Sher smiled: "The effect of the drug doesn't involve a sudden end, Rick," she said softly, approaching him, "it's not a stimulant. It's a drug that improves metabolic processes in the brain. If you take it as a course, it will support you for about six months, Cap. So there's no danger, on the contrary, it will give you strength, work capacity, and enhance cognitive processes. The problem is probably something else..."
She paused, gathering her courage, and said cautiously.
"You're gifted, Cap... And you experimented unsuccessfully with Shai, judging by the looks of it?"
"I don't experiment with living beings, Sher," Rick said calmly, "it goes against my nature. I tried to help and didn't account for a few factors. For which I paid."
"That's what I meant, cap... And nothing else," Sher nodded. "I'll try to help her with traditional methods. And you, Rick, be more careful, please..."
The girl looked at him with concern.
"Is there anything you need, cap?"
"I wouldn't refuse a bottle of Shiga," Rick smiled, "but where can you get it now. So I'd prefer a few hours of sleep."
Sher adjusted her hair, causing the makeshift bracelet on her wrist to clink with its peculiar beads.
"Rest, Rick," she nodded with a smile, "it's better than any bottle."
She took a few steps towards the exit and turned back.
"Is there anything else bothering you, cap?"
"Sher, I'll talk to you when I'm sure of my own adequacy," Rick replied, "for now, first and foremost, I'm bothered by the fact that my perception of the world has been distorted, and, worse, my perception of myself."
"Rick..." a barely noticeable crease appeared above the girl's right eyebrow, "Rick, why do you have any doubts about your adequacy?"
She returned.
"You... surprised me. Your actions, your orders are conscious, correspond, as it seems to me, to the actual conditions, are understandable and, quite possibly, expected by those who have known you longer than I have. This also indicates that your perception of reality is adequate," Sher sat on the edge of the bunk, looking at him with sympathy. "What's wrong, cap?"
"Sher, I'm a pilot. Worse, I'm a pilot, a technician, and a smuggler all in one," he grinned crookedly, "I must always understand when my perception is distorted, otherwise it can... Increasing the effort to secure the fifth position of the hyperdrive motivator reduces the system's reliability coefficient by 0.8 times, which can lead to the failure of the entire structure. During an engaged hyperdrive, this threatens death to the entire crew. Changing course by three seconds during takeoff on Coruscant in eighty-five percent of cases ends in a collision, a mass collision. I must always be aware of whether everything is alright with me, and if not, if my judgment may be false... Then I can show either leniency or excessive harshness. After contact with an Arkonian, besides the visible problems, I received something else that I haven't untangled yet. Therefore, despite the fact that I give technically logical, expected, and correct instructions, it doesn't mean that at higher levels my judgments are not clouded."
He finished speaking and looked directly at the girl:
"That's about it, Sher."
"You mean that contact with an alien consciousness can distort perception? Always?" Sher asked with agitation. "But..."
She suddenly fell silent, not finishing her thought.
"Not always..." Rick shook his head, "with a human, I make contact without problems. Arkonians... They have a different perception of the world. And it overlaid my own. Imagine if you mix two drugs of the same type, then nothing much will change. But if you mix two different drugs..."
"And you can't get rid of the alien consciousness, Rick? It seems to me that when I was looking for information about gifted individuals," Sher didn't specify under what circumstances she had to do this, "there was something about any connection being able to be broken, wasn't there?"
Doc kept her attentive gray eyes on the captain.
"The connection is broken, but," he needed an analogy, "let's just say I stepped into a dirty puddle and am now gradually washing off what's left on me."
Sher nodded understandingly and asked:
"Rick, can I help you with anything? Not medicinally, of course..." she threw her braids back, "medications won't help here. Or does it just need time? Or relaxation?"
"I'll figure it out myself, Sher," Rick smiled, "thanks for the offer, but only time and my diligence and attention can really help here."
"Alright," the girl stood up, "rest... I've ordered food for the crew, even with a reserve. It should be enough for several meals," she smiled and, going to the door, added:
"If you need anything, I'm with Shai," the cabin door closed silently behind her, leaving the cap in silence and solitude.
