After the navigator left the cabin, Rick had one last thing to do, and then he was free. As free as a crew captain can be. With a familiar, now barely perceptible effort, he plunged into the Force in search of Weymi. She was found in the Arkon's cabin, where Rick headed. He knocked on the door and entered.
The girls were sitting on the bunk, their legs tucked under them, examining a string of beads made of soft woolen balls. They turned at the knock, and Weymi waved her lekku:
"Hi! Did you sleep well? We left you something to eat, in the thermos, it's all hot. Day prepared so many delicious things!"
"Can't help but be pleased," he smiled, taking a clip-bracelet from his pocket, "I think jewelry suits a girl better than a ship's captain."
"Oh," the Lethan jumped on the bunk. "He needs light!"
She snapped the clip onto her lekku, immediately tried on the beads, and was pleased.
"Warm..." Weymi stroked the downy balls.
"I hope no one on board has allergies," Rick shook his head, "if you need me, contact me through the comlink."
And turning, he headed off to his strictly captain's business.
Free time after Rick became captain was as elusive and desired as the Katana fleet for treasure hunters. But now he had snatched a breath of fresh air, which he wanted to dedicate entirely to tinkering with metal. Blasters, a Verpine destroyer, and many other useful and not-so-useful parts lay on the workbench before him. Turning on the local terminal and connecting to the Navicom's power, he began to disassemble his favorite – the "Kilan."
The blaster itself was good, with excellent penetration and stopping power, but it was a challenge, and Rick simply wanted to surpass the creators of this tool. Besides, fitting the grip to his hand was also a necessary thing. The barrel should not just lie in the hand, but be an extension of it.
A small handheld cutter, a bunch of measuring instruments, and a computational computer could do little without what Rick was creating in his head. A few sketches, the construction of a schematic diagram, gradually overgrown with details, and now a working model, assembled from parts of various blasters, hung on three screens.
To refine something, to leave something as it was. An engineer's work largely consists of simple component assembly, but sometimes you have to file something down. Files – an ancient type of grinding tool – had long been displaced from mechanical engineering, but he had seen it once when he went to a carpentry workshop. A few small strips of metal, in an elegant mahogany box, were a relic of a master from Corellia, whose worktable stood in the office of the "TechMaster."
In general, the construction of a blaster and its operating principle are as simple as a hammer blow, the question was in the operation of the system elements and their arrangement.
A small parts manufacturing plant, capable of creating complex shapes from most materials, was very helpful. Thanks to those bureaucrats who mandated that large tonnage ships be equipped with such equipment.
The blaster assembly process could begin after the parts were ready, and that would take time. Getting up from the workbench, Rick set a timer on the deck and went to his cabin, taking two untouched blasters with him. He needed to grab something from there.
In the room where the captured militants had recently been, it was quiet and dim. Placing a container on the floor, he tinkered with it for a few minutes, and then a droid fluttered out, hovered at the level of the guy's face, and winked with a green indicator light. Rick slowly began to practice familiar moves, glimpsed in a smart book. Not that he considered them effective; to consider something, you need to know something, and he didn't consider himself proficient in close combat. But the movements dispersed the blood, warmed up the limbs, and therefore were an excellent warm-up.
He should have counted two minutes in his head, dedicated to warming up, but he completely trusted the Force, plunging into it. His movements did not become smoother or more correct, but he understood well what he was doing and which muscle groups were working at any given moment. And also... He also felt the surrounding space well. After two minutes, the droid began to circle the man, a weak blaster mounted in it menacingly extended a miniature muzzle from its body. A small antenna appeared on top of the droid, ending in a small metal plate. Three seconds later, it fired.
The captain of the "Sluchay" was standing with his back to the droid at this time and was about to strike the invisible opponent with his hand, but, feeling a clear threat coming from behind, he rolled, drawing his blaster with his right hand, turning his body, and aiming at the point from which the threat originated.
In vain, the droid was no longer there: obeying the programmed routine, it decided to change position and soared to the ceiling, immediately firing again.
Rick didn't even have time to curse. Dodging the next blaster charge, he aimed in another fall and fired at a small target. The discharge passed two centimeters away, the mechanical opponent plummeted down and to the left, firing two more shots along the way. One passed a millimeter from his body, scorching the futobalka on his shoulder, the other unpleasantly hit his chest, leaving a minor but very unpleasant burn.
"Stop!" the command made the droid stop, the indicator lit up green again. Kontr got up only after he had dulled the pain, examining the reddened spots on his body. Not bad for a start. If there had been a person in place of the droid, he would have hit, and there would have been no third and fourth shots. But... there were droids, and he had to shoot at them. Making two smooth turns, stretching his neck, Rick said:
"Let's dance!"
And an incredibly broken dance began again. The droid fired, sometimes moving, sometimes hovering, the captain dodged it, jumped, somersaulted, fell and got up, snapping back. The seventh or eighth attempt reached its goal, the droid lit up green again, the guy fell to his knees, ready to use his tongue as a scarf.
