The Lethan ate quickly, but neatly, with a pretense of aristocracy, and glanced at the door. However, she was interested in something else entirely: the possibility of returning to the bridge.
The captain didn't deem it necessary to say anything to the departing pair; he could torment Waymi with questions. And he also had a number of suggestions for Bus.
"Did you convert the book to electronic format?" the last piece of meat went for processing, his eyes looked with interest at the Lethan.
The Twi'lek suddenly seemed smaller.
"Not all of it..." she whispered, as if making excuses. "About two-thirds."
"Excellent," he smiled, "send me the processed version on an infocrystal, I hope to start cryptoanalysis today... Or crypto?"
The guy thought about the correct word. It seemed that cryptoanalysis was more accurate. He didn't let his thoughtfulness prevent him from cleaning his plate.
"You're doing great," he said confidently.
The Lekku twitched uncertainly. She had just argued with the free ones, she had to be dragged like a stubborn slave, she hadn't fully completed the task because she got carried away by the game shown by the mercenary, and for all this – great job?
"Humans are strange," the Lethan concluded. For a moment, the desire to test the limits of the new master's tolerance for such pranks awoke, but it immediately died down. You don't look for good from good; there's no need to risk the unexpected well-being that has fallen upon her. Sharp little teeth bit into the meat.
The Kushiban turned slightly gray on the side facing the Twi'lek, but said nothing and began to pick out particularly tasty pieces from the plate, in his opinion.
"I'll go and keep watch," Larius managed to finish her portion before the captain amidst all these events – her partner's behavior was habitual, and it didn't prevent her from working her jaws. "A messenger should arrive soon..."
She also disappeared behind the door. Bus immediately pretended to be a fluffy piece of furniture, practically ceasing to pay attention to himself – the plate completely occupied his being. Even in the Force.
Rick continued to eat, pondering how much the Force simplifies life and how much it also causes addiction. It's good to know about what's happening around you much more than nature allows. It's like a drug, you want more and more. The desire to become better, stronger... He never strived for this. But now... Now he couldn't say that about himself.
"When I need something urgently, I will say so," he said, addressing the girl.
Now, cautious curiosity flickered in the Lethan's gaze. Now she resembled the girl in the bar who chatted with a simple laborer, knowing nothing about him – the sincerity of a chance fellow traveler who thinks he will never meet the one who happened to be nearby for a while. Waymi was clearly thawing – afraid to say or do something wrong, to incur anger, but increasingly convinced that nothing terrible would happen if she made a mistake.
For a moment, the Force carried something that made Bus flinch, swish his tail against the Twi'lek's cheek, and flee after his partner.
Most of all, what he caught reminded him of himself – a cowering child who had already given up hope of being free, of ceasing to feel pain, who didn't believe that the voice that said: "I'm buying him" – was a pass to freedom, and that the hands that carefully untangle matted dirty wool would not cause torment. This first glimmer of weak faith, caught by the Kushiban, made him leave the galley faster than a kick would.
Finishing his meal, Rick watched the events with interest. It was most like a theater... And he was curious if it always happened like this, or only with him. But he had neither the desire nor the time to check. Draining the mug of already cooled kaff in one gulp, he stood up and looked at the Lethan:
"If you need me, I'll be in my quarters."
Meanwhile, something... intimate was happening in Sher's cabin. He could feel what was happening without even straining or diving into the Force, but he didn't delve deeper than the emotional background allowed. He wasn't going to intrude on people's personal lives when things were going well for them. A pack of felinks scratched at his soul again about the absence of living warmth nearby. It scratched quietly, but quite noticeably, causing his mood to drop slightly. Now he was definitely ready to meet anyone, whether it was the intermediary, the hijacker himself, or the assault group of Troy's gang. Although... The deceased didn't deserve to have his gang called a gang. A grouping was more respectful to him.
Sitting down at his desk, he habitually spread out his deck, comlink, a piece of flimsi, and a pen. And the first thing he decided to do was call Fly.
The intermediary didn't answer immediately. And he answered with a slightly more creaky voice than usual.
