At the galley's threshold, Sher appeared unexpectedly and silently.
"It smells wonderful," she closed her eyes, entering. It only smelled like that in Esta Carrad's kitchen when she was waiting for her husband to return from duty. Or her daughter... Only there. Imperial cadet and officer cuisine was nutritious, but so boring and ascetic... Cutlets, porridge. Standard soups... Only soldier food was more ascetic. However, it couldn't be compared to what she had been eating for the last two years. Glory to the Empire, at least there was no doubt about the freshness of the food prepared by Imperial chefs.
"Day, my stomach is already producing a lot of juice," the doctor smiled. "Why didn't you invite me to share such an honorable task? The captain didn't entrust it to me, no matter how much I begged... What should I grab? And tell me, in secret, what is it?" she nodded at the large containers, in which something was still bubbling and emitting an aroma...
"I think you were busy," Kayl smiled. It was no secret to her where the girl got her slightly wild eyes. Love adorns anyone, but Sher not only glowed with happiness, but seemed about to take flight, "and besides, using a doctor in the kitchen is like hammering nails with a microscope. My profession is useless in space," the bitter irony that broke through these words struck her herself. "And here..." her voice changed completely, "red Corellian soup, grilled meat with vegetables, biscuit, caf, and fruit salad, and yes, how could we forget it – dactyl," and Day pointed to a bowl filled to the brim with yellow crystals.
"I have a feeling we'll have to make a few trips, one person, even two, doesn't have enough hands, and everything is hot. Grab the salad for now," Sher said, picking up the container with the main course, "and we'll come back for this," and she nodded at the container with the soup, "it's hard to carry alone."
"Let me help," Les stood in the doorway, his eyes gleaming through his long hair. "Ma'am, the captain wanted to see you. He's in the compartment next to where you examined me."
"Sher, hurry, it seems the captain is one of those who doesn't like to wait. Les, you'll have to take what Sher was supposed to carry. And we'll still have to make a second trip, it's a shame neither you nor I are Besalisks... Shall we go?"
The wonderful visions of her mother's kitchen were ruthlessly destroyed by a messenger from a cruel reality. Although Les, with his peculiar appearance, bore little resemblance to this messenger.
But the captain wouldn't likely call the doctor just to admire her beautiful eyes.
"Don't worry, Day, I'll carry my own, we're going the same way," Sher declared, picking up the pot of red soup, unconsciously revealing her food preferences, and headed for the elevator. If nothing else, the doctor had strong hands.
The skinny sneak grabbed the rest, managing not to drop anything. His teeth were free, which he immediately used.
"Besalisks must make excellent jugglers."
"You bet," Day chuckled, and followed Sher and Les towards the dining room.
This time, Sher didn't feel like the ship's elevator was too slow. It would be impolite to examine Les, to talk to Day? The conversation would be too short. So she wondered what the captain needed. After the section, the expectations could be promising, but most likely, she decided, it was a summons to the carpet.
"This is our dining room," Sher freed herself from the pot, placing it on the metal table and sighing. "Now I have to leave you," she was already out the door, but peeked back in. "Day, not out of duty, but out of friendship..." a quick glance towards Les, and she finished in an almost disinterested tone. "The navigator after a serious illness. Well, the portion should be larger."
"Sher, the captain only told me to cook, and how much everyone eats is clearly not my business. Honestly, I have no idea how things are on this ship with... this... I'll carry it, set the table, and then it's self-service."
"It's not a restaurant, after all," Day finished mentally.
"Oh, sorry," Sher was embarrassed. "That's in case I get busy... Sorry," and her head disappeared from the doorway.
"Good luck!" Day shouted after her.
Les watched her go, his expression somber through his bangs, and placed his load on the table.
"Should I go get anything else?"
"Let's go together, Les," Day allowed herself another second of admiring the boy's eyes, "there's still a lot of small stuff left, and you and I still have two upper limbs."
Rayno nodded and turned towards the elevator.
"Why don't you take the grav-cart?" he asked, looking back at the woman. "It's on board, I saw it. Larius brought the crew of the 'Hunt's Gem' lunch on it."
"And I didn't know about its existence," Day smiled, despite her strong desire to advise the captain to take a wagonload of amnesia pills, "do you know where it is? And yes, do you think the captain wouldn't mind?"
