Rick scanned the room for Weymi. Had she stayed in the mess hall or come with him? Had she seen what had just happened? And if so, what impression had it made on her?
The Lethan was there. She stood by the entrance to the cargo hold, arms wrapped around herself and her lekku, silent, observing the conversation but not trying to intervene. These were the affairs of free beings, though she couldn't help but feel grateful to those who had protected her – and hadn't let her master's property be stolen.
The Arkonian began to pull a bag out of the minivan, not looking at the girl or Rick.
"Weymi, escort Shai Carr to my cabin and provide any possible assistance," the contr asked in the same tone he had used to command the Arkonian. It was unusual, but there should be no favorites on the ship, and orders should sound like orders. This... complicated the girl's re-education, but otherwise, it could lead to a bad atmosphere in the crew. Orders should be orders, requests should be requests, so that there would be no misunderstanding in a critical moment. "After that, wait for me by the speeder."
He didn't know how soon the Arkonian's withdrawal would begin, but he hoped he had a few hours.
The Twi'lekka nodded, waited for Shai to get out of the car with the load, checked the schematic, and headed for the elevator, showing the way. Not a shadow of surprise or disappointment on her part registered with the captain's tone. The master's will is the master's will. It must be done.
Rick shook his head almost imperceptibly, following the departing girl. The way she perceived him somehow hurt more than the sharp fangs of an unknown Arkanian creature that had closed on his arm. He touched his jacket with his fingers, where the uneven scar ran. A huge torn hole gaped in the girl's soul, but she didn't even suspect it. And he intended to heal it. Just like the Arkonian.
"Aren't you taking on too much, kid?!"
The thought echoed with a smirk. Perhaps it was too much. But he had to walk this path. His gaze turned to Larius. She was older, he could ask her for advice, but instead, the contr casually tossed out:
"Let's go talk to our would-be hijacker."
The mercenary nodded. The captain's affairs concerned her only as far as dealing with members of such a motley crew was concerned. He knew best who was needed for the upcoming task. But a drug addict was unreliable; when withdrawal began, he could forget everything.
"The salt will have to be kept in a safe," she remarked quietly, heading towards where she had left the prisoner.
"A hand that gives can also take away," Rick said into the void. It was his decision, and he had to take full responsibility. Perhaps that's why he avoided working in a team? He didn't want responsibility for anyone. "The Arkonian proved he can be loyal. And that there are things more important to him than credits. He'll manage."
He never understood whom he was convincing with the last sentence. Himself or Larius? The mercenary shook her head and said nothing.
Ascending the ramp to the middle deck, Rick reached for the prisoner through the Force.
He was conscious, desperately angry, and desperately scared.
A sigh of relief escaped Rick involuntarily. If the prisoner was scared... Then he could extract all the information, and then... Actually, what happened next depended on that very information. He opened the door to the head, looking at the man with cold curiosity.
The bandit was securely bound – Larius had taken care of it. A thin cord connected his wrists and ankles, and a loop around his throat. An attempt to free himself would result in him strangling himself.
At the sound of the door opening, he flinched, but couldn't look around – the restraints prevented it.
"So," the guy's voice suddenly became as cold as the mountain stream water of Corellia, "what should I do with you?"
The bandit tensed. The question implied that the asker hadn't decided anything yet. This gave him a chance.
"How about letting me go, mister?" he croaked.
"And who will compensate me for my losses? Moral damages?" the voice didn't change. Slightly quieter, but so that the prisoner could hear, he asked Larius, "Maybe we can sell him for organs? I heard that commodity is in short supply right now. And here's a full set. From the retinas to the bone marrow. They say the testicles are especially valued."
The mercenary shrugged, twirling a long, thick needle in her fingers, which looked like it belonged to some animal. Or maybe a fish? It could just as easily have been a fish bone.
"I doubt they'll give much for him. A donor has to be healthy," she dropped.
"Hey, I didn't do anything!" the bandit flared up and immediately choked – the loop tightened around his neck.
"How did you not do anything? One dead worker – one, attacking my people – two," approaching the mercenary, Rick slightly loosened the rope so he wouldn't suffocate and could speak, but felt the loop around his own throat. Then he returned to the entrance. "He hardly took care of his health... Right, they won't give much for him. Maybe he can buy his own life?"
"It wasn't me who shot!" the prisoner hastened to assure him. Which was telling – he wasn't lying. "And I didn't get into the car!" "But I can pay, yes."
