Carefully maneuvering between herds of peacefully grazing animals, Rok was beside himself with happiness. And it wasn't about the little stone that was neatly placed on the dashboard, absorbing the rays of the local star. It was about the fact that Rimon was flying!
He was the master of his flight, he could do what he wanted. He had gained the illusion of freedom and was reveling in it. At least a little. The accelerator pedal to the floor, attention on the road ahead, and... Here it is, happiness!
He was stopped only by the natural needs of his body. Braking in the middle of a field, he jumped out of the car and went to the nearest bushes. His holster was unbuckled: wild cat-dogs were not averse to feasting on human flesh, but their population here had decreased recently.
It was during this action that the thought came to him. A statistical question. How many queries about a rainbow stone with a photograph had there been in the holonet? The query itself was fine. But the photograph... Looking at the deck, he estimated its detection capabilities.
He assembled his deck himself, wrote all the software for the device himself. For a smuggler, anonymity is the best protection. In due time, he placed several communication devices on the main service provider planets. Abrigado-rae, Ord Mantell, Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta, Myrkr, Taris, two were on Coruscant, one on the asteroids of Rishi. The connection to the holonet was not direct, but through a transmitter. All these planets were distinguished by the fact that there were at least several hundred holonet transmitters on them, which meant it was easier to mask oneself than on Dantooine. The request was made under different addresses, which were selected from local networks, and ten seconds after the communication session, the information was reset, the memory was cleared, so that anyone who accidentally found the transmitter could not discover the sender. And the deck itself, or commode, as Rimon nicknamed it, sent a signal with a dynamic address that changed when the page was updated. It was longer than simple internet surfing, but on the other hand, if someone found his transmitter or tried to intercept it, they would get a dozen holonet connections instead of one. In addition, the deck went online only once a day to check messages. Or when Rock himself made a request. Most of the time it was offline, for greater security of the contra.
But...
Despite his attachment to the deck, he had to get rid of it. Sighing, Rock sadly started the formatting, having first memorized the numbers of Seran and Kailas, and the exit to the transmitter installed on "The Reflection." He remembered Darrian's number anyway, the rest wasn't that necessary. But Rimon felt affection for any of his creations, and here he had to destroy his own creation. And completely.
His fingerprints, which were now not in the most reliable database of the Empire, could have been preserved on any of the device's components. He needed at least a plasma cutter. It was a pity that the work bag was destroyed; one of Rock's inventions could easily melt the entire device, but it was lost.
Taking some oil from the car, Rimon used a vibroknife to cut a couple of dry bushes and grass, then dipped them in oil, and with the same dangerous blade, finely chopped his deck into even half-centimeter strips, and folded them into a house and placed them on the oily branches, with grass underneath. When the bonfire cheerfully turned his deck into a pile of melted sticks, he carefully, with the help of two bags found in the car, scattered them around the area. Now nothing could remind anyone that this was once a deck, and the melted parts should not somehow point to him. He could go to the hotel. Admiring his silent partner one last time, the contra rushed off. He still needed to return his ship. He wasn't going to buy a new one.
Before moving to the hotel, not far from where Rimon stopped, one simple task needed to be solved. What to do with the container?
The stone was small, he put it in his pocket and walked, but the paintings... To carry them into the room without the porter noticing? Impossible. To influence him with the Force? He didn't know how to do it, and it was dangerous, with his level of mastery of this very Force. He could also leave everything in the car, park the car under the windows, and constantly watch it with blasters, shooting down strange individuals. Although...
A truly interesting idea appeared, capable of both increasing his mastery of the Force and keeping the acquired property in relative safety.
Parking the car under his windows, he returned to the room, saying that he would pay for the car tomorrow and return it tomorrow. Where to get the money - he didn't know, but he planned to sell one of the items he had acquired as a last resort.
