When the meeting was over and my newly minted employees left the ship, I could breathe a sigh of relief...
"I hate this..."
"Hate what exactly?" Warren appeared from the side door with the OCC, crunching on a piece of fruit.
"Leading, Worr. It's so exhausting; there's so much to think about in advance, so much to calculate... There were glorious days when I just flew from planet to planet, unscrewed whoever's head needed unscrewing, and didn't worry much. Eh..."
Pulling out my communicator, I looked at the growing list of contacts.
"And soon it will be even bigger..."
"Who?" Warren didn't understand.
"Doesn't matter."
"What can you do? You signed up for this yourself."
"Don't celebrate too early; I'm making you the Security Director, wise guy."
"Cough-cough-cough-cough..." the Mandalorian choked on a piece of fruit. "Have you lost your mind?!"
"A long time ago."
"I've never dealt with anything like that in my life! At most, I provided security for a specific individual, and even then—not for long."
"It doesn't matter; I can teach you."
"Were you a security officer?"
"I know a thing or two. At one point, the security service began reporting to me personally, and I started overseeing it. That happened after another failed assassination attempt on my fiancée. To avoid ruining an already working system and to be at peace regarding the rear—I had to learn how to work with personnel. Though... Hadiya gave them no quarter before or after, and formally everything remained as it was. By the way, when they finally got to me, I wrote the LNM."
"LNM?"
"List of Necessary Measures. Hadiya actively supplemented it later, because the imagination of assassins is something to be envied. No, really, can you imagine what they thought of? Throwing a cable into the pool and ruining the city's water supply with salt water, staging it as an accident."
"Fun..."
"You have no idea! So you can get ready to take on a new role. And find yourself a couple of assistants. I need a staff I can trust, one that will lead the droids and the regular security."
"Got it. Can I look for anyone?"
"Anyone; I'll have to teach you all eventually anyway," I replied, rising from my chair.
"And where are you going?"
"I'm going to fight the most terrifying beast in my life."
"Who's that?" the Mandalorian was actually surprised.
"Bureaucracy, Worr," I stopped in the passage and waved my tablet. "Bureaucracy. I'm going to the tax office."
***
Bureaucracy is evil. It is an unsurpassed evil! There is no greater evil than bureaucracy, and that is a fact. It was so before, it is so now, and apparently, it will always be so. It's mind-boggling—nine hours! For nine hours I moved from office to office, collecting reports, forms, proving that the firm has no debts and that everything is fine with the money—we simply don't have any. I mean, the firm doesn't.
And all I really need is to change the name and expand the company's focus from ore mining to something more versatile. And the most annoying thing is that it was all for nothing. Well, not for nothing, but they gave me the dates for the audits, where I have to show up again with the next list of documents, and the speed of information processing... It was making me twitch. A month! An entire month to endure all this fuss?!
With a scream (mental) and a curse (Togruti): "I didn't fcking sign up for this sht," I left the State Tax Authorities and made the best decision—to wait for Riasha. I'm unlikely to get any work done, but I think I can talk her into helping me with the paperwork, because without a lawyer, it's better not to crawl into this cesspool at all. But I have to...
The Togruta herself flew to Corellia only two days later, during which I rushed between the tax office, the local branch of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, the Council of Corellian Banks, and our company's improvised office. I needed to close the account in the Corellian Bank and open one in the Intergalactic one, and neither could be resolved because of the tax office... And I also had to allocate money to Derick for the office rent and the purchase of necessary office equipment.
So I waited for Riasha's arrival like the second coming, because to hell with it. To hell with it—as soon as the lawyer appears, I'll give her double the salary, give her a couple of assistants—and MY FEET will never step into this "zoo" again!
Ideally, I could have hired locals already, but since I decided to do business with Riasha, I should see it through to the end; otherwise, it wouldn't be right. One thing pleased me—the Mandalorians. As you might guess, the other three became Warren's assistants—and not just them. He contacted his sister, and soon my security staff will expand by another six people. To my surprise, when Warren said "we need to help" and "internal affairs," Nerra only asked: "Where to fly?" and that was it. She even brought her own team with her. Isn't that beautiful?
In my spare time, I rewrote the LNM for them and drew up an approximate training schedule. A brief survey showed that while Worr isn't a fool, he's unlikely to get things running without some hard knocks.
With Riasha's arrival, I went to the spaceport and, taking an empty table in a café right opposite the passage I needed, kept half an eye on the corridor. The starliner docked, a stream of aliens poured toward the exit, and Riasha was supposed to appear among them any moment.