"The whole gang pays for one's mistakes," Rick mused. Money? He already had it. After all, why did he need this man? "And how much can you pay?"
"I can find another worker to replace him," the pirate replied quickly. "I know them all here. I don't have much money. I could probably scrape together a thousand..."
Doubt crept into his voice – he wasn't sure he could afford that much. But he could always extort it from someone...
"What was the job you had here? Before your inappropriate stunt?" Rick began to think about what to do with the man. And for that, he needed time again.
"Carry some junk and assemble something workable from it," the prisoner replied reluctantly. "The lizard is good at it, for a glass of salt, he'd do it perfectly. But he refused."
"What a pity," Rick shook his head, "two dead bodies because of greed... Whose idea was it to steal the speeder?"
"Brik's," the bandit grumbled. Then he thought and drew conclusions. "You said your worker was killed. So, the second one is Brik?"
"Your friend decided he could fly. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't confirmed in practice," Rick didn't even bother to hide the indifference to the raider's life in his voice. "What's your name?"
"Goh," the bandit introduced himself and moved his numb hands. The rope immediately tightened, and he fell silent again. "Hey, maybe we can part on good terms? You lost a worker, I lost a partner. Consider it even. And as for scaring the women, well, I'll pay or work it off. Who knew we'd run into tough guys..."
Troy's knife cut the cord quickly and almost without resistance. Rick lifted the man with his hands, and two brown eyes stared intently into the interlocutor's eyes.
"Listen here, Goh. In two days, you'll be waiting for me near this hangar, and you'll have enough Dactil for two months. Do I need to explain what that is?" The hardest part was not blinking while looking into this man's eyes.
The bandit winced – blood rushed to his constricted limbs, and they now tingled with thousands of needles. Rubbing his numb wrists, Goh met the smuggler's gaze and immediately lowered his eyes, admitting defeat.
"I know what that stuff is," he replied hoarsely. "And how the lizards eat it... I'll do it."
Larius peeled herself off the door, nudging something invisible from his collar.
"And so you don't change your mind, your luck will stay with me for now," the woman's voice was almost affectionate, but the bandit turned pale. "If you do it, I'll return it."
"Escort Goh to the hangar exit, and then find me in the cockpit," and this again sounded like an order. And these words had a dangerous aftertaste of power... which he needed to avoid. Fortunately, he had never strived to control other people's lives and destinies.
The mercenary nodded, hiding the needle in the seam of her sleeve. Not knowing that a weapon was hidden there, it was impossible to guess its presence. She nudged the bandit, who was fearfully looking back at her, towards the exit:
"Hurry up, time is ticking."
The new captain headed for the cockpit.
In the bridge, Rick sat in the captain's chair in the center and looked at the four empty seats. He smiled. If Nick wants to be both pilot and navigator... He'll have to split himself in two, because the seats are different. He brought up the ship's model on the holographic projector, turning it with the touch control panel, then launched a general diagnostic of all systems again.
Gradually, a general plan for modernizing the ship emerged in his mind. Nothing fancy, nothing supernatural: general improvement of all systems, whatever the funds, capabilities, and his own ingenuity would allow. Replace the twin laser turrets with quad or, at a pinch, triple ones, find a couple of missile launchers to secure the path front and rear. Although two forward-tracking mass drivers would suffice at the front, as the ship's design allowed for it. Increase maneuverability, shield capacity... And more, and more... If he let his imagination run wild, the modifications would be so expensive that little would remain of the budget. But what a transport it would turn out to be...
Unique.
First, he needed to install a good medical bay. For this, Rick intended to completely reconfigure the communication node and the surveillance room. Move most of the sensors to the cockpit, leaving only very specific things there. This gave him almost ninety square meters at Sher's disposal. Enough for a bacta tank, a cryo-chamber, and a surgical table. Even in a double configuration. But would there be enough money for it... If only Tyferra were on the way... Of course, the abilities of the gifted could allow him to do without a doctor. But if such an opportunity exists – it's better not to do without. Because the Force – and forces – can't always be everywhere. This would be much more reliable.
The more he admired the ship, the more he smiled, happy with the acquisition. He liked everything. Except the name. He had also come up with a name. But... First, he wanted to hear the opinion of the entire crew. Leaning back in his chair, he placed his hands on the cold control panels on the sides and immersed himself in the Force, admiring the inner beauty of this creation and apologizing for calling it a tub upon their first meeting. What wouldn't one do to lower the price... The power of the engines, the hull, the deceptively clumsy barrel-like appearance. There was enough space here for everyone and everything. And it could become his new home.
