Bab 47: "The Apartment Question"
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* The next day *
I spent the morning meditating. Even though I'd taken the academy course with the old man, I still needed to brush up on all the required topics. Getting my diploma was one of the goals I'd set for myself years ago, and now, on the day of the exam, I tried to be as diligent as possible.
As the time approached, the timer on the datapad alerted me and, standing up, I looked confidently at my reflection in the mirror. Looking relatively confident, just a little tired. Finally calmed down, I checked my memory again - I'd only recently finished the class with the old man, so it hadn't weathered out of my head. After drinking a cup of tea, I waited for Shiai, and together with him we went to the university. I couldn't find a place to put the kid, so I took him with me - he wouldn't be able to sit still anyway.
The required classroom was found quickly - I hadn't forgotten the layout yet. Since today was the last day before classes started, there were occasionally students in the corridors who cast interested glances at Shiai, who, of course, looked rather unusual because of his race.
Inside the auditorium was the dean and the economics professor. I was immediately noticed:
- Ah, Mr Skywalker. Honestly, I didn't believe you were you until the last moment," the Dean said instead of greeting me. - You know, that incident on Mandalore had some bad consequences. The deaths of two students is a good reason to send a note of protest to the Duchess.
- I hope she wasn't pressured," I let Shiai go, "we've only just established a dialogue. And besides, we've only just begun to trust each other... if that word can be applied to politics.
- No, of course not," the dean denied, "it's within reason. I'm sorry, this is probably not a topic you want to talk about," the dean lowered his eyes, "I think I'll be going now.
- Don't be," I shook my head, "Ali and I loved each other, but it's been years, at least for me.
The dean only noticed Shia hiding behind my back.
- Who's that with you?
- Oh, this is Shiai Skywalker, my son. As I just said, it's been a long time... for me.
The Dean looked seriously surprised, but immediately softened.
- Oh, wonderful. I hope you'll want your son to have the same fine education you have.
- Are you suggesting admission? - I raised an eyebrow. - It's too soon. Do you mind if he stays here for a while? I don't have anyone to leave him with.
- Not at all," the dean said, "are you ready to start the exam?
- Sure," I nodded. The man handed me the datapad, and I transferred the money for the early exam. Accepting the datapad back, he nodded and looked over to the economics teacher:
- I'll leave you to it, good luck! - And walked away.
And then... the lecturer was not as wordy as the dean. He quickly pulled out a terminal and placed it on the table. A grid of numbers appeared above the terminal.
- You know the rules," he asked or affirmed, "good luck.
I poked at one of the squares as before. The virtual ticket unfolded over the table. Subject: public finance, in detail - peculiarities of lending to organisations in commercial banks.
- Good ticket, - commented the teacher, - you have five minutes to prepare.
- At least explain it in two words," I asked. - Or I could write you a book here....
- You don't need a book, - grinned the teacher, - describe the differences from lending to private individuals, especially in terms of documentation.
I sat down to prepare. Five minutes, and the answer dictated to the teacher about twenty minutes. After all, getting loans from organisations is a serious operation and there were laws of their own. On the collateral, on the documents, on the requirements to the bank, and their limits.
The first subject the teacher rolled "on the back" - asked a couple of clarifying questions and that's all. Before I could rejoice at the first assessment, the economist left and the lawyer came....
They tortured me for at least four hours. Shiai had long ago been released with his secretary for a tour of the university, and I suffered. They earned their money honestly - lawyer, manager, accountant, programmer, financier.....
Towards the end I was exhausted, although compared to the old man they were still very, very unrequirements. But there was responsibility. With a perfect memory, I barely passed all the exams. And I earned the highest score, which, in theory, opened the way to my future career. Local diplomas did not have a "red" status - they were divided into three classes depending on the quality of passing - first, second and third. First - absolutely perfect passing, with all the highest marks, second - passing at least one subject worse, third - everything else. For obvious reasons, there was one first-class diploma per several thousand students per year. Slightly more often - the second and most common. This practice was considered common for all republican universities. By the way, I found out at my leisure that Padme has a second-class degree. That's very, very good. I love smart girls!
