The lizard was listened to attentively, catching the intonations of his voice, the slightest movements. They compared his words, instinctive movements, and previous experience of communication. Everything came together and was remembered. However, it was likely that Jar was doing the same work. Only he didn't ask questions. Curious. Is he so sure he's acquired worthy company, or does he simply want her to relax and get used to his society?
Iris was still not sure if she would make worthy company. She didn't have enough experience for truly sophisticated conversation – it requires practice. But she had curiosity and, as she liked to believe, enough intelligence to be interesting. The main thing was not to rush.
"Why did you leave your homeland, my lord?"
"Circumstances dictated it, my lady," came the polite answer. "Sometimes, to gain a strategic advantage, one has to move a piece to a seemingly disadvantageous position."
"Your position doesn't look disadvantageous, my lord. Although perhaps it wasn't always so."
Iris looked thoughtfully at Jar.
"May I make a suggestion, my lord?"
The falien expressed polite attention, saying nothing. A tilt of the head, a movement of the spinal crest – Jar had a body language at his disposal.
Her claws clicked together again. A sharp sound in the relative silence of the ship.
"You love intellectual games, my lord."
"You work for the Black Sun, Lord Jar."
"That's an interesting suggestion," the falien looked at her intently.
"You make promises that only a very powerful sentient can fulfill. You command armed men who calmly attack a slave trader base. And you position yourself as a middle manager. The Black Sun is the most suitable option. Plus a few more minor details confirming this assumption."
Her claws clicked together again. The girl was tense; it was palpable despite her perfectly calm posture.
"I'm inclined to think that potential buyers don't know your true price," a smile touched her narrow lips. "Bravo, my lady. We can assume that your suggestion has a logical basis. How will you perceive the confirmation of your correctness?"
"Triply," she also allowed herself to smile. "On the one hand, it makes me happy because I will truly receive the protection you promised me. On the other hand, it makes me happy because I love it when my guesses are confirmed. On the third... it also makes me happy, I suppose."
"I am happy to be the source of your joy, my lady," Jar showed the tips of his fangs in a smile. Quite friendly by falien standards.
Iris responded with almost the same smile.
"You also like to control everything, care about your people, and are clearly tired of not having a worthy opponent nearby... Or rather, not an opponent," she paused for a moment. "An ally with whom you can compete without resorting to dirty tricks."
"Brilliant," the crest rose and fell again. "But I must warn you that I don't shy away from dirty tricks either. When it's more effective than our traditional occupation. In other words, I don't tolerate traitors..."
The falien woman tilted her head slightly.
"And who in their right mind tolerates traitors? And who would refuse the most effective means when it comes to business, not a battle of wits? No, Lord Jar, you don't strike me as a madman. You understand why I'm telling you all this now?"
This was a counter-challenge – an offer to show her knowledge of her interlocutor.
The falien smiled again. The situation clearly pleased him.
"I also have a few assumptions, Lady Iris," he didn't allow himself to openly show interest in the smells in the cabin, but he caught their nuances, noting the hidden tension. "I know who you are. The opportunity to return home doesn't appeal to you; you didn't even mention it. But you mentioned the protection I can provide you. I venture to assume that your talents are not finding proper application in your family. This is imprudent on the part of your relatives... and I will try not to repeat their mistake. So, you don't want to go home, you accept patronage, you know how to draw conclusions... Who do you see yourself as in the future, Lady Iris?"
The girl pondered. If she had the opportunity, she would hide this thoughtfulness behind a cup of tea or caf. But she had to make do without such a useful auxiliary item as a cup. And she also felt that it was the answer to this question, which she herself was leading the conversation to, that made her most anxious. Because it seemed very important to her.
"I have a decent education, I like working with information, I can observe and draw conclusions. I would like to try my hand at planning and management, especially under the guidance of an experienced mentor."
Jar would have been surprised to hear a different answer.
"If your clan, my lady, is always as far-sighted as in your regard, Lady Iris, its position is more than natural. You will be able to rise higher. If you want to and make an effort."
The hint at the clan leader's incorrect policy was a bit impolite, but Iris couldn't disagree with him. After all, only weak, foolish warm-blooded creatures would blame failures on external circumstances or predestination.
"I intend to achieve much more," her eyes narrowed slightly, betraying an almost furious determination, as much as it was possible for a cold-blooded lizard.
"I intend to give you that opportunity," the falien nodded. "In the meantime, I advise you to rest, my lady. You were under the influence of a drug for a long time, even your body needs support now."