The mercenary appeared very quietly, almost soundlessly, warning of her arrival with a light touch in the Force: everything was in order. She hadn't come alone. A fluffy body flashed in the air and landed right on the instrument panel. Bus began to sniff the buttons and switches, managing not to step on anything, and at the same time not to leave a single inch of the surface unexplored.
"Promptly," Rick returned from the world of dreams, immediately turning off the active holographic projector. He didn't bother to explain what he meant by his phrase. "There are a couple more things to do."
The contr shrugged almost imperceptibly, as if apologizing for using two comrades not entirely according to their specialization.
"The Arkonian and Weymi should have finished moving the belongings onto the ship by now. Take the car, our gold-eyed friend, and buy enough Dactil for a couple of weeks. Just in case this rogue decides he doesn't need luck that much. Also, get rid of his comrade's corpse, and we should bury the Aqualish somewhat decently. Then return to the ship. By then, the entire crew will be assembled, and we can discuss urgent matters."
The mercenary nodded and left without a word. Bus lingered. The communication panel interested him – he sniffed its kushiban particularly carefully. Finally, the inspection was finished, and the alien, raising his tail like a parade banner, marched out.
And Rick was once again alone with the ship. Intrigued by Bus's behavior, he brought up the cockpit control panel display and, immersing himself in the Force, began to study the differences.
The panel was completely standard. Except that it contained a small, high-capacity recording device.
Taking a universal screwdriver from his pocket, Rick, without hesitation, found a few bolts securing the panel and began its partial disassembly.
Inside, there was exactly what he had already seen. Standard electronics and a recording device connected to the system.
Taking out his deck and putting it in safe mode, he began to examine the device for a direct connection port. He needed to find out what was on his find.
There was no port – direct connection was not provided for in the design. There was a removable chip, which could be removed, judging by the markings – very capacious.
Carefully removing the chip, Rick inserted it into his deck. The latter was clean, and besides, safe mode did not involve going online, so no extraneous information should have gone to outsiders. And he didn't particularly care about the deck's safety. It was much more interesting to find out what was on the chip.
There were recordings. All conversations that took place through the transmitter, from the moment the bug was installed until the moment the chip's space ran out.
For interest, he played the last recording on the medium.
The voice of a creature unknown to him was raspy – enviable to Miel. And very displeased.
"I don't know where you are, but if you're not on board within two standard hours, I'll sell the ship. And don't complain later, understand?"
No one waited for an answer, or perhaps that's where the space ran out, but this phrase was the only one in the entire conversation.
The monologue was intriguing. The ship needed to be moved, and Rick knew where. But... He didn't want to do it until the whole crew was assembled.
"Weymi, come to the cockpit," he asked kindly over the ship-wide comms.
The Lethan appeared quite quickly – surely, she only got lost a couple of times on the way. She entered, knocking softly, froze at the entrance, raising her lekku questioningly.
"Come in," Rick smiled warmly, "I need to go out on business. For an hour, maybe two. You'll be in charge of the ship. Do I need to explain what that means?"
"Don't let anyone in, and if something happens, report to you?" Weymi clarified, approaching and sitting on the edge of the chair.
"Correct," he nodded with satisfaction, smiling a little wider. "Only Larius, the woman, and Bus, the kushiban – you can let them in. Everyone else waits for me. Good."
After that, he left the ship at a brisk pace. He needed to pick up two more crew members.
Rick reached "The Haven" by public transport, this time, as an exception, without incident. Intuitively stopping, he looked at the gray sky, where particularly large remnants of space debris were visible, which had only increased after the battle for Nar Shaddaa. Against this backdrop, he felt the approach of someone familiar. And soon he saw a descending aerospeeder.
And through the haze of dust, dirt, and smog, illuminated by the lights of omnipresent advertising, the outlines of a familiar district began to emerge. And that meant their journey had come to an end. And would never be repeated. The speeder, piloted by Nick, was descending confidently and quickly, so "The Last Haven" appeared unexpectedly. Even more unexpected was to make out a familiar figure in a brown cloak on the parking platform. Cap?
"It seems we're being met," the girl glanced at Nick. "Did something happen?" she added worriedly, hastily braiding her light hair into a braid.
"It suits you, leave it like that," Nick asked, first sensing the attention, then noticing his new commander, ironically by the Force. "It seems Rick has business with us..."