Having finished the exorcism, I left the classroom and gladly visited the rector, where I received the coveted card. The diploma had already been registered and it was valid in the republic. It was wonderful!
Finding Shiai I took him in my arms and returned to the ship. It was time to say goodbye to Alderaan! This planet brought back sad memories and I didn't want to stay here. Shiai, also tired from the tour, quickly went to bed. We were off into space!
The morning finally put everything in its place. Having slept well, I, in good spirits, steered the ship towards Correllia. This was the planet I needed to finally let go of the past and start looking to the future.
The journey to Correllia was quick - while Erdva was in the deckhouse, I went to the kitchen and cooked breakfast for myself and my son - having had some training, I could already cook something more acceptable, edible. This skill was very useful for a lone space traveller.
After eating breakfast together, I finally got to training:
- Shiai, let's do some training. You have a lot to learn. Let's go," I pulled him into the hold where there was the most space.
- What are we going to learn? - The boy didn't understand.
- For starters, let's see how your intuition is," I pulled out one of the training droids I had lying around and launched it, putting a blindfold over the boy's eyes. - You can have your shoto. Try punching with it.
Shiai wore the shoto on his belt. Switching on the short blade, he intercepted it with a reverse grip and stood up, waiting for the attack...
The boy fended off the shots quite well, though there were some misses - he didn't get accustomed to the small blade right away. Since the gyromoment was directly proportional to the length of the arc, the thirty centimetre light dagger, unlike the sword, allowed him to wield it much faster, even without the use of force. The droid circled around the boy some more, but using his senses, Shiai always kept facing the droid.
- 'Not bad,' I commented, 'Toshi is a good teacher. Let's try it with two..." I pulled out the second droid and released it. It was no longer working to face the target. The droids were circling around and Shiai was caught off guard several times.
- Move," I suggested, "work your legs. Standing still robs you of your mobility. Try to see not only the shots, but where they're going, and adjust.
- I can't! - Shiai disagreed
- Yes, you can. It just takes practice, which is what we're doing. Don't stop.
For half an hour I watched him try to fight the droids. Sometimes very successful, sometimes not so much. Architects aren't genetic, they're powerful. And the children of architects won't necessarily have their abilities, though they'll still stand out from the grey masses. It didn't take me long to learn how to fend off the two droids Qui-Gon had sicced on me.
Time flew faster in Shi'ai's company - and at the same time I had time to devote to the child. Afterwards, I had to go through the settings on his datapad, which I'd given him, to adjust the "parental control" filters. Holonet, like any network, consisted of not the most pleasant resources. I had to cut out all the porn from the network, leaving only erotica, and even then not too hot, as well as a few other types of resources.
Long or short, we arrived - the ship left in the Correlian sector. Erdva notified us on the loudspeaker. Waiting for my yacht, I immediately went to the wheelhouse, and already in the chair, I thought about the fact that I would have to fly to Mandalore... Mandalore, to put it mildly, did not make me happy - the only comfort was that I would not have to be there for a long time. And it wouldn't hurt to have a chat with the Duchess - she probably already thinks that she got rid of her obligations and grabbed luck by the tail....
I grinned at my thoughts and sent the ship towards the planet.
Shiai also came to the cabin and climbed into the co-pilot's chair, watching my manipulations. I quickly sketched a route to the shipyard where I left my "yacht" and turned to Erdva:
- You drive on, I'll only report back.
- No problem, Captain," the droid replied.
- Dad, can Erdva drive a ship?
- Yes, Shiai, he can drive a ship," I nodded, "come on, we have to get ready to leave.
To all the questions like 'where are we going' and so on, I mysteriously replied 'you'll see'. After quickly getting dressed in decent clothes and following Shiai, I was finally able to wait for the landing. In the hold, Shiai started pestering me with questions again, but I kept my mouth shut.
The ship sat on the landing pad and the ramp in front of us lowered. Erdv's work was done and the droid hurried out to pick us up.
