The sigh was supported by the Elder, who peered into the hole.
"Yeah, a magnificent beast," he agreed. "What's good here?"
"Is this even good?" Solka spread his hands. "Are these trophies? Is this life? He settled in, dug in, he could have accumulated something worthwhile here. Something worthy. And offered resistance... more worthy."
The newcomer was unfamiliar, but he supported the sore subject, so he automatically became a worthy interlocutor.
"You know a lot," Rick said, examining the door, especially the hinges of the box. "About the harsh life outside the law. Maybe he was barely making ends meet. This box is interesting. Are there any losses?"
The last was addressed to the Elder.
"Two wounded," the Elder dived into the cabin, approached, and kicked the body aside with his foot. "A good find, the captain will be pleased... Roy, let's take it."
Zabraks appeared behind him. Two of them picked up the box, one dealt with the grenade. The fourth stared at the body on the floor.
"Elder, this one is alive."
"Take this one to Jar," Rick said, watching with regret as the box was carried away. Although... Greed had to be suppressed. To hell with the box. "Alive and well."
Rick also casually took the datapad from the table, along with the IDs.
"Elder..." he looked at the man. "Why couldn't you shoot the courier?"
"The captain has good scanners on board," the mercenary explained, casting a keen glance around the room. "He managed to warn that there was baradium on board up to the Hutt's ass. If that courier had crashed in the hangar, it would have been the end for everyone... Worthy resistance, you say?" he shifted his gaze to Hailan. "From this? Not that kind of prey."
"Well, if not that, then not that," Solka shrugged.
He increasingly felt somewhat superfluous here. In every sense. Also as extra eyes - because what was happening bore little resemblance to anything legal. On the other hand, he had no other tickets to get out of here.
"Don't worry," Rick smiled, turning to Hailan. "You'll find more big prey."
Then he asked the Elder:
"What about the hostages?"
"They're being brought out," the mercenary replied concisely, disappearing into the passage. The Zabrak put the retrieved grenade into his belt pouch and left politely - through the door. His partner swept the cards from the table into his pocket and followed.
"Where are they being brought out?" Solka clarified thoughtfully. "Or maybe I should get out too?" And, by the way, why hostages? I was sure they were slave traders.
"You'll come with me," Rick took out one of the IDs, examining it. Something told him that these belonged at least to someone important, if not to the passengers of the Gemstone. "I'll talk to Jar about where they're being taken. Why hostages... Because they didn't have time to make you slaves. Try not to let that happen if I can't."
Then he handed Solka the rifle without a word. His chances against the Elder's men were minimal, but at least Rick gave him an opportunity.
Hailan grabbed the rifle rather automatically. But, out of habit, he examined it and checked its combat readiness. He didn't answer anything. His mood changed from not understanding to completely not understanding-doomed. What happened here? Did two gangs have a dispute? Who is this person? Who are all the others? The questions remained unanswered for now. And Hailan wasn't sure if he needed such answers. All he was interested in was how to get out of here.
"Captain Monroe, are you planning to stay here?" the Elder's voice asked in his headset. "The captain asked us to hurry."
Actually, Hailan strongly felt like disassembling and cleaning the rifle. Firstly, in his circles, it was considered good form, although what was there to clean? Secondly, combat rifles rarely fell into his hands. Despite the fact that many hunting models were more powerful and faster firing. True, not more compact.
But, after some thought, he decided to leave it for later. These gentlemen wouldn't wait for him to have his fill, would they?
"I'm coming," Rick said over the comm, turned off the microphone, handed the cards to Hailan, and carefully slung the local kingpin's body over his shoulder, activating the servomotors. "Tell the owners, we're moving to the hangar."
In the hangar, the hostages were talking in hushed tones. The mercenaries were scattered around the hangar, not interfering with anything, but keeping the group of freed people in the crossfire zone. By the time Rick and Hailan descended, the Falleen appeared on the ramp.
Seeing his trio armed, Hailan winked subtly and adjusted the strap of his E-11.
Rick headed towards the Falleen, perfectly aware of what might happen next, and what might not. And it all came down to how well he used his wish. Placing the living and unharmed leader of the local gang on the floor, he looked at the Falleen, simultaneously activating the suit's isolation system.
"Congratulations on a successful operation, Jar," he said with a hint of good nature and respect. "You got your main prize."
Hailan grinned cheekily in response.
The lizard bristled its crest, examining the pirate lying on the floor, and turned its unblinking gaze to the man in armor.
"Good work, Captain Monroe. So?"
"What are you going to do with the hostages?" the counter asked businesslike, glancing at the Elder, the helmet allowed him to do this without turning his head.
"Nothing," the Falleen shrugged in a completely human way. "Those who managed to get weapons and gain freedom can pay for their passage by joining my people. The rest - if they wish and are able - can contact their relatives and ask them to pay. In the absence of desire and opportunity... I don't do charity, Captain Monroe. They will stay here and wait for another chance."