"Thank you, my lord. It is an honor for me."
It was noticeable that her tension had subsided. A slight smile appeared on her lips, which held more pleasure from the achieved result than simple politeness.
With a gesture of his crest, Jar indicated that he had heard her and got up, heading for the doors. He still had many things to do before the arrival.
"Sir Monroe," Hylan waved to Rik, "you said something about a ship. I found a medical droid here. And, I think, he would be useful in any crew."
Rik shook his head: they were calling him "sir" again. But he didn't correct them, deciding that some people couldn't be fixed.
"Yes, useful," protesting was useless, announcing the crew composition was dangerous, "do you have any suggestions?"
"What suggestions? If you don't need it, I'll take it with me. He seems to have developed a personality. It would be a shame to leave the little creature on an empty base."
Hylan was a curious specimen for a smuggler. Rik himself would probably have politely asked to be thanked for the find, but he didn't share such thoughts.
"Everything of value that can be loaded onto the ship will be taken from the base, including the droid," declaring his immediate intentions, he placed the stone next to his datapad, "Alderaan is famous for its art, isn't it... Maybe you'll take a look at this curiosity?"
He unfolded the stone.
Solka raised his right eyebrow:
"Art? I'll look. One more thing. We are not very well acquainted. The extreme situation is over. I would prefer to address you as 'you'."
With these words, Hylan shifted his attention to the find.
Kontr shrugged: if the man wanted to be addressed as "you," he saw no reason not to honor his request.
"Yes, indeed, art... What a characteristic pattern... May I examine it more closely?"
"Look, just don't try to lift it," Rik chuckled, "it's made of a very dense material."
The Alderaanian demonstratively sighed and frowned upon hearing another familiarity.
The characteristic pattern was recognizable to anyone who had even a casual interest in the ancient history of the galaxy.
"It's definitely Rakatan. From the Rakatan era. Or a very good fake."
Hylan thoughtfully poked the pattern with his finger. It reminded him of something. Few artifacts from that era had survived, but this one was clearly for technical purposes.
"I'm not entirely sure. After all, I'm not a specialist. But it strongly resembles a storage device. An information carrier."
"Uh..." Rik saw an opportunity to earn another six-figure sum, "Mr. Solka... Are you sure about this? I mean, where did you get such knowledge?"
He just shrugged:
"What knowledge? The known history of the Galaxy began with Rakata. Almost any educated person will tell you that. And I, as it happened, studied cultures in comparison. I'm not entirely sure about the information carrier. But, most likely, I'm not mistaken. In general, I would gladly delve into it more deeply. Under normal conditions, with reference literature. When else will I have the opportunity to touch such antiquity?"
"Interesting," the guy said, "a very curious artifact. You will have that opportunity on my ship. Did you manage to check the other compartments? Besides the medical bay?"
Hylan shook his head negatively.
"No. The thing is, someone was killed there... me. Or rather, a person who looked like me and had my documents. More precisely, as it turned out, not entirely human. Or not human at all. A shapeshifter. The question of who and why it was needed remains open. In fact, I found the medical droid precisely for analyzing the body."
"There are many possibilities," Rick sighed after a moment's pause, "although I thought that polymorphs take their natural form when dying. So, first: don't take your eyes off Les, there's no particular danger, but he's strange. I want to look for the local armory or warehouse. Let the captain comb through the cabins, just don't forget about the traps."
"I also noticed that he's strange," Hylan squinted, "too confident for his age. Perhaps he's also a shapeshifter. Or not entirely human. Or doesn't look his age. By the way, I'd like to look into the armory too. I have a small passion for certain blasters."
"First, we still need to find it, and hopefully, Jar's people haven't taken everything there," Rik shook his head. "But I won't refuse company."
In passing, he studied the base's schematic for suitable premises.
"The medical droid wasn't taken, so there are chances. If there was an armory here at all, and not everything was stored by hand."
"That's quite likely," the counter checked the condition of the power cell in his blaster just in case, "but the station still needs to be inspected from top to bottom. And we'll start, perhaps, with the tech sector. We need to know the condition of the station's reactor."
Hylan just spread his hands, indicating that he was not entirely competent in this matter.
A crash was heard from the remains of the ship. A few seconds later, Les appeared, as unperturbed as the Senate Hall in the absence of the Senate itself.
