There was silence in the cabin. The people lying in each other's arms on the narrow bunk were silent - but not because they had nothing to say to each other. The fear of loss and the happy deliverance from danger, the meeting - words were not needed where hearts, eyes, and lips spoke...
But the words already spoken still troubled Sher. The words that burst from Nick so passionately, and with such bitterness... And she hadn't even guessed that what Gennaro said could hurt so much... And also the Darkness... Sher felt a cold spread through her like leaden streams. Nick, so warm, so close, could have become... Who? That man in black from her dream? Sher was so eager to comfort and warm Nick that she didn't give way to her fears. But now the picture was being drawn in detail. And the reason for all this was connected to her. Yes, and just as inextricably as a virus with the Carduan fever...
Sher stopped intently tracing some signs on the navigator's strong shoulder with her fingertip, which only she understood, and threw her head back, trying to catch the expression in his eyes.
"Nick," she called softly. "What you said... Is that all that worries you about our relationship? I'm so afraid of a repeat of what tormented you today..."
"Mmm?" he opened his eyes. "Worries... Well, I can say that I'm worried that I'm tying you down. You could live in safety, and..."
Nick was clearly choosing his words.
"But you said your home is here, with me," he touched the tip of Sher's nose with his lips. "So, we only need to worry about having our own home..."
Sher squeezed her eyes shut from the kiss and couldn't help but smile.
"It tickles... Is that really all?" she asked, not yet fully calmed. "Perhaps I'm too..." what she was "too" Sher didn't say, not finding a suitable replacement for the word "assertive," becoming interested in something else. No. not about a home that needed worrying about.
"You would let me go... not to tie me down?" there was a hint of tense surprise in his voice.
"If I were a Light One, I would let you go," the navigator sighed. "Because you are not my property... But I guess I'm not Light Enough to do that..."
"To let go of a loved one without even trying to fight for them..." Sher drew a question mark on his shoulder. "I'm afraid, on this matter, Darkness appeals to me more... And if you were a Dark One, what kind would you be?" her hand froze, not putting a period.
"Do you really want to know?" Nick turned on his side, looking into her eyes.
"I do, Nick," she replied with a serious look. "It will be easier for me to prevent it... my enchanted prince," the smile that flickered on her lips was too weak to compete with the eyes where anxiety was freezing.
The man slowly turned his head, as if his shirt collar was too tight.
"Then very soon there would be nothing left of you, Sher," he said quietly. "You would look around and see what I want. You would listen to others, but hear them as I wished. And your thoughts would no longer be your own - you would think as I taught you..."
Sher was silent. To dissolve completely in a loved one is one thing, but to lose oneself and become a programmable android is quite another. It would be death.
"And wouldn't I be able to resist your will?" Sher asked with stubborn hope.
"For a while - maybe, yes," Nick answered just as quietly. "And then - either your will would become an extension of mine, or... Dark Ones, you know, they don't tolerate being contradicted. Next to them are either those who sing with their voice, or the dead."
"And you... could?" she asked barely audibly, still not believing. Yet she had heard something similar. In the Academy, someone boasted of his knowledge, though no one took it seriously... And he himself later seemed to have gone somewhere. So he wasn't lying...
"I did ask if you really wanted to know," it was said in a whisper now. "If I were a Dark One - I wouldn't just be able to... It would be natural, and no other kind of relationship would be possible... And now you'll be afraid that I'll actually do that to you one day."
She silently covered his mouth with a kiss, partly to not hear rash judgments, partly...
"No. Nick, I wasn't asking so I could be afraid," her slender palm gently touched his gray temple. "Thank you, Nick, for the truth... It must have been hard for you to tell," Sher looked thoughtfully at the navigator, "well, and - frankness for frankness... I won't hide it, it hurt me to hear this. I didn't know that Darkness changes so much. I mean, I knew... But, you see, when it concerns a loved one, it's hard to believe," she admitted, raising her gaze to Nick with her clear gray eyes. "But I won't give you to the Darkness, do you hear?" her arms hugged him as tightly as if that could hold him and help him win this invisible battle between Darkness and her love. "I'll pull you out... I have no life without you, Nick. I will still try to get you back, until the end..."
