Ani was too busy with her own thoughts to notice how Nemo's mood changed in response to her words. And the approach to the cantina took all her attention. But what Mr. Nemo asked could not go unheard.
"Understood, I'll do it," the girl replied, taking her bag from behind the seat. Even if she didn't understand everything in Mr. Nemo's request. A useful habit – not asking questions – was not only developed through military service. Here, it was a condition for survival.
Opening the door, she got out of the speeder, and only then took a couple of credits of different denominations from the small bag on her belt.
Some of those loitering on the platform at that hour turned around, looking at the parked speeder, the girl who got out of it, and how she handed the driver folded bills through the window.
"Go slowly," Nemo took the money, hiding it in his inner pocket, then waited until Ani was a couple of meters away from the car and, with the air of someone who had been postponing natural bodily processes for a long time, ran around the corner, where he disappeared, activating his stealth belt.
As the girl approached the entrance, he said quietly:
"I'm right behind you."
There was no one nearby. But the voice in which these words were spoken belonged to Mr. Nemo. So that's how he was going to enter... Well, after asking her to hold the door, it looked almost natural...
Ani shifted her bag to her left shoulder, using the involuntary hesitation, and the door opened. She took a step, and without letting the door close, held it until Nemo was also inside. Just his breath, which her sharpened senses caught...
Inside the cantina, as always, it was dim, music was playing. The performers were clearly saving their strength for the hours of peak attendance. The Zabrak guard, exchanging words with the bartender, turned towards her, but, recognizing her, continued his chat. Ani walked quickly, avoiding crowded tables, trying not to meet anyone's gaze. And yet, it seemed to her that everything was happening too slowly. All this time she felt, no... she guessed Nemo's presence next to her. He walked step by step behind her.
With a beating heart, Ani opened the door of number twenty-one.
"Mr. Tardi, are you alright? I'm late!" she asked with poorly concealed anxiety in her voice, almost from the threshold. And approaching his bed, she added more calmly: "Don't worry," her palm lay soothingly on his hand. "Mr. Nemo is here with me."
The pilot didn't move when the door opened. He wasn't asleep; he was waiting to see how his secret-keeping act, which was insane from a security standpoint, would end. Letting a person who knew his secret go just like that, here on Nar Shaddaa... Just letting him go. Madness as it is.
But the doctor had returned.
And she returned not alone. So many things that Nemo's help was needed? Doubtful...
Green eyes opened, catching the plaster on his forehead in the crosshairs of his pupils. "I thought so..."
"Nemo, I hope you didn't blab to her that I'm hopelessly in love with you?" Tardi asked the air. "I'm worried, yes. Did you shoot those who wanted to take our doctor away?"
Ani's heart felt lighter. If that could ever happen.
"Mr. Nemo arrived in time. If it weren't for him..." Ani confirmed, shuddering inwardly. She finished the end of the sentence in her mind. The most painful thing for her was to lose this new thing for her.
"Just a correction. Actually, they wanted my speeder," she added with a smile. With these words, Ani took out a plastic from her bag.
"Your order, Mr. Tardi. And I won't disturb you talking; I'll tidy myself up. Oh, yes," the doctor remembered and wiped her touch from Tardi's hand with an antibacterial wipe, mentally scolding herself for not observing aseptic rules.
The guy had spent all this time regaining control of his emotions, and when he entered the room, a carefree smile was on his face again. Sitting in the chair and putting his feet on the table, he deactivated the stealth generator.
"Nothing serious happened," he said with a smile, "a little argument, a little shooting. This is Smuggler's Moon, not an Institute for Young Ladies. Was the Durosa delivered?"
"You shouldn't ask me," the pilot turned his head at the voice, his fingers clenching on the package. "Ani, I'm not a hothouse plant; I won't wither from a single touch..."
"I admit you won't wither from my touch, Mr. Tardi," Ani confirmed calmly, "But I'm the doctor here."
She picked up her bag, and throwing away a wipe on the way, approached the door. Glancing back at Mr. Nemo, she asked,
"Should I escort you back, Mr. Nemo?"
"No, I'll use the service exit. Please, find out if the Durosa Jethro has arrived here, and report the result to me," Nemo spoke very slowly and cautiously, trying not to deviate from calm speech.
The pilot was silent, stroking the plastic package. Due to his thinness, his fingers seemed even longer than they actually were. The conversation with the doctor was postponed, but that was for the best.
He wasn't sure he could keep himself in check at the sight of the evidence of the skirmish.
"I'll find out now," Ani replied, still managing to cast a worried glance at Tardi.
"It's obvious that the charm of Smuggler's Moon doesn't appeal to you," Nemo settled comfortably in the chair, scratching his beard with pleasure, "but you liked its representatives."
"I shouldn't have let her go without escort," Tardi sat up, leaning his elbow on the pillow. "This is not a suitable place for her."