After checking for money and documents, I stepped out onto the concrete of the landing pad. It was far from the capital, a typical backwater, except for the dozen or so giant hangars three hundred metres high off to the side. The air was unusually fresh and smelled of morning dew - it was early morning on Correllia. The sun, rising above the horizon, illuminated the sides of the boathouses, three giant oblong hangars standing on the ground. Beneath them were purely utilitarian structures of grey concrete. I left my ship in one of these shipyard hangars. Shiai stared at this landscape with wide-open eyes.
- Are you coming? - I hurried him up and headed towards the administration of this shithouse. The boy ran after me as he could not keep up with my wide strides on foot.
The journey took more than ten minutes - I overestimated the proximity of the boathouses - their size up close seemed really fantastic. It was only when I got to the entrance hall that I realised how big it really was. However, considering that my "yacht" fit inside, it was nothing strange. Together with Shiai I entered the door that opened - there was not much space inside - a guard, a turnstile, a weapon detector frame... That's all. It was easy to get through - I showed the guard the contract for the repair of the yacht and we were immediately let through. But Erdva helped us to navigate inside - I took Shiai by the hand and followed the droid, which, as it is easy to guess, downloaded the map and laid out the route. On the way we met workers - a dozen people, and many more droids. There were a lot of them - secretary droids, cleaners, loaders, labourers, astrodroids, and even security droids. Shiai looked around at all this splendour with genuine curiosity, while I just followed Erdva, trying not to get lost.
As we made our way through the industrial zones, we came to a rather large building-I remembered it from my last visit-it was the administration office.
Despite the early morning, everyone was in their seats - the head of the repair dock was sitting in his office. He reacted to my appearance with an unconcealed desire to go to sleep for another hour - he suppressed a yawn and putting aside a cup of local "coffee" asked:
- What can I do for you?
- Hello, you probably didn't recognise me," I smiled, "Anakin Skywalker.
- Anakin... Anakin..." the man started to remember, "Right! - He finally remembered and looked at me again, "Looks like him. Brother?
- No, I'm me. By the way, I can tell you an interesting story... - I smiled, sitting down on a chair without asking. The man didn't answer, but took a glass of coffee and started sipping it. I understood it as attention and told part of the truth:
- There was this thing, I was attacked on Mandalore...
- I heard," he nodded, "I almost had my order cancelled.
- The attack damaged my hyperdrive. More specifically, the circuits responsible for the relativistic flow of time. All this led to a serious disruption during the hyperjump and....
- И? - the man stepped forward.
- I was thrown back several years. Six years to be exact.
- That can't be! - He couldn't believe it.
- Maybe, maybe not," I shrugged, "my documents have been restored. I am me, alive and well.
- Is it possible to get your hyperdrive for study? - asked the director, - such cases are rare, but back in time.....
- However, it has happened. Anyway, I'm me, and now I've come for my yacht.
- Ah, yes, the yacht, - the man smiled, and wrinkles formed near his eyes, - one second... - he quickly typed something on the terminal, and then got up: - shall we go to see it?
- Perhaps, - I didn't argue, - I wouldn't mind seeing the blueprints of the project.
- There are drawings, descriptions and everything that might be needed on the yacht's computers. It's not a problem, especially since you sent us the basis.
We stood up and talked as we went along.
- How much do I owe you for the work?
- Another four million. You can hire a ferry team from us, but you'll have to find your own.
- That's not a problem," I shook my head as I entered the hangar, "it's already been arranged.
We entered a truly gigantic room - it was hard to imagine, a whole microcosm. Far away, under the ceiling we could see the features of lifts, and in the centre stood a yacht. Half a kilometre long... it looked a little clumsy on its landing legs. Up close, it was overwhelming in size, to say the least.
- Here's your beauty," the administrator commented, "We've cleaned up the combat rooms, replaced the reactors, new hyperdrives, powerful shields. First class finishes, there is also a swimming pool and a conference room, as you requested...
- Yes, yes," I'd forgotten what I'd asked for, and I didn't want to remember because Ali and I had made the requirements together.