Rick slept soundly. For the first time since he was born. Since his name was born. The awakening began as usual, subtly. He returned to consciousness from darkness, he didn't have dreams this time. But he felt good. Much better than after that mistake with Shai. And he also didn't feel lonely.
However, the latter became clear almost immediately. A Kushiban was sleeping on his head. For some reason, the captain didn't mind. Should he? He didn't know. But he knew for sure that a crew member instills confidence in him exactly as much as the complete absence of a team nearby causes anxiety, longing, and fear.
Carefully freeing himself from the embrace, he made sure Bus hadn't woken up, reached out, and risked touching the Force. Dec slipped from the nightstand into his hand and lay pleasantly in his palm. Sitting in a H'raach-like posture, he began to draw up a plan of action for the next day.
Rick managed to plan enough before two sounds were heard almost simultaneously: a long yawn from the bed and a quiet knock at the door.
"It's not locked," he said, not taking his eyes off Dec.
Larius slipped into the cabin. As usual, calm, as unusual – disheveled and with a grease stain on her nose. Bus greeted her with another yawn and paraded out, triumphantly carrying his fluffed tail.
"The weapons are in order," the mercenary reported, sitting nearby without any invitation. "They are aimed as you said. Waymi is doing well shooting at training targets."
"Don't tell me she's taken over the turret controls," Rick smiled, putting Dec aside and, closing his eyes slightly, pulled the Force towards him in search of the other crew members, "has no one been interested in us from the outside?"
"Well, I said it's like a computer game, so it has nothing to do with weapons," Larius shrugged slightly. "When I left, she was enthusiastically shooting down a pirate flotilla. There were no outsiders nearby, there was Muha, he brought the cargo. I accepted it, sent it to Doc. Said you'd pay when you woke up. He tried to grumble, but he was pulled away by a call. Nik searched the ship from bow to stern, found nothing else. Duros snores like a drunk rancor, we didn't wake him. There was a messenger from Goh, he claims he found what was needed and asks if he can deliver the order ahead of schedule. I told him to come later."
Sensing everyone present on the ship, the counter relaxed: the Force was still there, he was returning to normal. But this strange feeling of needing someone else's warmth nearby...
"Wait, what flotilla?" Rick remembered the controls of the side weapons, "ah... Or is it from the cockpit... Alright, let her learn, that's great. Goh... I don't really believe he has a messenger. And this could mean that they've already found us... Bad..."
He stood up, took his belt from the nightstand, and armed himself. So much needed to be done, and he had so few hands...
"We continue to work in standby mode for now. Can you continue training Waymi? Say, with some exotic dances? The girl needs interaction."
She needs not just interaction, but interaction with people who consider her their equal, not a thing. But he didn't say that.
"And last, I slept so much that talking about dinner is pointless. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"The galley smells of kaff," the mercenary stretched. It was a very restrained movement, as if a wave had rolled through the woman's muscles. "Bus will make sure everything is in order. And teaching a Twi'lek dances... Interesting idea. Have you even seen how she moves? She can teach anyone herself."
"Other dances," Rick automatically checked the blaster, "so she can stand up for herself. But it's better for her not to know about it at first."
"Teach her to fight so that she herself doesn't suspect what she's doing?" Larius raised an eyebrow. "You have to be a complete fool not to figure it out... and she's far from a fool. However..."
The woman thought for a minute, took out Dec, searched for something, and nodded, agreeing with her own thoughts.
"There was a school of thought in ancient times... They used blasters as weapons with amazing effectiveness, using a set of techniques that allowed them to hit the enemy almost without aiming. I'll have to read more about it... They claimed that the position of the shooters and the trajectories of the shots were predictable, and one could play ahead... If you give her this as dance poses... Yes, it might work."
"Well, that's great," he said, holstering the blaster without looking, "let's go drink kaff."