"She got here before you. And the fact that she survived speaks of something else," the guy disagreed, "she just had a little bad luck. Nothing critical."
"If you throw a cat into the water, it will also live for some time," the pilot shook his head. "But that doesn't mean the water is suitable for its life. I offered her the position of doctor on the crew."
"I thought so." Leaning back, the guy began to contemplate the room's ceiling, "A good choice. How is your recovery progressing?"
Tardi frowned. He was recovering. But...
"Better than I'd like," was the laconic answer. "Guy, when she gets nervous – don't let her near me."
"And how do you imagine that?" Nemo frowned, "I have a number of questions right now that require immediate resolution. I'll be a rare guest here."
"Then I'll have to explain it to her after all," the pilot sighed. "She took blood from me for analysis. I'm willing to bet a racing speeder against a beer can – our doctor understood that she sees. She should understand what it means to get nervous near... not the kindest creature in this galaxy."
Nemo frowned even more, and then slowly shifted his gaze to Tardi.
"We are not creatures, Tardi," he said with a chill in his voice, "and everything you say is only true from one perspective. From the perspective of a person who believes that his instincts are stronger than his reason. For us, this is... fraught with consequences. Don't touch the girl. Go downstairs, take a little from everyone. They won't mind. Many don't mind sharing their joy with others. But like this..."
Nemo rubbed his eyes from the strain.
"It's not about who you take from. It's life; everyone does it here. It's about what you take. And how," it would be much easier to give a part of his energy to Kailas, but there was no certainty that he wouldn't need all his potential in the near future. "If you reap negative emotions, you will also sow them. This is... unacceptable."
"My first mentor was an Inquisitor," the pilot said quietly. "I know what I'm doing is fraught with danger... Do you think I hid in that wilderness out of great love for solitude? I don't want to take... from anyone. Nothing."
"Then endure," the answer followed immediately, "I need to finish my business here, after which we can leave the planet and choose a more pleasant climate. Don't rush things."
"Where will I go," a crooked smile on his thin face looked almost frightening. "What else is required of me?"
Nemo shook his head; they were so different in character.
"If you need anything, I'll let you know," he replied, "all you need to do is lie down, don't fidget, and don't do anything stupid."
Tardi was silent, gathering his thoughts.
"Is there a chance you might need my help?" he finally asked.
There's always a chance...
After thinking, the counter refused: "No," he shook his head, "I'll manage, or someone will help me. Your help won't be needed."
"Then I won't go down," the pilot decided. "I don't want to take from the living unnecessarily."
"Then we'll agree on that," the guy nodded, "until Ani returns. You haven't dug into her, have you?"
"I don't have many opportunities right now," Tardi shook his head. "But from what I've seen... She's not who she pretends to be."
"Not a doctor?"
"She is a doctor, actually," the pilot replied. "And a very capable doctor. But the woman with her name was never a doctor."
"He never existed," Nemo snorted. "She's clearly not on good terms with the Empire. Otherwise, why would she have the 'forty-fourth'? And we probably don't need anything more. Unless she's a seasoned psychopath."
"You'd feel the madness," the pilot shook his head. "I'll try to recover as quickly as possible. But without a donor... If possible."
"Sometimes you just need to rest, enjoy good music, company, a book. And not try so hard," Nemo smiled. "Think about it. When you're trying. For example, Jetro is an excellent pilot. You have at least one topic for conversation."
Tardi raised an eyebrow, showing interest.
"You won't mind if I go see him?"
"No, maybe you'll save your unruly heads from unnecessary actions."
"And aren't you afraid that our unruly heads will devise twice as many of those very actions?" the pilot inquired. His green eyes were laughing. For the first time since escaping from Jenaris.
"That's... possible," Nemo concluded after some thought. "But I always hope for the best."
A sigh escaped Eny's lips as she stepped out the door. Could anything else be done about his nutrition? Tardi's thinness was frightening. And recovering physical strength for the "gifted" – it turns out, not the most important thing...
And in this, the most important thing, she couldn't help him...
She set the bag down near the headboard of her bed, glanced in the mirror in passing, and tried to hide the blemish on her forehead under her bangs. A shower and clean clothes, which now seemed like heavenly bliss, would have to wait. First, Nemo's request.
Eny left the room a minute after entering it. It took her the same amount of time to get to the hall and find the zabrak from earlier. Today, he and the Rodian were on "guard duty."
"Gentlemen," Eny addressed them, smiling politely, "I would like to see the owner."
"He's not here," the horned one replied politely, taking a sip of something clear. "He'll be here in about six hours. Do you need something?"
"Yes, of course," Eny confirmed, forcing herself to look away from the drink in the guard's hands. "Water..." she thought, but said something else aloud.