"I'll find it now," the elevator stopped, and a fluffy first mate was discovered on the floor in front of it. "Oh... Bus, have you seen the cart?"
"I have," the kushibane replied concisely.
"Will you show me? We need to transport lunch."
Wagging his tail, the alien scurried down the corridor.
"Boys, can you handle it yourselves?" was all Day asked.
Two gestures – a flick of his tail and a wave of his long-fingered musician's hand – assured her that they would manage.
Grinning after the departing pair, the woman returned to the galley. She needed to slice cheese and arrange the sweets bought an eternity ago beautifully before the "boys" returned, and not forget the dactyl. As she worked, Day's thoughts strangely veered into a not-so-cheerful direction.
"The pinnacle of my career, damn it, a cook! Wonderful!"
Her own life seemed wasted at that moment. Catching herself wanting to lock herself in her cabin and cry, Day gritted her teeth and chuckled.
"Oh well, Recz isn't eternal either, and one day I'll read his obituary in the news."
The boys really managed. A few minutes later, the first mate entered the galley triumphantly on a cart, driven by Les. The cart braked at the table, and the kushibane slid down.
"Here," he was clearly aiming to break all records for brevity today.
Day burst out laughing. The scene that appeared before her eyes was too comical.
"Let's load up," and she waved her hand towards the plates, bowls, and containers lined up on the workbench.
Rayno smiled back – with one side of his face. Les and Day had to load. Bus decided he was too important a person and diligently supervised the process of carrying lunch to the cart, not participating. When everything was loaded, the kushibane moved towards the elevator, solemnly carrying his long, fluffy tail.
A smile uncontrollably stretched Day's lips the entire time the grand transportation of lunch lasted. "Boys" – almost human and almost feline – seemed to pull her out of the darkness. Judging by Les's constant hunger, he was clearly in his teenage years. El, when he turned thirteen, also devoured everything in sight and grew almost twenty centimeters in a year... And what Eli did at that age... Without thinking, the woman reached out and stroked Les's hair.
Rayno's shoulders, already angular, became sharp. For a fraction of a second. Then they relaxed. If the xenobotanist were sensitive to others' emotions, she would have sensed a strong confusion – Les didn't know how to react to this touch.
Bus came to his rescue – he didn't need a translator. For a second, he got tangled in Les's legs, the young man almost stumbled, and when he straightened up, smiling eyes gleamed through his bangs.
"Your hand is like Mom's, ma'am..."
"Thank you, little one," the word that escaped her lips was a surprise even to herself. "Shall we go eat, huh?" and she gently hugged Les by the shoulders, winking conspiratorially at Bus.
"I'll call the others."
The kushibane wagged his tail and disappeared.
"I'm not a little one, I'm already sixteen," Les tried to grumble. It wasn't very convincing.
The woman pulled the young man closer and kissed him on the crown of his head.
"Of course, you're grown up," she smiled, "but for a mother, children are always little ones, even if they already have children of their own. Will you help set the table?"
"Of course, ma'am," after a moment's hesitation, Les wriggled out of her arms and got to work. Day had the impression that he was made entirely of bones, loosely covered with skin.
"Mother of Gods, who managed to starve a child like this!" she thought indignantly, arranging containers, bowls, and plates.
"Cap," the cargo bay door slid open, and the doctor stepped across the threshold, looking around in bewilderment at the tied-up bodies and Rick. All three – Rick and the others – were in similar states.
"C-ap," Sher repeated, her voice trembling for some reason, "Rick, did you call? Are you not feeling well?"
"Why whisper?" the guy said insinuatingly, lifting his head. He had sensed the doctor's approach in advance, but it was too much effort to get up and move earlier. "Are we afraid of someone?"
"Yes," Sher sighed, calming down, hearing the captain's voice. "Let sleeping dogs lie..."
She didn't bother to clarify what kind of "dog" this was.
"Oh, they're sleeping, they're sleeping," Rick waved his hand, getting to his feet and yawning shamelessly. "Here's the thing, I worked a bit with their third comrade... And the drug's effect has somewhat diminished, he might wake up. That's why I called you."
Sher nodded understandingly. If the captain worked...
