Chapter 5

Nemak habitually entered the cantina and looked around. Everything was as usual. On a small stage in the corner, a brass quartet of Bith played. Twileks were spinning around the poles. The hall floated in a haze of not always harmless smokes. Behind the bar was hard at work multi-armed droid. That's where the Jedi went. Ordering himself a low-alcohol aperitif, Nemak looked around and listened to the Force. The Great One did not tell him anything definite. But something like "if you want, linger, there will be problems" was issued. Looking around once more, the Jedi Knight decided to stay and at least have a bite. Having ordered a set of dishes, Nemak took a free table. Nearby was a massive and not so decorative column. It seems that it served not only to support the ceiling. Briefly touching it with the Force, the knight only huffed. A long-empty cache, which, apparently, even the current owner of the cantina doesn't know about. "Amusing," the young Jedi scoffed, turning away. He was much more attracted by the view of one of the dancers, and the ability to control the entrance from the corner of his eye added a couple of points to the selected table.

"Your order, sir," a handsome-looking young waiter put down the tray of food.

"Thank you," Nemak nodded, almost managing not to wince.

"Is there anything else you would like, sir?" the young man, who leaned slightly toward the Jedi, asked confidentially.

"No," Nemak snapped coldly, reflexively using the Force.

After seeing the waiter who had gone off to do his job and mentally complaining about the customs, the times and simply the impossibility of eating in peace, he began to satiate himself. The food turned out to be exotic, in the sense that he had never tasted anything like it, but still quite tasty. Truly spicy, but it was taken into consideration. A tart drink was provided to the set of dishes, perfectly shading the taste and extinguishing the fire of spices. Of course, alcoholic. The owner of the cantina was an experienced fellow, in any case - a simple trick, time-tested, used indiscriminately.

As soon as Nemak finished with the salad and finished off the decanter of local liquor, the Force warned him of the danger. The sensations were rather vague and weak, but still clearly recognizable. It's hard to forget the feeling you get when you're hit by a zap fired from a training ball droid. The Jedi didn't have to look for a source of danger for too long. On the threshold of the establishment appeared four rollicking guys, with red muzzles and square figures of mead heads. The guests obviously weren't resting for the first hour, and now they were in the stage of searching for adventures. No sooner had Nemak had a good look at them, as they immediately singled him out from the present crowd. Of course, when there is a choice with whom to fight, individuals who have lost their last caution choose the most exotic opponent, or most dangerous, depending on which side to look at. One nudged another and pointed unequivocally at the Jedi. The company exchanged a couple of phrases that Nemak naturally didn't hear. And what would it have changed? Nothing. The four neighed and imposingly went to his table.

"Jedi, then," the leader of the thug-crew broke into a smile, unceremoniously sitting down on an empty chair.

"At your service, gentlemen," Nemak chuckled, who, although he wasn't drunk, but took enough to catch a certain buzz.

"It seems, we got a brave one," the ringleader scowled.

"So there is nothing to be afraid of," the Jedi smiled sincerely.

"Boss, it seems he doesn't respect us. He wants to offend us," - issued the smallest in the company.

"Are you joking here, Jedi scum?" - the leader of the baboons began a rather banal self-winding.

"Nonsense," Nemak blurted into a smile. "On the contrary, I'm talking to you politely and civilly, gentlemen," he added sarcastically.

"Get him, guys!" commanded the leader and tried to punch the Jedi in the face.

Naturally, the average bandit, with all the desire, cannot compete in strength and speed of reaction with a trained fighter with the gift of foresight. Nemak easily dodged the blow. He sprung up, overturning the table on the leader. Along the way, he twisted the jaw of a standing dumbass. With a direct kick, he turned the knee of the third attacker into a grasshopper's foot, but then everything went wrong. The foresight screamed with a good obscenity forced the Jedi to act automatically. The lightsaber itself was in his hand. Circular motion. A wave and the noise of the cantina overrides the scream of pain. Smoke from friers and smoking overcame the foul smell of carbonized flesh. A severed hand fell to the floor almost inaudibly. Shock.

