Information about the hostage was missing. The system flatly refused to identify the person who peeked out from the corner of his eye.
"Lay down your weapons and come out one by one with your hands up," Rick turned on the external speakers, which carried his words to the hostages, albeit in a significantly muffled voice, "we won't touch you... I'll handle it here," he added into his headset to the Senior.
The senior behind him lowered his blaster, muzzle to the floor, listening to the voices in his headset. Where he had sent his men, positional combat was underway. So far, with no clear advantage for either side.
Haylan weighed all the pros and cons.
"Alright, we're coming out," he shouted.
Then he quietly threw to the young man, who was still fiddling with the prisoner:
"I'll risk it. If anything happens, the blaster is here."
With these words, he carefully placed the blaster and club against the wall and, keeping his hands visible, stepped out from around the corner.
The young man nodded, tightened the knot, and picked up the weapon, leaning his back against the bulkhead.
"Are you sure?" the mercenary squinted at the hostage who had come out into the corridor. "Well, watch yourself..."
He slowly retreated around the bend, disappearing from view.
Just in case, Haylan prepared for anything. First and foremost – to jump back.
"Sir, the others can't come out yet. They're busy. One is tying up a slaver, the second is guarding the far end of the corridor, just in case someone shows up."
Rick looked at the map, studying the danger from the side controlled by the fugitives.
It was quiet there. All forces were concentrated on the Senior's fighters. The squad that had cleared the tech sector, on their way up, had taken down those hiding in the shaft, and were now hurrying to the sounds of gunfire. The Senior was going there too.
One dot was moving through the corridors away from the combat zone, heading towards the cabins.
What important birds were in the cabins, if someone decided not to participate in the fight and was now running towards them?
He wanted to find out right now, but... The situation here required his direct participation. The counter surveyed the nearest rooms to hide the trio of hapless daredevils.
"No one will come out from the far corner," he said dryly. "It's dangerous for you to be here."
"And where in the world isn't it dangerous?" Haylan asked philosophically. "There's a whole room full of prisoners here, right in the corridor around the corner. We decided to try to escape ourselves, the others didn't. Of course, we'll only get in the way of professional soldiers. So we agree to evacuation. Or maybe someone wants to help with the assault. Where else can you participate in something like this?"
Suddenly, Rick realized he had seen this character somewhere before in adventure series. On the yacht, where the staged death, his death, had taken place. He just couldn't remember who he was yet. And also, judging by his words, it was clear that it would be easier to take him down than to persuade him not to interfere.
"What's your name?"
Haylan's eyebrows shot up at such a familiar address. However, he reacted with restraint.
"Solka, Haylan Solka. Reserve Lieutenant of the Alderaanian Security Service. The other two also have military service experience."
Alderaanian Security Service sounded like... Nothing to Rick. He had been to Alderaan once and knew what kind of crime existed there. Protecting flowerbeds from being trampled...
"Pick up the blasters," he nodded towards the corpses, then headed around the corner to the remaining two fugitives, "report."
The steward was guarding the corner about twenty meters away and hadn't heard the order.
The short young man with a blaster that seemed too large in his hands, shook his forelock as if considering where to bite the visitor, glared grimly at the armored fighter, and lowered his weapon, poking the bound pirate with the toe of his boot.
"Les Raino. Everything is quiet in the corridor section under my command."
Haylan shook his head, but said nothing again. Perhaps the one who spoke to him forgot to introduce himself simply because he was in too much of a hurry. But, at least, he should have stated his rank. The nearest body was not far away. The next ones – a little further.
With disgust, Solka turned the nearest mercenary over with the tip of his boot and realized that killing a person wasn't so scary. No scarier than the dead animals he had seen more than enough of. Quite a spectacle. Wrinkling his nose and digging out a blaster from under it, Solka did the same with the other two. Then he carefully examined the loot.
"Take the blasters and go back to the hostage room. Guard it. Only engage in dialogue with the Senior," Rick ordered, "they'll shoot you here, mistaking you for slavers. And take your comrade with you."
"And how am I supposed to recognize this senior?" Les poked the pirate again. The latter whimpered. "And where do I put this one? He won't fit through the breach."
"He'll introduce himself as Senior," Rick said dryly and aimed his blaster at the opponent. One shot, a blue streak, ended the man's life. "They all have the same sentence."
Rick could have really used that Force technique that the Kushiban had shown him now. But he didn't resort to it. It was good that those around him couldn't see the emotions he was experiencing.
The harvest consisted of three popular blaster pistol models from BlasTech, and one from Merr-Sonn. Without thinking, Haylan ripped the holster off a DL-44 and hung it on his belt, and carried the others in his hands. It wasn't that he was entirely satisfied with the prospect of guarding the other prisoners. From an extreme point of view. But it suited him from a common sense point of view. And the adrenaline was slowly subsiding, and he understood that someone had to do the guarding too.
Les whistled briefly, the steward, who turned at the shot, approached warily. Raino glanced at the fighter and in a low voice explained that they needed to return to the hostages.
At the moment of the shot, Solka was just approaching the junction. Peeking into their corridor with an armful of blasters, he asked:
"Everything alright?"