The commlink's call sounded so sharp in the silence that followed her words. And so untimely! But it was her commlink, and they don't call the doc just like that... Sher stepped barefoot onto the cold floor and fished out the commlink among the empty cups. It was Day... Looking pleadingly at Nick, Sher listened to her and realized that their time had run out... Everything as always.
"Lunch? Have they already forced you to work? This needs to be set up in the mess hall, on the upper deck," Sher said, remembering the captain's very sensitive, if not more, attitude towards discipline. "Wait, Day, I'll come now, we'll do everything."
The sigh was barely noticeable, so Day could hear it, but it was there...
Diving into Nick's warmth for a second made no sense.
"I need to help Day," she smiled guiltily, warming her frozen foot on the floor. "Lunch is brewing there..."
"Should I wait here or help you?" the navigator clarified, getting up from the bed.
"Rest, Nick," she advised with a smile, gently holding him back from trying to get up. "Surely two women can handle one lunch, especially since Day has already prepared everything!"
Sher got ready like a soldier. Much more time was spent kissing Nick and, stopping at the threshold, turning back to him with a loving smile. No matter how many years pass, she would probably still see him through the eyes of her first, tender love.
"That's all," Day thought, locking the cabin door, which was destined to become her home for an indefinite period. A sudden wave of weakness overcame her, as always. Her head spun, her whole body broke out in a sweat, her heart raced, and her hands trembled. She wanted to lie down and not get up for as long as possible. But her harsh upbringing didn't let her give up. Day threw off her dress, hung it on a chair, and collapsed onto the bunk. Everything she had experienced during the endless day threatened to crush her. When it became a little easier to breathe, the woman slowly got up and sat down. Her head was still spinning, but her heart had already slowed from a gallop to a light canter.
The thoughts swirling in her head were incoherent and very, very angry. Retz had won. No matter how, but he had won. The first coherent thought she managed to grasp made Day freeze, and her heart started galloping again because Retz could only develop such vigorous activity if something had happened to the Chief. Amazed by the simplicity of the guess and her own stupidity, the planetologist slapped her forehead with her palm and reached into her purse for her commlink, blessing the manufacturers of this cute little thing for having, among other things, a program that displayed the latest news on the screen.
Two touches and there it was: Weir Shelly found dead in his office. According to the official version, the cause of death was a massive brainstem stroke. Day carefully placed the commlink on the table and covered her face with her hands. Most of all, she wanted to howl and beat her head against the wall, because the news was the last straw. She didn't doubt for a second that the Chief had been murdered, and Retz had done it, not for nothing had he studied poisonous crystals from different worlds for many years. There were no tears, nothing at all. Only emptiness. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought flashed: how good it was that Eli and El were now on Kuat, and Yuj had a different family now, which meant Retz would either not have time for him, or his reach would be too short. And then came the realization. "Father Weir," as the younger colleagues called the Chief, was no more.
The Chief was more than a boss and a senior colleague; he was a Mentor.
Day remembered that she and Sher had bought spirits, and she rushed to the bags. In one of them, with clothes, was the coveted bottle. It was good that there were glasses in the cabin.
The woman opened the bottle, poured herself two-thirds of a glass. And drank it down in one gulp.
Alcohol is a very insidious thing. It has the property of amplifying the state in which a rational being has carelessly decided to get drunk. By the time her grief reached the size and power of a black hole, the door opened, and a disheveled head with purple eyes peeked in.
"Oh, it's occupied here. Excuse me, ma'am..."
Between Les's legs, a Kushibani with worry written on his face slipped into the cabin. Rudely stomping to the table and jumping onto it, the first mate pushed the glass aside with his paw. "I think this is already too much..."
