Death is deceptively quick. A distracted driver, a crosswalk, and a flash of lights. There was no tunnel of light, no life review. Just a sensation of falling, and then... nothing. Darkness. Silence.
Well, I guess that's it. It was a good run. Hope someone deletes my search history.
But that wasn't it. The nothingness was replaced by a cacophony of sounds and lights. I felt a body that wasn't mine—smaller, more agile. I opened my eyes and saw a white stucco ceiling and a bright green sun through an arched window. I was on Naboo. And my name, according to the solicitous parents who rushed to my side, was Kaelen Ror.
The next few years were a blur of adaptation. I kept my mouth shut about my past life, faked partial amnesia from the "accident" I supposedly had, and dedicated myself to what I'd always been good at: engineering. With twenty-first-century Earth knowledge, excelling in Naboo's technology was... easy. Almost insultingly easy. My reputation grew, and with it, my ambition. I wanted to be where interesting things happened. And on Naboo, that meant the Royal Palace of Theed.
Kaelen's Test
Kaelen Ror sat in front of the examination console. The air in the room was thick with the concentration of the other hopefuls. The problem before him was a simulated cascade failure diagnosis for a G-4 shield generator. Complex, yes, but manageable. However, the pressure, the knowledge that his entire new life in this strange universe hinged on this moment, was taking its toll. His heart pounded, sweat beaded on his forehead.
Come on, Kaelen, focus. It's just advanced thermodynamics mixed with field theory. Piece of cake. Why do I feel like my brain's going to melt?
That's when it happened. A sharp pain, like lightning, shot through his mind. A torrent of incomprehensible information flooded his senses, followed by cold blue text overlaying his vision of the world.
SYSTEM ACTIVATED
UNIQUE TEMPLATE ASSIGNED: RICK SANCHEZ (C-137)
WARNING: PERMANENT TEMPLATE. CANNOT BE CHANGED.
INITIAL SYNCHRONIZATION LEVEL: 10%
Kaelen blinked, shaking his head. I must be hallucinating. Post-transmigration stress. That's definitely it.
But then, he looked at the problem on the console again. And suddenly, he saw it. Not as an engineer would see it, but as an artist would see a canvas. The equations weren't problems; they were suggestions. The laws of physics were more like... flexible guidelines.
Wait a second... The problem isn't the cascade failure. The design itself is inefficient. The plasma flow is throttled in the containment array. If you divert 0.05% of the coolant to create a secondary micro-magnetic field here... you could increase efficiency by 12% with the existing hardware.
Ignoring the exam question, Kaelen began to write. His fingers flew across the console, drafting a new schematic, an optimization Naboo engineers hadn't considered in fifty years. When time ran out, he hadn't just solved the problem; he'd made it obsolete.
The examiners, two older Naboo in formal robes, reviewed his work in silence. They looked at each other, then at Kaelen, and then back at the console. One of them cleared his throat.
"Junior Engineer Ror," he said, a tone of astonishment in his voice. "Welcome to the Royal Naboo Engineering Corps. Report for duty tomorrow."
Onboard the Royal Starship J-type 327
(A few months later, aboard the Royal Starship J-type 327)
Kaelen moved through the royal ship's silver corridors with quiet efficiency. His job was, officially, "Critical Systems Support Engineer." Unofficially, he was the guy they called when something went seriously wrong. The Trade Federation blockade had everyone on edge, and his meteoric rise had landed him on this shiny, luxurious tin can en route to Coruscant.
Perfect. Front-row seat to a political disaster. At least the pay's good.
From day one, his system-enhanced mind analyzed the crew. And something stank miles away. Queen Amidala, with her elaborate white makeup and dresses that seemed to weigh more than she did, was a decoy.
Talk about cliché. If this were a movie, the director would already be fired. It's so obvious. She moves like a robot, talks like an answering machine, and has the charisma of a rock. Everyone treats her with such forced deference it hurts.
The real Queen, he was sure, was one of the handmaidens. A young woman named Padmé.
He watched as the "handmaiden" Padmé walked down the hall, exchanging quick, serious words with Captain Panaka. It wasn't the conversation of a handmaiden with a captain. It was that of a superior giving subtle orders. Panaka nodded, his face grim, and departed. Padmé lingered for a moment, her face revealing a flicker of the immense pressure she was under before she recomposed herself. When she turned, she almost bumped into Kaelen, who was leaning against the wall with a diagnostic tool in his hand.
"My apologies," she said, her voice a formal murmur, her eyes not meeting his.
A playful smile tugged at Kaelen's lips.
Here we go. Time to poke the beehive a little.
"Don't worry about it," he replied softly. "It's hard to see us mere mortals when you're busy secretly running a planet."
Padmé stopped dead in her tracks. Her body tensed completely. Slowly, she looked up. Her face was a perfect mask of confused innocence, one she'd probably practiced thousands of times.
"Excuse me? I don't know what you're talking about."
Kaelen chuckled and took a step closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Of course not. My mistake. I must have confused your 'Trade Federation blockade analysis look' with your 'worrying about stains on the Queen's robe look.' Happens all the time."
The effect was instant. Padmé's mask cracked. Her lips trembled, trying to suppress a smile. Her eyes widened in surprise and, to her own mortification, a small snort of laughter escaped her. It was a genuine, clear sound, completely out of place for a mere handmaiden. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was done. Her shoulders shook once with silent laughter.
When she lowered her hand, her eyes were no longer wary, but instead gleamed with an intense and dangerous curiosity. "You're... very observant for an engineer," she said, her voice losing its handmaiden tone and taking on the nuance of authority he had already detected.
Kaelen winked, twirling the diagnostic tool in his hand. "It's part of the job. Seeing the pieces that don't fit." His gaze met hers, direct and unwavering. "And you, my discreet lady, are the most interesting piece on this entire ship."
He stepped aside to let her pass, offering a small, mocking bow. Padmé watched him for another moment, a strange mix of irritation and amusement on her face, before continuing on her way, her stride a little less rigid than before.
Kaelen stood watching the corridor where she had disappeared, a wide smile on his face.
Well, he thought to himself as he returned to work on the hyperdrive. This just got a lot, lot more interesting.