"Nobody move!" Namak heard as if through cotton wool.

"Sergeant, they attacked him first," said a woman who got out of the crowd of onlookers.

"Let's look at the records, we'll figure it out. Don't worry."

"You won't see anything on them, this one without a hand," the girl pointed to the unconscious man, "was behind the column, I saw how he took out his blaster."

"It doesn't look like he had time to use it," - the sergeant of local law enforcement agencies showed reasonable scepticism.

"I felt it," Nemak finally got over the shock of what he had done.

"Your Jedi tricks?" The law enforcer chuckled.

"Indeed."

"Understood. So, girl, are you ready to back up your testimony?"

"Naturally," she snorted.

"In that case, wait a bit, I will draw up a protocol and get acquainted with the recordings of the cameras."

In general, the sergeant didn't doubt the words of the Jedi and the witness. Yes, he already knew the victims firsthand. Not to say that they were frequent guests in his station, but, nevertheless, they visited him regularly. In handcuffs. "Well, sooner or later they had to run into someone," the law enforcement officer mentally shrugged his shoulders and thought that the guys were still lucky. If there was a seasoned mercenary instead of a Jedi, there would have been four corpses and not a couple of crippled and one disabled. After quickly reviewing the tapes and making sure, to clear his conscience, the veracity of the testimony of the woman and the Jedi, the sergeant drafted a standard report, attached copies of the video materials and went to the awaiting sentients.

"Here," said the policeman offering a datapad to the girl.

"Done," she returned aproved protocol.

"Have you ever been a witness, Ms Zol?" asked the sergeant.

"For five years I worked as a secretary on a mining planet, certifying the protocol, examining corpses, testifying in court and even helping in the investigation ..."

"I understand you," the sergeant interrupted the girl and handed the datapad to the Jedi.

"Here, please," Nemak returned the service device to the policeman.

"Best regards," the sergeant saluted and headed out of the cantina, he still had a lot of work to do.

"Maybe you can treat the girl? I got you out of a lot of troubles after all."

"Ah… e… Yes, a second. What would you like to drink?" Nemak got himself together.

"I'd rather eat. I don't have much money," Zol shrugged.

"Right away?" The Jedi blurted out without thinking. "Uh... sorry," he realized immediately that he had blundered a gaucherie.

"Nothing, I understand, a brand new jumpsuit confuses," the girl laughed and turned so that this very jumpsuit emphasized her assets.

"So what would you like, my saviour?" – by an effort of will, the Jedi somehow pulled himself together.

"I want meat," Zola answered in a feigned capricious voice.

"You're just like my pupil," Nemak laughed, more and more overcoming strange timidity and confusion.

"Ha, are you really a Jedi?" The girl started blinking her eyes.

"Well, yes, actually, the real one," Nemak shrugged.

"Cool!" Zola shook her head. "I thought you were just pretending."

"Didn't my sword bother you?" Nemak was genuinely surprised.

"You never know where you got it, also, you waved it so quickly that it was even blurred. Maybe it's a regular plasma cutter? Do you know how many of them I have seen in my life?"

"Looks like a lot."

"You can't even imagine how much. Many times I saw what consequences they leave on the body," - the girl sighed and turned away. "Do you know how often gangs fight each other and constantly use plasma cutters as weapons?"

"No," Nemak shook his head, finishing placing the order.

"And it's good that you don't," Zola summed up, for the most part, her own thoughts-memories. "Listen, where are you flying?" The girl changed the subject.

"What makes you think we're going anywhere at all?" - Obeying some kind of intuition, Nemak asked, alertly.

"Well, it's unlikely you hardly have any important mission in this outback?" Zola shrugged. "I've been stuck in this hole for the third week and have already understood that nothing ever happens here. At any rate, nothing worth the attention of the Jedi Order."

"And how much do you know about the Order?" The knight chuckled.

"Yeah, not much, all sorts of tales, but I'm not a fool, I understand that there are not so many of you, and you don't do any nonsense."

"How come?"