"I wouldn't want to bother the esteemed owner with trifles. And I'm afraid I don't have these six hours to wait, gentlemen," Eny's words were reinforced by a meaningful glance at the zabrak. "Is there any way to contact him?"
"Miss," the zabrak smiled, placing his glass on the counter, "if it were possible, I would have done so. He's unavailable, and any question you want to ask him, you can ask me. I'm filling in for Jiro today."
"That changes things entirely," Eny agreed with a slight smile. "Then, a question, mister... Excuse me, I don't know your name... My patient, pilot Jetro, was supposed to be delivered to the cantina. But I haven't seen him. Can you tell me anything about it?" Her gray eyes, like the twilight of Nar Shaddaa, looked at the zabrak questioningly.
"Rodian?" after a moment's thought, he said, picking up his glass again. "He was put in room twenty. Sleeping like a log."
"Thank you," the girl's smile was now sincere. "You've made my life significantly easier."
A distracted gaze slid over the zabrak's tattooed face. And her attention was again drawn to the glass in the broad palm of Jiro's deputy. Thirst was making itself felt more and more. But she couldn't drink here...
Her thin fingers landed on the bar counter.
"A large bottle of water with ice, mint, and sour berries... Coffee. No, two coffees. And a room service dish to room 22, if you please," she dictated quickly in response to the bartender's expectant look.
He nodded, writing down the order on his datapad, and Eny headed to room twenty. Jetro was sleeping, like all guys his age. Snoring with pleasure. So soundly that you couldn't wake him with a shot. Eny cautiously approached his bed and quietly laughed. The Rodian looked defenseless in his sleep, like a baby. The doctor placed her hand on his forehead. No fever. And there shouldn't be. The Rodian mumbled something and turned to his other side. She wouldn't wake him now; she'd check on him later. Carefully reaching the door, Eny closed it behind her, leaving the pilot to his dreams.
"Mr. Nemo, everything is fine," she reported, entering Tardi's room. "Jetro is in the next room; I checked on him. He's sleeping." Eny couldn't hide her smile. "You'll probably be gone by the time I get back," her eyes looked warm. "Thank you again. And good luck."
The guy saluted her with his hand, saying goodbye. She took another step towards Tardi but stopped.
"I'll be back quickly, Mr. Tardi... Faster than today. Miss me a little... Without procedures," she added, smirking, and almost immediately left the room.
Entering her own room, Eny lingered by the table where her order was already waiting: something on a dish under a lid, emitting a quite decent aroma, coffee, a frosted bottle with berries floating in it, whose juice gave the water with mint leaves a delicate coral hue. And also a bucket of ice and a glass, the same as the zabrak had held. Eny poured ice into the glass, filled it to the brim with water, and settled on the bed with it, leaning her head against the wall panel. She drank the glass in one gulp, feeling only its throat-scorching cold, and not having time to taste the drink. She didn't want to get up for a second one. Fatigue had accumulated imperceptibly, starting with the sleepless night when she imagined Tardi, but there was simply no time to feel. She had to act. And when the tension loosened its grip, all the fatigue suddenly fell upon her at once.
"Get up," she told herself, Pola.
"No... Just a few more minutes... Well, a minute..."
Eny opened her eyes with difficulty. So much still needed to be done. So much demanded an answer. The day had descended upon her like a series of mountain avalanches, and what she wanted to think about, each time, grew like a snowball. If only she could lie in a warm bath without rushing and sort everything out... But no bath. And no time, really. So, forward, to the shower. Eny gathered her strength and stood up.
The mirrored walls of the shower revealed nothing new in her gaze. But her forearm was guaranteed to bloom with all the colors of the palette. And her elbow was a little bruised. But these were trifles compared to what was happening inside her... Eny turned on the water. The world ceased to exist... Or she ceased to exist, dissolving into the water with every cell of her slender, reed-like body.
If there is daily paradise on Earth, it is a shower, fresh clothes, and strong coffee. It was still warm... Eny took a sip and walked to the mirror. The dark blue turtleneck made her eyes seem almost blue, her hair, braided into pigtails, shone like the sun through a piece of Endor tree resin. Only the plaster on her forehead spoiled the whole look. She really wanted to tear it off; it bothered her. Only the doubt that a scar on her forehead would adorn her more than a strip of bacta-plaster stopped her. Smiling sadly at her unexpected pickiness about her own appearance, Eny clinked her coffee cup with her reflection.
"Well, Pola Carrada... You can leave the Imperials, you can leave the criminals, you can leave the vagrants from the lower levels. You could have left this ISB agent today... But you can't escape yourself..."
Eny gathered everything she might need from Tardi, finished her ice water, and went to the next room. Mr. Nemo was no longer there... This added more sadness and silence to the ambiance of the apartment.
"It's me, Mr. Tardi," she said with a smile. "Were you very bored?"