My gut noticed her before I did. At some point, there was a realization that in the next second she would come around the corner, and exactly so. A Togruta with gray skin, a small handbag, and a suitcase in her hands, was walking in the middle of a group of aliens.
"Riasha!" I waved my hand.
The girl immediately caught me with her gaze and, leaving the moving, gradually dispersing mass, came over to me.
"Hello, Shade."
"You can't imagine how glad I am to see your bright angelic face," I sincerely placed my hand on my heart.
"Oh... Thank you."
"Are you going to settle in first, or get straight to business?"
"Straight to business; it won't wait."
"Got it. Then let's go."
Rising, we walked toward the exit.
"So why are you so happy?"
"I'm happy to see you. Because it means my torment will soon be over!"
"Torment?"
"I went to the tax office."
"Right. You rushed into that; you have to go there prepared."
"I've realized that already."
We walked and laughed. Deciding to change the subject, I asked:
"Riasha, I'm curious. You have the money for personal transport; why do you fly on public liners?"
"Trade saunas, restaurants, cozy first-class rooms where everything is included, for one small personal ship?" The Togruta arched an eyebrow. "Even if it's a yacht," Riasha demonstratively made a face.
"What if you need to fly where regular flights don't go?"
"Then I just rent a ship. But that's a rarity; liners cruise even in the Outer Rim, albeit in smaller volumes. You can fly to Nal Hutta in comfort on a public vessel."
"Hm. To each their own."
"So what kind of business did you decide to open?"
"Oh, just a small ore mining enterprise on Tatooine."
"On Tatooine? Are you serious?!"
"Absolutely. Why?"
"Don't you value your money?"
"Where does all this pessimism come from?!"
"Maybe from the fact that two large companies have already tried to set up mining on Tatooine, and somehow it didn't work out?"
"They are idiots, Riasha. First of all, they didn't invest really big money; on the surface, the ore is truly crap, full of impurities—you could kill yourself with a broom. I've already managed to familiarize myself with the preliminary data. But in the deeper layers, you can actually mine something."
"But that will be many times more expensive than mining asteroids, Shade."
"I am surrounded by pessimists," I sighed demonstratively.
"Or maybe someone is just overconfident," Riasha smirked.
"As I said, I've familiarized myself well with what I want to take on. In fact—Tatooine isn't such a hole as it might seem, and magnetic ore is a precious treasure. Why did I call the other companies idiots? Because they were trying to drive nails with a microscope."
"You have me interested. And how far has your genius gone?"
"Tell me the sectors where metals are applied. Just off the top of your head, whatever comes to mind?"
"Well, ships and other machinery. Rebar..."
"And the others thought the same. Но Tatooine has a lot of magnetic metals, and what does that mean?"
"Big problems with processing?"
"Why are you all so limited? Look wider! Creatively!"
"Just tell me."
"Thermonuclear power, Riasha," I sighed. "Magnetic levitation monorails, mass accelerators... Any technology where industrial magnets are actively used. If I'm not mistaken... and my gut tells me I'm not—Tatooine will be able to bring in a decent legitimate income, though I admit, I took it for completely different purposes."
"And how did you come to this?"
"Very simple. I wrestled a lot with what to build, and one of my new employees provided me with the results of planetary scanning, metal processing, metal content in the ore... and other things. Yes, the metal is susceptible to corrosion. Yes, it's not strong enough to make ships out of it. Yes, there are A HELL OF A LOT of impurities in the upper layers, which makes mining followed by processing truly expensive. But it doesn't need that!!! That's not its main virtue. As a bonus, there are decent deposits of pure quartz. Yes, it's not a rare mineral, and things aren't so simple with it either, but nevertheless."
"Shade. To set up such production, you need a lot of funds."
"I am ready to invest such funds. But only after I personally hold the samples in my hands and conduct a second analysis of the rock. Better to lose a couple of dozen million now than everything later."
"And you have that kind of money?!"
"Let's put it differently: I found a source of financing."
"What source?"
"I'll tell you later."
"You certainly know how to surprise," she sized me up with a look, as if re-evaluating me.
"I practice a little. Where are you going?" I stopped the girl.
"What do you mean 'where'? To the cars!"
"No, we're going that way, to the small private ship parking. It's in the southern section for us."
"Did you buy yourself a yacht?"
"No, and I don't intend to. It's just that my friends are waiting for us there."
"Are they like you?"
