Chapter 3

The mentor, struggling with emotions, sitting in the captain's chair with such a face as if he had constipation and hemorrhoids at the same time, issued a sacramental: "Let's go!" The ship's AI replied: "Roger!" In reality, of course, it was said something completely different and much more. It was necessary to get all sorts of take-off corridors and an orbital entry vector. Calculate the jump coordinates to the first system of the route compiled by the Treasury. Also to agree on the allocation of the acceleration lane past the orbit. In principle, the latter was conventional and something like a tradition. This was in the past when the ships were barely crawling, they got out of the gravity well for a long time. Unfamiliar to me from past life rockets, of course, but still, compared to the present times, they are heaven and earth. Then it was also necessary to distance themselves or accelerate, and only then go into a jump. In general, in a Far, Far Away, everything somehow doesn't happen too quickly. Moreover, it is also very uneven. And how the experience of the past slows down progress - madness. The same AI's are used without exception, but in such a way that the fur stands on end. However, maybe that's a good thing? Progress, especially scientific and technological, often carries a lot of non-obvious dangers and problems that come back to haunt decades, centuries, and sometimes millennia in general. The question is mostly philosophical and perhaps even rhetorical. Behind all that verbiage and gibberish-patter of the commands that Nemak issued, in fact, the very "let's go" was hidden. Issue he the Gagarin command, nothing would have changed.

The ship, with a barely audible roar, broke away from the floor and flew into the huge alignment of the temple hangar. Against the backdrop of huge temple towers, we were like a midge on a panoramic window. The soft paw of acceleration touched my chest for a moment, which made me tense up and vow to check the compensators. Flashed traffic streams, consisting of a myriad of atmospheric and not very technical. The screens began to rapidly darken - and soon the darkness of space spilled through the windows, coloured with a scattering of stars. Quickly but carefully, without recklessness, we rounded the carcass of a huge bulk carrier. We darted between a pair of dispersing liners. We orbited some ancient slow-moving vessel, pretty much looking like a barge. We briefly admired the aged military station that keeps the capital planet at peace, and, finally, got out into the volume of space assigned to us.

" Readiness to jump, at one hundred percent," the AI reported.

" Jump!" Sensei exhaled, squeezing the armrests and leaning forward.

To be honest, I also could not restrain myself and slightly tried the strength of the material of the chair with my claws.

"I'm starting the countdown. Ten, nine... one. Jump."

The stars stretch out in lines and merge into a tunnel. AI reports that in ten hours and sixteen minutes we will arrive at our destination. I look at the subspace shimmering behind the porthole. Colours dance from delicate azure to deep dark blue with a touch of purple. However, all this is almost invisible against the background of the brightest white stripes that the stars have become. Strange sensations. It seems like "wow", but everything seems to be completely ordinary. As if I went to a new shopping center for groceries. Somehow even a little disappointing. Not completely disappointed, but I was expecting something more. Eh, if only I really knew "what?"

"Now we are in space, Mirr," turning around with the captain's chair, stated the obvious mentor.

"Yes, teacher," I press my ears a little, and then, just in case, I also nod.

"I think we should make good use of your time," Nemak smiles, but the emotions that go through our connection betray with his uncertainty.

However, here even fingers with intonation were enough to understand everything. Sensei did not know where to put appendages, so he was wiggling them. It is clear that he didn't spin himself as a mill, but the sleeves did not give him rest. Either he will correct the cuff, bend it, then hide his hands.

"Shall we practice, Nemak-dono?" - I asked, after a withheled pause, the question expected by the mentor.

"Yes. We will meditate," the mentor issued, having decided and clearly encouraged.

"Maybe we'd better work with swords, sensei?"

"The best fight is the one that didn't exist at all," Nemak grinned and looked at me as if I were an unintelligent kitten chasing its own tail.

"Good must be with fists."

"Nonsense," the Jedi dismissed lordly, -" let's go, let's get down to business," - he stopped the possible dispute in the bud.

"Yes, master."

What else was left for me? The teacher said to meditate, padawan took the mat and went to do it. I'm not the chosen one, and Nemak is not Obi-Wan. No, it was possible to show character, but I'm not twelve, well, almost thirteen, it doesn't matter. I can keep teenage nonsense and maximalism in my fist with my will. Again, let's give the mentor a chance, maybe all is not lost for him. In any case, it's not worth it to brush off and crinkle up your nose like that right away. Life is like that, it can turn around in different ways. In short, we will not run into trouble, but, as befits a decent predator, we will sit patiently in ambush.