But this was outward calm. Inside, a slight chill gripped him. It became clear that they were dealing with anything but a government formation. At best, mercenaries. At worst, just luckier and better-equipped pirates.
"Lieutenant Solka, can you come with me?" Rick said grimly, looking at the image of the dead man. "I need to provide cover."
"I can," Haylan nodded.
Handing the armful of blasters to Les, he tucked a spare power cell into his holster just in case.
"Ready."
Raino readily grabbed the weapons, loaded half onto the steward, and headed for the breach in the wall.
"Follow me," Rick ran to intercept the dot moving towards the cabins, contacting the Senior on the go. "How are things going?"
"The rats are biting," the mercenary replied. "Are you finished?"
"Someone is heading for the cabins, I'm intercepting," the counter reported, "the hostages are guarded by two of their number. They'll talk if you give your call sign. They have a hole in the wall."
"That's the chief," came the immediate reply. "Cover him... if necessary."
The pause was almost imperceptible.
Rick disconnected.
What a restless lizard...
The task of covering was simple and clear. Hunting humanoids was not much different from hunting beasts. True, beasts rarely carried blasters... But they were often more cunning. Haylan, moving from one convenient position to another, rushed after him.
Rick stopped, gesturing to Haylan to stop as well, and focused on searching for obvious threats to Jar.
The gray dot, indicating the Falien, was already at the target – one of the cabins. A few seconds later – in the cabin.
Then, a hiss was heard in the headphones.
"What's your training, Lieutenant?" Rick inquired, thinking about what might have happened in the cabins. There was only a short distance left to go.
"Three years of service," Haylan replied, "and I'm a professional hunter."
"Good, hunter," Rick smiled, though no one saw the smile, "if you see a green scaly humanoid – don't shoot him, it'll backfire."
"And what about his status?" the meticulous lord clarified.
"He's commanding the operation," the young man grinned, "if we harm him, we'll have to deal with a dozen first-class fighters."
"On our side?" the meticulous lord clarified.
"That's... a complex question," he replied almost immediately, "but they are not our enemies."
All that remained was to add "for now." But there was no more time: he stopped in the passage, silently assessing the situation.
"Neutrals who should not be provoked, but can be defended if attacked," Haylan summed up. "Everything is clear."
Jar watched them, occasionally flicking out the tip of his tongue, his nostrils flaring wide. He was assessing the situation. Behind him, a cloaked figure was visible.
"The main rat is in the next cabin," he finally hissed. "If you capture him alive and bring him to me – one wish is yours. I'll take the lady to the ship."
"Main rat – that means the boss." Solka felt a new surge of adrenaline, but outwardly showed nothing. He wasn't sure who was on whose side and why. But he firmly knew that such an adventure would not be encountered again soon. So all that remained was to improvise.
"You are surprisingly well-informed," the young man said with interest, and approached the door behind which the leader was, checking if it was locked. "Have you had experience capturing this kind of thing?"
The last question was addressed to his new acquaintance.
"Yes, I've caught all sorts of beasts," Haylan replied evasively.
The Falien ignored the remark, scooping up the girl and lifting her without visible effort. Listening to the gunfire, he moved around the corridors.
The cabin was locked from the inside. Fear, heavy and murky, emanated from behind the door. And rage. The rage of a cornered rat.
"So, not this one either," Rick summed up, cutting open the panel on the door with a knife.
"You shouldn't rush into the enemy's lair head-on," Haylan muttered thoughtfully, "if there's any way to lure him out, or bypass him somehow. What are our options?"
"You can go in head-on if they don't see you," Rick said, connecting to the deck and through it gaining control of the lighting in this sector. He also cut off the power to the door, which disabled its lock. "Go around the corner, just in case. If I don't manage, be ready to do the same as with that dead man."
Haylan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Sir, as far as I understand, the enemy is currently aiming at this door. Which means only one thing – you can't go in. At least, not head-on. But there are two suggestions. First: if you manage to open the door, you could try throwing some nasty stuff inside. For example, that table over there. And see the reaction. If it works, follow behind under the cover of the table. Second: try to appear in the doorway not where they expect. If he's aiming at the middle of the door – and he certainly is – then stick your head out from the top or bottom. Before he moves his aim, you can try to assess the situation. This is elementary animal cunning."
"And if I stick my hand out in pitch darkness and give him a stun charge?" asked the counter. "Will that work? I don't need to stick it out, just aim the blaster at him, the armor systems will do the rest. That seems to fit the second option."
"Yes, if the technology allows, that would be a very good option. To aim and shoot from where he doesn't expect it. If he still manages to shift his aim, then there's a chance the armor glove will withstand the shot, right? Then we can do even better. I'll stick something out, like the edge of my clothes, from the opposite corner of the door, and distract him."
"If you want to wave your clothes, you'll wave your clothes," Rick replied, fiddling with the systems. "Okay, give me a few seconds."
He dived into the Force, probing the room for surprises. The last thing he needed was for the unknown person to be sitting there with a thermal detonator.
A surprise was found immediately: a tripwire was attached to the door. The occupant of the cabin had crammed himself into the far corner, shielding himself with an overturned table and surrounding himself with weapons.
