The bridge was dimly lit and quiet. The navigator stared into the iridescent corridor, his long fingers resting motionless on the control panel.
"Was that necessary? You could have used the navicom. Or at least waited a minute or two for decency's sake," the captain grumbled, "we now have a passenger in a semi-fainting state, thinking we're in a blind jump."
"I could have, but then our tail would have been fried," a finger touched a button, a holorecording unfolded. In it, a ship, clearly better armed than "The Chance," emerged from hyperspace nearby and began to turn. "They have higher speed. And they have launchers. A passenger in a faint is a lesser problem than a rocket up... your ass."
"Why... - Rick couldn't help but speak in a rarely used dialect, - are you... children... so unpunctual? Fine..."
He leaned over the terminal and after a few moments added: "When we get to the next point, plot a course to Bakrana. And use the navicom for that, okay? Although... I'll probably replace you."
Rick touched the Force, searching for crew members. He needed everyone now.
"Is this caravan of weapons coming with us, or just hitchhiking across the galaxy?" Nick clarified. The shadows clearly highlighted the jawbones on his cheekbones.
Sher was nearby – tense and worried. Weymi was sleeping in his cabin, looking very pleased with something even in her sleep. Larius was found in the hold. Bus – next to someone unfamiliar. Karvo and Shai were awake.
"Business..." Rick stretched. "We'll drop the caravan off at Bakrana."
The guy paused, as if about to confess something shameful.
"This is the crew of the yacht... on which Rimmon Rok died."
Nick whistled softly.
"I'm not asking what this crew was doing with pirates. Did anyone recognize you?"
The voice was unusually harsh.
"I don't think so," Rick looked at his silhouette in the blister, "different hair color, eyes, beard... Bags under my eyes. Yes... And I lost weight on Nar Shaddaa in the face. The captain even took me for someone in service."
"That's a good option..." Nick replied slowly, calculating something. "I'll sit here for now, check the passenger cabins. We picked up a xenobotanist, works for KIK. She has information on a large deposit of diamonds and medical crystals, samples. Her superiors disowned her. Talk to her, find out her plans, where to drop her off. If we're dropping her off..."
"I'll talk to her," the guy said, happily stretching his neck. "Nick... Try to use the Force less. And... I'm glad to see you again."
After that, he headed for the exit. He didn't want to bother Weymi, which meant he had to start with the other crew members.
"No time," the doctor told herself, getting up and feeling again, the real weight of her medical duty on her shoulder. "Just let Rick be alright. And I'll patch him up... It's not the first time." And not the last, she thought to herself, smiling with unexpected bitterness. For some time now, she had been painfully sensitive to anything that could threaten the crew. Perhaps they had all stopped being just a team to her.
"How's the team's health, doc?" the captain inquired as soon as he entered the room with Sher, a calm smile on his lips and in his eyes.
"Rick!" Sher exclaimed joyfully, dropping her case from her shoulder, but not even bending to pick it up. "You're alive! Glory to the universe!"
Her first impulse was to hug him, but restraining herself, she grabbed his hand above the elbow.
"Are you alright?" she glanced at him with a worried look and, finding nothing resembling wounds on his cap, exhaled.
"Everything's fine, Cap. Both the team and the rescued passenger. And even Shay has good dynamics."
She slung the strap of her medkit over her shoulder again, her shining eyes not leaving the captain.
"I'm perfectly fine. You seem to be living well," Rick smiled, "and as captain, I'm obliged to make my subordinates' lives difficult. So listen: there are seven people sitting upstairs waiting to be examined. Lesa Rayno, in particular, needs examination. He has an incurable disease, a nail in his... sensitive area."
Sher squinted, looking at the captain. "My, how gifted they are... Perceptive. Yes, I'm happy, indecently so."
And smiling, she parried in response: "A doctor who lives well is more useful to the sick, wouldn't you agree? And show me your charges. Seven people, you say?" Sher adjusted the strap on her shoulder and looked back with doubt. "Am I to examine them in my quarters?"
"And I hope they aren't all incurable like this Les Rayno," she told herself. "Otherwise, I'll have to treat them exclusively..."
She didn't finish her thought.
"Where are they, Cap?"
"They're in the mess hall upstairs," Rick raised his index finger upwards, continuing to smile. "Seven of them there. And one in the hold, he needs to be opened up, examined, his race determined. He's a polymorph. Examine him in the mess hall. Ask Haylan Solk to help, section off a corner, and conduct the examination. Humans only after the report, crew of a passenger yacht. They're fine. Seemingly. Better to be safe than sorry."
"May I go?" the doctor joked.
"Go," Rick waved his hand, continuing his rounds. The fact that the unknown woman was sitting on the middle deck indicated that someone on the ship might have brought a stranger here. But he decided to postpone the debriefing for later.