"No. More famous," I hummed.
Talking about everything and nothing, we reached the parking spot of our little ship. The sight of the Mandalorians threw Riasha off balance, and she gave me an extremely strange look.
"Good day," Warren greeted. The others just acknowledged with a nod.
"Hello. Shade, you certainly know how to make friends."
"I know. Have a seat," I waved my hand, and a chair slid back.
The girl left her things at the entrance and walked to the table, exchanging glances with the Mandalorians.
"So, what I need—you know. Tell me the details of your problem?"
"Alright. Мой colleague at work is Dick Vour. About a month ago, a spice mining company on Kessel approached us. It's called 'Kessel Chemical Industries,' and besides spice, the company is involved in other branches. They had problems because shipments going 'sideways' surfaced. It was a major issue; even the Jedi were involved. It's a murky story; I won't give details, I didn't get involved. And, moreover, I don't know how Dick managed to get them out of it."
"And who is this Dick?"
"Formally, he is the owner of our private company and our leader. Smart, unprincipled type. For money, he'll prove that the Hutts are honest and decent entrepreneurs, and he'll even squeeze out compensation for moral damage."
"Now that's a character!" Dis drawled enthusiastically.
"We could use someone like that," Zer added.
"I think he still slipped up somewhere and got into something he shouldn't have, because before this, all his adventures went more or less normally."
"Alright... Where was he last? Where did the connection drop?"
"He finished the job and was about to leave Kessel. The mercenaries sent also disappeared; the last time they made contact was after a conversation with KCI. They just shrug their shoulders. And we couldn't even get in touch with the director, just minor staff."
"I see."
"One more thing, Shade. While I was flying here, Taylor got in touch with me. He's Dick's deputy. He got a call with a hint that he shouldn't look for the leader, and that Taylor has an unexpected promotion. Who called—unknown."
"And what does that mean for you?"
"That if you take on this case, you have to come up with your own reason for looking for Vour, completely unrelated to us."
"Don't worry, you should have come to our people right away," Warren saluted.
"Your people charge so much that it's cheaper to bury Dick," Riasha replied in kind.
"Well, they are professionals," Warren spread his arms.
"As are we. Here is his image and some personal data," the Togruta turned on the holoprojector and placed it on the table. A 3D image of a man about forty appeared before us, in neat, well-groomed clothes, with hair combed back and a distinctive tattoo on his left cheek in the shape of a webbed wing.
"Riasha, tell me, am I right in understanding that Dick often dealt with shady companies?"
"Yes."
"And you?"
"A couple of times I had to, but after one incident... I try to dump that business on someone else. Especially if it concerns cartels or the syndicate, but otherwise, for small things, I sometimes take it on."
"I see. Anything else?"
"No."
"Splendid. Then, while we deal with your colleague, do me a favor?"
"What favor?" Riasha turned to me.
"Right now, I really need to re-register the company, close the old account, and open a new one in the Intergalactic Banking Clan. I've already started some... activity, but let's just say—it's unsatisfactory. Help me out, eh? I'll pay the costs, just so it doesn't stretch for several months. I'll hand over all the documents, and if questions arise, Derick, my deputy, will answer them."
I don't know how to make puppy eyes with my face, but nevertheless, looking at my miserable expression, she took pity. Even the Force wasn't needed.
"Alright. So be it, I will relieve you of this pain."
"Thanks, Riasha."
***
Somewhere on the approach to Kessel
Standing in the workshop and preparing gear for the foray, Warren addressed me:
"How are we working?"
"Like Mandalorians."
"That suits me," Zer nodded, securing his ammo belt.
"I don't know what awaits us there, but, from the look of it, there won't be a peaceful solution to the issue."
"Expected."
Calling KCI, I didn't try to dodge or come up with some clever plan. I just said we were friends of Dick Vour and wanted to ask the leadership a few questions. At first, no one wanted to give us landing permission, and certainly not accompany us anywhere for a private conversation. No matter how hard I tried to persuade them, every time I heard a refusal and a recommendation to fly away, but... someone just didn't realize who they were dealing with. Turning on the projector, I looked at the human dispatcher.
"You don't understand. Refusal is unacceptable," I said, changing my tone from welcoming to firmer. Not angry, not aggressive, but simply stating a fact.
Looking at my T-shaped visor, the dispatcher turned a little pale, nodded slowly, quickly contacted someone, and within a minute we received landing permission.