For four hours we comprehended the Force, or rather, we simply dwelt in it, without a special purpose and meaning. What can I say, it wasn't a waste of time. I got an interesting experience. There is not much practical use from it, at least for my plans for the future, but nonetheless. I can't say that I somehow felt the Force in a special way, being on a ship rushing through the galaxy, but there were differences. In a sense, it can be compared to driving a car and riding a motorcycle. In the latter case, you perceive the same speed in a completely different way. Here - the same thing, all senses escalate in general. At the same time, however, the abilities remain the same, well, for a motorcyclist, for example, vision or hearing do not change, but the sensations are ... different. Saturated and bright, especially when you slip between a pair of passing trucks. Adrenaline - a wagon and a small cart. In general, thank you sensei for the new experience. It will be necessary to try to meditate in a remote corner of space. So to speak, listen to the silence.

The rest of the flight was spent reading from a datapad and swinging a sword under the guidance of a ghostly council. It was good, it was great. The Force is undoubtedly the main weapon of the gifted and its main difference from others, but the ability to wave a light stick is also very useful. Especially in the light of the future. One problem, my teachers are immaterial- so there is no one to cross swords with. The teacher preferred to go to bed. In general, he was somehow spiritualized and enlightened. At the beginning of our meditation, he constantly reached out to me in the Force and checked whether I was slaking? Naive. No, if you get down to do something, you need to do it well and with full dedication. In general, having made sure that the Padawan comprehended the incomprehensible with might and main, the sensei calmed down, filled with pride in his mentoring talents and renounced the world.

A couple of minutes before the finish line, I just got into the bridge with a datapad, a well-rested and very cheerful teacher came running. He greeted me, praised me for being busy with business, and not thrashing around. At the time of his appearance on the screen, I had a general scheme for the design of starships. He flopped into the captain's chair, asked the AI ​​for a report, and even rubbed his palms with impatience. AI reported, counted down, and exited the hyperspace jump. The stars became familiar again, and a dirty green ball of the planet appeared right ahead, at the sight of which I only purred-snorted. There are small swirls in the atmosphere that form a pair of eyes. Moreover, one is clearly swollen. Well, or was swelling, which is more true. Sensei also chuckled, it looks like our thoughts and associations converged. We're flying fast - I noted to myself the speed with which the planet was speeding at us. It is clear that we were approaching it, but the effect of the view outside the illuminator was just that. When the huge ball of the planet became one and a half times larger, we were contacted by a local dispatcher. A short dialogue, which only confirmed the information already sent by the automation, receiving a corridor, manoeuvers in orbit, and now we are going to land.

A plasma cocoon envelops the ship. A flaming force shield protecting our craft from the consequences of such a rapid entry into the atmosphere. Delight. Where are superluminal speeds and hyperspace. This is the real miracle. How true saying is that you can look at a fire forever. The bewitching beauty of the flame that awakens something ancient and hidden in the soul.

"Myrr," the teacher calls out to me, ruining the moment at once.

"Master?"

"Don't growl," he shrugs his shoulders almost imperceptibly.

"Sorry, Nemak-dono. I will try to restrain myself," I guiltily press my ears and with the usual effort of will, I pacify the fur and tail.

"Were you so impressed by the landing approach?"

"Just a reaction to the fire. There are many plains in my homeland. Fires in the prairie are the most terrible disaster. This is instinctive, the legacy of the ancestors."

"Understandably. I didn't think you'd react so harshly."

"I didn't expect it myself, Master. Probably, it's all because of the abundance of new impressions."

"Probably," Nemak smiles and nods.

I give a fang, the sensei decided that the Padawan was scared. I should not dissuade him. Moreover, I myself am not so sure what was more in my reaction. Perhaps I should meditate and delve into my own subconscious.

Over the landing area allocated to us, the speed dropped sharply, and I almost did not feel the braking. It looks like I don't have to worry about the compensators, but it's still worth getting to know the ship better. Brief summary-squeeze - it's not it at all. You need to know your flying home inside and out, in order to have a couple of extra chances to survive in case of trouble.

"Beautiful," Nemak nods at the metropolis and a piece of real nature in the distance.

"Living world."

"Yeah, it's not Coruscant."

'Slam-s,' I mentally voiced the landing of Pif-Paf on the planet.

