Digging into the electrical system was always somewhat extreme. Unlike mechanics, hydraulics, pneumatics, and other systems, which were interesting and curious to work with, and could be used to relieve stress, energy conduits and electrical wiring made him slightly nervous. Rick rightly believed that a fear of electricity was lodged somewhere inside him, but he couldn't admit it to himself. So, when you sit over a bundle of wires, you feel the blood pulsing in your temples from the adrenaline rush.
The tester carefully displayed the readings, after which the necessary fuses, control elements, and sensors were implanted into the wire. Captain "C" had learned firsthand what a stolen ship meant, and decided that he would not allow a repeat of the situation. And this decision drove him into the main cable route of the ship, over which he sat like a spider.
He was interrupted from completing the operation by Sher's call, and before he could answer, it immediately ended. Scratching his beard, Rick plunged into the Force, found Nick, transmitted a short image message to him, consisting of an exclamation mark on a yellow background, and began to search for intruders on the ship.
There were no intruders, except for Hailan. But Rick felt some unease. Some attention, tense and unfriendly...
Swearing loudly, the guy quickly got out of the technical compartment and almost ran towards his cabin: he needed to change and arm himself, and do it as quickly as possible.
Along the way, he sent a one-word message to Larrius's comlink. "Danger."
Two minutes later, Rick emerged in his combat gear, with two blasters on his sides and a dark promise in his eyes, and soon looked into the cockpit.
"How's the situation?" he asked the navigator quietly.
"The ramp is raised, blocked," Nick reported. "And something's wrong with Sher. She's very worried."
Green ice looked out of the ex-SIB's eyes.
"Lower the ramp when I'm in the cargo hold," there was no time for talk, "put Larrius on the turrets, let Bus go to the spaceport, we need to find Weymi and bring her back, the new one... Let him not show himself for now."
He turned on his heels and walked quickly towards the elevator. A Verpine destroyer would pierce any civilian planetary equipment like a knife through butter. And he didn't need to be taught to shoot at live targets, and it was too late to dissuade him.
"I would have found Sher faster..." he wanted to say. Nick remained silent. The ship and crew were his responsibility, and with his skills, he was more useful here. As bitter as it was to admit.
"One more reason to teach you everything I know myself..."
After waiting for the captain to leave the ship, followed by the fluffy rogue, the navigator reached for the comlink.
"Sher?"
"Six minutes to cool down and eight to fly," the speeder dropped its speed to almost zero. The security officer leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes. The autopilot shut up, ceasing to scare them with overheating, and the sound of tall grass rustling in the wind could be heard. Flower heads peeked through the windows, nodding and straightening again.
"And what do we do next?" Day whispered.
Sher quietly put her blaster back in place. After all, Bakrana is far from Nar Shaddaa. It's unknown how the local security officer would look at it. Although he couldn't help but see how she was aiming at the pursuers with her 'Relby'... But, whatever it was, she was grateful to him for hearing the rustling of the grass, seeing this blooming valley, feeling its honey-bitter scents. For the fact that they all have a future - her, Nick, Day, her children, and 'The Incident'...
She couldn't help but do it. May Nick forgive her... Sher also silently unfastened the clasps and, leaning towards the front seat, gently touched the stern officer's cheek with her lips.
"Thank you..."
"Sir," Day said quietly, "perhaps you'll introduce yourself after all? I will pray to the Mother of Existence for your health."
"Genaro," the security officer's hand was at Sher's head so quickly that it was almost impossible to notice. But instead of a blow, it only touched her hair and immediately returned to its place, on the control panel. "Just Genaro, ma'am. You don't need to know more. And now we wait for the generator to cool down, fly to the port, and I'll forget I saw you for eleven hours."
Sher silently fastened her seatbelt and lowered her eyes, but not to avoid meeting Genaro's gaze in the mirror, just suddenly. The race was over, the tension subsided, and thoughts called conscience began to surface. Instead, an innocent person died, another was wounded... She and Day were saved today by two good people, one of whom covered them with himself and was wounded, and she... she didn't even notice it... And Genaro risked himself for them, women he didn't know, not from his city, not even from this planet. He risked his life. And she did nothing. And it's still unknown what's on the ship... And that guy can't be brought back, even if she heals everyone later...
The sigh was heavy. Sher shifted her gaze to the delicate flower heads outside the car. But even they didn't bring her joy.
"Nice to meet you," Day tried to smile, it came out crooked, "shall we have a shot?" she suddenly asked, unexpectedly for herself, "while the generator cools down..."