"If there were many of you, you would come across at every step. Yes, and there would be fewer stories about you, and certainly not so wild."

"Maybe you're right," Nemak didn't develop the topic, besides, they just got their order.

The fact that the girl was really very hungry, the Jedi had the opportunity to see firsthand and very quickly. "Perhaps only Mirr can compare with her, after tenths of hours of swinging his sword," the Jedi noted.

"Ugh, thanks," Zola pushed the empty plates away.

"Your welcome, it's the least I could do for you."

"Okay, if you don't want to say where you're flying, I don't insist. I understand everything, there is secrecy and everything, but you, might be able to give me a ride to Homtom?

"We can, but not right away, it will be necessary to drop by a few more places along the way," Nemak shrugged.

"Yes, I'm not in a hurry," the girl saddened. "I was late for the funeral anyway," she muttered into her glass.

"My regards," was all Nemak could say, clearly feeling the pain of his conversation partner.

* * *

To say that I was very surprised is to say nothing. From another trip to the cantinas, the teacher returned with a company, a lady. Introduced the girl as Zol. He told that she helped him a lot, told about the attack of some kamikaze bandits and was pleasantly surprised that the woman was going with us. No, I, in principle, have nothing against the beautiful half of humanity, but somehow all this is too cinematic. Also, the teacher smelled not only alcohol, but also some suspicious smoking compounds. It is unlikely that they were harmless, in any case, they struck me notably. After ten minutes of inhaling the aromas, even my head was spinning. Why, I was forced to simply run away to my own cabin, just to stop communicating with this couple. Remarkably, no one stopped me. "To hell with robots, first of all, figure out filters or mastered the appropriate technique!" I decided and started searching. Shovelled through both disks and found the right one. True, it was more of a practice technique, something like self-control. However, such trifles did not bother me at all. In general, I spent the next day in meditation and trying to learn how to regulate the sensitivity of smell. Successes were so-so, but the main thing - they were!

With the advent of a fellow traveler, life became more interesting. The lady turned out to be a curious woman. She could not sit at all in the cabin, so she roamed around the ship. Everything was interesting to her, everything she needed to see and touch. One joy - the teacher took up the training with redoubled zeal. Not otherwise than in front of the passenger posing. However, since she motivates him so much, I'm all for it and I'm ready to endure her. Generally, I have a rather strange relationship with her. Seems to be the cutest creature, but for some reason, the hair on the scruff of the neck is trying to stand on end on its own and I want to bare my fangs involuntarily. And after all, in the Force, I feel her quite ordinary, I don't feel any danger or harm from her, but the instincts of a predator for some reason rebel. Maybe I'm just jealous of her to teacher? After all, he, now, pays much more attention to her. Oh, I don't know, I don't know. Doesn't give me something so simple an explanation to accept. It got to the point that I puzzled Pif to try to find out at least something about our guest. He honestly rustled over the net, but didn't find anything contradicting the version known to me. Only small specifics, and added various details. This same Zola had a couple of accounts on different social networks. Not to say that she was an active user, but, nevertheless, she made entries more or less regularly. So, if desired, her life path could be traced quite clearly.

In addition to vague suspicions-feelings, there was another not very pleasing to me moment: as soon as we landed on the next planet, our fellow traveller falls on the "tail" of my mentor and goes on a spree with him. As a result, Sensei crawls back intoxicated, and even smells of suspicious "incense". This, of course, is an excellent incentive to quickly learn how to regulate the sharpness of one's own sense of smell, but by now I began to fear for the health of the teacher. However, he has had some success with the medical Force techniques. It's just, he applies them in the morning, but it would have been more effective in the evening. That way the harm to the body would have been many times less. The point is not even that the body suffers, but that a psychological dependency is being developed, which cannot be so easily removed by any powerful "witchcraft". To cope with this filth, you need willpower, but Nemak doesn't demonstrate it. So far, he's only got an awl in his ass. Okay, for now, let's hope that over time it will grow and become a steel rod.

"You're doing so well!" - Zola almost squeals and claps her hands.

"Training," Nemak answers modestly, almost shuffling his foot.