Now Hailan was finally convinced that these were bandits. On the one hand, he could try to buy tickets for everyone. On the other hand, it would put him in a very difficult position. Thirdly, the base seemed to be functioning normally, and a rescue expedition could always be organized... After thinking for a while, he decided to postpone the decision on this issue for some time. And for now, just observe. And be ready for anything.
"In that case, my wish is this," Rick thought about the wording and began to speak, calmly and confidently. "Return all the belongings belonging to the hostages that are on the station, and then transport them along with me to Tunna."
The Falleen's gaze sharpened.
"That's two wishes, Captain Monroe," he hissed after a few seconds. "I promised only one. You'll get the first. You'll have to take care of the second yourself. Are there any who wish to go on this flight?"
Several passengers shuffled and moved towards the ramp. The rest followed them - the poor don't go on cruises. Only six crew members and Les remained.
Hailan looked questioningly at his newly minted companion.
"In that case, I'll stay here and make sure they get another chance," Rick said without emotion. "All that's left is to return my belongings from your ship."
The Elder stirred, the mercenaries seemed not to have changed positions, but their weapons were now pointed at Rick. The lizard's green eyes darkened, but he restrained himself, betraying no further emotion.
"Return Captain Monroe's property," he ordered. "And the documents to those remaining. They have nothing else on them anyway."
His order was carried out without fail. Handing Rick his belongings, one of the Zabraks whispered almost inaudibly: "It's a pity, we hoped..."
All in all, Solka wasn't sure if those who boarded the ship wouldn't be robbed of their passage fee. More precisely, he was completely sure of the opposite. And such a decision suited him, because he didn't want to get into even greater obligations to the House at all. Surely there were communication devices or something like that somewhere on the base. Possibly, escape pods for emergency evacuation.
Rick heard what one of the Zabraks said, but didn't even flinch in response, just took the bag. He simply remained standing, waiting for all of Jar's men to board.
The Elder and the Falleen were the last on the ramp. Looking back at those remaining, the mercenary waited a few seconds, saw no desire to join the departing ones, and raised the ramp. Half a minute later, the transport left the hangar.
Hailan looked around, looked at the faces of those present. He still wasn't sure how correctly he had acted.
Rick watched the departing freighter and turned to the remaining crew, then couldn't help but smile.
"I am Rick Monroe, captain of the 'Happy Chance,'" he introduced himself to the former hostages.
"Vincent Lowe, captain of the 'Gemstone Hunter,'" introduced an elderly man, extending his hand to him.
"Senior Officer Safir Hawk."
"Navigator Kai Heneze."
"Nis Vorrum, flight engineer."
"Hughes Fir, I'm the steward."
"Salum Nyordo, also a steward."
Les didn't repeat himself - he was already sniffing around the blown-up transport, sizing up how to sneak into the remains of the cockpit.
"And how far from here is this 'Happy Chance'?" Hailan asked just in case.
"Glad to meet you," Rick said, but didn't take off his helmet, shaking the captain's hand. "We have about three to four hours before my team arrives. I suggest we spend them usefully, namely, finding all the information about the female gender that wasn't with you. And, perhaps, finding something materially valuable on this station that wasn't stolen before us. Any suggestions?"
Solka thought.
"If we had a station plan, we could decide this more concretely. Ideally, we'd split into groups, divide sectors, and comb through them."
"There is a plan," the counter pointed to the terminal. "You can familiarize yourself with it."
He touched his chest armor plate with his hand, activating his pendant through the Force. Soon Nick would receive a signal and pick them up from here. If they were all right. If not... He hadn't figured out what to do in that case yet.
"Four hours..." Lowe paused for a moment. "Enough time to search the entire station. I can't say anything about the women, if anyone knew about them, it was the 'main prize,'" the captain glanced at the hangar door. "But he flew away. And he's unlikely to return."
"Let's not waste time, divide the station into sectors, split into pairs, and get started," Rick headed towards Les, he was interested in what he had forgotten in the cockpit.
Solka, meanwhile, realized that his own suggestion wasn't very interesting to him. What, for goodness sake, was he doing on this empty station? If help arrived, and they successfully flew away from here, then what was the point of all this activity? Just to not sit idle? Pfft. Empty corridors couldn't add adrenaline. A wrecked ship was much more interesting, so Hailan slipped after Rick.
The crew familiarized themselves with the diagram and went to search the station. Les did find a not-too-hot loophole and was now prying off a piece of plating that was blocking access to the corridor leading to the bridge. The bridge itself looked quite intact.
"Hey, Rayno, what are you going to do?" Rick asked the overly zealous passenger. Something about this person's behavior bothered him.