"I'll be kicked out of service, ma'am," the corner of his stern mouth twitched upwards.
"Day, are you feeling unwell?" Sher snapped out of her thoughts, leaned forward, putting her arms around her friend's shoulders. "Later..."
What "later" was - the call signal didn't let her finish. Sher's comlink squealed in her pocket.
"This is Sher, I'm listening," she answered excitedly.
"I hope everything is in order there..." something cold and sticky stirred inside her.
"Where are you?" it was clear that the navigator was trying very hard to soften his tone, but behind the deceptive softness of his voice, bared fangs and bristling fur on his neck were clearly visible. "Rick is going to look for you."
Nick... His voice, to hear it again, which had seemed so unlikely just a few minutes ago...
"Everything is fine, Nick, we are six minutes from the Spaceport," her whisper was like a gentle palm smoothing an angrily ruffled undercoat. "Now the generator will cool down, and we'll fly in. We are under the reliable protection of the local SB," the girl glanced at the mirror in front of Genaro. "Don't worry. And the full set, and cheese..."
"Coordinates?" a quiet growl came from the tube.
"Allow me, miss..." with a deft movement, Genaro took the device from Sher's fingers. "Judging by the voice - a colleague? I'll deliver the women in ten minutes..." the security officer's voice rapidly lost its expression. He rattled off a chain of numbers, threw the comlink onto Sher's lap, and roared: "Get down!"
"Get down, Day!" Sher shouted, quickly pushing the Corellian forward and ducking herself. The reflex from the war kicked in. If they yell "get down" - expect a projectile.
"Damn it," Day could only think, folding in half. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, it beat: "And when will this end?"
An explosion sounded nearby, and fragments clattered against the doors. The car swayed. Genaro, leaning over Day, straightened up, pulling his blaster from its holster. The women heard two shots and a muffled cry nearby.
"Are you alright, sir?" Sher cried out anxiously, snatching her blaster from her hip. And again, that mournful, hopeless feeling, like cold rain down the back of one's neck...
"It's not over yet..."
Genaro didn't answer. He had no time to talk. He ducked again, letting a bolt that flew into the broken window pass, then rose again and fired. Another cry sounded.
"How much longer!" Day hissed, diving under the instrument panel. "How much longer!" she repeated angrily.
Sher silently opened the window and, ducking, began to shoot where fiery bursts were flashing. The 'Relby' still had tremendous stopping power, and even if she missed, it would be covering fire for Genaro.
"Are you not injured?" she shouted again, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Day was safely hidden, if the control panel could be considered safe.
"No," Genaro answered curtly.
The top of the hill was occupied by an armed group. They lost their height advantage - the pilot raised the car higher, and now they had to shoot at the sides. They seemed to have no more grenades.
"Is everything alright? What's happening, Sher? I can't see anything..." came from under the panel.
"Day, don't worry... and don't show yourself!" Sher shouted, pausing to shoot. "Our people are already flying towards us!" she said and aimed again, firing at the militants. Hold on a little longer. A little longer. After all, her blaster bolt was enough to just graze...
"The Hutt cursed me for remembering my youth, I should have stayed in the office," Day thought, "I found trouble for my ass." Her neck already hurt, but she desperately wanted to live, and the woman, in an incredible pose, hunched even more under the instrument panel.
And somewhere at the edge of consciousness, it flashed: "And how will I get out?"
Sher thought of nothing, completely focused on shooting. This is like surgery to remove a fragment that threatens life, only the operating field is this hill... and instead of a laser scalpel... "A misfire, damn it!" But after peeking out, Sher reloaded and took cover behind the car door. The pistol's power pack should last until their own arrived. And she had no time to think about what might not be enough.
Time stretched infinitely for Day. Blaster bolts hit the taxi's hull from time to time, and return fire sounded overhead.
The officer was the first to notice the approach of another vehicle, his shots became faster - he tried to pin the attackers to the ground to get a chance to regain control of the car for at least two seconds.
Following him, Sher also noticed the minivan.
In the elevator, the guy quickly checked the blaster charge and switched the safeties to firing position. A few moments after the doors opened, he was already in the car, engaged in pre-flight preparations. That's where Nick's call reached him.
"Rick, coordinates..." a chain of numbers obtained from the security officer. "There's a fight."
"Hurry up..."
There was no point in observing the protocol for starting movement. Plunging into the Force, the guy merged into symbiosis with the machine and rushed off, immediately taking a turn. The car was not armored, but its size provided good protection. Only a few minutes of flight time, but what could happen in those few minutes?