Closing the door, Rimon opened the window, but did not fling it open. There were two blasters in front of him. Just in case. Sitting on the floor and relaxing, he immersed himself in the Force. Then he carefully embraced the room with his perception, examining it for hidden surveillance devices, looked out the door, glanced at the silhouette of the porter - everything was clean. Then he concentrated on the car. Moreover, not only on it, but also on the cargo with paintings. On his open palms lay a living companion stone, basking in the sun's rays, which Rock had also seen.
He began to search for threads. Threads that connect the car, his valuable cargo, with the environment. Attention from others should be reflected in the Force just like their emotions. In essence, the manifestation of attention is an emotion, one of its components. And having the vision through the Force in reserve, one could get threads of attention to oneself, and to the car. A simple lesson that in the future could help escape pursuit or understand that you are being watched. You or your things.
This is how Rimon intended to wait for Maliha, guarding his cargo and absolutely not showing his fears.
No one was interested in Rimon's car. But he had to wait for Maliha, and when the plump little man finally rolled into Rock's room, the Force clearly let him know - he was displeased. Although he tried not to show it. At least, no displeasure was noticeable on his face, although he did not radiate goodwill, as he did last time.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Rock," the rebel leader greeted him. "Have you finished your urgent business?"
"I apologize, Maliha," the stone was removed even before the rebel approached the door. After all, the Force is a terribly useful thing... How to finish the sentence? To say that he thought the customs officer might be related to the hiding place, and therefore it was urgent to take out all valuables? Unlikely, it's better not to say anything at all. "I sincerely regret making you wait."
The feeling of displeasure did not disappear; Maliha had to revise the route and schedule due to the smuggler who had bolted, and also check if anyone was hunting him. This did not add to his good mood.
"I thought you were more obliging," Maliha replied restrainedly, sitting on a free chair. "I was informed that the charges against you have been dropped, so the need for new documents has disappeared. Your ship is at one of our bases, the documents for it are processed. Ayvin will take you."
A map was placed on the table.
"Plus a reward for the operation and the risk you took."
"Thank you," Rimon replied briefly, looking at the map placed on the table. He had to make sure the cargo was not intercepted. Such hiding places are rare. Maliha's displeasure had far-reaching consequences, most likely, but this was the price Rock was willing to pay for what was now next to him. "Are the 'Pursuers' dealt with?"
"The Imperials will deal with them," Maliha shrugged, standing up. "With those who are still alive. Peace and Order - let them restore order."
"I can't disagree with you," an ironic smile flickered on the contra's face, "Is Ayvin already here?"
"He's outside, waiting in the car," Maliha was already heading for the door. "And this time, try not to remember that your milk boiled over in another hemisphere."
"That won't happen again," Rock replied, "I would be grateful if this oversight is not publicized."
"You put my people at risk," Maliha said quietly. "I would be grateful if this really doesn't happen again. Have a good day, Mr. Rock."
The door closed behind him.
So, work for these paramilitary structures...
In general, it was somewhat wrong, illogical. He hadn't arranged a meeting. He was supposed to sit and wait for favorable circumstances, for which he was apologizing? For the fact that a deal worth a couple of million came up, and he decided not to miss the luck that could slip away? Well, excuse me, the time was not agreed upon. Taking the map, Rimon spun it a couple of times between his fingers, put it in his inner pocket. The deck is gone anyway. But he could go and pay for the flashlight, which he would still need. If, of course, Maliha hadn't paid himself, as requested.
Peeking out the window at the car again, Rock went to look for Ayvin.
He didn't have to go far - the driver was lurking not far from the entrance, arguing with a brightly dressed Twi'lek - possibly the same one who had been an obstacle for him to join the friendly ranks of terrorists. Or another one. How many Twi'leks are there in the galaxy?
Rock's old, or almost old, acquaintance was cheerfully bickering with his companion. He didn't notice any falseness in them, and he didn't dig deeper. Rimon announced his arrival with a wave to Ayvin and a good-natured smile.
