Having sorted out his belongings, Haylan settled comfortably in the corner of the cabin where the table was. In the middle, so it was easier to examine from all sides, he placed the artifact. On the sides were the decks and info-crystals. Finally, the Alderaanian began the tedious and painstaking work. But it is rarely anything else. He had to compare the information about the finds from the Rakatan era with this particular sample. And try to find out something additional.
According to reference materials concerning Rakata, such artifacts were extremely rare - no more than a dozen since the fall of the Infinite Empire. The size of the artifact matched, the shape, but there were also differences: none of the previously found objects weighed more than a standard kilogram. All its predecessors weighed no more than a standard kilogram.
The pattern also had differences. The lines resembling carving on the surface of the artifact lying before Haylan had rounded corners, while in the reference books, the writing and ornaments were quite angular. Having found analogues, Solka connected more specialized crystals and began to compare. Comparing descriptions and interpretations. What could the difference in lines, the difference in weight mean? The main thing for him was to catch the patterns. And come to at least some unambiguous conclusions about the methods of use. If it was unequivocally identified as an information storage, then there was also a way to use this information.
All sources agreed that such artifacts were used for storing information. It was in this capacity that the Rakata themselves used them, according to surviving evidence in the form of fragmentary records and drawings. One of the sources was a painting by an unknown artist: an oval stone with carvings lying on a richly decorated tray, with a cone of bluish light rising above it. Vague images appeared in the glow. But all of Solka's predecessors claimed that a way to read information from such a medium had not yet been found. The artifact had no technological sockets, connectors, and could not be scanned.
If there were no connectors and control panels, then such artifacts were activated in another way. Dismissing the version that the information was read from external machines as inherently pessimistic, the Alderaanian decided to update his knowledge of Rakatan culture. About their difference from other peoples of the galaxy. Perhaps some clue could be found there.
Searching and analyzing information is not a quick process, even when you have enough necessary information at hand. Solka did not manage to come to any specific conclusion: there was a knock on the door. With clear displeasure on his face, the Alderaanian was distracted from his thoughts, having just latched onto something, stood up and went to the door. Taking a deep breath to shake off the irritation, he threw open the passage to the corridor.
Larius stood in the doorway, holding out a blaster to him, handle first.
"Excuse me," his voice sounded genuinely regretful that he had to interrupt Haylan's work, "there is a possibility that there will be an attempt to hijack the ship."
Automatically, Solka took the weapon in his hands. Then he blinked in confusion:
"Hijack the ship? On a civilized planet?"
"We have something on board," the mercenary explained, retreating into the corridor. "Something valuable enough not to wait until we are out of civilization. Sher and Day have already been attacked."
"What and whom are we waiting for?" Haylan clarified, slipping past her into the corridor.
"I don't know yet, I think Nick will inform you," the mercenary fell in beside him. "I'll take the turret, Nick will be with you - covering the cargo hold. There's nowhere else for them to get through, the additional hatches are blocked from the inside. Unless they cut through the hull, but that takes time. And they need to act quickly..."
She gestured him towards the cargo hold, and ran upstairs to the bridge herself.
Solka didn't even have time to say a word before she ran off. And he, despite all his love for extreme situations, did not like spontaneous actions. However, he had no choice. With such thoughts, the Alderaanian checked the pistol, switched it to stun mode just in case, and, trying not to make noise, moved towards the cargo hold.
It was quiet in the cargo hold. Containers stood in stacks, according to the markings - medicines and food. Then an indistinct sound was heard.
The ship was closed. There were no hull damages either. So, most likely, the sound belonged to that very Nick.
"Hey, Nick," Haylan whispered loudly, hiding behind the corner of the nearest box just in case.
"Yes?" a male voice answered from the inner door. The navigator stood in the doorway, as if sniffing something. The next moment, he was behind the next container.
The sound repeated.
"It's not you..." Haylan's whisper became much quieter.
"Not me," the navigator agreed, switching his blaster to stun mode. "We have stowaways..."
He spoke, barely moving his lips, but Solka heard every word clearly.
"Rick said not to kill..."