"Do you doubt my honesty, Karvo?" he asked with curiosity, in response to the creaky voice.
"Not at all," came after a short pause. "I am very pleased with our cooperation. But here's... one moment that requires urgent resolution, and I may need your help. How about meeting at my office? The guards know you and will let you in."
"Even so..." Rick thought for a moment, then added, "send a car for me, I wouldn't want to be seen in my transport right now..."
Another pause hung in the air.
"Yes, of course," Fly finally creaked. "I hope this will be as successful a deal as the one that led to our acquaintance..."
He made some indefinite sound and hurried.
"The car will arrive in half an hour."
The connection broke.
"You're hiding something, Fly, oh, you're hiding something..." Rick pondered what the Tydorian had told him. The deal that led to their acquaintance was by no means successful... He ruined his deal, took down half of the hired group, handed over half of them, along with the leader, and even poached a particularly valuable operative. It couldn't be called successful for him. Was he warned?
Diving into the Force, he found Larius and Bus and called them to him.
The Kushiban arrived first, sniffed the air in the cabin, deemed it suitable, and jumped onto the bunk, ignoring the chairs. The white fur got lost against the background of the blanket.
Larius didn't come alone; with her came a rather battered teenage human.
"A messenger from Goh," the mercenary reported matter-of-factly. "Spit it out."
The teenager sniffled, looked around furtively, and began to chatter:
"So, Goh asked, should he bring the goods now, or tomorrow, as agreed?"
"Why didn't he come himself?" Rick grumbled, glancing at the guy half-turn, not bothering to stand up or offer any other greeting.
"He's afraid," the messenger readily shared his thoughts. "He'll bring it early, and what if they pay him with a bolt? They'll say, it's not on time."
Rick leaned over the deck, studying the route to Fly's office, and simultaneously checking the guy for matching emotions and words.
The messenger was agitated. Pleasantly agitated, and very proud and pleased with himself. He anticipated something significant for himself. And he wasn't lying. But he was holding something back.
"Aren't you afraid of getting a bolt?" the captain said thoughtfully, "as a demonstrative action, for showing disrespect to me."
He did not lessen his concentration in the Force.
The teenager was surprised. Very surprised. Such a thought clearly hadn't crossed his mind.
"And why me?! I was sent to ask, I asked. What should I tell him?"
"Tell him to bring it in three hours," Rick said after a five-second silence, "and the usual, if something goes wrong, a fierce death awaits him. But an interesting one. Anything else?"
"Well, he said to bring something, so that it's clear I was really here," the messenger recalled.
"Lying is not good," Larius immediately reminded him. "Luck doesn't like lies..."
"Impudent..." Rick looked at the guy with curiosity, turning in his chair and placing his hand on its back, "I can give you a smack on the neck. For clarity. Don't you want to tell us anything else?"
The messenger didn't want to share new information. But Larius wanted to clarify something.
"With your permission, sir... Lad, and this Goh - what did he look like? Did anyone rough him up?"
The teenager perked up and blurted out without hesitation:
"Well, he's... He's the kind who can rough anyone up! A huge Zabrak, all tattooed, wow! He promised to take me into the gang if I managed, so there!"
Rick swore silently, looking away slightly, then took fifty credits from his pocket.
"Tell him to come in 12 hours," he said, "this is for you. And advice. Free. Don't go into the details of our conversation and run from Goh, people don't live long near him. Escort him to the exit."
He said the last to Larius.
The mercenary nodded to the teenager. He snatched the money, but looked back at the door.
"Mister, I don't know if this is important, but I only saw, while I was hanging around here, that people were quietly scattering from the hangar."
"And they're doing the right thing," Rick nodded to the guy, "follow their example."
The messenger disappeared behind the door. From the bunk came:
"Mister, we have serious problems..."
"More than you know," Rick agreed, "I called Fly. And it seems he's cornered too."
"I'm not surprised," the Kushiban replied. "I'd say there aren't many options. Either run away right now, or deal with a very dangerous and well-prepared group."
"Actually, I wanted to act... How do you say it... Extravagantly," the guy smiled, "let's go to the cockpit, we need to warm up the engines, we'll discuss the whole plan there."