"I like your reputation," I glanced at the Mandalorians. "Yes, it's hard to live with, but it also opens some doors for you. At least the interlocutor immediately realizes that people didn't fly in to drink tea."
"Not always, Shade," Kaut shook his head. "Some like to tempt fate and pick on you right in a bar."
"Suicidal, are they?"
"Idiots who take us for weaklings. Mostly, it's the lower level, who simply don't know who we are," Kaut shrugged.
"I see."
There is no spaceport as such on Kessel, and there are no cities here either. At most—slave settlements. Ships fly exactly to those they need. In this case, the enterprise.
"The last time I saw so many slaves was on Zygerria," Dis commented, surveying the mines.
I didn't answer. I just caught a glimpse of the cameras, in which aliens were running like ants.
Landing on the territory of the KCI central office, I waited for Dis to turn off the ship and was the first to head for the exit. Warren followed me, then Zer and Kaut.
Outside, a whole platoon of heavily armed security was already waiting for us, led by a Besalisk encased in an armored hardsuit.
"Remember, politeness is the key to a successful negotiation!" I said over the internal comms to the Mandalorians, and then to the Besalisk: "Good day. Could you please take us to your employer? He is aware of our arrival."
"Lay down your weapons," the Besalisk demanded, crossing his first pair of arms over his chest while adjusting a rifle with the second.
"Hm... I think that's not the best idea under these circumstances. That's one. And two, we just want to ask your boss a few questions."
"I won't let you in with weapons."
"You don't have a choice, pal."
"Oh really?" A rifle barrel was pressed against my head.
Listening to the Besalisk's emotions, I realized that a peaceful solution wasn't going to happen in any case. Well... expected.
Vshzh! A flash sparkled, and the Besalisk flew away from me as if from an outlet, with a hole in his chest. A pyrokinetic strike at point-blank range—and no weapons needed. At the same time, I released Force pressure, making the aliens recoil.
"Any more who want to argue?" I scanned the nervous guards. "No? I thought so."
"Impressive," Dis noted over the internal comms, approaching the body. Examining the wound, he cast a glance at me, and although his eyes weren't visible, it was clear that the Mandalorian definitely wouldn't rest until he found out how I did it.
"Wait for me here; I'll go alone."
"Why's that?"
"You won't keep up with me, and I want to stretch my legs a bit."
"Sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Leaving the pad, I ripped open the airlock and flew inside at accelerated speed. From the looks of it, the characters I needed were sitting on the third floor...
The KCI Director's Office
A young Rodian sat at the desk, nervously fingering a communicator, already dialing a number. He knew that this damned story with the vanished lawyer wouldn't just end. The man had too many connections, he was convenient for too many people. But for someone to shell out for an entire squad of Mandalorians—the director couldn't have imagined that.
What if they came for him? What if everything failed? What if the frame-up worked? What if... there were too many 'what ifs.'
Suddenly, the armored door groaned piteously, scraped, crunched, then slowly flew into the office. A Mandalorian appeared in the passage. The same Mandalorian the Rodian had observed on the landing pad among the others about thirty seconds ago. Black armor with red patterns, a certain frightening aura, and a visor that made his heart skip a beat.
"Good afternoon. Sorry for entering without knocking; your door was open," the Mandalorian said, dragging in the unconscious body of the deputy director. The door, meanwhile, levitated toward the wall. "Oh! Don't bother with security; I'm already here. You can give them the stand-down. Well, the ones who are conscious, anyway."
"Y-yes, o-of course," the Rodian stammered, nodding and giving the stand-down to the alarmed security with trembling hands.
"So... I'm not mistaken, you're the director, and this is your deputy, correct?"
"Y-yes."
"Splendid," the man's body suddenly rose from the shoulder into the air, levitated toward the desk, and settled into a guest chair, while the Mandalorian walked across the office to a painting depicting medics saving civilian lives. "You have a sense of taste! I approve."
"Th-thank you. And... wh-what did you w-want to t-talk about?"
"Right," the Mandalorian snapped his fingers. "The thing is, our friend, a lawyer, worked for you for a while. A certain Dick Vour, know him?"
"Y-yes, I remember, there was such a man."
"And where did he go?"
"I-I couldn't say, M-mister..."
"Sorcerer."
"S-sorcerer. I-I paid him off, and w-we parted ways after that. I-I-I s-s-swear!"
"And I believe you. I truly do," the Mandalorian placed his hand on his heart. "But the problem is that your outfit was the last one our friend spoke with. And if you or your company aren't involved, then I need a lead."