Meanwhile, Hailan figured out what was less valuable to him: a boot or the edge of his jacket, and settled on the latter. Just in case, he took off his jacket and settled down with it on the other side of the doorway.
"Okay, the door just fell off," Rick took out a cutter. "We'll make our own. Your opinion: is a piece of wall better than throwing a table?"
"Worse," Solka shook his head confidently. "The door area is larger. But you can make two small holes in different places. That would be even better than a door, as they can be spaced further apart."
"And if I make a large opening, about a meter and a half, the height of the door? From here to here. Not all the way through, but so that it can be knocked down with a blow," he was already curious what the newcomer would answer.
"And two openings?" Hailan clarified. "The point is not to charge head-on. More precisely, so that one goes head-on, and the second is sort of from the side. The further apart they are, the better."
"We'll make two openings," Rick agreed, starting to cut the wall.
He made two cuts, then stopped opposite his own. It turned out they were taking the enemy in a pincer.
"I'll give the command," he, in armor, didn't need a run-up or anything else besides leg servos. There was one more small thing to do. He concentrated in the Force, intently searching for the enemy and focusing on him to determine his armament.
"Are we peeking out as planned?" Solka clarified.
He least of all wanted to misunderstand something and get everyone into trouble.
The man behind the wall was armed with a blaster rifle. Even by its outline in the Force, Rick recognized the Blastech creation well, which, along with white armor, was a symbol of the Empire's stormtroopers, the E-11.
"You distract him without sticking out, I'll calm him down," the guy summed up. "On the count of three, the main power source will go out."
Rick concentrated, again feeling the Force pass through him, accelerating his reaction, albeit slightly, but enough to give him an advantage over any human.
"One," bending his knees slightly, he took the blaster more comfortably, opening a pre-entered command. "Two..."
He wanted to act quickly, but first he had to give his comrade-in-arms a chance to show himself.
"Three," along with this word, the corridor and cabins switched to emergency lighting.
It's easy to say "distract without sticking out." However, Hailan understood his role as bait. As soon as the light went out, he stuck the tip of his blaster into the room and fired a couple of times, without even aiming. And immediately pulled it back. Precisely to attract attention. Understanding perfectly that the opponent had no time to think now. And a second later, he exposed the edge of his jacket a little lower in view.
Rick wasn't going to let the opponent recover. With a kick, he knocked down the partition and immediately, crouching on one knee, orienting himself mainly by the Force rather than by instruments, fired the blaster in stun mode at the opponent.
The leader, who had flinched to fire blindly at the flashes of shots, went limp and fell silent in his corner.
When the shots from the other side died down, Solka, who could see little in the semi-darkness, turned to his hearing. He didn't know what was there, but he understood perfectly that the boss couldn't sit in one place for long. Just as he himself found it difficult - but at least they weren't shooting at him.
Before entering the room, Rick listened to the Force: was there any danger besides the tripwire? He could only hear that it had become quiet on the station. The shooting had stopped. The boss hadn't found any other surprises. Rick restored the lighting and climbed into the cabin.
From there, he nodded towards Hailan's door:
"There's a tripwire," after which he began to search the unknown man, taking the Blastech toy from his hands. "Are all the stolen items from the yacht in the hall?"
"Only the men, I suspect the women were kept elsewhere," Hailan replied, also making his way inside. Firstly, he was dying to see the boss's dwelling. Secondly, there were bound to be more trophies there.
The boss had several ID cards in different names and of varying degrees of falsity - from almost obvious to quite decent quality, a bag of spice, a credit card, and a key card with a funny bunny keychain.
The cabin looked unkempt, and now it was also riddled with holes. Empty bottles lay on the floor, a datapad lay on the table. But there was nothing particularly valuable in sight there anymore.
Rick picked up the datapad, turned it on immediately to look at the latest entries.
"There might be a safe here," he said thoughtfully.
Among the entries were a message from one of the informants about a courier with a couple of tons of explosives on board, who was offered to be intercepted under the pretext of "drop off some groceries on your way to such-and-such station, it's on your way," an announcement of an auction for a Falleen slave with a stack of bids, and a demand to hurry up with recruiting people, addressed to someone on Nar Shaddaa.
All in all, Hailan wasn't particularly interested in any of the trophies. The pistol wasn't his favorite weapon, but he wasn't planning to shoot yet. Everything else either didn't concern him or didn't look like a worthy trophy.
Without taking his eyes off the datapad, Rick immersed himself in the Force and began to examine the floor and walls, looking for a niche where a safe might be.
Something similar - a metal box - was found under the stunned man's bunk.
Putting the datapad on the table, the counter took the key card and approached the bunk, lifted it, and examined the box with interest.
"Who were you hunting on Corellia?" Rick suddenly asked.
"Nobody!"
Solka slapped his thigh in disappointment.
"They didn't give me a license! They came up with some excuses. Either the hunting quotas ran out, or it wasn't the season. And what a predator, what a predator! A Corellian panther. Smart, graceful, with claws like these. And venomous. And the fangs! And the tail! Ohhhhh..."
The last word was a mournful sigh.