Haylan just nodded, his blaster had been switched to stun mode in advance. And it was easier to hit like that. And he didn't really want to kill people.
"Understood. Cover me."
This time the whisper was very quiet. Placing the blaster on the top panel of the container, Solka pulled himself up, stuck his head out, and looked around to see what was happening on the upper level.
On one of the containers, standing at the very exit, the lid moved. It lifted, lowered, lifted again. An indistinct shadow flashed in the gap - someone was moving inside.
"Container at the very entrance, second tier," the Alderaanian whispered to Nick in case he hadn't noticed. Then, moving from the opposite side, he quietly headed towards the source of the sound.
"Got it," the whisper sounded as if it were right in his ear. But the navigator did not follow Haylan - he shifted behind the last container of medicines, getting almost the entire cargo hold as his firing sector.
The lid shifted again. The one hiding inside stood up and placed it on the neighboring container, then cautiously and almost silently climbed out. Solka saw a well-equipped man with a heavy blaster in his hand. The uninvited guest looked around and moved along the row of containers towards Haylan, checking the markings. After two containers, he stopped and quietly knocked on the lid in a specific rhythm.
Haylan, who was already fully prepared to shoot, froze. If the enemy was not alone, it was better to wait until he revealed the location of the others. Hiding, Solka decided to wait.
The lid lifted, and another armed man emerged from the container. Together they quickly found the third, and were about to move towards the inner doors.
"And what about greetings?" the voice sounded at full volume from the doorway. The militants reacted instantly - they rushed to hide behind the medicine containers, exposing their backs to Haylan.
And then the aristocrat reacted. Not instantly, of course, but quickly enough. Spending exactly enough time to aim, shoot, shift the aim, and shoot again.
The first shot was successful. The militant stretched out on the cargo hold floor. The second managed to catch something and darted to the side, hitting the bluish cone of radiation only with his leg, and now he was quickly crawling into cover between the rows of containers, dragging a paralyzed limb. The third jumped to where the voice came from, shooting at the sound. Noticing that he had missed, the Alderaanian continued to fire at the wounded man.
Having managed to snap back with a shot, the second militant also fell silent. A bolt hit the container next to Haylan's head - these were shooting to kill.
Sounds of struggle could be heard from behind the containers at the inner doors.
Still holding the pistol in his hands, the Alderaanian rushed towards the entrance almost at a run. There, two grappling men were rolling around. The forces were approximately equal, and neither could gain the upper hand. For a moment, Haylan's gaze caught the furious green eyes of the navigator - he was pinned to the floor.
It's not that Haylan liked to fight. Or did it often. But sometimes he had to. And he knew that in such a case, it was enough to limit the mobility of one of the opponents even a little. With such thoughts, he chose his moment, grabbed the attacker by the leg, and pulled him towards him, simultaneously preparing to be kicked with the second leg.
Nick did the rest himself - he wriggled out of the grip, while the militant was trying to get rid of the new opponent, twisted his arm behind his back, picked up the blaster lying on the floor, and stunned the prisoner.
"In time," the navigator rubbed his neck, where the traces of foreign fingers were appearing. "He almost choked me..."
As if remembering something, he checked the markings of the nearest containers and opened one.
"Sorry, Sher..."
An injector and three ampoules of sleeping pills were extracted from the container.
"I think we should check the other containers. Just in case," Haylan muttered thoughtfully.
For this "just in case," he walked past the containers, trying to open each one. However, if the lid was closed, he didn't try too hard and moved on to the next one.
While he was checking, Nick injected each of the prisoners with a dose of sleeping pills, and only then joined the search. But the other containers were fine.
"What was that anyway?" Solka asked, closing the lid of the last container.
"An attempted hijacking," the navigator explained. "And the reason is somewhere on board."
"Are we going to look for the reason?" the aristocrat asked businesslike. "Or will they figure it out without us?"
"Rick said not to kill," the navigator's smile was openly predatory. "He didn't say anything about 'handing them over to the locals.' When he gets back, we'll figure it out..."
"And he's not on board now?" Haylan was frankly surprised at how time flies. It seemed like just recently the captain wasn't going anywhere.