But a satisfied smile played on his face.
Sher promised not to leave Nick all these days, until Florna. But she had to leave almost immediately after he went on his unscheduled watch. The doctor still had a tiny hope that Rick would change his mind about her participation in the jungle operation. Well, maybe... Perhaps she was deceiving herself to remain calm, living on this hope, so that Nick wouldn't feel her extreme anxiety these days. Therefore, she decided to prepare everything she wanted before landing on Florna. And for that, she had to bother Cap. So, she went to bother Rick after the cabin door closed behind the navigator. And not alone. She was accompanied by a double of "Old Q," it wasn't possible to do it earlier. Well, perhaps it was for the best.
Rick was found in the workshop, which was already good after looking into only three rooms. He stood at his workbench, and Sher leaned her back against the bulkhead, silently watching his hair tied in a ponytail. "If Cap is the first person, then let's start with him first," she grinned.
The captain of the "Sluchay" was rummaging through a pile of electronics, and even a seasoned technician couldn't figure out what Rick was making. Tearing himself away from his work for a few seconds, surprised as if he had seen a new porthole in the workshop wall, he spoke:
"How is the teenager feeling?" His voice was dry, and he didn't look at the girl, returning to his work.
Sher looked at the captain's slightly swollen eyes at the back of his head.
"Did you sleep well, Cap?" she asked as if nothing had happened and shrugged. "A bruise," the answer was extremely concise.
She moved a few steps closer to him and added:
"For now, everything is fine with him, Cap. He wants to be considered an adult. I believed his words that everything is okay. But I'm watching him. And the sensor is always with me, Cap," Rick could understand her words. Or not understand them. But she had her own professional secrets, which she wasn't going to reveal.
"Well, that's good," Rick wiped the sweat from his forehead with a nearby rag and continued his work. Wires were intertwined from a standard diatome energy cell, several lenses of different calibers lay nearby. "I slept well. Did you come just to chat, or with a purpose?"
"To chat, but with a purpose, Cap. That would be more accurate," she nodded her head. "But I have several purposes."
"Well, we'll start shooting from afar. From Bakran," she grinned to herself, tossing a bottle of lomin ale in her hand.
"Here, still from Bakran... Day and I bought you... Well, you're probably hot and thirsty, I think. So, here," Sher came very close so that the captain would look at her. If only because it's unpleasant when someone stands behind you.
Rick was busy, and if he could be distracted for a while to greet, then turning around like this – he couldn't. Sher had to wait for his answer for almost six seconds.
"Sher, I would be grateful if you would sit on the chair," he gestured with his head, directing the girl to a stool near the workbench, "I can't tear myself away yet."
If the work was to be completed at this stage, the schematic, which had to be soldered manually due to the lack of special equipment, would have to be redone from scratch, and the captain simply didn't want to waste time again, and considering that the probability of error was also present, it could become a real torture.
Finding a diatome battery turned out to be simple: some ship systems were equipped with them for autonomy, and a few were found in spare parts, and then everything went a bit topsy-turvy. He knew what a lightsaber was, he had developed several models, but exclusively "on paper," and in practice, the slender theories flew into the abyss of space.
It was precisely due to the lack of a clear drawing that the counter decided to trust his skills, the technician's intuition, and the Force, which is why he couldn't tear himself away and start a normal conversation with Sher: he worked on three planes at once – in his head, the drawing of the object lying before him gradually appeared, gaining new details, his hands immediately embodied it, and the Force prompted him, connecting everything with hints that still needed to be understood. All this forced Rick to maintain such concentration that even hearing and understanding Sher was a non-trivial task.
The doc looked doubtfully over the captain's shoulder. Maybe she should come later? The captain was doing something that required his full concentration... But the question that arose as soon as she stepped onto the ship now became urgent. And when would she catch the captain later? All their conversations were on the go, either on the eve of some business, or immediately after it, and at those moments she didn't want to burden Rick with anything else – he had enough already. So when, if not now?
Sher silently placed the gift on a nearby object that looked like a grav-lifter for the operating room and sat down silently on the stool, casting inconspicuous glances at Rick's hands. "Well, Cap, as the old hospital surgery professor used to say – you'll have a beautiful knot on your stitch..." Sher smiled involuntarily. The old Major Nex Gvin, nicknamed "Sleeping Nexu" due to his narcolepsy attacks – a result of a wound – this was the highest praise.
The process of creating something new often engrossed Rick. After all, it's so interesting, pleasant, beautiful, in the end, when a single device is created from several disparate parts. He found everything he needed for creation on the ship, except for the main element – the crystal. There were crystals on the ship, even a few of them, it all came down to whether they would fit. He hoped for a positive answer. When the last section of the control board was ready, he tore himself away, put the laser soldering iron and the medical laser scalpel on the table, and looked at the girl, having previously removed his visor.
"So, let's start from the beginning," he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a napkin, "what happened?"