On approach, he rose about ten meters up to assess the situation.
Ahead, level with the hilltop, hung a taxi speeder with broken windows and traces of fragments on the doors. Two blasters were firing from it. A car stood on the hill, a little lower - another one. Further away, a smoking patch of scorched and exploded earth. Behind the ridge of the hill and the front car lay about a dozen attackers. They were firing at the speeder, preventing the driver from moving it out of the firing zone.
Rick knew the limits of his machine's capabilities and, calculating the trajectory in his head, he swooped in a smooth arc directly at those hiding behind the hill. If he passed at high speed, as low as possible, it would be a big problem for the attackers, and then, stopping, he would deprive the attackers of cover by flanking them.
Day understood from the changed nature of the firing that the balance of power was shifting, but until there was a command, she silently observed the actions of the officer and Sher.
"Don't shoot!" Sher shouted to the officer, recognizing Rick's minivan, which flashed its sides in the sunset rays. "It's our people! It's the captain..." she added more quietly, exhaling with relief.
The result of the low-altitude pass was unexpected. The first in the chain of those lying down were unharmed - they didn't have time to react. The rest, hearing the engines, turned around, saw the approaching minivan - and scattered, forgetting about their weapons. After a few hits to the sides and nose, Rick's car began to skid. Five bodies stretched out behind him in the grass, two survivors stared dumbfounded at the receding car - they fell into a stupor. Three ran - one down the slope, two upwards, directly into the line of fire of Genaro and Sher.
Sharply turning the car, Rick redirected power to the repulsors so that it braked, turning its door towards the attackers, the door glass slowly lowered on the electric lifts. His body under the seatbelt groaned from such a maneuver, but a couple of bruises were a justifiable sacrifice. Drawing his blaster, the guy began to look for targets, intending to shoot a few kneecaps.
"Get them, captain, go on, show them!" Sher shouted, unable to contain the released tension any longer. "My left!" she shouted to the security officer, aiming at the fleeing militant. At this distance - and not to hit?! They would have laughed at her at the Academy!
The 'Relby' didn't misfire. And he hit the target accurately.
"Take that, son of a Hutt," Lieutenant Carrada whispered. Or Sher?
Genaro didn't argue and took the right one. Grabbing his shot leg, the wounded man screamed and rolled down the slope, under the speeder.
Rick fired the first shot, aiming at the legs of the opponent running away from him, then switched to the other two, ready to take cover behind the car door if necessary.
The runner collapsed with a cry of pain. This broke the stupor, and the two survivors rushed under the cover of their car, firing at the minivan as they ran.
Genaro took advantage of the pause to return to the controls. The taxi turned and jumped over the ridge, turning its side towards the runners so that Sher could shoot more conveniently.
Lying down on the seats, Rick pulled out a Verpine destroyer, recalling the design of the speeder the opponents had arrived in, and where the reactor was located. The next moment, he stood up and fired two shots at the car's reactor, and lay down again in cover.
Since it was too early to relax, the militants were still firing at Rick's minivan, and Sher couldn't forgive them for that. The shots became more accurate and frequent, the fleeing enemies no longer had time to shoot at the captain, because they were met by shots from Sher, disrupting their aim at the minivan.
"Everything is fine!" she shouted to Day. "Our people..."
In this "our people" there was joy, love, and confidence that everything would be...
"How are you? Not injured?" she asked, worried. "Don't be silent..."
And she fired again, putting all her surgical precision into the shot.
"You won't get away, spawn of a sarlacc..."
No one got away. First, one of the runners bent in half under the shots, falling into the grass, then the car's generator exploded...
Day realized that the battle was finally over by the silenced shots and the chirping of birds that reached her from some other reality.
The taxi hovered nearby, side by side, and bright blue eyes looked at Rick, icy and indifferent, like the sky over the pole on a clear day.
"Are you alright, Captain Monroe?"
"What could happen to me," the guy said with a sigh, "how are my people?"
"They'll do for reconnaissance," the officer stated. "Will you pick up the stragglers? I don't want to put them with the women."
"Absolutely," Counter nodded towards the spaceport. "Take the girls to the ship."
"Rick, you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Sher laughed, her eyes suspiciously bright, and her laughter a bit strange. "Is everything okay there? And you haven't prepared a gift for me, like the last one?"
Her hands, clutching the "Relby," loosened, she leaned back in her seat and added, "Because that's enough for today..."