"It looks like clients," I draw the attention of the teacher, who continues to look out the illuminator at the line of empty platforms hurrying towards us.

"Wha?" Nemak is distracted from his thoughts. "Yes, you're right," he nods, returning to reality, "let's go, we need to meet them."

The ramp puffed, and a fresh breeze burst into the hold, filled with the smell of cinder, fuel, lubricants and the faint aromas of a distant forest that begins beyond the northern outskirts of the cosmodrome. Even sneezed from such a combination. A variety of sounds, long familiar to me from the temple hangars, reached my ears. Only that the roar from the start of some antiquity was unusual. The rest of the clang and roar was so ordinary that my mind immediately attributed it to the category of white noise and stopped processing it after a minute.

The planet to which we brought the seeding material grown by the brothers from the Agro Corps was not something unique, but it had its own characteristics. First, there was practically no open water. However, it could not be called arrid. There was enough rain and natural underground oceans. Secondly, this world belonged to the so-called internal, but at the same time it had a very weak industry. However, it depends with what to compare. Thirdly, it, not being a so-called farm planet, managed to feed a dozen of neighbours. This was greatly facilitated by the proximity to the capital and the ability to easily obtain unique seeds directly from the Jedi. There was another peculiar feature of the planet, it is just taxiing towards us.

The fact is that the Trandoshans in the galaxy were known as slave traders, pirates and just very unpleasant personalities, but it was here that the enclave of reptiles, engaged only and exclusively in agriculture, lived. And very successful in it.

"Hello," the fat lizard smiled wide open as he jumped off the loading platform. - "Glad to see you on this blessed land" - which is remarkable, he was really glad, you can't deceive the Force.

"Mutually," the teacher greeted the Trandoshan and his partner dryly. - "I suggest that we get down to business."

"Of course, we all understand, you probably still have your own mission, and you just dropped in on us along the way."

"Yes."

I just had to keep my face as a brick, anyway, no one understands the facial expressions of the Cathars, but standing a little to the side to ask the question: "Why did the sensei suddenly decide to show severity?" Maybe he just doesn't like lizards? Or does the reputation of the Trandoshans affect him so much? Well, when I saw this couple, I also tensed up a little, but the Force clearly says that we shouldn't expect problems from them. The most ordinary farmers, human faces on them, a checkered shirt and something like jeans with leather boots under the knee - and they would have classic looks, very much loved by holovision. True, in fact, farmers, like most of the rest of the population, prefer to use climate-controlled overalls, if funds allow, or to do with analogues, in terms of appearance, without such additives. Just because it's really convenient. Especially at work.

While I was thinking, the lizards got down to business. A handful of droids they'd brought in began hauling cargo. One of the guests remained in charge of the process near the vehicles, which was not superfluous at all. "Where did they manage to get such primitive robots and platforms?" I wondered when I managed to find a description of the quietly photographed technology on the net. The second Trandoshan was positioned in the hangar and read the markings from the containers using a datapad. The teacher stands with an air of importance, which became sour after a couple of hours, and points his finger at the tablet, makes marks in the cargo map. Rather, he confirms requests automatically coming to him. Pretty stupid and useless work, but that's the way it is. What if the AI, capable of calculating a superluminal jump, messes something up? After all, this has never happened before. So - watch and check!

I stood next to my mentor, as befits an ideal Padawan. Opened the tutorial file and started reading. I stand, with a smart look staring at the datapad. What? I shouldn't waste my time. There is no unnecessary knowledge, there are those that haven't come in handy yet! The mentor looked sideways a couple of times, sighed, as it seemed to me enviously, and continued the exciting task of poking the "OK" button. Naturally, something else was depicted there, it sounded different, but the essence remained the same. Five "most exciting" hours, that's how long it took us to unload, finally ended. Even the overgrown lizards stopped smiling in the end. Maybe just hungry? I definitely wouldn't mind eating. Alas, I didn't make it.

"Clients," the teacher sighed doomedly, looking at the rapidly approaching repulsor platforms.

"Loaded," I stated the obvious.

"Uh-huh," Nemak squeezed out, shifting the datapad to his other hand.

- Hello! - a man who jumped off the leading transport splashed us with a wave of enthusiasm and the smell of sweat.

"Good afternoon," said the instructor. I limited myself to tilting my head.

"Imagine, we had a winding broken along the way, so half of the load from two platforms ..." the client began to share the news.

