Even if Sher had closed her eyes, it would have been impossible not to feel the cold. It was as if the icy vacuum of Space was seeping through the hull of the "Case"... But she was only afraid for where he had gone. This was her Nick, no matter what stood behind him now, no matter what abysses his eyes had seen. Now she doubted the safety of what he had started, and silently prayed to the Star Mother and the gods of Coruscant that it would all end. That he would return. To warm him up. With her heart, with the warmth of her soul, with her breath...
"I've already told you everything," the mercenary exhaled.
"We checked your words," the tone left no doubt – they had checked. With all thoroughness. "But the fact remains – the attack was carried out. Do you understand what that means?"
The mercenary understood. His face turned to stone.
"But, since you were misled by a dishonest employer," Nick paced around the chair, and the prisoner keenly caught his steps and the sounds of his voice, "we can show some leniency..."
Desperate hope and malicious, cruel joy reflected on the prisoner's face – for a moment, then he regained control.
"It means," the navigator stopped behind him, "that you will have to work off your freedom and the freedom of your people, if you are interested, of course."
"In..." the mercenary coughed. "Interested."
"Give him water," Nick ordered.
Yes... This was a SIB operative... It was impossible not to believe it. Even she felt uneasy. Memory only needs the thinnest straw to pull out a whole lump of memories, sensations, and images... She even remembered the smell of the aromatic water that her interrogator generously doused himself with when he stood nearby, as close as Nick was to the prisoner now... That smell would haunt her all her life... And how everything in her head rang, and it hurt to look at the imperial officer who kept asking her something and asking...
Sher flinched at Nick's voice – he had so unexpectedly intruded into her memories. But she approached the prisoner with a nearly inaudible, already firm step of a military person. The chill of synthplast touched the lips of the bound bandit. Sher slowly tilted the glass into his mouth, but two streams still flowed out from the corners of his mouth first.
The mercenary drank greedily, choking. And while he drank, the gray-haired, tall man with sharp features looked at him with a vacant gaze.
"We will let you go," Nick said evenly when the prisoner licked his lips, collecting the last drops of moisture. "You will find the one who hired you. Find out from him why he needs the woman. We are not interested in the method you will use to find this out."
The mercenary smiled with cracked lips.
"And how do I pass on the information, sir?"
"You have the 'Geyla' ID, don't you," Nick replied coldly, not taking his eyes off him. "Send a message for the ship."
"Yes, sir," the mercenary bowed his head.
After giving the prisoner water, Sher also moved away from the wall, clearly and silently, without looking at Nick, although he had stood very close to her all this time, behind the tied man. Was she afraid of distracting him? Or would a person to whom a security agent had given instructions during an interrogation behave like that? No, she wasn't afraid of Nick's eyes, she didn't want to see alienation in them. From this world, from her love, from her warmth. Sher leaned against the wall again, glancing at the prisoner. She felt sorry for the man who had been dealt with by the imperial special services, Sher thought. But not this one.
"You will be untied in half an hour," Nick paced around the mercenary again. "You have already received the money for the job, you will surely find a way to transfer it to the landing site. Buy new weapons. Each of you has been injected. Measured phrases fell into the silence. "If you transmit the information, you will receive a message on which drug to take to neutralize the effect of the introduced poison. This is a way to ensure the fulfillment of the condition on which you will gain freedom."
The prisoner flinched.
"You didn't think you'd be let go just like that, did you?"
Contempt, mockery, the coldness of arrogance in his voice. Barely perceptible – and therefore more effective than if the speaker were openly mocking.
"I understand, sir..." the mercenary squeezed out.
"I hope you really do understand," Nick threw. "Wait."
And he headed for the exit.
This was cleaner than Kessel. Death with an open date... When they promised to untie him in half an hour, gave him water to drink, when the prisoner was completely convinced that he had gotten away with it, having escaped with a scare and promises that, along with what had happened, could be forgotten like a terrible dream in the nearest cantina... But death was already doing its black work in your blood, killing you every second, cell by cell. Now – one, then another... And there's no escaping it, like escaping yourself. It has become you... There is only one way to avoid it, and Sher had no doubt that the man who killed without hesitation would stop at nothing to survive. It was a strong and ruthless move... And again, as in "The Haven," when she learned that Nick was a SIB operative, she involuntarily thought that their meeting could have been completely different... But... the thought flashed and disappeared. With Nick, she wanted to live in the present, every precious second of it, and dream of the future...
Shergi followed the navigator, without fuss or haste, like a well-trained escort, not forgetting to turn off the lights and lock the door. But, finding herself outside, she stepped towards him, standing a little apart, and took his hand with her palm. Let her cling to him like a mynock... So be it.
Nick silently pulled her to him, buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent.
"Day will have to release them," he whispered. "Rick, as far as I could feel, is asleep and really needs rest."
"Day?" she repeated in a whisper, her eyes closed. "Day, whom they were supposed to capture?!" Sher's eyes immediately opened. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"She is the only crew member whose appearance they know," the navigator explained quietly. "And her voice too, probably. They already know her. The fact that she will be the one to release them will confirm that the mercenaries were set on an imperial agent. And rumors spread very quickly in this environment... We have no better way to shake off almost all the hunters from her tail. But I will have to be on standby, so that they don't see me... Fear can make people lose their self-preservation instinct."
