Hylan didn't have close acquaintance with the rescue capsules yet. And he didn't intend to. Therefore, having superficially examined them and satisfied his mild curiosity, he quickly lost interest. Capsules and capsules. The ration pack interested him more. After forced starvation, even this was food. Les appeared just as Solka was thoughtfully looking at the contents of the emergency kit and wondering how to use it.
"There are rations here too. They must have a normal mess hall."
"Not necessarily," Rik said with knowledge, "it's not for nothing that they say pirates have stomach ulcers as a professional illness. As well as cirrhosis of the liver."
"Ah, so that's where you are..." in the semi-darkness, the guy seemed particularly thin. Handing them each a steaming mug, he took a nutrient bar out of his pocket, tore off the wrapper, and took a crunchy bite.
"The captain says they were apparently preparing for evacuation. They took almost everything. Greed let them down - they decided to make money off us too."
Rik handed the mug back to the guy:
"I've already had lunch," and leaned against the wall thoughtfully. There were more and more questions. Raino shrugged and took a sip.
"Poisons don't affect me anyway," his violet eyes looked at Rik with complete calmness. "Well, most of them."
The guy blinked, though no one saw it.
"You'll be surprised," he said with a smile, "but they don't affect me either. I really don't want to drink. Thanks for the offer. And for the information too."
"It's hard to drink through a helmet," Les sympathized. "But I meant that the caf here is rare poison."
Hylan nodded gratefully to Les, taking the mug. With some disappointment, after examining the food again, and grumbling for show, he tried the spoils. In general, soon he didn't care what quality the food was - the main thing was that it was food.
"You know," he said during a break, "this explains a lot. Including why the women were taken away. Apparently, with the previous transport."
Suddenly, Hylan had an idea.
"Les, what do you know about polymorphs?" he asked, finishing the bar. "We seem to have found one there. Who took on my appearance."
Hylan's question made Les's eyebrows rise.
"A polymorph? Here? That's like not respecting yourself... Well," he thought, chewing the bar and washing it down with caf. "There are several types, as I was told. Some change their appearance with difficulty, others easily. Some use this ability to carry out illegal activities. There is a race that satisfies its inclination to study other species in this way. Yes, there's a droid bustling around up there, telling everyone passing by that the rest are humans."
"Apparently, this one wanted to carry out illegal activities," Hylan grinned. "At least, I have no other explanation. There were no traces of operations on him."
"I didn't know we had such an important bird with us," Raino saluted him with his mug. "The captain found a datapad in the cabins with a password. He asked who could hack it."
"It's quite a common practice to work with stolen documents. Or the IDs of missing persons. However, why specifically the lieutenant... The question remains open," Rik said thoughtfully. "I'll go take a look at the datapad. I wonder who's so secretive here."
"I'm not an important bird," Hylan shook his head negatively, "and not a bird at all. That's the problem. Unless they wanted to influence someone else through me. And even then, unlikely."
"Maybe with your ID, you can get a decent sum from the bank?" Rik threw a question into the general pool before disappearing around the corner in search of the captain. The password-protected datapad aroused genuine curiosity.
"Then it would be rather indecent," Les commented. "Because finding a polymorph for this purpose is a little easier than someone like me."
"Perhaps," the Alderaanian replied thoughtfully, "but for that, you need to pass biometric verification. And know my personal passwords... No, I don't believe it. If they wanted to question me, they would have kept me in a separate room. By the way, 'like me' - who is that? Because there are some unpleasant hints..."
"I'm not a polymorph, if that's what you mean," Les blew on his long bangs. "I meant that I'm from the homebody people, and it's very rare to see someone from our kind."
"For various reasons... I've met such people," Solka smiled back. "Nevertheless, you know a lot for a homebody. For example, about polymorphs. And you don't know obvious things."
"Well, everyone who returns brings something with them," Les explained, reaching for another bar. "Knowledge, experience. What can be useful. They teach this to others."
The Alderaanian shrugged:
"As you wish. I just don't understand the point of starting a conversation with hints about my unusual origin. After all, it's everyone's personal business. I've studied quite a few cultures and I admit that for you it might be something ritual. But that's all. Thank you for the caf."
"The origin is the most ordinary," Les easily got up. "From mom and dad. You're welcome."
He picked up the mug and headed for the exit.
It was a pity, of course, that the mysterious companion refused to make direct contact. On the other hand, it was his business. And Hylan disliked diplomacy and negotiations since childhood. Now he was more interested in the artifact. But the Alderaanian understood perfectly well that under the current conditions, he couldn't do much. With such sad thoughts, he went to the rest of the company.