Shai finally fell asleep without any sedatives, a natural physiological sleep. She fell asleep, exhausted by blood purification procedures, conversations, food, another procedure, this time brain electrostimulation, and then food again. The Arkonian's golden eyes closed as soon as Doc turned off the apparatus. Sher, after sitting next to her for a while, moved the cup of kaff closer to her. Looking inside, she remembered that she had drunk the rest a couple of hours ago. Silently gathering herself, she looked at Shai carefully. Sleep from tranquilizers is, of course, more reliable. But Shai now needs exactly healthy, natural sleep, which will bring vigor and motivation for subsequent treatment. And Sher's salt, after all, she hid in her cabin. In the former hiding place of the one who kept the diary.
The corridor was quiet and empty. She had completely lost track of time after the equipment was brought to her. Ah, yes, and a package of very good kaff! And even spices for it... Perhaps most of the crew were resting now. Sher, trying not to make noise, threw the case into her cabin, took out the package of kaff, still not even opened. And yet, the aroma of roasted and ground beans inexplicably seeped through the package, making her inhale it with pleasure. How convenient that the kitchen is nearby. No, she wasn't clattering dishes. But the smell of kaff, which had already foamed a couple of times in black lace in the found container, and was thrown back into the depths by drops of cold water, could wake up half of Nar Shaddaa...
If not for the smell – in every sense of the word available to the gifted – a nose poked into the door. It sniffed the air, reached for the stream of aroma, and pulled its owner into the galley, quite dusty, smeared, and gaunt. True, he was far from the terrifying thinness of the first hours of acquaintance.
"Half the galaxy for a cup of kaff!"
"I knew you'd come... I don't need half the galaxy, Nik," Sher's eyes sparkled with a smile. "Keep all these movable and not-so-movable objects in this space for yourself. And here's your kaff." She handed him a metal mug, which was steaming aromatically in her hands. "Only it's very hot, Nik..."
"So be it, I'll have to manage alone," Nik grimaced comically, sneezed, and dived into the sink to wash off the dust and grease from his hands and face. "Put it on the table for now, please, with hands like these, you can't even take kaff..."
"Nik, let me feed you too. It seems to me, you easily forget about it in the heat of work," Sher put the kaff on the table, took a few steps, and took something out of the refrigerator. After a few minutes in the kitchen oven, this something turned out to be an appetizing piece of meat with a pile of some aromatic garnish. All this, along with washed cutlery, was carefully laid out on a large medical napkin. She poured a new portion of hot kaff into another cup and placed it nearby.
The washed pilot looked cleaner, but no less hungry, and only didn't growl, digging into his portion. He didn't risk talking with a full mouth, but the look he gave Sher was more than grateful.
"You're a treasure," Nick summarized, swallowing a piece. "Take it all."
"The galaxy is too small for me," Sher smiled, not taking her eyes off Nik. Only for a moment did she close them as she took a sip of the strong and tart drink from the metal cup. Kaff warms the soul – there was such a slogan. But something else was definitely warming Sher's soul. "How about a refill, sir?"
The pilot looked back at the door.
"Something tells me I'll have a lot of very hungry competitors now..."
"For some reason, I believe you," Sher laughed, putting the cup aside. Several packages of ready meals were sent to the kitchen cupboard. And the heating program was set again.
"But you don't have any competitors, Nik, so please eat," blue sparks danced in her eyes as she put a second portion on his plate. "You need an extra ration at all. And I'll make sure of it. And you need to rest, Nik," she added, no longer smiling, involuntarily admiring the pilot. Perhaps it was impossible not to admire someone so manly and handsome. But now, pain was mixed with it. He looked very tired. So tired that... Her feelings hadn't yet managed to pour out, at least into thought, because Larius appeared at the threshold – and the cap. But another thought was instantly formed. More kaff is needed.
"Hi, guys!" Sher greeted the newcomers with a smile, placing the kaff-making container on the stove. "Cap, don't bother with internal communication. Just brewing good kaff is enough," she joked.
"By the way, lunch, dinner, or... what is it now? I've lost track of time. Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that it's already warmed up," the signaling cupboard was immediately opened, and first an appetizing smell floated out, and then the plates themselves in Sher's hands.