"Could you run up the wall again?" - the girl begs with puppy eyes.

"Of course," the mentor replies, using acceleration, pretending to be an acrobat in a circus.

"Cool," Zola gasps, looking admiringly at Sensei.

"Pif, turn it off, I can't watch this."

"In my opinion, it's quite normal flirting between a female and a male," says the AI, removing the hologram.

"That's the whole point, if she only this way, weee-ll ... at least flirted with me, it would still be all right, but the teacher would be a little younger than her. And here, such frank flirting. Darkness!!! Yes, I can't even call it flirting. She just hangs over him."

"You forget to take into account the peculiarities of the temple upbringing, Mirr-dono."

"Do you think she tried to hook him up normally, but it didn't work out for her?"

"That's quite plaussible," the AI agreed.

"Hmm, let's say. My mentor is still that numskull. But, what does she gets from this?"

"I can immediately offer at least a couple of explanations."

"Well, surprise me."

"It's unlikely that I'll succeed, but I'll try. First one, she may be interested in money."

"Typical."

"I agree, but nonetheless."

"Fine, move on."

"Status, or rather, the opportunity to boast that she was the mistress of a real Jedi."

"Well, I don't know, somehow, in my opinion, it's far-fetched."

"Nevertheless, such psycho types are not so rare."

"Okay, let's allow it. More options?"

"Curiosity and the instinct of reproduction."

"Are you hinting at her purity of blood?"

"Exactly, who knows who her great-great-grandmother was? In the inner and central worlds, almost every civilization has dabbled in genetics."

"Anyway, I don't like her open attempts to get Sensei into bed."

"I don't understand you, Mir-dono, in my opinion, this will only benefit the Jedi Knight."

"Benefit it may, but, that's just, no matter how later the consequences would have to be disentangled."

"I dare say, your mentor is far from a boy, he is already more than twenty years old, he will be one and a half times older than you."

"And at the same time, he doesn't really know anything about elementary things. You know, I'm 100% sure he's a virgin. I suspect he's only heard of contraception at best."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it?"

"Uh-huh, as if he will listen to me. In any case, you haven't noticed, I'm actually counted as a Padawan. Okay, let's hope nothing bad happens."

"At least your mentor has improved his lightsaber skills noticeably. I rate his chances of handling you as one in fifteen."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Pif. You're right, there's something good to be found in everything. Besides, soon this Zola will leave us."

"What if she decides to stay?"

"Then I'll either have to report this to the council, as a proper Padawan should, or take some action of my own. Perhaps even radical ones," I growled, getting up into a stance and telekinetically pulling on swords. I'll practice while there is time, otherwise, we'll arrive soon, and the drag will begin again.

It's just that I didn't get much exercise today. About an hour before leaving the subspace, the teacher called me to the training room and also told me to grab the swords. "Is the master really ripe for sparring?" I asked myself a rather stupid question, knowing perfectly well the answer to it. Yes, he is! Well, it's long overdue. And so I rushed into the former viewing gallery almost skipping.

"Master?"

"Mirr, I've decided it's time to test your lightsaber skills. You meditated a lot, trained, I think it's time to devote some time to combat training."

"Yes teacher."

"Let's start," the mentor waved his hand, and casually pulled the training sword.

Have a feeling as if he was rehearsing that. However, he could also practice, so to speak, on external effects. Zola, of course, was right there. Moreover, she was clearly preparing to record our fight on the datapad. Which for some reason I really didn't like.

"Master, maybe Pif's recording will be enough? He will do it even better," - I unequivocally signaled at the girl.

" But I am interested!"- Zola was outraged. "But your ship doesn't show me any," she immediately tattled on the AI.

"And he does the right thing," I managed to get ahead of the teacher, who had already opened his mouth. "Master, let's get started," I turn on my lightsaber to make sure to stop any encroachments of one excessively curious vixen.

"Fight," Sensei switches to the upcoming fight and assumes a defensive stance.