Upon arriving at the location, Solka first looked around for the medical droid. He didn't find it, was very surprised, and asked the nearest person where to find one. In general, his tongue led him to the place. Brief questioning of the piece of iron only confirmed the negative result, and it became completely clear that nothing was clear.
Upstairs, the medical droid rushed to Rik, waving its manipulators.
"Mission accomplished, all examined are Homo sapiens," it repeated.
"Thank you," Rik stopped, examining the droid, "state your identification number."
The droid rattled off the identification procedure and expectantly stared at the armored figure. Captain Lowe's attempt to diagnose a potential patient was stopped.
"I sent this boy to ask if any of you could look at what's here," he was holding a worn datapad in his hands. "I thought they wouldn't just close it with a password..."
"They really wouldn't," Rik agreed, taking the datapad and addressing the droid by its "name." "You are near the terminal in standby mode. Until further instructions... This datapad, where did you find it?"
The droid faltered. Unable to resolve the logical contradiction, it turned to the human with the question of which terminal he meant.
The captain simply waved towards the living quarters: there.
"The backup control terminal in the hangar, follow me," Rik commanded the droid, turning on the datapad, "I wonder what the owner of the datapad was hiding, if even their boss didn't bother to password-protect his. Did you find anything else?"
"Only this of any value," Lowe shook his head. "Only rations were left on board, I checked the refrigerators, they are turned off. And it doesn't look like food was stored there in the last few months. Empty. No personal belongings in the cabins, dirt everywhere..." he grimaced. The droid trudged along behind, silent.
"It's a nasty story here, it's a shame the women were taken away," Rik said, approaching the terminal and turning on his datapad. There were a hundred ways to bypass a password request. The question was which one was suitable in this situation and was optimal in terms of time.
"A great shame," the captain agreed. "My people were there. I hope the company will buy them out..."
"Pilot?" Rik felt his involvement in this incident, and the feeling commonly known as conscience, stirred unpleasantly in his chest, "we will try to help your people in some way. As a last resort, I have the coordinates of an Imperial detective."
Because he guessed that most companies wouldn't bother saving their people in such a large galaxy.
"Pilot, doctor, and chef," Lowe replied. "I just don't understand... You were with them," he nodded towards the exit from the hangar. "Why?"
"Why was I with them? Or why did I help you? Or why did I stay here?" Rik inquired, connecting directly to the datapad's memory block. It was an old model, and protection failures were not uncommon, where information could be extracted by simple connection, bypassing the protection interface, which only launched when the device's system was started.
"Why did you stay?" Lowe asked directly. "They were ready to force you onto the ship at gunpoint, I saw."
A hole in the protection was indeed found. But the files turned out to be encrypted.
"This is strange arbitrary action..." the captain sat down on a fragment of plating, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why they left the weapons is also unclear... So that there would be something to shoot themselves with, perhaps? I checked the communication. The transmitter is damaged."
"The weapons were left assuming you wouldn't surrender alive," Rik honestly admitted, copying the files to his datapad, carefully checking that there were no malicious programs inside, "the files are encrypted, it's pointless to break them without special equipment."
"So, something valuable," the captain closed his eyes. His gaunt face was tired. "Will you take it to some inhabited planet where we can contact management?"
"Hmm..." the datapad was placed next to the Rakatan stone, "I don't know. I think I'll drop you off somewhere on the Corellian route, from there you can easily fly to the central worlds. And there should be communication on almost any planet."
The captain nodded without opening his eyes and fell silent. Apparently, he had dozed off.
Rik didn't consider it necessary to disturb the captain and looked for spare parts from the cockpit that Les had taken. He needed to check something.
Les was nowhere to be found. However, Lieutenant Solka was standing near the droid. Rik remembered the shapeshifter and the Alderaanian's copying. That was also interesting, and time before the "Chance" arrived still needed to be filled with something. But first...
Taking off the armor turned out to be much faster and easier than putting it on. Pulling on his usual cap, the counter flashed brown lenses from under its brim in the hangar's semi-darkness and headed towards Hylan. Two pistols hung in two hip holsters, a heavy Sorro-Sabre "Kylann" and an equally dangerous Verpine Disruptor.
"Lieutenant, what were you saying about the double?" Rik clarified, stretching his wrists and arms after the gloves.
"What is there to say, there he lies."
The Alderaanian pointed with considerable disgust towards the already considerably dismembered body.
"By the way, don't you think they should be moved somewhere? Where are the dead usually taken on such bases?"