"Will you instruct her yourself?" Shergi asked and sighed. Yes, a mynock, because she didn't want to let him go so much... These slender fingers, this reliable shoulder... "Can I come with you, for backup?" – her pleading intonation carried notes of timid hope. "Please..."
"Are you sure you can avoid hitting Day?" he smoothed her light hair, which he himself had tousled.
"From what distance?" she asked honestly.
"From door to door," he answered just as honestly. "If you have to shoot – then to kill. Stan won't reach."
"I can guarantee I won't hit her. Exactly, to kill," she confirmed without a hint of a smile.
"The Force, what I'm teaching my beloved woman and doctor..." the navigator sighed, pulling her to him again. "Let's go... We have two more."
"To protect our happy future, Nick," she said softly. "And you know... I like that you tie me up... Just don't let go..." she asked quietly. "Well, let's go already, we're running out of time..."
The second conversation didn't take long. True, the prisoners had to be woken up with medication. The navigator was just as brief, dryly informed them about the administered drug, the conditions that would ensure their lives, told them how much time they had until their release, and left the room, glancing at the bandages on the militants' eyes.
"Is that all?" he asked, stopping in the corridor.
"Well, the captain also strongly asked us to behave ourselves and not get into another interesting story," Sher chuckled, prudently putting her hands behind her back. "And to drop Mr. Karvo off at Nexus-Ortay... Although, it seems to me, it's too early for him... True, I didn't manage to tell Rick about it, he's so exhausted..." the doctor sighed.
"I think it's even too early for him to go into the jungle," the navigator chuckled. "I'll go ask him what Rick promised him. Can you pick up a first-aid kit for him for the road for now?"
"Well, of course, Nick," Sher smiled her soft smile, "I wouldn't let him go without it. And tell him to see a doctor anyway," she asked. "Well, and I'll go to the hold, and sort out the medications," Sher added, clasping her hands behind her back even tighter. It didn't sound very cheerful. "And... And Mr. Solka and Les..." she found something else to ask, already taking a step towards the elevator. "Are they with us, or..."
While collecting plates for washing, Les was thinking about something intently. His movements became more rapid and at the same time precise, as if he wasn't doing simple housework, but solving a complex problem that required maximum concentration.
This did not escape Day's notice; she pondered for a long time whether to disturb the boy's concentration, and then, when the table became spotlessly clean again, and what remained was ready to be carried away, she couldn't resist and called out:
"Le-es..."
Ryno, who was bent over the dishes, looked back – with a quick movement, like a cat caught stealing sausages. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I'm sorry... but I can't call you 'you'," Day said something completely different from what she intended, "are you sure you've eaten enough?"
Les shook his bangs in agreement.
"I'm not an adult yet," he explained. "It's not customary for us to address an adult informally if they don't have the status."
"Is that so..." the woman said thoughtfully, "so have you eaten enough or not?"
"I've eaten enough," Les confirmed, clattering the plates. "You cook wonderfully, thank you."
"Thank you," Day smiled and lightly touched the boy's crown again; it seemed to her that his hair smelled of herbs, "and if it's not a military secret, what are you thinking so... – she paused, searching for the right word, – intensely about?"
Les seemed to shrink under her hand.
"Is it that noticeable?" he asked shyly. "I always forget... I was thinking about why you treat me so differently."
"In what sense 'you'? People?" Day asked and slightly furrowed her brows, creating a wrinkle between them.
"No," Les began loading the plates into the dishwasher. "You – the crew of this ship. The Captain... almost constantly has his hand on his holster, but he agreed to give me work. The navigator – as if I'm not even here. You women, on the other hand, treat me like an equal..."
Day laughed, her laughter soft and somehow affectionate: "Les, my never-setting sun, I joined the crew even later than you – so I can't say anything about the others... Both the captain and the navigator are stern people and have probably seen a lot of bad things in their lives, that's probably where it all comes from. Including caution. They probably see you differently than women do, and differently than I do," Day sighed, "forgive me, but I see not the happiest boy in this Universe, whom I just want to warm and feed," she smiled. "My twins will be older than you," her voice trembled slightly, but the woman quickly regained control, "and children should be happy... And also... you remind me of the boys I grew up with in the orphanage. You see how much there is. And this is just from me."
"In the orphanage?" Les looked at her with curiosity and lowered the lid of the filled machine. "I guess I should say I sympathize. If your orphanage is at least half as deadly boring as ours..."
The woman nodded.
"Even more so. Although... in the corporate orphanage, there was a large library, and they didn't chase me out of there."
"Library..." Les sighed. "A library is always interesting. Haylan said he knows a lot about different peoples, I hoped to talk to him. But he didn't even come out for lunch."
"He's probably not feeling too well, you just need to wait," and a smile touched Day's lips again, and then she asked: "Forgive me if this is painful, you don't have to answer, but I'll ask anyway," the woman took a breath. "How did you end up in the orphanage?"