Attack so be it. But, on the one hand, my task has become more complicated, and on the other, hmm, it has become easier. Nemak is clearly going to show off in front of Zola, which means that I can work harder. The danger that will notice the game is less. At the same time, I wouldn't like to demonstrate too much. I don't like the girl who is recording our sparring. I feel something off about her. Confusing, in general. So, what is expected from the cat that everyone perceives me as, even subconsciously? That's right, increased jumpiness. Here we will demonstrate it. The fourth form of combat, which is Ataru, it is also an acrobatic style. "Here we go," I command myself, pushing aside instantly flashing thoughts.

Jump from a place. Straight as a stick blow. Chopping from top to bottom - here! Double grip, mass multiplied by force and inertia. The sword is humming. The cut air whistles. The teacher dodges and hits in the side. I change the trajectory, twisting the torso. The rumble of momentarily clashing blades. Attack repulsed. Landing-roll. Roar and shoulder shrug. Let him think, that I was hurt. Bounce. Flat hit. Sheaf of sparks. Blade slides on blade. Hits the deck. Somersault back. Tail to the side. Tumbling. Wave away. The teacher attacks. A classic five-hit combo with a thrust at the end. Rough. Straight forward. Sometimes it works.

I whirled around. I'm holding back from punching the face. Push. I'm flying. Slam - landed. Roll. Block. Roll. Undercut. Stab in the knee. Rolled back to the left. Jump. Leaping. I'm literally crawling on the floor. Drawing eight. Damn, sensei barely got away from the sword. Bounce. Overhead strike. Clashing blades buzz. Kicked in the chest, blocked the retaliatory blow of the sword. The smell of the fight is intoxicating. The teacher seems to be excited. Nemak was sweating. Wet. He will manage. I won't let him win that easily. A series of three strikes from different directions. Blocks. The force push didn't pass. The teacher counterattacks. Well done sensei! Nearly took off my ear.

Somersault. The sword is blurring. From the side - straight circular saw or propeller blade. Nemak is risking. Body strengthening technique. Acceleration technique. A hard block that turns into a swift attack. There is a hum and ringing in my ears, blades clash a dozen times a second. I retreat. Tensing up. Flex. Heck! Barely managed to weaken the blow. I bounce. Nemak jumps after me. Ugh! The smell of excitement from Zola. Nauseous and sick. Barely fought off another blow. Bounce. Waved my sword away. A couple to the sides. Got the distance. Wide turn blow. The teacher slowed down. Wonderfull. He clearly believes that he has seized the initiative. Let's make him run a little. I need to make more "mistakes".

Nemak triumphs. Cornered the Padawan. Naive. I toss the sword and follow after. The teacher bolts. Flying towards me like some superman. Only he doesn't have a wall at his side. "Bummm," the bulkhead hums. I'm changing my trajectory. I draw the sword. Roll. Turn around. Bounce. Sleepy fly! I would have shredded you without any acceleration! Sensei is annoyed? He barely managed to repel the attack. What?! Calm down, you! I don't chase after your female. Block. Dodge. Retreat. I divert a hit. I bounce. The blades are humming. The air whistles. The mentor's eyes glow. Eyes?! Darkness?! I fail on the attack. I substitute my neck. Ay! Why was that kicking in the side for? You already won. Take it easy.

"Master?" - I get up and rub my ribs, he put down me well, I relaxed too much, I stopped strengthening my body with the Force.

"Sorry, Mirr, I got carried away," Nemak breathes heavily, calming the anger bubbling in him.

"Wow!" - Zola hangs herself on the teacher and ... kisses him savoryly on the lips.

"Oh, sorry," she blushes, embarrassed. "Just, it was so cool!"

"E…" the crimson mentor forgets how to breathe. He seems to have completely lost touch with reality.

"I um, will go to my place," I mutter, strenuously disengaging what is happening.

Communication with the teacher is like a string buzzing. Panically I try to strengthen it and protect myself from the storm of feelings and emotions that Sensei is experiencing. Also the smell of an estrus female from Zola. I want to cargo hold! There is only boring work and quiet! Helped unexpectedly. A chain of associations associated with the position of supercargo, and now I'm somewhere in between the state of meditation and the "Center of Being" technique. Nobody stopped my retreat. The teacher is not up to it, and Zola doesn't need me even more so. There she is, how persistently she rubs against Nemaka with her bulges.