"Did you happen to inject yourself with anything?" she looked at Rick with concern. He looked terrible, and there had been precedents.
"Eight hours of intravenous sleep?" the guy clarified. "I doubt you have that..."
"Fantasy isn't my forte," Sher agreed, looking at Rick sympathetically. The captain had it tough. And he's getting it. And he'll keep getting it... "Day made a magnificent lunch," she said, clearly not as compensation for sleep, but definitely to lift his spirits.
"Where's your work, Rick? I was told they were injected with a sedative. An ampoule is enough for 6-8 hours of deep sleep on average. Well, in any case, no less than four. They'll be sleeping for a while yet," she nodded at the fighters. "And what are you going to do with them? And who... of them?" she asked more quietly. Rick couldn't help but understand which of the fighters interested her.
"Targeted the navigator? Hutt knows," Rick shrugged, suppressing a yawn. "We probably won't do anything with them. No point. We'll let them go after I've processed this pair too. Sher, you wouldn't sharpen a blaster in a person's hand, would you? Mercenaries are like blasters. Organic tools."
Sher made an effort and remained silent, but she shuddered inwardly.
"I don't need to sharpen a blaster either, captain," she grinned, "a small overdose, not life-threatening, by the way, of one of the neuroleptics, and – voilà, amnesia on the way out... Short-term... but it'll be enough for them... Although I won't be able to do that either..."
"Oh, you see, if they have memory loss, it's not in our favor," the guy smiled, pointing to the door and heading towards the escape pods. "And if they return to the client, angry and convinced that he sent them to an Imperial ship under cover..."
He fell silent, letting the girl finish the picture herself.
"Listen, Rick, that's brilliant!" Sher exclaimed sincerely. "Maybe this will stun the client, and he'll back off? Trying to outsmart the Empire is like..." she didn't dare use the comparison that came to mind and finished, "well, it's more expensive for them, in general... Then I'll pick a drug that won't affect their memory. And also," Sher paused and stopped. But she couldn't help herself. "Rick, can I ask you something? Not as captain. As a person I respect very much and consider a friend."
"Sher, you can always ask," the doctor's approval was pleasant, but he was primarily interested in what Nick would say. "The question is whether I will fulfill the request."
"Rick, you sometimes use expressions towards Nick that leave me bewildered...," she admitted.
"Yes, you've known each other a long time, you have your own relationship, but your words don't sound very pleasant to me."
"What expressions?" the former lone smuggler stopped, looking the doctor in the eye.
"I don't remember them, captain," Sher shrugged.
"Perhaps. the words are quite ordinary, for example, "to have one's neck soaped," but in relation to Nick, it sounds somehow..."
"Sher, I didn't go to academies," Rick smiled,
"my style is usually simple and direct, even though I had to learn to speak flowery and expand my vocabulary to a certain level. But when someone's neck is soaped, I say so. I won't fuss over the crew like they're discarded bags. And believe me, this in no way characterizes my relationship with Nick."
"I wasn't talking to the captain, Rick," Sher reminded him, smiling softly,
"but I understood everything. And I still have many questions and conversations for the captain. For example, about how I bought a blood synthesizer, taking a loan from Day," she confessed.
Rick waved his hand, sighing, and headed further towards the escape pods.
"How much?" his voice held a sense of doom.
"You misunderstood me," she chuckled, quickening her pace,
"we agreed that I would pay her back in installments when I earned it. I know it's too big an expense for us, so I plan to work it off so Day gets her credits back. But now I can synthesize any blood, you understand? Any! And we have a seven percent discount at Bakran on all medications and equipment, regardless of the amount... Although we're unlikely to go back there... And I got the replicator for a thousand credits cheaper," she blurted out, practically in one breath, matching Rick's pace.
"Ah... What's there to say! All their conversations are on the go..."
"Sher, how much?!" Rick stopped by the compartment door, looking the doctor in the eyes again.
"A lot, captain," Sher sighed,
"I have about five hundred, so I have four left to earn," she lowered her gaze, imagining that she would have to work as a doctor on the "Lucky Chance" practically for life. Although, was she against it?
The guy shook his head.
"Next time, you should contact me before making such purchases," he said very calmly,
"I'll take your debt upon myself."