"Happened?" Sher was a little surprised. "No, nothing has happened yet, but a jungle excursion will happen soon," she decided to take the bull by the horns immediately, "so we need at least a temporary medbay, Cap. And I'd like to know what kind of wounds and injuries I should prepare for," she added, no longer so cheerfully. "And, maybe, you'll still take me with you, Cap?" the hope was not too great, but she had to try everything. "This is the main reason I came... And if from the beginning, then this has been waiting for you since Bakran," Sher smiled weakly, "can you imagine, it survived even during the shelling."
"Curious," Rick stood up, stretched, walked over to the cart and took the bottle in his hand, examining it. After which he put it on the table with a heavy sigh. "But, unfortunately, not yet. So, let's start from the beginning. The jungle excursion will happen in a couple of days, it's too long to fly to Florna, and I won't have time to make a full medbay on the ship anyway. Take Les, Shai, Day, and you can set up a temporary aid station in the room with the escape pods. It's relatively clean, empty, and in case of problems, the escape pods are nearby. You can raid the lounges, Shai will make a couple of lamps for disinfection. But don't do anything in the station that can't be quickly dismantled. Will that do?"
"In just a couple of days, so soon..."
She and Cap had very different ideas about the distance to Florna. But she nodded. The furniture from the lounge would have to be expropriated – there was no other way. That Shai would be involved in assembling the lamps – doubly wonderful. Occupational therapy, realizing usefulness for the "clan" – this is the best rehabilitation for a girl. And they would get acquainted with Day... And that's so many questions from her list right away. But not all of them.
"Perfectly, Rick," the doc agreed. "But that's not all. A couple more questions... One personal. Are you very busy?"
"I'm designing a tool that requires immense concentration on the process and clarity of mind," the counter explained, "so it's more yes than no. It all depends on the questions."
"Alright," Sher sighed silently. "Then the personal one is withdrawn."
"Sher, you've already distracted me," Rick smiled weakly, scratching the back of his head, "so stop acting like someone you're not, but be as informative as possible."
"The question is very broad, let's postpone it for better times," Sher shook her head. It seemed to her that she was sincere in her desire not to distract Cap. "Then just one more thing – I need a lock of your hair, just a single strand. Will you cut it yourself?" from her point of view, this was maximally informative.
"Sher, I remind you that all team data must be kept on the ship and outsiders must not have access to it," saying this, Rick cut off a lock and handed it to the girl, "be careful with this."
"Of course, Cap," Sher said, placing the sample in a bag numbered one. This was also concise and informative.
"So, you're not taking me, Cap?" she couldn't help but ask, slipping off the stool.
"You are the only doctor on board, Sher," Rick shook his head negatively, "it would be illogical to risk you."
"I think not everything in our lives obeys logic, Rick," Sher remarked softly. "I hope you will change your decision in two days. Well, I won't distract you anymore, I'm leaving, Cap," the girl glanced at him, turned away, and walked towards the exit.
Their lives truly didn't always follow logic, but Sher was destined to stay on the ship. No matter how well-trained a specialist she was, it was more useful to leave her here, because in case of trouble, a droid and four force-users might not cope where this girl would solve the problem with a couple of hand movements. Carefully taking the superconductor in his hands, Rick continued the creation of his masterpiece.
A lightsaber, a Jedi weapon, was theoretically created simultaneously in two planes: the physical, centered on the hilt, and the metaphysical, the source of which, as the guy believed, was, firstly, the crystal, and secondly, the wielder of the blade himself. And if he could handle the first part perfectly, later honing it to perfection, then the second part could be problematic. Several lenses, controlled by a circuit board, regulated the blade's power and length, though the latter only within a small range.
The most difficult thing was to adjust everything so that the loop worked without any losses, but here the Force itself came to the aid of the talented technician, prompting and guiding him. He lost track of time when the last power conduit was carefully driven into the groove and covered with an insulating compound.
There was no crystal yet, but a little closer to the end of the hilt, a groove with several fasteners was left, intended for the precious stone. For focusing, in addition to the lenses, he used industrial crystals that were at hand. Starting the assembler to create the body parts, Rick thought about what crystal to use as the main one.
An unexpected impulse put everything in its place; he had just realized what stone he would put in his sword. The Force was with him again. Looking at the bottle, the counter sighed and hid it in the workbench. He needed a clear and pure mind, but first, he needed something else.
Leaving the workshop, he headed straight for Weymi.
The Lethan was found in the cargo hold – inspecting containers. At the sound of the opening doors, she turned around, frowning and lifting her leku.
"Rick? You're in time; I was just about to look for you."
"You're late; I found you first," the guy looked good-natured, happy, and unhappy all at once. "Don't be scared, okay?"
And in one smooth motion, he grabbed Weymi, embraced her gently, lifted her, and rested his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes in happiness. Happiness, even if it's an illusion, is happiness. And he stood there like that. For about ten seconds.
He had been alone for too long…