At least it became clear why he smells so much. The truth is, it would be better if he did not help the droids to load the fallen cargo. Oh, my poor sense of smell. A good scent is a double-edged sword. And now I have to get acquainted with the other edge. The teacher listened the man, and listen he did, nodded, but when he began to talk about whom he had to call and how, so as not to let the customer down, he decisively interrupted. Apparently, Nemak was also jarred that they didn't even think about us. Rather, they did, but not too pleasant for our vanity. I don't know whether the mentor caught the thoughts of a person spilling like a nightingale, I personally them quite clearly read them. It sounded, if briefly: "Goofballs will wait."

"I propose to get down to business," the sensei said when the client paused for a gulp of air.

"Yes of course!" the little man fussed and turned to the droids and waved his hand.

"Mirr, check the cargo," Nemak ordered, which made my tail twitch.

"Yes, master," I subdued the first impulses of my soul and did not ask reasonable questions.

What could be dumber than checking stamped containers, which are already scanned by the equipment of the hold? Just do it manually. With a weak device, the indicators of which are analyzed by the datapad.

In general, four hours of absolutely not exciting and useless pastime. One joy - the teacher also did not drunk tea at that time, but still diligently poked at the same button. Notifications-requests were sent to him in double size. Well, one himself evil Pinocchio.

Forty minutes later Nemak realized that he was wrong. A feeling of chagrin began to spread in the Force, and then annoyance drew. The source of the negativity, of course, was Sensei. Alas, he could not cancel his own order. The spirit wasn't enough. Or rather, he spent two hours trying to convince himself of the undesirability of the cancellation. After all, it's not pedagogical and all that. While the mentor was eating his own brains out and punching more and more furiously at the datapad, the loading was over.

"I hope my sublimatics will reach in time?" the would-be suicidal asked my teacher.

"Don't worry, everything will be in the best possible way," he said grinding his teeth, subconsciously softening the man with the Force along the way.

"Thank you," muttered the client, suddenly imbued with a deep belief that we would not spare our lives, but we would deliver the goods, and almost brushing away a tear, hurried to the entrance. -"I won't keep you!"- he shouted from the ramp, jumped onto the transport platform and was it.

"Excellent training, Nemak-dono. Thank you," I bowed to the teacher, who was trying to parody a carp that suddenly appeared on a hot frying pan.

"Wha?" the teacher, still not fully recovered, issued.

"Patience, humility and understanding, the three qualities of the Jedi," I gave a hint to the mentor, but he didn't hurry to use it. "So they wrote in a interpretation a thousand years ago,"- I decided to almost openly hint that the relevant information should be looked for his times as the Youngling.

"Yes, yes," Nemak started to smile. "I'm glad you did well in your studies," he added with relief.

"Let's eat."

"Great idea, padawan!" - the teacher finally coped with the fruits of self-torment. "Come on, let's have a little feast."

"Where will there be a lot of meat?"

"Of course," Sensei nodded and resolutely stomped deep into the ship, of course, I did not lag behind.

* * *

I would say that we had a good spree, but that would not be true. We just stuffed ourselves till we pop, when we went into a hyperspace jump. By tacit agreement, none of us on the planet wanted to linger. The thought that we would have to repeat such loading and unloading operations many more times was resolutely put aside for later. In principle, there was a way out to get rid of the routine, but the chance that Nemak would agree to it was tending to zero. Certainly not right away. Therefore, I decided not to rush things and be patient. That's when the mentor matures, then I will offer. In the meantime, we will train endurance and willpower. Also useful, no matter how you look at it.

The teacher went to sleep, but I went to train. The flight this time was going to be quite long, but at least we don't have to change the hyperroute, what's good. The ghostly teachers were glad to see me, they were bored, I did not turn off the holocrons though. I just didn't expect it to take so long. For some reason I thought that once, two and off to next place. Well, we were sent for experience. True, I strongly doubt that the order was counting on just such one. However, costs and overlays have always taken place in all times. Greeting, courtesy is always helpful. We apologize in Huttese, and even with a high sublime speech- useful training and language practice. Nonetheless we are flying to the Outer Rim. Be it a zigzag route. Drawing swords with telekinesis, stand in a position. Giving command to the AI. Alright, here it goes.

"Mi-ughhh," said the teacher, boldly stepping onto the cargo deck, where I had been swinging my sword for hours.

"Pif, normal gravity!" I command the AI, instantly interrupting the training.

