"I am Captain Vicent Low," an elderly man rose to meet her. "Hello, Miss Lonely. We are fine, the sick don't linger in the fleet, not even in the civilian one. But we were held on some kind of drug, we'd like to be sure it won't have consequences."
Awakened by his voice, the others began to rise.
This was one of the two she had noted. Listening attentively, she smiled and said with unexpected warmth in her voice.
"Certainly, Mr. Captain. If necessary, adequate help will be provided to all your people, don't worry," the girl glanced at those who had already woken up. "The examination will take place in the nearest compartment with escape pods. It's nearby. Please, gentlemen, come in one by one," and she raised her eyes to Captain Low again. "Perhaps, Mr. Low, we'll start with you?"
And again her gaze seemed to be searching for something in the captain...
As she left, she looked for the one who, according to Rick, was incurably ill. But the faces of both the awakened and those still asleep spoke of fatigue, but not of a fatal illness.
"Of course, Miss Lonely," Low stepped towards her. "I am at your disposal."
"Excellent, Mr. Low," Sher nodded, and they left the mess hall together, followed by the sleepy glances of those who had managed to wake up. Being safe after all the misfortunes had a relaxing effect on people.
"Excuse me, but it will have to be here, there's nothing you can do about it," Sher smiled diplomatically, opening the escape pod compartment. She could only apologize for the lack of a suitable room, not for the compartment itself. The order was ideal, everything that was needed gleamed with lubricant, the rest – simply with cleanliness. And one could even talk while sitting.
"Sit down, Mr. Low," she asked, taking out a bioanalyzer and a datapad. "And forgive me, how old are you? I don't think I heard correctly?"
Her gaze was attentive, perhaps a little more attentive than usual when asking a patient such a question.
"Your hearing is fine, ma'am," the captain smiled. "I didn't state my age. I'm forty-five."
Sher nodded, chuckling.
"That's right, Mr. Low. I thought so."
Explaining to the captain that he reminded her subtly but acutely of her father, both in appearance and manners, and that even by age he resembled the military engineer Carrad, was completely unnecessary.
It was good that the datapad was spitting out new data onto the monitor, and now she wouldn't have time for memories...
"Mr. Low..." Sher said thoughtfully, having studied all the data from the monitor. "As you said, all your bodily functions are normal, the indicators are also within acceptable limits, but," she emphasized this "but" with her voice. "The drug in your blood, besides the fact that it will take at least a week to be eliminated from your body, in addition to its main effect of suppressing the nervous system and brain activity, and even amplified by a high dose... It's also of very low quality and poorly purified. You understand, it can have a toxic effect on the entire organism..."
Sher raised her eyes to Captain Low, paused, and said.
"I can't give you all intravenous infusions to cleanse your blood. I don't have that many medications. But we have a hemosorption apparatus that circulates the blood through a filter, returning it to the body purified of the drug and toxins. And if you agree, then..."
"Me – last," the captain cut her off. "Only after all my people are safe. I'll endure."
"I'll examine everyone, Captain Low," she replied calmly, "but allow me to disagree with you now. Everyone will undergo this procedure, Mr. Low, but you – first," the girl said firmly. "I can understand you, as a captain responsible for your crew, but, forgive me, young people's bodies recover much more easily. There's no need to endure," her radiant eyes smiled at him.
"And please call someone else."
After preparing simple, but warm and hearty sandwiches, the captain loaded everything onto a small cart, took the elevator up a level, carefully placed the improvised lunch on the table, and rolled it back. Then he headed towards the mess hall and, entering, stopped in the doorway, looking for the captain, lieutenant, Bus, and Les. These four interested him first and foremost.
The captain had already been examined and was now dozing, leaning against the bulkhead. Solk was rummaging through the data-slate, the Kushiban was nowhere to be seen. Les either.
"I'll strangle both of them," Rick muttered through his teeth, then smiled: "Gentlemen vacationers, warm coffee and sandwiches await you in the mess hall."
Solk raised his eyebrows in surprise – apparently, sandwiches were considered healthier food here than rations – but he didn't show it. Nodding hospitably, he replied:
"Thank you. And where is the mess hall?"
"Second door on the left," Rick waved his hand behind his back, "you can't miss it."
"Thank you. One more thing, Captain. I think we all have a pressing question. Where will we be dropped off?"
"Bakran," Rick answered briefly, then remembered that he himself had only learned about this planet a few minutes ago, "it's a planet on the Corellian trade route. It supplies food."
"Haven't heard of it," the Alderaanian replied, "but if it's on the Corellian trade route, there shouldn't be any problems with further transport. Thank you again."
With that, he went in search of sandwiches.
All that remained was to find out where Bus and Les were disappearing to, and he could finally rest himself. Touching the Force, Rick searched for them on this level.
Both were found near the escape pod.