"Just like everyone else," Les shrugged and clattered the forks. "I turned eight, learned family traditions and history at home, it's time to learn the traditions and customs of society... And everything else too... It's time."
The way the boy said these words so simply and casually made Day's blood run cold. At eight years old! That's a very young child... And to an orphanage! She ended up within these walls at 12, and even five years were enough to understand what she wanted least for her children. A sharp pain throbbed in the left side of her chest, and tears welled up in her eyes. The pain was so strong that the woman had to sit down on a nearby chair.
"Is it customary for you?" she asked, trying not to change her expression.
"Well, yes," Les began to wipe the cutlery. "We... Much of our life is based on traditions. When we lived in isolation, everything was softer. But when contacts with the outside world appeared, the elders decided that it was necessary to preserve our culture. Therefore, children spend eight years at home, then eight years in an orphanage. We call it differently, but the essence is similar. Eight years after that – training in a chosen profession. And then work, until you can achieve such heights in it that you gain adult status."
"I see," Day said, trying to breathe slowly so it wouldn't hurt so much, "and do all parents calmly give their children to an orphanage?" the woman asked in a very even voice, stifling a rising cry.
"I don't know," Les replied quietly after a pause. "Mom cried. She tried not to let anyone see, but her eyelids were red. And with others... You see, we didn't ask each other about such things. About families. That is, of course, everyone knew, at least by surname, who belonged to which lineage. But there, in the dormitory, everyone was in equal positions. And if I started asking someone about his parents... Well, they would start having educational conversations with me. My teeth always ached from them."
Biting her lip, the woman slowly got up from the chair and forcefully pulled the boy to her, hugged him, and buried her nose in his crown. She couldn't speak, only tears rolled from her eyes.
Les froze, like a chick covered by a palm. Oh, what they would do to him in that dormitory if they found out he had made an adult woman cry... But she was hugging him, and that was confusing. Ryno awkwardly, having lost his honed plasticity of movement, put the fork on the table, hesitated for a few seconds, and then awkwardly tried to hug Day.
"Did I upset you? I'm sorry..."
"Oh, don't, little one," she replied in a quiet whisper, "you didn't upset me. I've always been a crybaby," her smile was warm, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, "and no one bothered me in the orphanage only because older boys patronized me, as I was always ready to help with assignments. So no one stopped me from crying as much as I wanted. Since then, I've grown up a little, but I'm still a crybaby," for a moment she became that thirteen-year-old girl with eyes red from books and tears, and then she returned, a full-grown woman with a soft smile.
"Everything is fine, little one," and she kissed Les loudly on the crown and released her embrace.
Ryno held her for a few seconds before lightly butting his forehead against her shoulder, letting go, and returning to the dishes.
"In general, I ran away right after graduation," he said, arranging the cutlery in compartments. "As soon as I got my identity card."
"And you're brave!" the woman's voice held respect, "I didn't dare. Although I wanted to. And then?"
"I'm not brave, I just don't want to spend another sixteen years to be allowed to get status," Les shook his bangs. "Here you can learn something that they don't teach at home. New knowledge, new skills – that's status. So I'm, alas, just looking for easy ways."
Day pulled a napkin from her trouser pocket and wiped her eyes. The scholar in her raised his head again.
"And how is status confirmed?" she asked.
"It depends on who claims it," Les finished with the dishes and straddled a stool opposite Day. "If someone who has received and mastered a profession in their homeland, they will need to show that they have achieved great success and can now teach others. They are an adult. If someone who has left for the outside world – they will need to prove that the knowledge they have gained will benefit society. If their achievement is recognized as necessary, they will also gain status. It's a little different for women. If she is healthy, knows how to handle children and run a household, then eight years after graduating from the corps, she is considered an adult and can get married."
"And do you really want to go back?" Day asked irrelevantly.
This time Ryno didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know," he finally said. "There are so many opportunities here... And you don't have to strive for status to get the right to a family. And no one is forced to live by ancient codes. But... One day I'll have to do it. It would be good to learn enough by then."
Day didn't like something in his words very much, and she asked her question very quietly:
"One day I'll have to... For what?"
"I am the only heir," Les looked through his light brown hair. "There is such a thing as duty to one's lineage."
Day, who had imagined all sorts of things, exhaled with relief.
"May the Great Mother grant your parents a long life, little one," and she stroked the amazing boy's hand, "forgive me, I'm a bit tired today – will you escort me to my cabin?" – she didn't finish saying that she could breathe in his presence.
There wasn't much time left, but very little. Understanding what Rick intended to do with Mukha, the navigator went to look for Day. In the corridor, he ran into Les coming out of her cabin.
"She's resting," Ryno looked at Nick from under his brows.
"It's urgent," the navigator replied impatiently. The awakened past imperiously demanded that the obstacle be removed.
"What could be so urgent?" Les didn't even think of getting out of the way.
Nick sighed. Rick had taken the boy into the crew, and he had to reckon with that.
"I need to instruct her," he explained. "The mercenaries we took on board will have to be released. She will do it."
Les scowled.
"Why her?"
"I don't have time," Nick shrugged. "Move aside."
"Over my dead body," Les warned.
Nick placed his hand on his holster.