Sher chuckled, touching an imaginary imperial cap, and finally let the sensors slowly close the door.
Stepping into the corridor, Rick reached out with the Force to Bus, who was now sitting in the galley with the stranger, and then politely let him know he was needed.
Half a minute later, the Kushiban twisted around the corner, cocking his ears questioningly.
"Glad to see you're alright," the alien informed him. "Who are all these people?"
"Slaves from slavers, crew of a cruise yacht, passengers to the nearest planet," Rick mused, "many designations. Actually, I'm here about that. And about something else. What about the xenobotanist, and what can we expect from her?"
"She's warm," Bus looked like a ball – he puffed up so much. "Her party perished, she's very upset. She has a family, she's from Corellia, and she can't go home yet. They'll kill her."
"She won't be going home anytime soon anyway," it was becoming truly interesting, "alright, I think she'll sit alone for a while, about five minutes, then I'll talk to her. Among the new arrivals, there's one special one... Les Rayno, I couldn't determine his race, he's humanoid, close to humans, purple eyes. Young, curious, and without a sense of... self-preservation, perhaps. Make sure he doesn't go where he shouldn't. For example, into our systems, to the middle deck, and generally keep an eye on him. And calm down the rest of the guests. Will you do it?"
"No problem," Bus shook his ear. "I need to brush my fur anyway. Nothing calms people down like brushing a Kushiban. I've tested it."
"That's great, Sher is already there, preparing for the examination," Rick tilted his head slightly, signaling the end of the conversation, took out his commlink, and contacted Larius, who was in the hangar at the moment.
Bus immediately scurried off to follow instructions. Larius responded quickly.
"Any problems with the guests?"
"I hope not," he replied after a pause, contemplating the question. "Can you tidy up the hold? Unload the weapons, pack them into a couple of carts, and take them to the workshop on the middle deck. The bag there too. The corpse... Let it lie in the hold. It won't be any worse for it for a couple more hours."
"I've already dealt with the weapons," the mercenary replied. "I've put them in a locked container for now. But I can take them to the workshop. The corpse will definitely be fine."
"What do you mean, 'definitely fine'?" Rick was surprised by this interpretation. "Is something wrong with it?"
"Well, it's definitely dead," Larius clarified. "So it won't come back to life, run away, or ask for an extra portion of food. We're short on food, Rick. And medicine too. I'd rob the medbay not just for the droid, if I were you."
"I don't want to get my hands dirty, and besides, I'd personally be disgusted to use what was on the station," Rick tried to justify himself, "we'll replenish medicine and food on Bakran. Equipment and everything else will be waiting for us on Botavui."
"Alright," the mercenary agreed. "Then ensure me a clear corridor to the workshops. Not a single guest in sight."
"There won't be any guests if you take the elevator," Rick suggested. The workshop was on their level, and there was no need to go up to the third floor. However, he was heading towards his cabin right now to limit the use of the elevator and other means of transport between the third and second levels of the ship.
"I'll do it," the mercenary disconnected.
Arriving in the galley, Rick looked at the unexpected passenger, tilting his head slightly.
"Hello, I'm Rickard Monroe, captain of this ship," he introduced himself, looking into the woman's eyes.
Day calmly met his gaze and also introduced herself: "Day Kale, KIK planetary survey service. Dangerous cargo. If you'll excuse me," she took a sip from her glass, "please forgive me, when I get nervous, my throat gets dry."
Trying to make it unnoticeable, the woman examined the captain, mentally rejoicing that she was sitting. Because if she stood up, she would be the same height as the captain, and that circumstance somehow strangely affected most of the men she knew, and she didn't want to test this man's reaction right now at all. The captain's eyes were very intelligent and "northern."
"I suppose you've already been told about my adventures?"
"My team suffers from an extreme form of conciseness," Rick chuckled, approaching the stove and starting to prepare coffee for the passengers, "I received general information, but I'd like to hear the story from you personally."
The woman twitched her left shoulder and repeated, almost word for word, what she had told the navigator. Then she paused and laid out the contents of several robe pockets on the table again.
"Sir, I think it would be much better if all this were stored somewhere in a safe."
"I'll tell you a secret," he waited for the water to boil and was busy trying to find something to feed eight people with, "I haven't acquired a safe yet."
He cast a curious glance at the stones Day had laid out.
"Holy cow," that was the most decent thing that swirled in Day's head, because, frankly, being a walking safe had become tiresome to the extreme. Because her squad mates, when entrusting samples to her for safekeeping, joked that before attacking her, thieves and other maniacs would think twice, especially if she had her favorite hammer and chisel in her hand. Chuckling grimly, Day said aloud:
"Too bad. Then I'll have to carry it with me for some time longer. And yes," the xenobotanist looked almost predatorily into the young captain's eyes, "do you know what this is?"