- What class of hyperdrive? - I asked.
- First. Backup sixth. Unfortunately, it's impossible to find a higher class for these ships.
- It's not a problem," I dismissed it, "the job suits me fine.
- You're not going to inspect it? - was surprised by the administrator, - still...
- No, I don't need to, - I waved away, - if something is wrong, I'll finish it.
- As you wish, - the administrator was a little offended, - sign... - he handed me a tablet with the contract. I signed everything that was required and transferred the required amount to the account. After that, all that was left was to take off.
- Are the droids included? - I asked before my boss left.
- One thousand R2, fifty secretaries... and a few other things. There were battle droids in the hold...
- Ah, yes," I remembered the Sith fighters, "is something wrong?
- We rebuilt them and reprogrammed them a bit. My advice, though, sell them to collectors. Machines like that are rare these days.
- I nodded, noticing that Shiai had disappeared. He was far away from me, on the other side of the ship. You made it, you little parasite!
Together we went to the boat. She greeted us with a completely non-military spacious hold and wide corridors illuminated with soft white light. By the hand, I took Shiai around the yacht. A lot had changed here since I'd flown her, cursing the slow hyperdrive and hoping to see Ali soon. I've changed about as much as this ship has changed-not much outwardly, but inwardly I've become much more serious and focused-the weight of responsibility and the bitterness of what I've been through make me look at the world a little differently. The corridors became wider - in some places there were platforms, passages, stairs... but in general the architecture remained the same - straight corridors through the whole hull, living and other important rooms upstairs, and downstairs - cargo hold and holds with supplies.
- Dad, what kind of ship is this? - Shiai asked, distracting me from my thoughts.
- This? A yacht. She used to be a Sith cruiser, but now she's a yacht.
- Sith? - Shiai wondered. - But then where did you get the ship?
- I just found it and repaired it a little. And here they have already finished the repairs to the end.
Shiai thought for a moment, and then the questions came out of his mouth like a cornucopia of questions - where you found it, how you found it, how you repaired it, where the Sith went, no, I didn't find any Sith holocrones, and in general!
Tired of the questions, I immediately headed for the bridge. Now there were turbolifts leading there from several places at once. Upstairs, just below the bridge, were the private quarters. Oh, that's just what I wanted-the carpets on the floor were natural wool from some kind of animal, with a cosmic dark purple pattern. I couldn't smell any chemistry in them, so the colour was natural, where did they find such purple animals? The galaxy is Ikea multiplied by Auchan to the tenth degree - you can find everything here!
The private quarters were different from the rest of the ship - as I said, carpets on the floor, paintings on the walls, seemingly archaic furniture made of expensive wood... In the galaxy it is common to use metal everywhere - wooden furniture is too short-lived. That's why it's considered a special chic, emphasising the difference between staid, utilitarian design and homely comfort. Tables, sofas covered with leather - rooms under a hundred square metres. Or rather halls.
From one large hall led many doors - to bedrooms, as well as to other private rooms - a bathroom, a small swimming pool, a training room, a laboratory... I looked into the rooms - they were the same - a large room, a bed, which was not exactly a shag, but rather a hint of a large orgy, tables, the obligatory aquarium with some fish, and also a carpet on the floor. The walls were lavishly decorated with natural canvases from not-so-named artists.
It was all more than comfortable for a few people to live in.
- This is where we'll be living..." I commented to Shiai, "I don't have a home on the planet, but it means I'll be living on the biggest yacht in the galaxy.
- Cool! - commented the boy in his usual manner. - Where's my room?
- It's up to you," I shrugged, "you're old enough.
Shiai's smile was unusual - something I'd just noticed - the vertical stripes on his cheeks emphasised it, and his fangs were a little longer than those of humans... Amused by my son's little joy, I left him here and went to the bridge.
There was a separate turbolift leading to the bridge, directly from the main hall.