I'm not thinking about wrong things. Let her make love to him right there. It will even be beneficial. My unfortunate sensei managed to with one pinch, pah, filth, rrrr, with one foot go to the dark side. Stepped on, checked, so to speak, and quickly pulled back his paw. It's just that even this quirk of his is pretty annoying. It would have been fine, if it would be a serious matter, but, ur mother, he could not restrain his anger in a training duel. I understand everything, he didn't want to lose to me. He passionately wanted to win. Still, after all that training, and preparations, I outwitted him at the moment when he thought that everything was already won, and it remained only to put the squeeze on the overly nimble Padawan. Maybe Zola influenced him so much? After all, he has something towards her, even if he doesn't show it, and he's pretty dumb, but I without any connection, I can smell it with my nose alone. How good it is that she leaves us today.

"Pif, how much longer?"

"No, we'll be out of the jump soon."

"Good. I'll go and take a shower and heal my ribs. What does the instructor doing?"

"Meditating in his cabin. The passenger collects her things", - AI predicted the next question.

"Fine. No. Fabulous!"

"You know better, Mirr-dono," AI didn't delve into the subject any deeper. After trying to analyze and understand the issues of gender relations, he prefers not to touch on this topic. He almost went crazy, poor thing, in an attempt to deal with such an ephemeral concept as love.

* * *

The signal that came from the door of the cabin finally broke Nemak's already unsuccessful meditation. Too much had fallen on the young knight in an hour. Trying to figure out what happened to him during the sparring, he failed over and over again under the flurry of emotions from the kiss and moments of incredible power that he experienced, succumbing to rage. The latter should have worried him much more, because he is a Jedi, but Zola's soft lips interrupted everything. It made me angry, irritated, but didn't let go.

"Open," - Nemak ordered.

"Hello," - the girl fluttered into the captain's cabin.

"Hi," - couldn't help but look at the athletic figure of the guest, Nemak.

"I contacted my relatives," - Zola chattered, sitting on the edge of the table and dangling her leg, "they are not very happy with me, but they have to endure it. They cannot sell the property without my signature. Ha, they even transferred the money left to me as an inheritance," - the girl snorted and showed a bank chip. "So, I'm saying for farewell dinner," - she threw back her head and shook her hair.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Nemak squeezed out through force.

"Don't be a bum," - the guest frivolously dismissed, "you have done so much for me, I simply have to thank you with at least with such a small thing. And anyway, do you want to offend me?"

"No," the Jedi relented, admitting that he wouldn't mind sitting in the cantina with her.

"Good! Get ready," - Zola ordered.

"Well, I'm already ready," Nemak shrugged.

"Then onwards, my knight!" - The girl laughed and held out her hand.

"Onward," - the young Jedi breathed, and, as if diving into a slough, took Zola by the arm.

* * *

Finally landed. Oh, my dear faceless clients, how I missed you. The teacher with Zola went on a farewell spree through the cantinas. I remained to fulfil my civic duties and admire the majestic mountains towering around the spaceport. Beautiful. Peaks drowning in the clouds, almost invisible from here. Light wind and frosty freshness. The best place to let go and tune in to a philosophical mood. Here's a paradox, the ancestors of the Cathars are the inhabitants of the savannas and other prairies. Winter with snow is not something unusual for them, but it has never been long and harsh, but I love snow and coolness. Hmm, maybe it's the transmigrator in me that speaks? There is little left of a human in me. I didn't forget, but I don't even know, had let it go or what? Yes, probably something like that. In a way, it's like a parting. The memory is alive, but over time it twitches in a veil. Only the brightest and most emotional moments remain, and even those are remembered only from time to time. Less and less over the years. Always loved winter.

"Good afternoon," a rosy-cheeked bearded man greeted me, throwing back his fur-trimmed hood.

