one bottle. And you know what? That language definitely appealed to me! It struck me with its beauty and versatility, and what sometimes mum gave out sentences, I was listening.
Here I sat and carefully watched how her lips moved, when pronouncing tales from books. No exaggeration, a mesmerising sight. And the way you can curse your opponent - a song.
***
«Oh, come on. Come on. One step. One more step. Ooh-ooh! - I'm cradled in my mum's arms, relaxing. Who knew learning to walk could be so hard? I never would have thought that. And now I'm learning to move again. Although, frankly, I'm not very good at it. On all fours, yes, I can do that. But on my feet... only if I'm supported.
In the meantime, they turn me around and put me on the ground again, after which they put out their hands a few centimetres away for me to walk towards them.
«"What? Again?!"
«Well? Come on," she beckons invitingly. - Come on," a soft velvet voice beckons me in the Togrutian language.
«"Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh..." - I mentally groan, but try to get through.
Slap!
Okay, no whimpering. No whimpering! I don't care about the pain, I'm a small but proud man! Yeah. Meanwhile, I was picked up in my arms and looked into my eyes. Mum was smiling and smiling, looking into my serious face, wiping away tears with her thumbs. What's wrong with me, I can control myself!
«Ooty, my good man, I can see you're serious. Let's do it again, shall we? - and they put me on the floor, but they hold me down. Come on, Shade, I can do it. I can do it! Shah-a-jock. One more sha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a.
***
«Shade!!! - Mum shouted, grabbing my hands. What about me? I'm nothing! I just watch the adults work on their strength and try to do it again. Alas, most of the time, it's not very good. The first time, I knocked a chair through a wall. The second time, I set a fire. The third one hasn't happened yet. Mum doesn't let me out of her sight any more, and she picks me up at the drop of a hat.
«У? - is all I can say, looking into her disgruntled eyes.
A whole sentence of indignation and reproach poured out on me in response. Alas, I have to learn the local language and learn it again, let alone speak it, but I got the gist of it: "You can't do that." A natural question arises - Why? What am I doing wrong?
Eh... I wish I could ask those questions out loud. Not yet. And it's no fun doing anything else. I mean, really, I can't play rattle with other kids, can I? Although after I launched, with the help of force, a rattle in the forehead of one harmful type, such toys are no longer given to me. I don't know whether to be happy about that or not.
But there's a silver lining! Mum's paying more attention to me.
***
«Crunch, crunch, crunch..." There was a loud crack of the wooden cylinder under my sharp teeth. Who knew how itchy my teeth were! It's like torture! I can't figure out how togruts get over it?
While my teeth gnawed greedily at the wood, my eyes skimmed the lines of the book, studying the letters and their symbols. Purely by chance, I came across a page about the local time countdown. It turns out that time on Tython is measured somewhat differently from what I was used to, which I had only guessed, but now, albeit by accident, I found confirmation. (Who would have thought it, in the children's analogue of the alphabet.) There are five hundred and twenty-four days in a year, each of which is thirty-two hours long. So those who are five may well look ten.
Another detail was that the locals had no concept of "week" as such. Neither did the month. Instead, there was the concept of "takeda", which included twenty days. In order not to break my brain, I began to associate these "takeda" with simple months.
I was so excited by this news that I didn't notice how much harder I was working on the cylinder.
«CRACK! - BLEEP! I've chewed it again. It's already the seventh, and only for this takeda. By the way, an interesting phenomenon, if other children are given something made of leather with a relatively soft stuffing, I am given wood, because that shit I chew up in thirty seconds. Now, where's that box of wood?
***
«Well, She-ayd. - Mum stroked my head, healing the wound with the Force. I gritted my teeth and endured.
It must have been a funny sight from the outside, tears in my eyes, teeth clenched, but I didn't whimper. I endure. The thing is, I mistook a box of chocolates for a box of crockery. Knowing what a sweet tooth I have, my mum regularly re-hides the box of sweets, and each time further away. Now the box was in the kitchen cupboard. Since I couldn't physically get it out, I used the Force. I tried. And unfortunately for me, it worked. But not with the wrong box. Good thing it was open, and I got away with a lot of small cuts and one big one, not to mention the bumps on my head.
«Careful," she finished what she was doing. The wounds themselves were gone, but the shock, and the pain afterwards....
«So... accidentally! - she smiled and held me against her chest, stroking my head gently.
«It's okay, it's okay. It'll be over soon.
«I'm not crying! - I'm not crying! - I'm not crying!
«Of course you're not crying, you're so strong, - and after a pause she added with a slight chuckle: - and strong.
That's a shame. On the other hand, if you count how many times I got into trouble because of myself, the claim is justified.
***
Guess what, I do have a father. I asked and found out he was a Miraluka who travelled on a sleeping ship to other stars. As far as I understood, my birth was the result of their farewell. And, judging by the emotion my mother felt when telling me this, the farewell was as if to a dying man. Only later did I learn why, for those who go to the stars on sleeping ships never return. At least, there have been no returnees so far. The sleeper ship itself was a half-kilometre long machine filled with stasis pods for long, long flights. All were armed with the latest technology, and in general every such ship was the pinnacle of technical achievement. But the one my father left on was considered the last one, and an illegal one at that.