Rik smiled slightly, pondering how different their views were.
"Perhaps, first, we should switch to 'you'?" he asked, approaching the corpse and carefully feeling its clothes. If it was his datapad, perhaps access codes could be found here. "Despite the fact that the situation is not critical, we are not at a social event, not even on a civilized planet."
Hylan raised his eyebrows:
"But that's elementary rudeness!"
The galaxy was large and diverse. And the diversity of customs was also very great. Just like traditions.
"If, of course, you insist..."
The codes didn't work out. But a small deck of cards, printed on plastic, was found.
"It's impolite to point a blaster at someone for no reason," the counter said thoughtfully, taking out the deck of cards and examining it carefully. Sometimes there were marks left on the cards, sometimes they were simply scratched, and they could tell something about the owner. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, I haven't been to Alderaan, but I've heard a few stories. Compared to it, almost the entire galaxy is a big cesspool. Don't bother with excessive politeness out of place. They'll take it for weakness. As for the corpses... They can be disposed of. But I wouldn't do that. Cleaning the station is the concern of whoever decides to occupy it. Do you need a transit point here? I don't.
The deck was unusual. Sixty-four cards, each with a combination of six solid or broken lines. No combination was repeated.
"I don't need it either," Solka shrugged. "It's just... it's not good to just leave them like this. On the other hand, what can we do? Besides flying away from here?"
"We can overload the reactor, and after we leave, there won't be a supernova here for long. So, are we switching to 'you'?" the guy clarified, carefully restoring the deck, "or will that be inappropriate for you?"
"If it's important to you," the Alderaanian repeated. "By the way, I'm familiar with similar symbols. They were used for divination. And not only. I remember vaguely, but there's a whole philosophy about the structure of the world tied to them. I can't say more."
"It's easier for me that way," Rick replied calmly. "I only use 'you' with women, law enforcement, and old people. Besides, as I said, the atmosphere isn't right. Look, maybe you'll remember something else."
He handed the deck to Hailan, and then, sighing, began to take off the dead man's boots. Not that he needed the shoes, but once he'd seen that some valuable things were hidden in them.
Solka accepted the cards with a sigh: "I told you I didn't delve into it much. There are two types of lines. They represent dual opposites. Light and darkness. Cold and heat. Male and female. Zero and one. Each has its own meaning and symbolizes something."
"Zero and one? Could this be binary code? Interesting," the counter asked with interest, noting that he had removed the boots from the deceased in vain. "We'll take this corpse with us to avoid any unnecessary problems. And here's another point. If Les is resistant to the stuff you were fed... He could have seen if someone did something to you."
The Alderaanian narrowed his eyes unpleasantly at this news: "Yes, he could have seen. And he probably did. But he didn't say anything... As for the code, yes, it's possible. It is a code, just a very ancient one. By changing the order, you can get anything. But there's one problem. The order of the cards is unknown. Maybe there are some clues?"
"Most likely, for someone more knowledgeable in these symbols, the clues are there. But... I don't like pointing fingers at the stars," Rick put the deck of cards back in his pocket, thinking. "Where did you last see Les?"
"Downstairs. I might look at this deck again. Surrounded by encyclopedias and reference materials."
"Alright, but we'll do it on the ship, although I don't have an extensive library there," the counter shrugged, "let's go downstairs, we need to ask this silent one a couple of questions."
"Agreed."
Downstairs, everything was unchanged. The blown-up transport was quietly cooling, Captain Lowe was dozing, the droid was patiently bored at the terminal... Les was not in the technical sector...
"Why am I not surprised?" Rick approached the terminal at a brisk pace and hovered over it, immersing himself in the Force. He was lucky that he had already memorized Les's imprint and could distinguish it from the other scoundrels wandering the ship.
The familiar trace was found in the living quarters sector.
"He was here, definitely."
Solka looked around somewhat bewildered.
"He's not here now," Rick pulled away from the terminal, "he's gathering information. The question is why. Or for whom. Let's move to the living sector."
"Strange character," Hailan muttered thoughtfully. "He hints at his unusual origin, demonstrates it in every way, while avoiding direct conversation. By the way, he also admitted that he was gathering information."
"To tell only part of the truth is a form of lying," Rick replied, heading quickly towards where Les was.
"Agreed. Considering also the impression that we are being deliberately teased. By the way, why the assumption about the living sector?"
"The connected interface tracks the movements of living beings, check it on the terminal later. Les walks alone," Rick spoke half-truths, but even if he were lying completely, he would have done so no less convincingly, "besides, the living sector is the place he hasn't had time to visit yet."