"Am I interrupting?" he said, slightly lifting the flap of his jacket.
"You're not interrupting, but business doesn't wait," Ayvin winked at the girl, she waved her lekku and headed somewhere towards the bar. The smuggler didn't interest her.
"What a pest," the rebel cursed good-naturedly, watching her go. "Well, shall we go to the cars?"
"That is, you don't mind if I drive my own?" Rock omitted the word "rented," trying to remember where there was a shop to make a solution for the stone.
"And you already have your own car?" Ayvin was surprised. "Quick. Well, since you have a car now, let's go in yours."
"We can do that, it's under the windows," Rim waved towards the standing car, "Don't you mind if we stop by a couple of shops on the way?"
"Yes, generally, it's your business," Ayvin shrugged. "I'm not the boss, I don't have to worry about safety. Although you really put him in a tough spot... Tell me where to go, I'll give you a ride. Then we'll go for your jalopy."
"I had a question, almost a million-dollar one," a crooked smile distorted Rock's face, "And I have problems with my psyche after jumps without safety in the upper atmosphere. Get in the car. I'll run and pay the local merchant, and then I'll be right with you."
"All your questions are always a million dollars," the guy waved dismissively. "You don't bother with trifles. You'll tell me later about your jumps. Is that one yours?"
And he ambled towards the car that Rimon had parked under his windows.
"Yes, it is," Rock nodded, and he quickly walked to the store where he had either stolen or borrowed the flashlight. Now he had the opportunity to pay and thank the seller, which pleased the contra.
Nothing had changed in the shop. The same assortment, the same old man dozing at the checkout.
"Good day," Rimon said good-naturedly and placed his card on the table, pushing it towards the seller, "I have settled my financial problems."
"That's good," the awakened seller entered the code, waved his card in front of the scanner. "Next time, don't hesitate to ask first."
"I'm more used to asking for forgiveness than permission," the contra smiled guiltily, then glanced at the assortment available in the hall. "Do you happen to have any fertilizers and additives for plants in stock?"
"Decided to get a cactus?" the old man chuckled, laying out a business card for Rock and returning his card. "There's a shop here, long-haul pilots sometimes get vegetation on board. You'll find everything there."
"Thank you," taking the business card and card, Rimon looked at the seller and repeated: "Thank you."
Then he bowed as a sign of respect and headed back to the car at the same quick pace.
"Do you know where that is?" he asked, handing the business card to Ayvin.
He took the business card, spun it in his hands, and checked it against the map on the deck.
"Not exactly on the way, but we won't have to make a detour," he returned the business card to Rimon, jumped behind the wheel. "Let's go."
Settling into the passenger seat, Rimon placed his hand on the open window, allowing himself to relax:
"What will you entertain me with during the flight?" he asked, looking out the open window.
The driver chuckled in surprise, like a choking turkey, and burst into laughter.
"I can sing," he offered. "Although I don't have a very good ear..."
"No, I can sing myself," Rimon grinned, "Better tell me, if you know how and by whom my ship was used. And I'll share how I tried to pretend to be a bird."
"You first," the rebel immediately said, entering the address into the autopilot. "Chatting on the go is not a good idea, and this iron guy doesn't care what we're talking about. Although I still won't tell you who was riding your ship, you would have to ask Maliha for that."
"After I bolted somewhere? He looked at me like a Nexu at unfinished prey. Those 'Pursuers', let's not speak ill of the dead, put me on a mined 'Lambda' and sent me to storm the academy on Carida. To escape, I jumped five thousand meters from the open cargo bay towards the ground. A lot of impressions, I'll tell you. Especially when you do it without safety."
"Cool," Ayvin shook his head. "I would have shat myself. And how did you survive?"
"I got a new acquaintance, he caught me in flight in the hangar of his freighter. That's how I was saved," Rock shrugged. He didn't want to recall in detail the state he was in in the cargo bay. "From the first contract, I'll buy myself a repulsorlift belt. Two belts."