"He's busy with the same thing we are," Nick informed him. "But outside. And they took his loot away... Where can we hide these so that no outsiders find them?"
"In a crate," the Alderaanian suggested, "there are a few half-empty ones there."
"They'll suffocate," the navigator shook his gray head. "Then Rick will eat me first, then Sher will cry... No way. Let's put them in the passenger lounge..."
"And we'll put them in the crates, and put something under the lid so it's not tight," Haylan continued to be creative. Moving heavy objects was never his favorite activity.
"The crates are one meter by one meter, we'll have to fold them in half," Nick looked into an empty container. "But if we lay them on their sides, lids facing each other... Then these beauties will fit in full height. All three of them."
"A person can fold very well," the Alderaanian stated authoritatively. "Especially since they were already sitting there. Well, never mind..."
He already understood that he was just grumbling. With his last words, he went to pick up the empty containers.
A few minutes later, after a lot of fuss and a little restrained swearing, the prisoners were packed into empty containers, the trophy weapons were collected and unloaded, the navigator had a swollen neck, a long abrasion across his back, and a missed call on his comlink - in the heat of battle, the ex-ISB operative simply didn't hear it.
Just in case, the Alderaanian took one of the attackers' carbines – he liked that kind of weapon more than pistols, and slung the detonator belt over himself. It was lucky that the opponents, whoever they were, hadn't managed to use them.
"Well-equipped comrades. Suspiciously well-equipped."
"I liked it too," Nik dialed the captain's number.
After exchanging a few neutral phrases with Rick, the navigator put away his comlink and sat on a container.
"A ship with a history," he said quietly. "Either it's a greeting from the past, or they came for you, or for the planetologist."
He didn't consider the option "Rick and I messed up somewhere." Completely different people would have come for them. And they would have acted completely differently...
"Not for me," the Alderaanian shook his head, "At least, it hasn't happened before."
"A dead Shi'ido with your face is a common occurrence?" Nik rubbed his neck. He was forbidden to use the Force, so he had to endure it, although it would have taken him a couple of minutes. Sher would be upset again... "Alright, let's assume. So, two versions. Did the captain show you the find? The notebook."
"Judging by the reviews, I was chosen by chance," Solka shrugged. He didn't particularly like Rick's talkativeness about it. "He showed me the notebook. Moreover, it's in my cabin right now."
"I couldn't read it," the navigator glanced at his chronobracelet. "They found it by chance, it was stored in a secret compartment, a layer of dust a finger thick – so it had been lying there for a long time. Several years."
"I'll look at possible writing systems," Hylan muttered, "But a droid translator would do it better and faster."
"Not affordable yet," Nik spread his hands. "The captain was going to try to use the navicomputer. But if there's a cipher..."
"We'll see," Hylan repeated, "What, is there any reason to assume there's something important there?"
"They don't hide unimportant things in secret compartments," Nik got up heavily from the container. "Especially things that can't be identified by a scanner, since there are only natural materials, not a speck of plastic or metal... Although, maybe I'm just an old paranoid, and it's encrypted adventures with girls that the previous owner hid from his strict wife. Let's go and have some of the proven goods, and request a corridor for takeoff. The Cap said he was going to gather the team, and for once, I completely agree with him."
With a sad look at the cooled blaster marks, Rick found himself in the car, unloading energy cells from his pockets onto the passenger seat, which he had taken from the defeated opponents. Carefully activating the repulsors, he was glad to see that the car was intact and the power unit was undamaged, and then slowly drove towards the building, calling his navigator.
Nik didn't answer.
The guy had to make an effort not to crush the comlink in his fist. Slowly, controlling every movement, he raised his hand over the passenger seat and, finger by finger, uncurled his hand. The device fell onto the seat.
He had to learn trust and delegation of responsibility. Otherwise, he risked burning out as a captain. Nik, Larius, and Hylan were not little children, they would manage. Stopping near the building, he got out of the car, closed it, and entering through the door, walked to Les's room. He knocked.
"It's not locked," he heard from inside after two seconds.
Rick slowly opened the door and entered the room.