"Hhhh," Sensei draws in his breath.

"Master, how are you?"

"Liv-khh-ing," Nemak replies, moving his hand slightly.

"Sorry, I forgot to warn you that I'm training with increased gravity. I had to leave the weights at home, besides, this way the load is better distributed."

"Understood," sensei answers almost normally and moves from the position of a blot on the floor to a position of a doll against the wall.

"You wanted to have a practice fight?! - I show joy and genuine enthusiasm, pulling up with telekinesis the swords that fell out of the hands of the master when mentor flew into the field of increased gravity.

"No!"- Nemak denies himself too emotionally.

"It's a pity. Then what it is?"

"It's just that I forgot to go get your Padawan kit, so I thought I'd bring you a couple of my old practice swords. I thought that you will soon begin active growth period, and your current ones may not be suitable."

"Do they have adjustable blade length?" I could not restrain myself from shaking such a weak excuse.

"But the hilt is still the same," the teacher quickly retorted.

"Ah, right," I twirled my training sword, designed for a two-handed grip. - "Thank you, master."

"It is my duty as a mentor, Padawan."

"Do you need help up, teacher?"

"No, I just like to sit on the floor, apprentice."

"Maybe we should go and have breakfast?"

"I don't wanna. I'd rather watch your training in force techniques.

"Good. Pip, back to..."

"Stop."

"Mmm?"

"I'm got hungry."

"So suddenly?"

"Yes, it just rolled over. Let's go have a bite. And by the way, when did our ship begin to respond to Pif?"

"Well, he has so many guns that I thought and called him Pif-Paf. He didn't mind."

"He? Objected?"

"Yeah. We have a very smart AI, master. It is interesting to talk with him, he knows so much. I gave him access to my datapad so that he could freely crawl around the holonet."

"Understood," sensei rubbed his forehead. "What else did you do while I was asleep?"

"Nothing, younli… I mean Padawans honesty. I fenced, then meditated, then I nourished the nuts with force and levitated, then I trained again with the sword. Well, you saw it yourself. Pif can confirm!"

"I confirm, but you forgot to say about the repair of the wall."

"So what else happened to the wall?"

"It's okay, I just threw screw-nut at It with telekinesis, they bounced off, and I dodged using foresight and acceleration. The bulkhead turned out to be flimsy, so then I had to repair and strengthen it with the help of Force Forging. But I first looked at the plans, there is nothing behind it. That's why they made it so thin."

"Let's eat," - the teacher got up when he digested what I had been saying. "You growing organism."

"Mrrrrr."

"Mmm?"

"I mean, it would be good to have a meal, I got little bit carried away with training, and tomorrow I'll just go to sleep."

"And I, then, will be the only one to unload and load the ship?"

"Forgive me, master, nature," I pressed my ears, lowered my tail, lowered my eyes.

"It's alright," Nemak sighed, apparently anticipating the joy of tenths of hours of poking his finger into the datapad. - "Let's go already."

"Aha-rrr."

In principle, it was possible to keep a mentor company, but somehow I didn't want to waste time senselessly. Let get him tired of the monotonous labor quickly, we'll see - and he will take my proposal not with hostility, but at least think it over. However, I really need to sleep. It seems I somehow unnecessarily zealously took up training. In fact, everything is clear here. In the temple, one way or another, but part of the time was spent on all sorts of different things not connected with them, but here, in the closed space of the ship rushing in hyperspace, these very, suddenly taken hours, simply have nowhere to go. To read and study in the virtual is to violate the program. There, after all, not only information, but also, let's say, the degree of its assimilation and comprehension is taken into account. So it remains - either to meditate and work out the techniques of the Force, or to keep on swinging a sword.

* * *

Nemak mechanically poked his finger, confirming the acceptance of the next message and giving the go-ahead to enter the incoming cargo into the ship's cargo chart, but his thoughts were far from routine work. Zabrak standing nearby, thank the Force, also did not go into conversation. Unlike the Twilek, who received the cargo. That's who wasn't shutting up. Nemak even tried suggestion, but either he did something wrong, or he just met such an intellectual on his life path - in general, less than half an hour passed before the fountain of words was pouring again. Yes, and with triple strength. Here the Twi'lek could not be silent. I just physically couldn't. The poor Jedi had to train patience and humility. An attempt to direct the conversation to at least something interesting to him wasn't successful. As a result, in five hours he learned everything about the biography of the client.