"B-b-but I don't know! I don't know anything. It w-wasn't in my interest to kill him at all! M-m-my d-deputy spoke with the m-mercenaries," a nod toward the human.
"Oh! See? You've already helped me by pointing out the right character. And now, why are you so nervous? Calm down, breathe deeper. I came with the most peaceful intentions!" Just then, the door leaning against the wall slid down and crashed onto the floor. The Mandalorian, meanwhile, didn't seem to notice the crash, continuing to observe the Rodian.
Turning, he walked over to the human and slapped his cheeks a couple of times, bringing him to his senses.
"Huh?" the man opened his eyes.
"Good morning."
"You?!"
"Me. Where are the mercenaries, Fedya?"
"What mercenaries?!"
"The missing mercenaries you had the honor of speaking with."
"I don't know who you're talking about!"
"Tch. And where's the lawyer?"
The man blinked a couple of times.
"The lost lawyer. Responds to the name Dick, about forty, well-groomed, tattoo on his cheek."
"I have no idea who you're talking about!"
"What kind of people are these?" the Mandalorian complained to the Rodian. "You treat them well, and they lie to your face without blushing. Twice, even. Do you know that deceiving persons like me is a bad idea?"
"Huh?"
"I'm saying that lying to a Mandalorian is the last thing you should do," suddenly, a knife flew out of a sheath with the speed of a bullet and pinned the human's hand to the desk.
"Aaaaaah!!!"
"Lying to someone who knows the truth is useless. The only thing I need is to find out where the lawyer went."
"Go to the Hutts, you maggot!!!"
"Hm... Specify which ones? There are many."
"Aaaaaah!" The knife slowly began to twist.
"Well?"
"You... You don't even realize who you're messing with! We work for the Black Sun! They'll grind you to dust!"
The Mandalorian, silently, to the screams of the man and the round eyes of the pale Rodian sliding under the desk, twisted the knife further.
"Aaaaaah!!! He's gone, gone! Aaaaaah!"
"And where is he?"
"He's killed!"
"Oh!" The knife flew out of the hand. "I'm listening."
"He stuck his nose where it didn't belong. He... had compromising info. He was going to sell it to the Hutts."
"Not convinced," the Mandalorian shook his head, and the knife flew toward the face.
"He had compromising info on meeeeeee!" the man shouted faster than the knife touched his eye.
"Go on."
"And he was going to turn me over to the syndicate! Because I... arranged the problems. I want to take the director's post."
"And where did the mercenaries go?"
"Accident."
"What kind?"
"Fuel system."
"Pfft. Amateurs," the Mandalorian was slightly disappointed by the answer. "Who in the firm reports directly to you?"
"Mostly security."
"List them by name."
The man obediently began to list the names of loyal company members. The Rodian listening to this simply couldn't believe his ears. His number one... The trusted person he himself had put in that position had organized the information leak! It was unthinkable. But it was the truth that someone was beating out right before the Rodian's eyes.
"Hey," the Mandalorian called to the Rodian.
"Y-yes?"
"I have a proposal. The conversation is recorded, the client is ready to cooperate," he nodded toward the man. "You found the leak and decided it yourself, but we weren't here. Ang'hyer?"
"Wh-what?"
"Acceptable, I'm asking?"
"Y-yes."
"Splendid. And you, get some sleep," the Mandalorian waved his hand, and the man fell into unconsciousness. "Oh, by the way. I decided to inquire. Would you be against signing a contract with an interesting company? Another friend of mine is about to open an enterprise that could use some medical equipment and supplies. Could you help out somehow?"
The Rodian looked at the man, then at the Mandalorian, and nodded firmly.
"Y-yes. W-we r-really o-only h-have s-supplies, b-but I h-have acquaintances w-who c-can help with the rest."
"Really? Then here are the contacts," taking a work tablet from the desk, the Mandalorian manually entered the contact data into it. "Talk to him further; say you're from me. Well, I've done my job. All the best!"
"A-all the b-best."
Watching the man leave the office, the Rodian couldn't come to his senses for another five minutes, staring at the broken passage. Then he took pills out of the desk and tossed several into his mouth by the handful, not counting. The calming effect was immediate.
"I always knew Mandalorians were complete psychopaths," the Rodian grumbled, rubbing his face.
Shade Aero
"Through the path of the Force I wander, and in it peace I shall find..." I hummed to myself, stepping onto the landing pad territory. Job done, we can fly away. I even stretched a bit. Eh... I wish I could stir up a bigger scuffle; I really want to move, but never mind, this will do too.