"And why am I not surprised," Rick said quietly, seeing the doctor and the navigator together in one room. The kitchen, of course, is not a dining room, but for now, he had no desire or time to fight against everything being as planned. "Sher, let's leave the definition for cultured people, we, being simple beings, not possessing high-flown language, will just eat. How is our Arkonian?"
"How should I put it, cap," Sher glanced at the captain. "I've tortured her with procedures. She fell asleep. I'm also going to go and get some sleep," the stimulating aroma of two more cups of kaff made her pause for a moment and take a breath. "What can be said after the first day of treatment? For the first day, it's not bad. But the salt," Sher indicated the salt shaker with her eyes. "Let it stay in my cabin, after all."
"I'd prefer the safe in the galley," Rick wasn't joking, "because barging into your cabin every time I need to salt my food... It won't be pretty."
He sat down at the table and began to eat. What he had just said fit perfectly into the doctrine of personal freedom and the right to personal space in the team, which he intended to preach. Up to certain reasonable limits. But the captain's cabin, it seemed, was not within these limits.
"I understand the ship is ready to depart," he addressed Nik.
"Completely," the navigator had managed to finish his portion and was now drowning his sorrow over it with kaff. "I haven't found anything else, but the ship is in great order, you can feel the хозяйственные hands."
His ode was interrupted by the appearance of a fluffy tail in the doorway. Bus entered the galley backward, followed by the reason for the alien's strange behavior: he was dragging a resisting Twi'lek by her pant leg.
Sher easily agreed with Rick. A safe in the galley is good. She doesn't have a safe. Just a niche in the wall. As for "barging in"... The dwelling of a doctor, wherever it may be, is always by default considered a branch of his workplace by patients.
But the strange appearance of the missing crew members interrupted her thoughts about personal space and personal time.
"Two more duty meals and two kaffs," she commanded herself, smiling.
Rick raised an eyebrow in surprise, not having brought the fork with another piece to its destination.
"What's wrong?" he asked with curiosity.
The Lethan and the Kushiban exchanged glances, took a breath...
"First Bus," Larius stopped the brewing concert. The Twi'lek choked on an unsaid word. The alien spat out the pant leg, turned red with spots, and announced in the tone of a professional tattletale:
"She refused to go to lunch!"
"I was left on watch!" the girl retorted.
"Yeah," the counter couldn't say anything more. "I can't even immediately determine who to punish and for what. Waymi, to the table, your watch won't go anywhere, but treating a sick stomach is an unpleasant thing. Am I right, Doc?"
"So, it's lunch after all," consciousness clung to the word spoken by the first mate, as if it were the most important thing right now. Sher placed the same food in front of Waymi as the cap and Larius were eating. And for Bus – a full pile of various vegetables. Bus's plate turned out to be the brightest and most colorful due to the different colored vegetation. And again she thought that petting the first mate was indecent...
"Yes, cap, you are absolutely right," Sher responded belatedly to the captain's question. "Proper nutrition in all respects is guaranteed to protect against many health problems. True, I think Waymi already understands this. It's just a conflict between duty and self-interest, in which duty always wins. I think everyone here is like that, cap," Sher chuckled. "Including you."
"I hope not to disappoint you prematurely, Sher," the fork finally reached its destination and returned to its original position. "Bus, I solemnly declare you my gratitude for taking care of the crew."
Sher smiled and shook her head.
"Don't worry, cap. It's hard to disappoint me."
"And it's definitely not within your power, Rick," she added to herself, and said aloud:
"You don't mind if I leave you? Cap, I'll find you later to give you an injection," she finally finished her kaff, put down the cup, and remembered: "And also... Rick, I owe you 300 credits for my personal order to your intermediary. I'll come to give you the injection and return it. May I?"
"Go, Sher."
Somehow very timely, the navigator ran out of kaff, and Nik stood up from the table at the same time as Shergi. Larius glanced after him but remained silent and scratched the Kushiban behind the ears, who was busy studying the contents of his plate.