'But it seems that I don't know anything about my own Padawan,' the young knight mentally sighed. What a joke of the Force. I dreamed of not being like my teacher, and here you go - I can't teach anything except meditation. And even then it is doubtful which of us still feels the Force deeper and more fully. Pif, at the first request, provided recordings of Mirr's training sesions. After watching them, Nemak felt sad. Of course, Cathars, like Wookiees, are a unique species. Joke of nature. Both of them live on a planet that has only a slightly higher gravity and atmospheric pressure than the generally accepted standard, but at the same time they have incredible physical characteristics. Any of them is capable of tying into a knot anyone from a world with double and even triple gravity. It's a paradox, well, why can't you meet in a galaxy with tens of thousands of intelligent species.

Having finished loading and saying goodbye to the Zabrak, Nemak ordered the ship to take off. He checked the still sleeping Padawan and, having made up his mind, went to the viewing gallery. THere was on their boat something like this. Quite wretched to tell the truth, but after a recent renovation, it turned out to be quite a decent gym for training. Here one could wave a sword and meditate in the light of the stars, anything even, in principle, could be done. After all, a Jedi doesn't need much at all, but here is a whole, specially allocated room. Natural luxury dream.

"Greetings," Nemak nodded to the three ghosts that emerged from the holocrons.

"Ah, young knight," the eldest of the mentors answered for everyone. "Glad you got to us. Decided to work out? Commendable."

"Not really," Nemak was a little embarrassed, nevertheless, it's one thing to have an ancient holocron of a long-dead Jedi or even a Sith, and quite another when the creators of the artifact is still alive and quite active.

"Do you want to consult about the young talent?" The ghost nodded in understanding.

"Yes, I'm afraid I was too hasty in taking Mirr as a Padawan."

"I won't argue with that, but I don't share your defeatist mood either."

"You, colleague," the elder of the ghosts grinned into his beard, "it seems that you have not familiarized yourself with the materials about the species of your Padawan."

"Not all of them," Nemak did not deny the truth.

"And here we are," the ghost pointed at the translucent colleagues with his hand.

"Our material originals to be exact," the Chagrian corrected.

"Yes, yes," he did not argue, "we read everything that we could find about the Cathars. Still, it's not every day that we're asked to make a holocron. So, by combining our knowledge and generalizing observations, I can assure you that for such a young and, pardon my frankness, weak and indecisive Jedi like you, Mirr is the perfect Padawan."

"Why?"

"It's in his nature. Even though he is a very unusual boy, even for his kind he is, mmm, odd, let's say so, but nevertheless, the legacy of wild ancestors has always had a strong effect on young Cathars."

"Colleague, you will never get to the point," the Pantoran sighed.

"Alright alrith. I'll try to be shorter," the man waved off. "Well, the point is that Cathars, at a certain age, need someone. They just can't be alone. Of course, it is better if this someone takes care of them, but the opposite option is also quite possible. As I understand it, the point is in the behavior of their distant ancestors. Those, by the standards of animals, lived quite a long time and were not born with the skills, or if you like, the instincts of a predator. Therefore, they had to train. According to a number of authoritative researchers, thanks to this feature, over time, they gained intelligence."

"Colleague.2

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I got carried away. So, another two or three years, a maximum of four, and you will have to let the boy go free sailing. With combat skills, he is doing well, and it will get even better, we," - nodded at the translucent colleagues, the ghost, -" we will take care of this. Do not doubt us. All that is required of you is to prepare him for an independent life. Learn to understand intelligent species. Learn the skills you need to survive. In general, I think you understand."

"Understood, but it's somehow not quite…" Nemak hesitated.

"Is it in line with our path?" The Chagrian chuckled.

"Yes."

"Rejoice that you do not need to constantly defeat him and prove your leadership. Even now, purely physically, he is noticeably superior to the average person, and will soon become even stronger," the Pantoran knight consoled.

"We will help you, Nemak, but you understand that our possibilities are limited. As for the path of the Jedi, everyone has his own. Cathars do not often awaken the gift in themselves, but even fewer of them have become knights. At the age of sixteen, their youthful maximalism, backed up by instincts, turns them into real rebels. If you leave him nearby, then you will have to prove your right to command almost daily."

"And the saddest thing is that if you succeed, he will never be able to become a knight."

"This knowledge was paid dearly."

"And mostly blood. And now, let's evaluate your sword skills. We specialize in combat anyway."