So Les was undergoing examination now, and a burden lifted from the captain's soul, almost crushing his leg. Looking at the departing people, he reached the main elevator and descended to his level. Reaching his cabin and sitting down at the terminal, he began to study the possibility of restricting movement on the floor. Soon, the counter came to the conclusion that he couldn't restrict the movement of the "Samotsvet" crew without restricting his own crew. Sighing, Rick decided that this was the last adventure. He seriously needed to start redesigning the ship and its defense systems. The current ones didn't satisfy him. Nor did the lack of a separate medbay.
Looking at his watch, he decided to take a shower, change, and then recruit another person for the crew.
Drinking a mug of water right in the kitchen, Rick again used the local elevator to go upstairs. In the mess hall, he found Solk and politely let him know he was there, trying not to attract the attention of others.
After lunch, Haylan continued to tinker with the data-slate. There was nothing else to do anyway. He reacted to Rick's appearance and gestures with a surprised raised eyebrow. Putting the data-slate in his inner pocket, the Alderaanian stood up and headed for the exit.
"Haylan, as I said, I'd like to talk to you in private," Rick politely reminded him, as soon as the door closed behind him, "I think we can talk in the mess hall, if that suits you."
"There are no difficulties at all," the Alderaanian shrugged.
"Then let's go," the captain of the "Samotsvet" had no intention of beating around the bush.
In the mess hall, he sat down on a chair and gestured for the lieutenant to do the same.
"Mr. Solk, I've become curious what a person like you does far from home," Rick didn't dare to ask about hiring directly.
"I'm a hunter," Haylan sighed. "A hunter, really. Not just of animals, but of all sorts of extreme experiences. Legal ones."
He put a distinct emphasis on the last word.
"The galaxy is vast, Lieutenant, you have no idea what a gradation of law exists in it," the counter said with a hint of sadness, "you are a trained diplomat, knowledgeable in ancient cultures, skilled with weapons, and you were flying on an expensive cruise yacht. You are clearly a representative of the elite of your planet. But not entirely... Either you simply detest the fate allotted to you. Lieutenant Solk, you are interested in the artifact we found on the station, and you are looking for loot, not so much for trophies as for the process of hunting... Are you bored with life, Haylan?"
"Correction," he replied, "I am not a trained diplomat. My parents tried to steer me down that path, not me. I'm only a xenoculturist by diploma, not by calling or profession. But, yes, you guessed correctly. I do, in fact, get bored often. The galaxy is vast, yes. But, so little offers originality..."
He ignored the insinuations about the "top brass" of Hailan. Attitudes towards the aristocracy varied, and he wasn't particularly proud. He preferred not to advertise his family.
"To me, you are a diplomat, Hailan," Rick smiled, "I usually deal with those who understand a blaster at their nose much better than logical arguments."
He fell silent again for a few seconds.
"It so happened that I need, as you put it, a xenoculturist on my ship. I often come across artifacts, and besides, conversations with representatives of other races could be built much more easily if I had someone like you on board. Therefore, I offer you a place on my team. I want to add that boredom is the last thing you'll have to fight on board."
Solka's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"On the team? In what role? I honestly warned you that I'm a terrible expert."
In general, the offer was too sudden. On the one hand, the opportunity to start doing something on his own. In terms of, besides entertainment. On the other hand, it was unclear how the family would react to such a thing. And Hailan wasn't sure he would like it all.
"I don't have the money to keep an expert and his security," Rick explained calmly, "but you have the knowledge I need, you can defend yourself, you... What you need is up to you to decide. I'm offering an opportunity, Hailan. Whether to take advantage of it or neglect it is entirely up to you."
"I need to think," Solka replied after a pause. "This is all too unexpected. Just in case, I'll ask. What conditions do you offer? What specifically might be required of me? And how legal is all this?"
"As a team member, you will have your own cabin, I will provide you with everything necessary, within reason, food, team protection," Rick listed, "everything seems standard. As for legality... I already said, the galaxy is too vast, it's impossible to observe all the laws. I'll say this, my team sometimes doesn't adhere to the letter of the law, but follows its spirit. On Bakran, I'll need to buy provisions, refuel, and... In general, we'll be there for about a day. I'm waiting for your decision by the time of departure or sooner."
"Alright," the Alderaanian nodded, "I'll think about this offer. But I promise nothing."
The captain nodded, then added.
"One more thing, Lieutenant," he smiled, "return the stone. I think such a valuable item belongs in a safe."
Hailan grinned: "It's just lying in the mess hall. In the corner. Nothing to return. By the way, you probably don't need to call me Lieutenant. I've been in reserve for a long time. It was just relevant at the moment I introduced myself that way."
"Alright, Hailan, I won't call you that," Rick smiled. "Could you bring me the stone?"
"I could. Where?"