"Forget it, boy," Day snapped, her eyes very cold and completely sober. Bus and the disheveled boy with beautiful eyes who came with him had no way of knowing the dark places she was wandering in now. She had "quit" at one time precisely because alcohol no longer helped relieve stress, or even affected her condition at all, but she couldn't ask Sher for neuroleptics! She sharply ran her hand across her forehead and, as if for the first time, saw Bus.
"I'm sorry, please," the woman said with a repentant smile, "and this is for you." And she handed him bouquets and a bag of fruit.
"Young man, excuse me, what can I offer you?"
The Kushibani sat down, holding the flowers with his paw, and tilted his head slightly. Lilac waves ran through his fur, and the long fur around his eyes began to resemble those of a young man. Day could feel the tightly tied knot inside her loosening, and the immense burden becoming lighter.
"Grief on one's shoulders is a mountain, on the shoulders of two - a feather," Les slipped into the cabin, sat on the floor, looking up through his long hair. "That's what they say in my homeland."
"Thank you..." Day hesitated, because she couldn't remember the young man's name at all.
"Les," the Kushibani prompted. "His name is Les. He's flying with us for now. You don't need to be shy, Day. I won't be offended."
"It's very nice to meet you, and my name is Day - and I'm here too," the woman said simply. "Les, you still haven't answered, what can I offer you after all? In my homeland, they say if a guest enters the house, he should not remain hungry, I have something left here," she waved her hand towards the bags of food, "choose."
And suddenly she stood up:
"Here's what, boys, I'll leave you for a couple of minutes, okay?"
And, picking up the bag with a change of clothes, she went into the bathroom, only to reappear with a completely different expression on her face. My grief is my problem, she decided, and it's definitely not worth burdening these two with it; it's better to just warm myself by Bus and admire Les's amazing eyes.
During her absence, Les managed to steal something from the bag and gnaw it beyond recognition. Bus hadn't touched the flowers.
"Everything that suits humans suits me, ma'am," the young man looked at the gnawed piece and bit it in half with a crunch. "Except medicine. And poisons."
"That's good," Day nodded. "You don't like flowers?" she asked the Kushibani. "Not tasty?"
"He's a fruitarian, he hasn't been seen eating grass," Rick prompted, folding his arms and leaning his shoulder against the bulkhead.
"This isn't grass!" Bus exclaimed. "These are flowers. The petals, by the way, are tasty."
Les finished gnawing his prey and stood up - for a change, without acrobatic stunts.
"All flesh is grass," Rick commented on the Kushibani's statement, then nodded at the open bottle and looked at the woman. "Day, any comments?"
"There will be," Day's face became stern for a moment, "two people died. I knew one, the other - I didn't. And," Day suppressed a nascent sob, "I am now a criminal, an informant, and a murderer. I dared to survive. And I can't get to that scum who arranged all this. Am I satisfying you?"
Rick's face became sadly reproachful, he looked at Bus and Les and gave a small semblance of a smile:
"Bus, Les, get out of here," his gaze became fitting for the guy's position on the ship, "this is an order."
Les snatched something else from the bag, the Kushibani grabbed the bouquet with his teeth, and both of them scurried out the door.
"Be careful..." it was not his thought that came to Rick.
Day settled more comfortably in her chair.
"Do you want to tell me something that even the first mate shouldn't hear?" the woman's eyes, which had turned completely green, stared intently at the captain. "Don't worry, I understand my situation. Half a glass for my weight is very little, believe me."
Rick shook his head, sat down at the table, took the liquid, and smelled its aroma.
"Curious," he said, placing the bottle on the table and, taking a clean glass, poured himself two fingers. "Do you think I'll be trying to drive out a wedge with a wedge?"
Looking through the liquid at the light panel, he took a sip, studying the bouquet of brandy with interest and waiting for the planetologist's answer.
"Well, you sent Bus and that strange boy, Les, out of here for some reason. There aren't many options: either you'll finish me off, or you won't. That's all."
"Not many options you have," swallowing the liquid, the guy didn't even wince, just smiled, "answer the question: why do you see me as an opponent?"