"Good," Nemak nodded, swearing to himself that immediately after training, will sit down and finish reading the selection of materials provided by the AI ​​of the temple.

After training, the Jedi literally crawled into his cabin and, as if on the spire of the central tower of the temple, climbed onto the bed. Although teachers from holocrons could not physically influence the world, they compensated it with a sophisticated fantasy. However, much more than bodily fatigue, the young knight suffered from mental wounds. Was it necessary to demand not to demonstrate their skills to the student with a lightsaber. "As if!" Nemak was indignant. No, he admitted that swordsmanship was not his forte. But that he would absolutely not defeat the Padawan?! And it would be okay if someone else's, but his own, and even so young?! In general, Nemak safely forgot about his intention to finish reading about the Cathars. Satisfied that he came up with a great way to get himself time to improve his sword skills, and at the same time give Mirr experience with the sentients.

* * *

After visiting the fifth planet and carrying out a loading and unloading operation that dragged on for thirteen hours, I decided that it was time to start preparing my mentor for my long-brewing idea to push work to a robot. Joint meditation helped in part here. Nemak calmed down, otherwise he's been kind of irritable lately. And then there were inadequate customers. All twitchy, fussy, pestering with the same questions. Just darkness. Rrr! However, it is possible to understand them, of course. After all, with such a fully staked hold, we fly for a reason.

On the one hand - the authority of the order and all that, but in itself it will not be enough for those who are used to counting money. Treasurers understood this very well. That is why we, to put it mildly, engaged in hard dumping. If ordinary mortals were in our place, we would have already been explained that we should not do this. Maybe they wouldn't immediately pay the bounty hunters, but they started with an ordinary conversation, well, or a brawl, which is more likely.

Here, by the way, an interesting point - these same bounty hunters. In fact, they are legalized killers. You can hire them easily and naturally, and the Justiciars will start running after them, rather crawling, only after they kill someone wrong. Bullshit, especially if you remember that the law enforcement officers of the Republic themselves openly resort to the services of killers. Nevermind even Vader hired them in his time. Rather, he will hire if the canon remains unchanged. But then already in the whole Empire was. In short - not life, but a fairy tale. A scaryone. We were kept by the status of the Jedi and the ghost of the order behind us. Rather, not even that, but the understanding by temporary colleagues in the transport business that we are not doing this on a permanent basis, but along the way and for a short time.

In general, I waited for a moment. Technically, as it seemed to me, warming up passions. After all, we were soon to visit a world inhabited by an insectoid race, that was breathing methane. You can imagine how long we will stay there and what a joy it is to do a tedious routine in a spacesuit. These overgrown bugs prefer to manage on their own and, in general, use equipment to a minimum, and we will need to unload and load a full hold. No, maybe everything will not be so bad there, but why not embellish the prospects? So I embellished it, to the best of my ability. In short, I decided to start a conversation with a mentor. I prepared to push a speech about the benefits of robots. I was even ready to prove it with numbers that we didn't need to buy someone at the level of a protocol droid, something a simpler machine that would be enough, with a third, or even a second class of intelligence, but I too late. It wasn't necessary to postpone the conversation for a while after dinner.

"I suppose," Nemak smiled, pushing his plate away, "you have gained enough experience to handle it on your own next time."

"Master, maybe it's not worth spending so much time on routine tasks that a droid can handle perfectly?" I made an attempt to evade, clearly realizing that it was doomed to failure.

"You need to get social experience. Believe me, many are not averse to chatting and sharing interesting stories from life.

"But I…"

"Besides, we don't have droids."

"We could buy them."

"A Jedi is supposed to overcome difficulties and endure adversity. They temper the character and train the will. And in general, you know, the order does not approve of hoarding."

"I could build a droid from discarded parts."

"No. It's too superfluous. You'll do great. I have confidence in you, padawan. This will be part of your training."

"Understood, master."

"That's good. Now I'll arrange you as a supercargo," the mentor approvingly patted me on the shoulder, getting up from the table. - Finish your meal, we still have meditation waiting.

"Yes teacher.

'Well, let's try to find positive aspects in this,' I encouraged myself, put away the dishes and went to meditate. Perhaps I should practice the Center of Being technique. I think it will be much easier to hold out with it for the next couple of months. Anyway, it is useless to start a new conversation before that time. Nemak, as far as I managed to get to know and understand him, is still a stubborn sheep. Well, let's be patient. Where to go? That's right - nowhere.