Once up there, I looked around - the bridge had changed a lot. Instead of bulky computers there were compact terminals, military posts were removed, and there were only five chairs - pilot, co-pilot, navigator-communicator, XO, captain. Actually, there was no need for more than that. There was one man sitting on the bridge, and as I approached, he turned round. The pilot was a woman in her 40s, with a strange haircut.
- Mr Skywalker? - she addressed me, "What can I do for you?
- Is everyone on the ship?
- There's a transfer crew of fifteen. Everyone's at their stations, awaiting orders.
- Good," I sat in the captain's chair, quickly sketching out a route to Mandalore. Characteristically, with a few digressions into the smuggler's paths. - Prepare the ship for departure. I've entered the route.
- Good, sir," she said more calmly as she looked at the route, clearly not entered by a novice, as only smugglers and pirates know such cuts and paths. - Will you be on the bridge?
- A little," I smiled with the corner of my lips.
The woman turned back to her console and began the takeoff. Standard procedure - you can die of boredom. Five minutes later, the boathouse doors above the ship parted and the way up was open. We began the ascent. As the ship entered orbit, I asked the pilot:
- What about provisions, water, fuel?
- Fuel tanks are full, the rest is nominal, - she answered, without turning round, - we'll have to get extra.
- We will," I nodded, watching the hyperdrive engage. When the ship dived into hyperspace, I didn't sit on the lady's soul and went to my place.
Shiai chose the very first room, and found himself in it, climbing the furniture. He didn't find anything new, of course, but he had to climb everywhere!
- Did you find something? - I asked him, attracting his attention.
- No, nothing," the boy said sadly.
- When we have time, we'll buy everything we need. Besides, hoarding is not a Jedi thing," I grinned.
Together we continued to get to know our new home. Since there would be no need for me to build another yacht, this one would be permanent - there was plenty of room for modification.
Under this level there was another one, and another... in total the "master" part of the ship had four levels - on the upper one there were living quarters, on the second one - rooms with a slightly undefined meaning and more original layout - eight spacious rooms. Could be made habitable, if necessary. The third level was a dining room for a dozen people and a conference room. It would not be a shame to receive guests here - tables made of heavy wood, similar armchairs, a parquet-like covering instead of a carpet, made of wood, giving off a little green colour and paintings on the walls - landscapes and still lifes. It was... cosy.
The last, lower floor seemed to be the rooms of the personal servants - there were relatively small rooms, ten rooms, as well as a common cabin, with access to a spacious kitchen.
I was certainly not prejudiced against droids, but a droid is not a living thing. There are rare exceptions when a droid is given enough processing power to develop a full-fledged personality, but even then the droid will follow the programme rigorously. Erdva was a full-fledged AI, capable of interpreting even a direct order in its own way, but in most cases... I would prefer living servants. A droid can be reprogrammed, and I'll only notice danger when it threatens me directly, and a sentient being can't hide bad intentions, even with perfect acting talent. Unless it will be someone stronger than me, there are only three options, and all of them live on Mortis....
As the ship flew and Shiai settled in, I grabbed my datapad and started sketching out a list of candidates for servants. A cook, a cook's assistant, a waiter, a teacher for Shiai - the boy was to be taught not only how to swing a sword, but also the simplest subjects - maths, physics, history, and other school stuff. As well as a couple of people to work on appearance and clothing. I didn't care about that, but children grow up so fast, and if Shiai's already very imposing appearance is emphasised with the right choice of clothes....
Candidates, I think, could be easily recruited on Mandalore - not everyone there should be orthodox warriors, there should be ordinary citizens.
The journey to Mandalore takes a couple of days - even with the shortcut. It's good that the ship has a new identifier, so I don't have to explain the presence of a warship in private hands.
By the way, I never had time to give the ship a name. Sitting on the sofa in the evening, with a tablet in my hands, I was choosing a name for such a controversial ship. All pathos names had already been sorted out, so I had to make it up. After much deliberation, I settled on one of the lines from the old Je'daii codex - either "guiding fire of light" or "mystery of darkness". A three-word name is too much, so I settled on "mystery of darkness", especially since the ship was built in an unknown shipyard and used to belong to the Sith, which is symbolic...
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
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