"I also grabbed the ship's log," he said, returning the tools to Rik. A somewhat painful squint was visible through his bangs.
"And whose ship was it, anyway?" Hylan asked, "renegades?"
"When they brought us here, it was already here," Raino replied. "So it's fifty-fifty. Maybe a pirate, maybe prey."
"And do you remember how you were brought here?" Rik stopped and looked closely at Raino, noticing that the sharp change in lighting was painful for him.
"No, they gassed us on the yacht, and we only woke up here," Hylan thought the question was addressed to him. "By the way, about the gas. I suddenly realized that I don't feel nauseous anymore. And I want to eat."
"This stuff doesn't affect me," the guy grumbled. "I had to pretend to be unconscious. Otherwise, they'll think I'm one of the specialists... But they carried me around."
"Nice," Rik thought, "in short: where did the girls go?"
"They were already waiting for them here," Raino shrugged. "From ship to ship, and they were taken away immediately... As for food, there might be an emergency supply in the capsule here."
Solka shook his head:
"Well, there should be a mess hall at the base. And on the transport ship too."
"They never smelled like decent food," Les looked back at Rik. "I'll go see where I can find something to eat then? I've been on water for three days..."
"Take someone from the yacht crew with you," the counter decided, "and you can go look. We'll go through the rescue capsules in the tech section and also look for rations."
Raino flicked his bangs and went upstairs to look for the crew.
Rik waved to Hylan and moved towards the tech section, that is, downwards. First, they really had to go to the rescue capsules, and only then look for surprises left by both Jar's people and the former owners of the station.
The technical sector was noticeably cleaner than upstairs. True, the mercenaries had managed to litter it with corpses and didn't bother to search them. No one had any spare mines, and the only surprise in this part of the station was damage to the generator's cooling shroud - it was pierced by a fragment of a bulkhead.
If he hadn't been wearing a helmet, Rick would have scratched the back of his head. The shroud problem could have abruptly ended the lives of those remaining on the station, turning to Hylan, he went to the generator control terminal:
"Look at the supplies in this part, I need to solve a problem," and delved into studying the situation. He needed to know how much time was left before overheating and what control options he had.
The breach was insignificant, but a considerable amount of time had passed since the explosion for the leak to start having an effect. If nothing was done, overheating could reach critical levels within a day.
Who else would know what supplies were needed there? Well, besides food, of course. Hylan absolutely did not want to inspect the corpses for the latter. There were no mess halls nearby either. True, the dead might have something interesting. Fighting his disgust, the Alderaanian went to collect trophies.
The mercenaries clearly didn't need weapons. Or they had orders not to collect them. There was no other explanation for them leaving another rifle, in addition to four blasters. Besides this, Solke got three flasks with something that could dissolve a sarlacc's stomach, comlinks, a couple of datapads, and several info-crystals.
Solka remembered that Rick was particularly interested in info-crystals. So he took them first with the intention of handing them over. From the datapads, he chose the least damaged one and also put it in the inner pocket of his jacket. He simply examined the weapons and piled them up. Whoever needed them would take them themselves.
He clearly didn't need to dissolve his stomach. Rather, he needed to fill it. Having finished his inspection, Hylan returned and dumped a pile of crystals near Rik:
"Found them. I remember you were interested in them."
"Put them nearby," the guy was launching the emergency shroud repair system at that time, the info-chips could be looked at a little later, "did you find anything interesting?"
"A pile of weapons. Alcohol of dubious quality. And other trifles. Oh, and comlinks. Do you need them?"
"No," all of this was of the same quality as the alcohol, and Rick wasn't going to use low-grade equipment. "Everything is fine here for now. Let's go look for the rescue capsules."
"Judging by the plan, they should be somewhere there," Hylan shared his observations, pointing to the far exit.
"We'll go there."
The capsules were found, and in working condition, which couldn't help but please. But of the equipment, nothing survived except for the ration packs. This upset the counter. A spare never hurt. And what kind of garbage must the food be if even the not-so-picky bandits didn't covet it? Taking out one of the ration packs, Rick handed it to Hylan.
"Help yourself, lieutenant," he offered in the most social tone he was capable of.
Confident footsteps were heard in the corridor. The person walking clearly saw the road perfectly - he didn't stumble once in the semi-darkness over corpses or blasters. But at the fork, he stopped and after a couple of seconds whistled softly.
"Hey, are you alive here? I brought hot caf. And there's really nothing to eat there, just rations."
The voice belonged to Les.