"To the elevator," Rick replied curtly.
Of course, the Alderaanian grumbled to himself that he wasn't a loader. Nevertheless, he understood that such a valuable find had to be handled with care. Not trusting just anyone. So, no less carefully slinging the artifact over his shoulder, Hailan dragged it to the indicated spot.
Rick was waiting for him by the elevator, and as soon as the stone was in the captain's hands, the latter bowed his head in gratitude and disappeared behind the closing doors of the safest means of transport.
The Rakatan data carrier brought a sad thought about how frail humans were compared to their predecessors. Rick also mused that there were too many stones in his collection. It was with these thoughts that he returned to his cabin.
Veymi was sleeping on his bunk, curled up cozily, hugging herself with her leku and resting her hand on the deck with recordings. The head tails, twisted with ribbons, were wrapped around two homemade clasps made of metal strips with plastic inserts at the ends. A rather good imitation of some decorative stones, although upon closer inspection, it became obvious that it was just a trinket.
The cabin was tidy and clean.
Sitting down at the table, Rick activated the terminal and quickly reviewed the ship's data, then put the antique in a drawer and, getting up, went to the cockpit to relieve the navigator.
Nick was alone, looking at the hyperdrive corridor, immersed in the Force. He wasn't doing anything special – meditating. Upon the captain's appearance, he returned to reality, stretched, and massaged his stiff muscles.
"Is everything alright?"
"Not a correct question," Rick sat in his chair, "everything is clearly not alright. But there's nothing critical. The passengers are resting, no one is sick. The crew is fine, the ship... also normal. I found a xenoculturist. From Alderaan. He might join the team."
"Xenoculturist, you say..." Nick pondered. "He might be useful. How reliable is he? Or haven't you had a chance to look closely yet?"
"Polite, cultured, curious," the guy thought and added, "Seems like a good person. Haven't looked closer."
"We'll see..." the navigator unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up. "Larius will relieve you in a couple of hours. She's rested, and you could use some rest before arrival."
"Alright," the guy nodded and took over the watch, immersing himself in the ship's instruments.
You can't sleep on watch, otherwise, what kind of watch is it? So Rick began to ponder the things that didn't fit in his head.
First of all, Jar. This reptilian turned out to be remarkably knowledgeable about the base's layout, its equipment, personnel training, and the location of the hostage.
Another point – the harvested Falien was not taken away with the other women for some reason.
He recalled the dialogue with him and began to remember his reaction to the information he was given, which he shouldn't have had.
He knew about Troy, wasn't he the one who gave him this information? Although...
The capture was an act of retribution... But what kind of retribution is it when instead of a group, there's a pathetic remnant, and an enemy ship is allowed to escape during a raid...
By the way... when did Jar manage to report the courier's cargo, and why bypassing the general communication channel?
It was too much like a cruel play.
Did the group break away from the CH of their own free will, orchestrated by a single green humanoid, and everything Jar was doing now was a well-thought-out farce so that the top brass of his organization couldn't point fingers at him?
So far, everything the former smuggler had seen led to only one conclusion: someone had something to hide. Even the Elder's words brought clarity – they didn't catch the main culprit, but a small fry, just above the rest...
And that means... That means he might well expect to meet a representative of the CH who will ask a couple of questions...
A few hours later, Larius appeared, took over the watch, and let the captain go to sleep. But he couldn't rest immediately. Veymi was pacing the corridor, nervously tucking her leku. Upon seeing Rick, she rushed towards him joyfully.
"Rick, I wanted to ask..."
"First, hello, and I'm glad to see you too," the captain good-naturedly and politely rebuked the girl and smiled, showing that he wasn't angry.
"Oh..." her leku started to creep behind her back, to relative safety, but she quickly overcame her fear. "Sorry. Hello. Rick," the Twi'lek whispered, "you said no one should know what you entrusted me with. And the doctor said I should introduce her to another crew member... I didn't know what to do."
"Sorry," he thought about how to explain his action to the girl, "let's change what I said. We won't advertise my friend. But the crew can be trusted. Sher, for sure. She's incapable of deceiving or harming her own." By the way, how is he?
The Lethan twitched her left leku.
"He's fine. I'm watching him around the clock now. The main thing is to change the solution on time, and he now has enough light and the right temperature."
"Alright," he nodded, and then shamelessly yawned, "Didn't make friends with any of the crew?"
"No time," the alien moved aside, letting him pass to the cabin. "Sorry. Rest, I'll take care of the lists of necessities for now."
"Looking for necessities?" his eyebrow rose, "For what?"
"Later," waving her leku goodbye, the girl disappeared in the direction of the galley.
The audacity with which the girl answered him made him want to pull a belt out of his pants and spank the disobedient crew member, but a second yawn followed, and Rick waved it off.
After all, wasn't this what he wanted from her?