Due to the fact that there is no communication and information on the ships that left earlier, a ban was imposed on further use of these ships in space. Not without reason, by the way, after all, the Tython system is located in such an anomalous sector that, just looking at the sky, you can see how much in the space of all sorts of nasty things hanging. How do you fly?
My dad was an explorer through and through. Take something apart, study it, learn it, don't feed me meat, just give me an artefact. He'd been up and down the Old City, a mysterious and obscure place buried in the sands of Tython. Legend has it there's a working hypergate. I don't know if that's true or not, but judging by Mother's reticence, Dad did find something there.
He was also indirectly involved with the Order of the Stargazers. A group of individuals who want to find out where their ancestors came from, and are trying every way they can to figure out how to get back to their homeland. They don't do business with the Taitonese, the locals go more into isolation mode, these ones, on the other hand, climb into every crevice. I don't know what kind of relationship they had with my dad, my mum won't tell me, but I can assume it was business. I guess so. She and Dad are digging up ancient artefacts.
But what I could see was that Dad had found something. Something very important. Something that made him fly out of the system against his orders, surrounded by his associates. Anyway, I made a note to myself to visit Old Town in the future. You know, just to see the sights.
After I revealed my lineage a little bit, I stuck to my mother with other questions, specifically: visions of power. Mum explained that I was too young to even think about such things, but after I told her about my second sight (which I used to find candy!), she just clapped her eyes in surprise. When I came out of my stupor, they began to explain to me the peculiarities of the Togruta and Miraluk species, which in me merged into one. It turns out that montrales (horns, or lekki on the head) inside hollow. With their help Togruta literally scan the surrounding space like echo sounders. Miraluk, on the other hand, are born with an improved version of Force vision. In addition to having spherical vision thanks to the Force, these eyeless people can see through walls and can "feel" the emotions of those who are within their line of sight. Alas, but this zone is quite small, and to increase it you have to train long and hard. But me... I have these features superimposed on each other. I will never have the general "vision of strength" that everyone is used to, but I have something of my own. If Togrut's waves are quite physical, mine are made up of the Force, so they pass through ALL the obstacles on the way and come back with a huge amount of information up to emotions. This process takes less than an attosecond, which is, excuse me, ten to the minus eighteenth power. I timed it on purpose! For example, a millisecond is ten to the minus third. Are you saying cheat? And I'll tell you, NOOOOOOO! Mum, through her power vision, detects an object in her field of vision three times faster. In theory, if I develop my ability, I can not only speed up the wave itself, but also increase its power. But neither my mother nor I know how to develop it, because no such precedent has ever happened.
She warned me not to shine this feature on me, so she took my training seriously.
***
- Yoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, kha-kha-kha-kha. Oh...
«Alive? - Mum came over, leaning over and looking intently into my eyes.
«Actually, I'm fine... - I give a thumbs up. - Ouch... - my hand is sharply cramped, because of what I pressed against myself.
«Heh.
Sitting down, she began to drive over the places of injuries with her hand, applying the healing of the Force. About a minute of 'magic' and I feel a little better. At least I can move. Despite her kindness, Mum was very cruel in training, and because of that, I got hurt a lot. Especially at first.
«One more time!
«Ehhh! - I got up and got ready for another round of kicks. Come on Shade, you can take it. At least I'd rather get a training session than a slap on the back of the head for running around the house in dirty shoes. Or is she still sulking because I wasted another Sweet Joy in the same face? Most likely.
***
Jump, duck, step, leap, turn and land. Hard block the invisible opponent, swing the weapon to the side and smash the dummy against the wall with a burst of force.
Turning to my mother, I look into those serious eyes and smile. Mum nodded to herself and smiled. Within a minute, she was throwing vegetables at me from five different directions and not once did she hit me, while I still had to deal with the dummies.
«Well done! - they praised me, stepping up and ruffling my hair. It wasn't that hard, though. Remember the bouncer? I used to love that game when I was a kid. And now this love was superimposed on two features at once, which resulted in something new and so interesting! Although, for the sake of honour, I must admit that it was hard to start, because bruises, bruises and abrasions could not be counted, but I'm not used to it. I'm my own evil Pinocchio.
Now for the specifics, but before I explain something. Everyone knows the song: "In every little child, boy and girl, there's two hundred grams of explosives, or even half a kilo"? I was convinced of the truth of this statement by my own experience. And now pay attention to the question: where do you put all this energy, which beats out of your arse and spurs you to do something stupid, but interesting? In an ordinary child this energy goes into pranks, toys and street games. But I'm not ordinary! I am a head-battered son of even more otmorozhennaya togrutka, which alone can chop into a salad a whole battalion of special forces, and especially, in general, and not straining. And I'm not kidding. To my surprise, Mum specialises in murder. And it's not because she's bloodthirsty or psychotic or anything. No, it's much simpler than that. It's about her worldview, which is, "Spare no enemy, save no friend." And Mum doesn't spare. She only hits once, but she does it from the heart and with a guarantee.