"You too," - friendly nodded to the consignee. - "The weather is wonderful."

"Yeah it is, but yesterday it was lousy. Snowed so that the fingers on the outstretched hand can't be seen."

"But you can sit by the fire and listen to the blizzard."

"Ha, you're right, kid," the bearded man smiled sincerely. - "Where are the elders?"

"I'm for them. Mirr-ra-Mrr, you can just Mir, Mrr or even Myr, supercargo."

As experience has shown, not everyone is able to clearly and correctly pronounce Mirr or Mrr, so for a long time, I have already given the go-ahead for mangling. So it's easier for everyone.

"I see, I'm sorry, I was confused by your height."

"It happens," - I twitched my tail and shrugged. - "Let's start?"

"Oh sure."

"Let these stupid hours pass quickly," I mentally proclaimed a peculiar mantra, tuning in advance for a boring pastime. Where is my datapad? Wel'sl, let's start. Clank-clank, loader droids strode past. Click-click - I confirmed the request-notification that appeared.

* * *

"You are a fool," - Zola breathed in her heart and turned away.

"W-why?" - Fully intoxicated Nemak, was surprised.

"All about the darkness and your student babble!"

"But I shouldn't have been angry. Understand? It's leading to the dark side."

"What are you up to, dark side, dark side. You yourself said that it was only because of it that you won. So what's the problem?"

"You do not understand!" - Nemak slammed his fist on the table.

"No, I don't understand, and I don't want to understand. Just broke loose, it happens to everyone. What are you from this, a psycho or something? Maniac? Is there a desire to kill everyone around?"

"N-no," - the knight shook his head.

"Well, then why are you chewing snot? I'm actually trying to say goodbye to you here, and you," - the girl pouted.

"Uh, sorry. It's just important to me. Very much."

"And you are important to me. Dumbass!"

"W-why is it i-important?" - Nemak finally lost the thread of the conversation, and in one gulp finished off the cocktail ordered by his girlfriend.

"Because I'm a fool," Zola sobbed.

"U?" - The completely bewildered Jedi blinked his eyes.

"I love you dumbass! Understand? You are such a dunce! I just took and fell in love with you!"

"H-how?" - showed attempts of thought Nemak.

"Well, you know, it happens with us girls. We sometimes fall in love."

"Ah… yes," - the young knight found salvation in the glass. "Well, we are not allowed to have attachments, we are not allowed to start families, but I like you very much too," - he gave out a natural speech, which was facilitated by an empty glass.

"Doesn't this stupid code of yours forbid you to engage in love? Or are you, well, with each other?"

"Of course not!" - Nemak was indignant at such dirty insinuations.

"Then kiss me!" - Zola checkmated booze-clouded Jedi mind.

"Ah… well…"

"I don't mind and I want it!" - she solved the knight's torment.

"O-okay," - the unfortunate man surrendered, who, more than any drink, was covered with emotions and memories from a recent kiss.

"Now I believe that you are not one of those."

"Wh-who those?"

"Forget."

"O-okay."

"Let's go dance."

"Yeah, I kinda…"

"I'll teach you," - the girl snapped, taking Nemak by the hand. "Let's go, please," - she added, looking into his eyes.

"Very well," - the Jedi Knight surrendered, pushing back the order's tenets that tried to break through the veil of feelings and booze.

* * *

I finished loading, said goodbye to another bearded man and went to have a bite to eat. Was waiting for me, either a fairly late dinner, or a very hurried breakfast. However, little things like that didn't matter at all. Before my eyes, the picture of the sensei who returned in an embrace with Zola was re-playing. There was no doubt that I would see the girl again. Nevertheless, she left the ship without a trunk. So the obvious conclusion was not difficult to draw. That they would be quite cheerful when they returned was also, in general, expected. But the fact that Nemak will be frankly touching and kissing her ... here I almost dropped the datapad. If not for the meditatively detached state, I would definitely have violated the loading schedule.

"Pif, buddy, disprove my assumption that our passenger managed to get into the bed with the mentor."

"Should I lie?"

"Understood. No need."