Stopping, I looked at the bodies stacked in heaps. Some with a hole in the head, some just tied up.
"There seem to be more of them than there were," I noted.
"More showed up," Dis shrugged. Looking under my feet, I stepped on a cracked plate. Yes... Crushgaunts are the thing.
"Alright. Let's go; we can fly away," I addressed the Mandalorians over the internal comms.
"Already?" Dis was surprised.
"Yes."
"And what happened?"
"Nothing much. Just one guy trying to frame another. This outfit works for the Black Sun, so he was trying to earn favor."
"So what... are we at war with the largest syndicate now?"
"Am I a complete fool? Of course not. Moreover, I made a deal with the director of this outfit, and now he owes me one. I gave 'Aero's' contacts," I added air quotes with my fingers, "let him call and arrange for medical supplies."
"Permanent supplies? Shade, where would we put all that?! Tatooine doesn't have that many people..."
"Tatooine—no. But Mandalore?"
"Got it. I'm a fool," Dis nodded.
"Exactly. Actually, that's why I flew here. To hell with the lawyer, he can be replaced, and I'll deal with Riasha. Но getting an outfit by the gills and squeezing out acceptable terms for industrial medical supplies—that's worth it. It'll definitely make things easier for your people."
"And if he decides to resist?"
"And if he decides to resist, I have a recording! Which will cover our backs if anything happens."
"Shade, did you plan all this in advance?"
"Yes and no. I proceed from what I have and draft a plan of action on the fly. And since they are fairly short-term, they're easy to adjust."
"And if we had to fight the Black Sun?"
"We wouldn't have had to. We would have just wiped this site, erased the tracks—and let them look for the wind in the field. Do I have to teach you?"
"Right."
"Load up and let's go."
On that cheerful note, we boarded the ship and headed back.
On our return, I was in seventh heaven, because during this time Riasha had resolved all the issues. Yes, I had to reimburse her for costs in the amount of one hundred and twenty thousand credits, but that's a drop in the ocean compared to what she did!
Now all I have to do is personally visit the establishments, sign—and the first step will be passed. And most importantly—I won't have to mess around with registering the company's specialization anymore, because the Togruta simply and artlessly entered if not everything, then very, very many spheres of activity right away. From sewing underwear to producing combat droids. Though, I still need to get a license for arms production to be able to trade them legally, but that's other Republic bodies, or rather—the Judicial Department.
Derick also pleased me. He reported that the preliminary calculations were ready and the estimate was drawn up. I'll need to take a look, but that's a bit later. First, Riasha.
Meeting with the Togruta, I outlined the situation to her. Yes, the girl was saddened by the loss, but not excessively so, as they weren't friends, just colleagues. Most importantly—she can be at peace regarding the rear and work further.
A pity, though, that Riasha herself won't stay with us. She already has a lucrative contract and for now she is in another firm. Instead, she put us in touch with a young girl. A young Twi'lek, seemingly fresh out of training. She responded quite quickly and took the position of staff lawyer within the company without question. That is—specifically ours, not the firm's like Riasha.
"Listen, Riasha, are you sure about her?"
"I'm sure, Shade. The girl is a talent; I taught and raised her myself. Yes, she lacks experience, but she can be relied upon. And you told me yourself that you want to let the lawyer in on some secrets that are better kept quiet."
"Raised her?" I caught the word.
"I took her and her sister from an orphanage."
"Ah... Even so."
"Yes. Is something wrong?"
"No, no, everything's fine."
"Do you have children?"
"I did."
"Did?!"
"Yes."
"Sorry."
"It's alright. Thanks for the help, Riasha."
"And you, Shade. If anything, can I reach out again?"
"Of course you can. But for money next time," I winked.
"And you won't even give me a discount?" The Togruta pretended to be offended.
"Only if you keep me company in a cozy restaurant!"
"Ha. Alright, I agree."
So, I was able to satisfy my small addiction a bit and rest. Just like last time, everything was within the bounds of decency; I teased Riasha's feelings and purposefully led her to embarrassment. Eh... How pleasant it is to hear the sincere emotions of some... ladies. They seem so bright, so pleasant, like a drug.
And the most pleasant thing is that I didn't ruin the relationship with her. Work is work, and that says it all. The only thing is, I became even stranger and more unusual in her eyes, because Riasha tried to outline the boundaries of my awareness and it was all the more fun to watch her: "How can you not know this???" Eh...
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan