Alderaan. Arrival

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The University of Alderaan was striking in its monumentality and original architectural style - more like a Hogwarts than a palace. It was more like a Hogwarts in its monumentality and size than a palace in its beauty and originality. In front of the entrance there was a square, where I met the first local - by the looks of it - students. People, mostly people, busy with their own thoughts and not paying attention to the little boy and the droid. That was a good thing - no need for unnecessary attention to one's person. The entrance was decorated with a large and wide white stone staircase, and an equally large open gate. But instead, the students entered through several doors side by side. I have no idea why they had to make a gate then?

I climbed the stairs and waited for R2 to drive up the ramp to the top, then told him:

- Well, here we are.

R2 said nothing, and I continued on my way. Behind the doors was a spacious hall, and the number of people in it was familiar to my eye, for I thought this planet was sparsely populated. Two billion for a whole planet, though...

The passage inside the building was blocked by turnstiles - poles with force fields that prevented anyone from entering. I looked around - there was a counter to the left, behind which stood a protocol droid, and next to him was someone from the staff. Figuring they weren't just put here for a reason, I stepped closer.

- Excuse me... er...

- Yes, am I listening? - said the droid in a metallic voice.

- It's about admissions. May I pass?

- Just a second. - The droid fell silent, and the man sitting next to it, a guy, gave me a brief glance.

- Yes, please come in. You're in room one hundred and thirteen, straight down the corridor and to the left. - The droid said. I thanked him and walked towards the turnstiles. Right in front of me, the force field switched off, opening a passage. Inside, the University was probably the same as the universities of Earth. At least, except for the secretary droid and the force fields, there was little difference. There was a long corridor leading from the entrance, with human-sized statues along the walls, paintings and monitors displaying various information to those who were interested.

I didn't look closely - it was clear enough, information for students. Of course, the way of presentation is archaic, but even in our age of holonets and comlinks, wall announcements have not lost their relevance.

There were office doors in the corridor, sometimes with a number plate and signed. "Pass Department", "Legal Department", "Administration", and so on. Judging by the names, the management of the uni didn't hide in the depths of the building, but positioned themselves right at the entrance. Strange.

We came to the door I needed in a couple of minutes - it really wasn't far - just a couple of hundred metres....

And in the office there were two ladies - young girls, judging by their appearance, dressed in local clothes and sitting at desks. They almost did not react to my appearance - one of them was busy with something on a datapad, and the second one was going through datacards. But the second one broke away from her occupation and looked at me.

- What can I do for you?

- I'd like to inquire about admission.

- Fey! - she pulled her mate away from the monitor, - you have a visitor.

- А? Yes, yes... - the girl looked at me and asked:

- Are you here about the admission?

- Yes.

In response, she pulled out a datapad from her desk and switched on something on it, handing it to me:

- Fill in the form, you can sit down. - She nodded to a chair against the wall.

There was no problem with the form, except for the choice of faculty - there were Law, Finance, Technology, Journalism, and Public Administration to choose from.

The choice was not easy, but I managed. I chose the last one - maybe it will be more useful in life than the ability to write yellow articles for Holognet resources....

The employee accepted the datapad and pointed me to a chair by her desk. I obediently sat down, and she got busy with the datapad - downloaded the data to her computer and continued working on it. While she worked, I looked around the office. It didn't look much different from the ones on Earth, except that there were no papers and no computers like I was used to. Other than that, it was a typical small two-person office-two desks, chairs for visitors, and two girls with the look of stern secretaries.

- Anakin Skywalker, how do I address you?

- Just Anakin. What is it? - I asked the girl who had finished protocol.

- It's all right. You haven't been to any other schools?

- No, I was home schooled.

- I see... - she turned her back to her computer again. After a short silence, she began to speak in a memorised speech:

- We have a school for primary education, and a university proper. To enter the university, you must have graduated from high school, or provide information about your education. Alternatively, it is possible to pass the certification here, but it will not be free of charge, but you will be given a graduation diploma.

- What do you mean, "graduation diploma?"

- Backwards. It's not free, but if you can pass all the tests and exams, no problem. It's only the final year that you'll have to pay in full - we're a course-based school. You can enter the sixth year of the school from the beginning or in the middle of the year, or you can enter just before the exams, it doesn't matter. You will still be considered a de jure student for the whole year. Usually people are admitted to the first year at the age of five, and now your peers are preparing to take exams. Again, you can pay for a year's tuition and take the exam. The session starts in a month. You can attend classes, you can not attend - the important thing is the result.

The girl stopped talking and coughed, while I was thinking about how lucky I was. Well, I can study for a month, I won't die. And the rest...

- How much does a year of training cost?

- Three hundred thousand credits.

Hmm... I already love the Alderaanian education system. So, retroactively and officially? Mmm, girl, I love you! Hmmm... figuratively speaking.....

- Tell me, is it possible to pay tuition for all six courses?

My question stumped her. There was silence for probably a minute at least. Even the other one got a little quiet. The silence was broken by my interlocutor.

- I don't know. I'll... I'll contact the director now. - She stood up and left the office.

I stayed one-on-one with another girl. Taking advantage of her absence, she immediately asked me:

- Excuse me, why do you...

- I don't want homeschooling on my curriculum vitae. I mean, it's on the level, but it's still home schooling. Do you understand?

- I think so... - the second one was thoughtfully silent and returned to her work. A little while later, the first one came back, literally glowing. That is, the one called Fey. A rather... Asian name. But the appearance was only a little unearthly - Though human, the Alderaans looked neither European nor Asian.

- I recognised it. If you'll pay for the whole period, of course. - She's in her seat.

- No problem with that.

- In that case, you'll be invoiced at the time of payment. So, let's continue. The cost, I take it, is satisfactory to you.

- Yes, indeed.

- Then let's sign the contract. - She took a datapad-like device out of the desk. It was a datapad, which on Earth was called a "reader" - the letters on the monitor were drawn out in a similar way, and at first glance did not differ much from pencil writing on paper. The only external difference from a reader was the presence of a special fingerprint scanner window.

- It's a contract. Do you know how to use it?

- Yes. - I took the device in my hands and started reading. I'm not a big fan of official texts, but there's nowhere to go. I flipped through a few pages.

- I'm sorry, but there's a date on it.

- It's a five-year contract. Didn't you want it from freshman year?

- Oh, I see. - I nodded, and put my finger on the scanner. After a second, my finger stung and I pulled it away.

- Oh, sorry, I forgot... There's a DNA sample scanner, just a little thing.

- Nothing. - I smiled at the cleverness of the local government. I can understand them - the unknowable person came, and also has money with him... either a disguised bandit or another mafioso. It's mandatory. At least, if I was the director of this place, I'd check for legal problems. I don't remember ever having my DNA taken, so they're not gonna find anything. Maybe I'm just making this up. Maybe. Then I'm being hasty with the bragging.

I handed the contract to the girl, and she printed out a duraplast sheet that appeared to have a class schedule on it.

- Your class is six hundred and second. I've given you the schedule, then you should go to the hundredth office, which is the badge office, then to the three hundred and sixth office, where we have the medical room. If necessary, in one hundred and fifteenth is the dormitory administration, and in thirtieth is the Cashier's Office. That will be all, student Skywalker. Any questions?

- Negative! - I stood up and stood in a straight line. As a joke, of course.

- Then prepare for your exams. There's only a month left. However, if you fail, you can take it in a year.....

- I understand. Goodbye. - I said goodbye to the girl and left the office. It didn't take long to register the pass - in five minutes I had a card, remotely similar to a credit card, with my photo on it. And what is characteristic, the date of issue of the pass - "963:9:1 RR". That is, the nine hundred and sixty-third year of the Ruusan Reformation. And now, two years ago, the Great Resynchronisation chronology has been adopted, and the Ruusan chronology is nine hundred and sixty-eighth year. They work fast, bastards! Quickly. But for that kind of money...

Speaking of birds, money's tight. Not that I needed it so badly that I had to look for ways to earn money immediately - there was still nine million in cash after the public raid on the "riot ive classic". But with the contract almost two million signed, that leaves seven. Considering that I have to live here for who-knows-how-long without being able to earn money... it's better not to splurge unnecessarily. And I'd better not spend too much on necessities either...

The medical room was simple and ascetic - meddroids, a doctor, an old, old, local man, who received me without questions, measured something with devices, looked around, and sent me away.

The cash desk was a cash desk - having received a pass, the money was debited immediately, no questions asked. And the same way, they politely said goodbye first, thus sending them to all hells. The administrator of the dormitory was the administrator of the dormitory - outwardly satisfied with the fact that he had a new client, but in fact half an hour composted my brain with the fact that you can not do in the dormitory, that it is necessary to maintain order, peace and quiet, and Ni-Ni-Ni - to drive girls. If they notice, they'll expel me immediately. "Oh, right, so I believed you, you old prick." - was written all over my face as I listened to that speech. For the money that students pay them, they can only expel students if they have an orgy in the commandant's office, no less. Apparently, having realised that it was not in the horse's fodder, he gave me a room, and at the same time informed me that I had to go and pay for the dormitory again. It was amazing! - I had to go to the cashier's office again and pay a hundred thousand for accommodation. I hope they don't put me up with some Neimodian, or I'll..." I left the university building with such thoughts. Angry, like Sidious, who'd had his favourite death star blown up by some kids.

I was a little relieved when I got down the stairs, though. I'd been in the university for almost two hours, my pockets were two million lighter, and I'd spent so many nerve cells that I couldn't even count them.

- Why are you standing up? - R2 asked, as he came down the ramp and approached me.

- Yes, it's nothing like that. I'm just getting away. - I took a deep breath of air and looked at the class schedule. Tomorrow at ten o'clock in the morning it was maths, then a subject called 'technology' - obscure, but it looked like some kind of ironmongery, then the quite peaceful, but little-understood for school, 'fine arts' and 'law'.

Each of the subjects had an hour and a half, totalling six hours of lessons a day. What a familiar system... and it made it clear that I would not attend all the classes. It was unlikely that they would take exams in butterfly painting and other stuff, and I, a former flight mechanic, was no stranger to technology.

In front of me there was a square with several streets branching off from it.

- R2, did you get the map?

- Confirmed.

- Where's the hostel?

- A kilometre away. - R2 created a two-dimensional projection of the city plan in front of him. The hostel was some distance from the square we were in, but a little walk won't break me. And R2 wouldn't burn out.

- You know, let's go to the local shopping district. We should get some refreshments and buy some things for our sword. Can you give me directions?

The holoprojection appeared in front of Erdva again, only this time it illuminated another place. It was only a couple of kilometres down another street, so we headed there.

Landspeeders, cargo speeders, even taxis flew past us all the time, and high above our heads were speeders that were travelling longer distances. As far as I understand, a landspeeder uses much less fuel than a normal, high-altitude speeder. The repulsors on landspeeders are economical, and the micro-reactors are small.

I met locals along the way, men and women, humans and other races I didn't know much about. As I approached Aldera's shopping district, there were more people and speeders, more shining holoprojected adverts on houses, more shops. It wasn't Coruscant, of course, but it wasn't some fringe world either. Though Alderaan was sparsely populated by galactic standards.

The road led us and R2 to a new square, where the main architectural structure was a large shopping centre.

- Let's go there. I don't know much about this place anyway. - I said to the droid and followed the local merchants.

Inside, there was little to distinguish the mall from its counterparts on the ground - the same well-maintained appearance, the same rows of boutiques, even escalators. True, unlike the ones on earth, they were somewhat different, but they were there.

I directed my footsteps to the holoprojection of the building plan and, finding a large shop hall with the prefix "those" went there.

Inside was... heaven. For me, of course, but paradise nonetheless. I wish I'd had such a place back on Tatooine, I'd have made such a mess of it!

The shop was a shop selling components for various equipment and the equipment itself. There were all kinds of droids, hardware of all types, sizes and purposes, datapads, home systems and so on and so forth....

R2, to my surprise, was allowed in with me - a solid-looking man with a blaster on his belt stood at the entrance. I recognised the blaster as a paralyser, but it was important to have a weapon of some kind. Blaster and bullet weapons were strictly forbidden on Alderaan. Characteristically, the lightsaber did not fall under these definitions and was not banned. Probably because of the specifics of the distribution of these weapons, but still... but the vibroknife already required a permit.

The whole rows were littered with various technical novelties, and I, having realised that I had already spent half an hour examining things I didn't really need, decided that it was time to call it a day:

- R2, let's take only what we really need. We could be here for a long time. I'm getting hungry.

- Copy that. What do we need?

- Optical system for the droids, Energy Cell for them, some superconducting alloy, some metal - light and strong, cyclic field chargers, power cell, force field conductor, vortex rings, some switches, sensors... well, I'll choose it myself. Can you find what you're looking for?

- I already did. You walked right past it. Follow me. - Erdva turned round and drove back. In a minute he led me to the right place. Here, packed in transparent plastic boxes were lenses. I chose a natural crystal lens of the right size and quality. Next I had to go for the rest of the named parts, and the ones I remembered. In the process of making my choice I came across local craftsmen - young and not so young people, walking like me along the rows and scrutinising the goods. But as a rule they were silent - only soft music, conversations with sellers and buzzing of droids, exhibited as samples, could be heard. By the way, I met Brother Erdv here, too. The Astromech cost as much as five thousand credits. But it was definitely a successful droid - the others didn't live long, and the Erdva series, as I remembered, reigned in its market segment for a long time.

- Anakin. Buy this..." I was cut off from my thoughts by the droid's beeping.

I had to go over to him and see what he saw. Next to the droids on a small ramp lay unpacked droid parts. The sign said "R2 series components."

- What did you see?

- Jetpack.

- A what?

- Jetpack. 

I had to see what a jetpack is. Two tanks, small ones, jets, a system that pulls them out of the droid...

- You want to improve a little?

- Positive. Buy this. - The droid started begging again.

- All right, all right. As you wish. It's not cheap. Get yourself something else, you've earned it. - The droid with a joyful trill went along the row of components for his series, and looked at every detail.

While Erdva rejoiced in life, I remembered that I wanted to assemble a sword. My skills now would be enough to assemble that artisanal Tatooine craft in two or three hours. Surely it was time to move on and upgrade the sword a bit.

While I was picking out parts, the droid was out of my sight. I had to get myself a shopping trolley... well, like a trolley, more like a small repulsor platform. The massive jetpack for Erdva, new lenses, a holoprojector for projecting large and coloured holoprojections, a microreactor unit much more powerful than the one I already had, a small force field generator, and... Right, why would R2 need a jetpack if the main fuel he would spend on the weight of Erdva himself? The droid, after thinking for a while, also found a repulsor module. Then a technical module that expanded its capabilities for repairs and a new communication unit - a tachyon antenna of greater power, a sensor system..... So R2 would soon be equipped pretty much as shown at the beginning of the third film.

Having finished with the droid, that is, having taken the maximum number of modules that can be stuffed into Erdva, I went back to my own, urgent thing. Namely, the sword. I also threw the last parts into the general pile and pushed the cart-platform to the cash desk. At the cash register sat a girl who smiled politely at me and asked if I wanted to take some of the goods at a discount.

She didn't touch the goods, unlike earthly supermarket cash desks - she just passed the whole trolley through the scanner and said the amount. She charged the amount on the credit card she was given and wished me well. Yes, she also gave me a plain bag made of some local material.

It was a bit of a hassle - Erdva parts were not easy. Thank the Force, I could help myself with telekinesis, otherwise I would have had to install all the purchases in Erdva right here, and that would have been a few hours of wasted time.

I didn't get to the next shop I had planned - on the way I met a boutique, or rather a pavilion with... speeders in it. Yes, speeders, right here in the shopping centre. Without a second thought, I went inside. If I have money and I've settled here for a while, why not buy transport? My son used to ride a speeder, and I should have one.

By the way, a speeder very similar to the one I saw in the film also stood here, only it was not much better maintained and prettier - not a rusty bucket, but beautiful, white, with chrome parts, according to the latest Alderaanian fashion. But it still looked like a soapbox. The sign on the bonnet read "X-34, SoroSuub Corporation, max. 1m. 250km/h, 2-3 seats."

Indeed, there were two seats up front - pilot, on the right (as on ships), and passenger, on the left. There was also a boot behind the backs, or rather just a place, as on pickup trucks, on which a third seat could be installed. The cost of this miracle is eleven thousand credits. No, it's not for me.

I moved on. They differed not just a lot - fundamentally. According to the exhibited holograms there were large sizes, not presented here, so to speak, in person. There was a separate row of bikes - long, just like speeders, with control handles, familiar to me from karas. And... beautiful. Exactly beautiful, in the techno-style I was used to seeing on the ground. Predatory silhouettes, pointed forward repulsor modules, providing high stability and tolerance to misalignment..... I stared at them, setting the bags against the wall and leaving Erdv to guard them.

Seeing a customer, the salesman, a young lad of about seventeen, came up to me. Seventeen at the most.

- Can I help you? Something you like?

- Tell me, can I buy... this bike? - I pointed to a model I liked.

- A Shriker 67? It's popular with the racers. Manoeuvrable, fast up to 800 kilometres an hour, with a power cockpit--

- Power cockpit?

- That's what they call a force field that protects the pilot from wind, dust and everything else. At that speed, you know, even a small insect can cause a catastrophe.

- I see. 

- And to buy one, you need a licence or a request from the race organisers. There's no other way.

- A licence? Hmm... I don't have a licence yet... where can I get one?

The man, not the least bit embarrassed, explained:

- You can get a licence from the city transport system administration. There are three levels of speeder licences. The first is landspeeders and bikes with an engine power of ten megawatts or more, then speeders and ground vehicles with an engine power of thirty megawatts or more, and the third category is cargo speeders and platforms.

- Hmm... then that means I can buy anything up to ten megawatts of power without a licence.

- Exactly. That's non-speed, city bikes and some land speeders. The altitude is modest because of the economical repulsors, but they're easy to operate, don't require frequent repairs, and are usually quite compact. Here, for example... - he moved away from high-speed models and showed me a rather small bike:

- The MVR-3, from the manufacturer Incom. It has a normal speed of forty to forty kilometres per hour, but unlike most other speeders, it's the most load-carrying. It takes fifty kilos of weight, not counting the average pilot's eighty kilos. - The salesman looked at me - apparently hinting that with my size I could load the speeder heavier. But I didn't like it - it looked too much like the one Darth Maul had. And this red-faced devil annoys me just by the fact that he exists. Well, and the fact that he wanted to kill Padme, for whom I have not love, but sympathy for sure.

- Excluded. I don't like the design, plus... ah, show me what else you have that's small, though. I'm too lazy to walk from my dorm to the university.

- You go to our university?

- Yeah.

- I'm just finishing up. - The guy smiled at me.

- And here?

- I work part-time. Not that I need the money, but it's kind of embarrassing to ask, so....

- I see. - I smiled, remembering the times of my student youth.

- Then you'd better take a driving test. The test, rightly speaking, will not take much time. Can you drive?

- Yes, I can. I even took part in races.

- Racing? What kind of racing, if you don't mind me asking? We have some races here, including some for students.

- No, not here. On the planet Tatooine. "Riot Eve Classic. A car race.

The interlocutor seems a little hung up.

- Yeah... I've heard of carriage racing. They say it's very dangerous.

- They are. More than half of them crashed to their deaths. The rest were lucky to make it to the finish line, myself included.

- I'm sorry, what's your name?

- Anakin Skywalker. - I introduced myself. The guy hummed something and led me to a row of small speedybikes.

- Here, the Praxon Butterfly series. Butterflies are quite popular, though they have no power, speed or load capacity. At most, they can go up to a hundred metres, up a couple of metres. But..." He walked over to the nearest speeder, which, if you compare speeders to motorbikes, was of the same class as the Vespa moped from the ground, and clicked something on the handlebars.

- И?

- Now, five seconds.

The speeder was really like a butterfly - a seat-and-rudder base, forward-facing repulsor rods, and two side-mounted repulsor-engines, flanked to the left and right of the pilot, only slightly behind. Before I could think about it, something clicked in the speeder and the booms went into motion, folding back. Then the butterfly "flapped its wings." That is, those two wings on the sides folded upwards, and the speeder really began to resemble a butterfly - tendrils of folded rods sticking forward and two metre wide wings folded upwards. I walked round this marvel of technology and looked at the profile. Exactly, it looks like this insect.

- It can be folded, which reduces its dimensions by half - in the working position it is three metres long and one and a half wide, in the folded position it is twenty metres long and only half a metre wide. In case of what can be folded and handlebars - the guy showed how to do it and the bike became quite tiny.

- A lot of people buy them as an alternative means of transport, so that they don't have to ride a landspeeder for small things. Well, it's extremely popular with us students. Mostly, though, because it's almost officially approved by the directorate - they don't like daredevils, and you can't drive it much.

- Well... a speeder is not a luxury, but a means of transport... - I concluded, - I'll take it.

- Then to the till. You can take it from here, anyway, display samples don't stay stagnant for long. This one was put here yesterday.

- Will there be anything for it?

- Instruction manual in the on-board computer, a rudimentary repair kit in the boot. - The guy walked over to the speeder and flipped the seat up. It opened, revealing a small, five-litre boot with a box of some kind in it.

- There was oil, tools for dismantling and maintenance, and a diagnostic module. True, for its price and the module is appropriate, but speeders from "Praxon" in general rarely break down. And when they do, they're usually scrapped.

I know the pattern. But I kept silent and went with the guy to the checkout to buy a vehicle for myself.

What I forgot was R2, who stood near the bags and guarded my (though mostly his) property.