Okay, let's hope there are no repercussions from this drunken sex. The lady will definitely not fly further with us. She's got work to do here, and we can't stay. For the first time, I was pleased with the schedule drawn up by the Treasury. Absolutely not feeling the taste of food, I swiped everything that was on the plates. I sent the dishes to the disposal. I figured out how much we can still hang around on the planet, and went to swing the sword. I don't feel like meditating and immersing myself in the Force at all. The resonations of the echo experienced by the teacher of emotions are enough. Exactly! I will practice Force concealment.

Checking on ghostly masters', my success and progress is just right. They don't see the world with their eyes. If I pupate properly, create a kind of cocoon, and then squeeze it, they won't have to react to me at all. At the same time, I myself will distance myself from the Force. Aha, that's a great idea. It was high time to do something like this, otherwise I am now training and still unconsciously use the gift. Surely this affects the efficiency of the development of the body. |Am just sure that progress is slowing down. Better then I use medical techniques on myself to recover as soon as possible and to spur self-development. Yes, that's exactly right.

The idea may have been sound, but I couldn't work simultaneously with the sword, block communication with the teacher and use a rather complex Force technique. If the body coped more or less normally with the first due to muscle memory, then everything else - complete darkness. One thing slips, then another. In general - not training, but a session of sadomasochism it turned out to be. Needless to say, by the time the teacher, who was in complete disarray of feelings, crawled out of the cabin, I was waving my tail and puffing out my fur as if I had seen a rival male on my territory in the spring? Long story short, we were both very out of sorts and ended up crossing at the food machine.

"Are you leaving the order, master?"

"Why?"

"Jedi are forbidden to have families and have children."

"And here it is?"

"Oh, so you were engaged in perversion."

"In what sense?!"

"Well, I read on the net that they mate for offspring. And sex without a reason is just a perversion."

"Actually, it gives pleasure," - Nemak literally growled.

"Drugs deliver it too," - I replied in the same maner.

"It's different."

"For real? Should I give you a link to a couple of offices? They have branches all over the galaxy, pick up toys for your entertainment and ..."

"Silence."

"... there are different whips, masks ..."

"Padawan!"

"... there are costumes. Mandalorian armour without pants and ..."

"Shut up!" - Nemak hissed, but I was carried away.

"... if you are exhausted, then there are all sorts of personal substitutes for any ..."

It was then that it flew in the face. This is where I came into my senses.

"Excuse me master, I…"

"Hi," - Zola's singsong voice interrupted me. "You were magnificent," - the girl kissed the teacher without embarrassment at all.

"I'm going to meditate," I muttered, picking up a tray of cold cuts and fish salad.

"Go," Nemak waved me off.

"It's a pity that we have to part," - my sensitive ear caught, "but I understand everything and don't regret anything. Will you remember me?"

"Certainly…"

What they talked about next, I didn't care. Zola leaves us, well, good riddance. And I really should meditate. Nevertheless, I went too far and got punched in the face for it. I saw the state of the sensei, but no, I allowed myself to make it even worse. Fool. Not a boy. Not the stupid resentful teenager to whom everyone owes. Grrr. Here, calmly. Here we have a lot of delicious meat, a magnificent fish. Now let's eat, calm down and start meditating. In general, albeit not immediately, but still managed to compromise with the inner beast. Somehow we have recently begun to exist separately from one another. Not good. You can live only being a whole being and nothing else. The rest are just forms of lazing around.

The Ocean of Great Force accepted me as one of its own. Good. Calmly. Interesting. Submerging. Dissolving. I feel. I am the Force and the Force is me. We are one. Enclosed. Ring. Alpha and Omega. Beginning and the end. Peace. Not knowledge, but understanding. Not passion, but desire. Will, but not mind. Shadows of fates. Threads of probabilities. Countless faces of the future and the past. The lines of the possible and the branches of the missed out. No need to think, no need to ponder, no need to learn. Reject everything. Nothing matters here and every little thing is incredibly important. It is enough to see, hear, smell and touch. Just be. The Force will accept anyone.