"Stones," Rick shrugged, resigned to the fact that the only thing he could do was make questionable sandwiches, "judging by how upset you are, expensive stones."
Approaching the table, he picked up the first box with a mica-like white stone, which looked like both mica and the work of an inexperienced operator in a molecular furnace. After a moment's thought, he ran the sharp edge across the table with effort.
"Diamond?" he clarified thoughtfully, looking at the xenobotanist.
The woman grinned. Rickard had no way of knowing that students had nicknamed her "Colonel" for her strictness and thoroughness.
"No. These are medcrystals. Diamonds – here," she pointed to the large transparent octagonal and dodecahedral crystals. "And this is a truly unique thing – a growth of diamond and medcrystal. In general, now I don't know whose it is."
"Alright, if carrying valuable items weighs on you, I'll take them for safekeeping," Rick put the crystal back in its case. "I'll keep them in my cabin. Please excuse me, but I suddenly have seven more passengers than I expected, and something needs to be done with them. So I'm a bit... inattentive. We'll discuss your problem in more detail after I feed them. There was no cook provided in my staff."
As well as such a number of passengers from the beginning....
"Sir, the stones are half the problem. The data and maps are still of interest, my boss says that as soon as the pirate bosses realize someone survived, the pursuit will continue."
"Bad," Rick drawled, scratching the skin under his beard, "we have enough blasters as it is, Day, we don't need armor and clothes. Pirates are of no value to me. Terrible."
He smiled.
"I don't know where we'll put the prisoners," he added with a smile. "Don't worry, ma'am, if the pirates decide to profit from our ship, they won't find anything here but trouble."
For some reason, Day believed him. Immediately. And somewhere at the edge of her consciousness, a thought flashed that it would be good if, one fine day, her daughter introduced someone similar as a future son-in-law.
"Can I help somehow? In connection with the emerging difficulties?"
"Can you make about twenty sandwiches from what we have? I'll finish the coffee. I'm not very good at cooking by intuition, and in general, I'm not good at cooking at all."
"Easily," Day said, and began to defrost the products. "I have quite a lot of experience with sandwiches, as well as cooking from scratch. That happens all the time in the field."
When the captain left, Day tidied up the galley and returned to her cabin. The bag should still be unpacked completely, especially in light of the food crisis.
She shook out her clothes, sorting them into piles: dirty, relatively clean, and clean. She took out protein bars from a side pocket, and underneath them, something that made her simultaneously smile and cry. Three packs of her favorite candies. They had been saved for a "special occasion," and now they were hers alone.
But Al wouldn't be Al if he had only limited himself to candies. In another pocket, she found a field first-aid kit.
And at the very bottom – her personal hammer and both chisels: for hard rocks and for soft material. Leaving the first-aid kit and candies on the table, Day quickly repacked her belongings into the bag. And decided it would be best to lie down until things settled down on the ship.
The upper deck was livelier than ever. Even the crew meeting in the mess hall wasn't as numerous.
The mess hall was a stone's throw from the elevator, no need to stop, and Sher quickly took those steps.
Meanwhile, in the mess hall, the crew quietly and calmly dispersed to all the places where one could lie down without moving furniture. Les visited the sanitary block, got rid of the remnants of dirt on his body, crawled into a corner between the armchair and the bulkhead, and fell silent there. The captain was quietly talking to the navigator, the rest were dozing.
The Alderaanian also visited the freshener. In addition to washing himself, he tidied up his outerwear as much as possible. The habit of looking neat, instilled in early childhood, made itself known. For now, there was nothing else to do. Food wasn't served. He didn't want to sleep, and after three days of narcotic sleep, he wouldn't want to for a long time. After looking around for a few minutes, Haylan remembered the trophy data-slate. Unfolding it, Solk began to rummage through the documents out of boredom.
There was nothing more interesting than pornographic videos and songs of varying degrees of obscenity. More interesting was the correspondence with an unknown interlocutor to Haylan. The owner of the data-slate complained of boredom, that the main contingent had left long ago, and they were all kept in this hole, and they weren't even allowed to touch the women – they were sold off immediately.
Just in case, Solk rechecked the correspondence again – perhaps he had missed something, for example, a mention of who and where the women were sent. He immediately deleted the obscene content.
No other information was found. Except that the list of recipients was very limited. The pirate corresponded with only a couple of acquaintances.
"Gentlemen, hello," the doc glanced quickly at the whole company, singling out two for herself, whom her gaze caught. One simply stood out from all the others by his dissimilarity, but the other...
"I am Shergi Lonely, doctor of the 'Case', and I need to examine all of you," what was said was very official, and she tried to soften it all with a smile, polite and friendly.
"If anyone feels unwell, please come with me immediately," the doc said softly.
People in such a situation especially need warmth and attention.
"Are there any?" she asked, looking expectantly at the assembled people with a caring gaze.