"Sher, everything's fine," Rick glanced at the girl. She seemed to be having hysterics, and that didn't bode well. "Take the girls back to the ship, I'll handle this. The taxi's gone."
Counter got out of the car and began to survey the area for other threats. There was another car that was undamaged. It was empty, and handcuffs and a shocker were found in the large trunk. Nearby, groans of a wounded man could be heard, which ceased as soon as Rick approached the car.
It was curious if the security officer would allow them to replenish their ship's fleet. Grabbing the shocker and handcuffs, Rick looked through the Force at the wounded man with little interest, studying his condition.
The shot had hit him below the knee from behind; the mercenary would hardly be able to step on that leg without a knee joint prosthesis. Otherwise, he was relatively intact, angry, and preparing to sell his life dearly.
"Hey, you unfortunate soul, I suggest you surrender nicely," the guy said loudly with a sigh, "and I promise medical assistance and a fair and just trial."
"I'll even keep the navigator on a short leash."
"Medical assistance means amputating the leg up to the ears?" the wounded man clarified.
"That doesn't depend on me," the guy admitted honestly. "It depends on how you cooperate with the locals. But I can give you a painkiller."
"So, a fair and just trial isn't your department?" the wounded man asked, surprised. The surprise was somewhat painful as he settled more comfortably. "Then how can you promise it?"
"You'll live to see the trial," the guy said indifferently, heading towards the nearest corpse so the wounded man wouldn't see him. "Before that, you'll be patched up. You'll be given protection. If you don't cooperate with me, then... No one has canceled good old torture."
The corpse looked bad. The blow had landed on the rise, and the corpse's head was practically gone – most of it remained attached to the minivan's body.
The guy winced at the sight of the deceased, but he hadn't been nauseated by corpses for a long time. He began the search unhurriedly, not forgetting to look around and monitor for possible threats. The only catch was a small sum of cash and a blaster.
It was time to conclude the conversation with the wounded man:
"So, what's your choice?"
"I think it'll be faster and easier to shoot myself," the mercenary replied.
"That's also an option," the guy sighed, unloaded the blaster with a couple of practiced movements, took the power cell, and moved to the next one. "But life is a chance for the future, while death puts a period on it."
"You call that a chance, Kessel?" The laughter was also painful. And not at all cheerful. "How many years can you last there before you kick the bucket? Three? Five?"
The next one had a crushed rib cage. This one was also empty – about a hundred credits, a pistol... And that was it.
"I've been in worse places," Rick said quietly without emotion, unloaded the blaster, and took the credits. "You can make a deal with justice. Turn in your cell, secure the galaxy. In return, you'll get a chance to start an honest life from scratch."
All the deceased had nothing on them that could indicate their affiliation with any organization. No documents, no insignia, just small change and weapons. Not even a first-aid kit was found on any of them.
"You didn't complete the mission, and you won't," the guy said just as calmly. "But this way, there's a chance it'll be overlooked."
He switched the blaster to stun mode and prepared to deprive the man of his choice if he didn't make one.
"Decide."
The grass rustled, the wounded man sat up, awkwardly extending his injured leg. His deathly pale complexion contrasted sharply with the purple scar on his cheek. After a few seconds of hesitation, he raised his blaster, pulling the trigger. He had to hold the pistol with both hands to shoot, but the movement was so fast it could have surprised even a trained fighter.
Simultaneously, Rick felt a mortal threat.
Counter didn't wait to be shot. Accelerating sharply in the Force, he emerged from the side of the car's trunk and fired one shot into the man's torso, continuing his movement away from the car, just in case.
A bluish glow enveloped the mercenary. He fell back into the grass without a sound.
Simultaneously, a blaster bolt hit the side of the car where Rick had been a moment ago. And a dying gasp was heard from the crest of the hill.
The guy scratched the back of his head, immersed himself in the Force, searching for living people and non-people in the vicinity. But there was no one nearby. Counter put away his blasters and moved towards the stunned man.
"That was awkward..."
Approaching him, he began to examine his leg and the man's overall condition.
"You're resilient, you bastard," the guy summed up with a sigh. He couldn't heal the wound, but he could slightly reduce its severity – easily. Although... it could be harmful. Returning to his car for a first-aid kit, he fashioned a splint from available materials, treating the wound along the way, and then, securing the leg, he slowly carried the man to the car, carefully placed him between the seats, and handcuffed both hands to the chair. After that, he returned to his speeder, quickly set it to follow his own, started the engine, and drove back. Soon, those he absolutely didn't want to meet would arrive.
Two cars took to the air, heading towards the spaceport.