"No, Rick," Sher replied just as calmly and firmly.
"My debt is my debt. Day isn't in a hurry to leave us in the foreseeable future, and I don't want to penalize the crew for such a large sum. If it were a hundred credits for broken dishes in the cantina," she laughed,
"that would be one thing. But like this..."
"You're forgetting who the captain is here," the guy said in the same tone,
"there's a person there, examine him and make sure he sleeps for a few more hours. Tell Day to leave me a portion of food in the refrigerator. And try not to get into trouble before we arrive at Nexus-Ortay, I need to sleep."
"It will be done, captain," Sher said almost meekly. She couldn't have answered his words any other way.
"But... Don't you think the Imperials would hardly have let these guys," she nodded towards the room with the escape pods,
"just like that..."
"Explain the plan to Nick, let him think about it and give me his opinion," the guy said tiredly,
"and I'm going to sleep."
"Okay, we'll do everything, don't worry, and go finally, get some rest," Sher gently turned him by the shoulders towards the elevator and immediately bit her lip. It seemed that one doesn't treat the ship's captain like that... Well, as the ship's doctor, she was simply obliged to take care of the health of the contingent entrusted to her. Even in this way. And before Rick said anything to her, Sher considered it best to disappear behind the door of the room, a couple of steps from which they had stopped.
When the door closed completely against the wall, sliding into its grooves, Sher found herself in complete darkness and silence. She found the lighting panel by touch. It reacted to the doctor's fingers with a very faint, diffused illumination of the room. This mode suited Sher perfectly. Since the client wasn't entirely clear, it was better to eliminate all external stimuli. The main thing was that she could see him. Another question was whether she wanted to look... Sher silently made her way to the container she had chosen in the morning, which she had adapted as a stool during the crew's examination on the "Gem," and set the medical sensor to frequency-amplitude analysis of brain biopotentials.
"...A man in his prime, in excellent physical condition, with a great appetite and healthy sleep, one must assume.... He infiltrated the "Chance" to... To kill its crew. Maybe Nick too – him? Maybe. Like any of these three, if he had the opportunity. What did Rick say? Something like those three are just dumb killing machines? Whoever buys them, they shoot for them? Probably. From credits to conscience – a hopeless call, alas... It's just that they should bear responsibility along with the заказчики. They certainly can't be blamed for a lack of consciousness...
And enough thinking about them!" Sher cut herself off. In the glance she cast at the combatant one last time, a flicker of pity flashed. True, it mainly concerned the impossibility of sending him immediately straight to hell – to Kessel. She still had to fuss over him like a rotten egg and protect his sleep.
But after a couple of minutes, having read the result from the medical sensor, she realized she had hurried... No, the client wasn't asleep...
More precisely, he seemed to be asleep... On the monitor, in the electrogenesis, in the occipital-parietal region, desynchronization was registered, while in the right hemisphere, in the frontal-temporal leads, slow-wave delta activity potentials predominated, which could indicate deep sleep, if alpha activity hadn't also been present there... But on the left hemisphere side, only slow-wave activity was observed.
"And only in the frontal lobe. So, the controlling function of the left hemisphere has ceased..." Sher concluded to herself.
"Oh no, this isn't just sleep. This is an altered state of consciousness – a deep trance..." the doctor thought, looking at the combatant, and began to twist a strand of hair around her index finger. Sher approached the combatant very closely, so that the tiny beads of sweat that had appeared on his forehead and in the nasolabial triangle of his face, relaxed to the complete smoothing of all wrinkles and folds, became noticeable. It was motionless, only a barely perceptible, fine tremor made the man's eyelids twitch. He breathed deeply and slowly... Sher came up behind him and clapped her hands. The clap above the combatant's head was unexpectedly sharp and loud.
There was no reaction. The surrounding reality did not exist for the captive.
All his attention was redirected inward to his subconscious, to his images, anxieties, and sensations.
Rick's concern was unnecessary; the captive would not wake up on his own. And waking the captain because of this was definitely not worth it.
Sher picked up the sensor, the room plunged back into darkness, for a few seconds letting in a strip of light from the deck, and then it too disappeared. The combatant was left alone with the escape pods, which were useless to him.