"And a jump pack," the driver nodded, watching as the autopilot slowed down and entered a narrow alley. "Looks like we've arrived..."
Rimon spent a few minutes in the shop. All this time he spent buying one unpretentious plant and a lot of fertilizers for it. Among these fertilizers were the very ingredients that the stone needed. Some of them were part of the fertilizers, some had to be bought separately. Rimon tried to take what the seller advised, leading him to the substances he needed with leading questions. When everything was finished, he smiled, said goodbye to the merchant, and, taking his purchases, returned to the car, where he carefully placed them on the back seat.
Ayvin glanced over his shoulder at his purchases.
"Long-haul driver," he concluded. "Just don't start talking to him. Although who knows, to avoid going crazy on a long flight, you can even talk to a bush. I only know one long-haul driver who has no problems with this."
"Oh, come on, talking to a bush, so what," Rimon shrugged with a smile, "The main thing is not to bang your head against transparisteel. That's it, my business is finished."
"Let's go," Ayvin agreed, taking control and setting the car on a new route. "And catching someone in a hangar, and on a freighter at that - that's impressive. You won't even see that in a holofilm. Stuntmen don't risk it."
"They are right to do so," Rock replied briefly, "This acquaintance is a good pilot. A great one. You should have seen how he stormed an enemy base in the simulator..."
"I have a feeling I know who you're talking about..." Ayvin stretched. The car turned off a more or less busy street towards the outskirts and wound through narrow alleys. "For a great pilot to catch someone in a hangar like in a net, and not smash them against the bulkheads... Shady type. But he knows his stuff."
"Shady," Rock agreed, "but he seems to have good business relations with Maliha."
Immersing himself in the Force, he looked at his driver. He was curious what he thought of Kailas, what he felt towards him.
The driver clearly disliked Kailas. Like any shady type, about whom you can't say for sure whose side he is on.
"Maliha trusts him," Ayvin confirmed reluctantly. "But still - shady."
"The 'Pursuers' trusted him too," Rock replied coldly, "But let's not talk about shady people. Better tell me, do you have many beautiful ladies at the base?"
"They wouldn't trust him if he wasn't the leader of one of their factions," Ayvin snorted. "At the base? You're asking... They brought a new doctor, I heard. They say she's pretty. Otherwise, it's mostly male staff..."
"A doctor? A doctor is good, I need to get a check-up, who knows if I've injured myself," the contra grinned, remembering who Varu also was, "The main thing is that there are no Dashades on the base."
"Well, if something hurts, you'll get checked at the same time," the driver commented phlegmatically. "Although I think if something seriously hurt, you would have rushed to the nearest clinic, not to a million-dollar deal."
The car flew out of the city limits and sharply accelerated.
"Yes, probably," he nodded. "Listen, a shady person told me that Maliha is crazy about these... Jedi... Have you ever seen them?"
His eyes showed genuine interest, his gaze pierced Ayvin, his senses spread out like a web, absorbing and exploring the rebel's emotions.
"Jedi?!" The bewilderment in the driver's voice and gaze was completely genuine. "You might as well mention a pale bantha."
"A pale bantha?" He hadn't heard of that before.
"It's a story among long-haul drivers," Ayvin chuckled. "It's strange that you're not aware of it. They say that if you go on long trips too often without a partner, a pale bantha comes. And licks you on the forehead. And after that, the ship doesn't come out of hyperspace. Then they say - it was swallowed by a pale bantha..."
"First time I've heard of it," Rock said muffledly. Maybe Ayvin was simply not privy to the secrets, maybe the bewilderment was because he didn't expect to hear this word from Rimon's lips, it was impossible to draw definitive conclusions. "For this bantha... In short, if it comes to visit - I'll make jerky out of it."
Ayvin shrugged indeterminately, chuckled, and did not comment on this statement. The rest of the journey passed in silence.