"Why an opponent right away?" Day smiled. "I meant, morally finish me off. If you decide to hand me over to the authorities, that will be... the end. Although you are within your rights, you have the ship and the crew," she spread her hands, "and I will accept that decision; your people must live."
"Who is an opponent? Someone to defend against. The means of defense don't matter here," he took another sip. "You are actively defending yourself right now. From me. Hence the question. Did I give you a reason?"
Day laughed.
"No, what are you talking about... I'm just a little... lost. Yes, I suppose I'm lost. There's no going back to my old life, the future is in a fog, so I'm trying to find at least some solid ground. Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I really have absolutely no idea what to do now."
"Well, at least you're not calling me a villain now," the guy nodded at the bottle, "do you think you'll find an algorithm for action at the bottom of the glass?"
"No. This is a memorial rite. I can't escort my chief to the Mother of the Existent. And the algorithm is as simple as Corellian rakes: captain, I ask you for refuge. I have a decent sum in my account, plus I can sell my house, which is also not cheap. And most importantly. My friends and I didn't manage to send the final reports on our work. And in light of recent events, what we found... is sort of nobody's. My hands are untied, so... whatever we found can be yours. Believe me, there are supplies there... there are."
"Yeah, with these thousand gods on Corellia, there are always problems," the guy sighed, "keep the data for yourself, regarding the house and the account... You have children, write a deed of gift, indicate a date a week ago and send it to a trusted lawyer. As far as I know, criminals' accounts are blocked. As is their property. I've already promised you refuge. I don't have a habit of kicking people out into the cold. Or non-humans."
"Thank you, Rick," Day didn't even try to hide her relief. "And the money... It's not on Corellia."
"That probably doesn't matter," the answer was immediate, "and this way you'll protect both yourself and your children."
"Okay," the planetologist nodded, "the deed of gift has been ready for a long time, I have a lawyer, all that's left is to send one single message."
"You'll use the ship's communication system when we exit hyperspace," Rick concluded, "and don't grieve for the dead, Day. We are all mortal. And most likely, few in my crew seriously expect to die their own death in bed."
"Sounds inspiring, captain. I hope you'll find something for me to do. The role of ballast is somewhat depressing," and the woman smiled again.
"You can play the role of ship's cook," the idea came out of nowhere, "that position is vacant."
"Why not," Day agreed easily, "I have to thank you for your hospitality somehow. Only I need a list of wishes so I can orient myself. Until now, I've only fed humans."
"Bus doesn't eat meat, the Arconka, Shai, should consume dactyl and must not eat salt under any circumstances," the main points were voiced, "the rest of the creatures are omnivorous. They like kaff and sweets. When we gather, you'll know more precisely. Any more questions?"
"I know about Bus, thanks for the others. I need a list of available products and, probably, I should gather..." the woman faltered, not knowing what to call the ship's inhabitants.
"That's for Weymi, she's in charge of non-technical supply matters," inventing a position for the Lethan on the fly wasn't easy, the speech turned out broken, "as for the crew, it's impossible for now. Personally, I have several matters in the cargo hold that need to be resolved urgently."
"Okay, captain," then, perhaps, we should discuss the menu later. And when is the next meal needed? And in general, for how many people should I cook?"
"Cook for everyone, in about an hour," the guy put his glass on the table, then got up, "And, Day, next time you decide to commemorate someone, don't do it alone."
"About the food - okay. And who and how I should commemorate, allow me to decide," it came out harshly, and Day added, "forgive me."
"No, Day, this is my ship," the captain said very calmly, "and I will react very harshly to the use of substances on board."
Stopping at the threshold, he looked at the woman and added,
"And you won't like it," and left the planetologist's cabin.
Day's mouth twitched, and she snorted:
"Thank you for the warning, captain. I'll let you know about the next commemorations. And I'll invite you. It's just a shame I don't know when they'll take place," the woman's face became predatory. "We also tend to see off our enemies. And also, captain. I don't drink at work. And also... Have you ever considered that they weren't hunting me at all, but Sher? Or maybe it's just that we're connected to this ship?"
But the captain no longer heard, absorbed in what he had to do.