It was very dark inside. After a second, the light came on, and Rick could see Veymi and Bus sitting on the floor. The Kushiban looked at the captain over his shoulder with clear disapproval.
"I had to check," Les said peacefully, peeling himself off the wall by the door and squinting through the hair hanging over his eyes. In his hand was a heavy decanter of water.
"It's good that you didn't act," the counter said very calmly, tilting his head slightly. Seeing the darkness of the room in the doorway, he immediately switched to seeing through the Force, and the guy presented no particular surprise, "I'm not good at fighting."
Rick didn't bother to clarify what he meant by his words, having examined the girl and the Kushiban.
"How are you feeling?" the captain forced a smile, but his face showed both the fatigue from the day's trials and irritation at how the stay on the peaceful planet was going.
"Good," the Lethan replied in surprise, her leku twitching uncertainly. "There were some problems with the cargo, I didn't have time to say..."
Les just nodded, returning the vessel to the table – he understood, or simply agreed with what was said.
"We've already dealt with the cargo," there was no point in going into details, "we're leaving, Bus, Veymi, go to the car, I need to have a word with Rayno."
The girl nodded, getting to her feet with a fluid movement, and left the room accompanied by the Kushiban.
Les remained standing by the table, looking at the captain from under his brow.
At that moment, a call signal sounded.
Rick grimaced slightly in annoyance, looked at the caller's number. It was the navigator calling.
"One second," he pressed the connect button, "Speak."
"I was a little busy, checking the cargo," Nik's calm voice was heard. Very calm. "Is everything alright with you?"
"No, but acceptably," the guy replied after a moment's thought, "As soon as the last container is on the ship, request permission to take off. We won't wait for another attack. I'll pick up the team."
"Understood, received," the navigator replied and hung up.
"So, Les," the guy put the comlink in his pocket and looked at the guy, "I have a few questions for you. Please answer them. Firstly, how did you end up next to a member of my crew?"
"I was walking in the hall," he shrugged. "I saw a upset girl. I offered to sit in my room until you were free. The service sector is guarded, after all."
"Les, I had access to the security cameras, I saw... everything," the guy sighed, "so please, spare me half-truths, they are no better than lies."
"As you wish..." Rayno sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. A pose from which it was practically impossible to defend oneself with any success. "I was walking in the hall. I saw that cad convincing the girl to fly somewhere with him. I didn't like what I heard, such problems are solved with a simple call or even a cover letter with explanations. And I didn't like how he was looking at her."
Les clicked his fingers, as if choosing a word.
"Like he bought her, you understand?"
"I understand," he nodded in response to the guy's words, "See, it's not that difficult at all. To tell the truth. As a result, I owe you. For saving Veymi. And I can help you with something. Within reason, of course. I can just give you money, you're not doing too well with it right now. So, what do you want?"
Bewilderment emanated from Rayno. Then indignation. Then the emotions disappeared.
"I want you to apologize," Rayno said clearly. "For your assumption that I helped her for some kind of benefit."
"I didn't say you helped for benefit," the captain shook his head. "I said you helped. I have nothing to apologize for. The galaxy is a very nasty place, and such actions should be encouraged. The law of just retribution. Consider me its living embodiment. Especially since you have no means of livelihood and you are left here alone, and I have resources and some influence here. It's foolish to refuse help."
"You won't offer me a job," Les looked from under his bangs, hiding his expression. "I won't take money. They'll arrange transportation to any of the planets with regular flights at the planet's expense, as a victim of pirate actions."
"I think there's a vacancy in the local security service," Rick shrugged, he really didn't need Les on the ship. Except maybe temporarily, "I can put in a good word. I can hire you for a solo operation. Payment upon completion. I can also introduce you to some dashing freelance pilots."
"What kind of operation?" the purple eyes flashed.
"We need to retrieve several tons of equipment from the jungle," the counter said carelessly, "I don't know more."
"Sounds bad enough to agree," Les grinned.
"The car is outside," Rick said briefly, heading for the exit and dialing Sher's number on the go.
Behind him, Les somersaulted backward to his feet.