This life position came to me better than bread and salt, and therefore I, inspired by the example of my parents, tried to imitate by virtue of my development and talents, and absorbed everything that I was shown or told, no worse than a sponge. Yes, sometimes my mum overdid it in training. Yeah, sometimes I got hit so hard I felt like I was dead among the living. Yes, sometimes I was bombarded with "force pressure" purely from negative energy. But I stood my ground! And remembered those Jedi, and especially Yoda (I don't know why I disliked him so much, but I specifically disliked him), with their "darkness is more accessible and easier". No way! You hear me, green shorty? No shit! Sitting and meditating is a bullshit question, but try staying calm when you're being kicked, set on fire, sometimes made a hedgehog, and sometimes given an electric shock that would kill a normal person. What's that? That's not humane? Well, congratulations, mate, you're on Tytone, they've never heard of humanity here. In fact, seasoned J'Dayi here sometimes die just because they've been eaten, so the situation dictates the terms.
But, back to my mother. Let's count the peculiarities of my situation: all Togrutians, without exception, are predators and learn to move from birth, and to make it easier and quieter, they move without shoes. Instead, special bandages are wrapped around their feet to save them from sprains, and I was no exception, despite being a half-breed - that's one. After all, it's one thing to move silently with power, and quite another to move silently without.
Next, my current mentor and mother, one of the best assassins in the world. What can such a man... togrut teach? The answer is right, killing. Hand-to-hand and swordfighting classes have become a part of my life. No, I didn't become a mega assassin or anything. Compared to my mother, I'm nothing, and I still have a lot to learn. But I'm no longer "harmless," either, because I can take a good smack. Add in the ability to survive, and you've got something capable of living in the realities of Tython.
Now, as for the Force. I had not given up on this science, nor did I intend to. Being happy, not less (or even more) than a box of chocolates, I enthusiastically engaged in training in this area. Formally, my mother was breaking tradition by training me, not only ahead of time, but also, now, instead of the temple teachers. I should have been enrolled in Padawan Kesh by now, but I'm still doing private lessons with my mother. What the hell else am I supposed to do when I'm shovelling in this knowledge? And to keep it interesting, the process has been turned into a game.
Like a guessing game. She takes three glasses and a seed. I have to guess which glass the seed is under, relying solely on the Force. With my experience in finding secret sweet supplies, this was easy enough for me. However, if I made a mistake, I would get a good discharge, lurking, like a mine, under a false cup. So, by the way, I learnt how to mine power traps - yes, there is such a nasty thing here. I don't know how to set them yet, but I've learnt how to defuse them. Bruises and burns, so to speak. On the other hand, the "atrocities" were moderate and sparing, and some of the energy was wiped out.
Or here's hide-and-seek. Mum would hide and I would look, and vice versa. But the search was not primarily with my eyes, but with my strength. The only thing I was riding on was my sense of kinship. If it wasn't for that, I'd never have found her. But they found me. Always. In the first second. She'd just finish counting and I'd get shot, but for fun, they'd pretend to look for me. I could see it in her eyes, shooting back and forth to my location. But what's most frustrating is that when I'm looking, she always, always sees me. Always there. That said, I have to go out of my way to find her. I remember the moment the bandage on my leg ripped. I was on the stairs at the time, and I got confused and flew down the third floor right onto the glass. I didn't know how to fly, nor did I know how to slow my fall, but I was lucky to fly for exactly two seconds, after which I was caught. And there she was. Standing there, holding me and smiling. I've never had such a feeling in my soul as I did then. A sense of pride and security mixed with utter hopelessness.
«"I'll never achieve such mastery," I thought at the time.
But one detail is worth noting here. Since the search was through and through, I decided to ask, "Can it be hidden?". My mum smiled then and tried to explain that I wouldn't be able to do it. Not the right level. But I reminded her of my second sight and continued to insist on my point. Eventually she gave in. To be honest, what I was told was from the genre: "Break my brain", but I tried. It was interesting. And it was necessary. There are many dangers on Tython, three dozen deadly predators alone. And when the time came for the pilgrimage, I'd need to know how to hide. Good at hiding. So... It's just a shame that the progress isn't great. "Coiling your aura and blending into the background of the force" is, you know, a bit problematic. But that's okay, the first step has been taken. All that's left is to evolve, and that's time and training.
So my current day resembled eight stages: Early rise, breakfast on speed, (who is the last, in the evening washes ALL the dishes), physical training in the yard, theoretical classes, then lunch, exercises with the Force, survival training with the same Force, dinner, (if lost, then cleaning the dishes) shower and sleep. The sequence changed, something varied, but the gist stayed roughly the same. But sometimes. things would happen that were out of the ordinary. For example, when we had unexpected "guests".