Meanwhile, Hailan, watching all this from the side, finally decided that examining the ship was wise. If only because there was surely a transmitter on board. And an escape pod. So it was worth helping. Picking up a broken beam, he joined Les. And he got so carried away that Rick's question caught him off guard.
"I want to ask the navicomputer to share information," Les puffed, continuing to fight with the melted iron. "Hutt seed, hot..."
He blew on his palms and adjusted the interference so as not to bother Hailan.
"If you have access to their base, I'd look at how often they come here. Because if some rust bucket crashes here in an hour for another main prize... we might not wait for Happy Chance. In every sense...."
"This is a transit base for Black Sun renegades," Rick informed confidentially, turning on the cutter and making a neat square opening, large enough to enter, and climbed inside first, carefully moving into the cockpit. "Are you security?"
The question was asked at random, but it strongly suggested that he was dealing with some kind of non-civilian service.
"Have you stopped beating your grandmother in the mornings?" Les said melancholically, squeezing in behind him. "If I say 'yes' - what kind of security guard am I then? If I say 'no,' you won't believe me anyway..."
The bridge indeed had intact equipment. Rayno spun around at the entrance and sat down, examining the shock absorbers of the pilot's seat. Rick carefully examined the chair, looking for hidden mounting elements or locks that would allow him to reach the unknown object without damaging the knife and the interior item.
"Sir?" Hailan was called by Hughes, peeking out of the door at the emergency ladder. "The captain asks you to come up."
"I'm coming."
And the guy really looked suspicious. Too confident and independent for his age. Either his appearance was deceptive, or not just his appearance. Just in case, Solka decided to keep an eye on him. Just because.
Hughes led the younger son of the House up the spiral staircase to the residential level. There, by the elevator, lay the bodies that the crew had retrieved from the shaft. The captain was puzzledly examining one of them and twirling an ID card in his hands.
"Take a look," he handed Hailan an exact copy of his own identity card. "We found this on him," Vincent nudged the motionless body's hand with his boot.
"Very curious."
Solka carefully studied the ID. Then he examined the body just as carefully.
The ID claimed that its owner was the younger son of the House, Hailan Solka. The body on the floor claimed the same.
Hailan felt a little sick. And a sharp paranoia set in. Not that he was a particularly significant person. To be honest, not at all. He would only become significant in one case - if something happened to his older brothers. And that was alarming. And he could only hope that everything was fine with his family.
Just in case, Solka, shuddering, rolled up the corpse's shirt sleeve at the forearm. He had three moles there in a characteristic pattern. And such things couldn't be faked quickly.
The moles were where they were supposed to be.
"Do you understand anything?" the captain looked concerned.
"I understand," Hailan nodded. "Someone really wanted to impersonate me. I even understand why, though with difficulty. I'm not that important a figure. I don't understand how. How did they find out who I was? The documents only state the name, without details. Where did ordinary traitor pirates get such information? How could they copy the body so accurately? Although, I've heard something about shapeshifters..."
More than anything in the world, Hailan would have liked to contact the House right now. To warn them. To make sure everything was okay. True, not much time had passed.
"I've heard about shapeshifters too," Vincent nodded. "We should do an analysis..."
"What," Hailan was surprised. "Are there specialists? There must be medical equipment on the base."
"A meddroid, at least a basic one, should be there," the captain explained. "They must have had to treat themselves somehow... And such a machine can surely distinguish a human from an alien."
"Well, maybe they have a living medic?"
The question was largely rhetorical. Mentally reviewing the base plan, Hailan tried to figure out where it would be best to start searching.
"Already dead in that case," Vincent corrected him.
There was a medical block on the station. It was located between the cabins and the gym, which had been converted into a common cell.
The aristocrat estimated the distance, looked at the body, and estimated the distance again. And decided to go and see. It was better to bring the droid to the body than to drag the body there.
"I'll go and take a look," he informed, just in case.
The medbay on the station was there, the schematics hadn't lied. The med-droid was in the medbay too – the captain's logic hadn't failed. The truth was, it was mostly used for purposes other than its intended one, judging by the marks on its casing, suspiciously resembling hits from various heavy objects. The droid flinched away from Haylan as if a Hutt feared living on a single pension.
Haylan critically examined the marvel of technology. He examined it again. At least it moved.
"Hello, droid. Identify yourself, report your status."
The droid blinked its indicators warily.
"Medical droid model..." came the designation of one of the simplest models of its kind. "Ready for work. Please do not strike this unit if you do not like the prescribed treatment..."
Med-droids often developed their own personalities. Their brains were quite complex. All sorts of habits and behavioral stereotypes formed very quickly.
"I don't need treatment. An autopsy is required. I hope you have the pathologist subroutines in your memory? Follow me. And, yes. I won't hit you."
The droid confirmed the presence of the necessary software and obediently shuffled after the Alderaanian.
By the shaft, Hughes and the captain remained for their arrival. The others had dispersed to search the station's premises.