Bus solemnly lifted his tail and followed the order. He headed for the cockpit.
In the corridor, Sher dared to look up at Nick and smile.
"Did the captain let you go rest too?"
A stray strand refused to be woven into the already very loose braid.
"I let myself go," the navigator waved his hand, taking her by the elbow with his fingertips. "Are you going to your place?"
"Yes, to my place. Let Shai rest from me for a bit," she joked. "And you, Nick?"
The touch of his fingers was almost imperceptible, but so warm...
"I'm thinking about what I want more," the navigator sighed. "Whether to let you rest, or the opposite..."
Sher opened the door to her cabin. Her gray watercolor gaze stopped on his eyes.
"If you don't know, then it's better to go rest, Nick. You probably need it, just like I do," she touched his sleeve with her fingers and, smiling, stepped over the threshold.
The navigator watched her go, examined the closed door from top to bottom, and followed the suggestion.
He sat down to rest, leaning his back against the door, which had been searched and deemed a sufficiently reliable support. After all, sometimes field agents had to sleep in much worse conditions...
The proximity sensor didn't fail.
Sher sharply turned at the sound of opening doors. She didn't even reach the bunk she dreamed of falling into and crying her eyes out.
"Nick!" she exclaimed in fright and rushed to the navigator, who was lying half in her cabin and half in the corridor. "What's wrong with you? Are you feeling unwell?" Her eyes were suspiciously bright. The girl was clearly trying not to cry before turning around.
"Ma'am," Nick lay on his back, his torso in the cabin, his legs in the corridor, and looked up with laughing eyes. "You didn't specify where I should rest. While solving an insurmountable logical problem, I was severely injured and need your help."
"You're a boy, Nick... You scared me to death," she sighed. "Did you really not get hurt? Or should I help you up?" Her light braids hung down from her head, bent over him. "Because now, if I start treating you..."
"Help hide the body?" Larius politely offered, stopping over the legs sticking out of the cabin. "Hmm... Or help organize it?"
"I always suspected I was loved," the navigator sighed, winding a light strand around his finger, tickling his nose. "But to this extent..."
"Thank you for the offer," Sher thanked the mercenary, smirking. "But don't worry about me. Doctors don't have corpses, only 'medical errors'," Sher tried to take a strand of her hair from Nick's braid.
Nodding understandingly, the woman left. Nick wasn't in a hurry to leave - neither the cabin nor the corridor. He wasn't in a hurry to let go of the captured strand either.
"It seems to be tangled," he informed the girl bent over him. "So, what was it about treatment and rest?"
"Perhaps you should come in completely, Nick? Otherwise, what if Veymi sees and also decides that I've finished you off... I'll have to calm her down..." her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "And I don't want to lose a single one of these minutes..."
The touch of her lips to the navigator's cheek was not as brief as usual.
"Does this treatment suit you?" she asked, slowly blushing.
With a fluid movement, he threw his legs from the corridor into the cabin, finally allowing the door to close, and got up on one knee.
"Do you know what the greatest fear of the gifted is?" he asked quietly, releasing the captured strand and gently running his fingers through her hair. "To one day find out that those who are near you are only with you because you wanted them to be with you too much, and they didn't have the strength to resist your will... For dark ones, this is normal, but I don't want that..."
Nick stood up, pulling the girl with him, and ran a finger over the brow above her shining eye.
"What can I do to make you not want to cry anymore?"
Sher's black pupils, from excitement, spilled almost over the entire transparent watercolor.
"And what can I do, Nick, for you to believe that what I'm saying isn't about you and me? The influence of your will? By the time you could and would want to impose it on me, it was already too late..." her voice, initially sounding passionate, kept falling and falling. "Even without your will... You can even try to dictate the opposite to me. And you won't succeed, Nick..." her fingers gently touched his graying hair. "You don't want to impose your will on me, but don't make me choose for you. Just know that I'm always waiting for you. And what I'm telling you, girls usually don't say. They also have their own fear..." she smiled weakly, running her fingers over the navigator's short-cropped hair.
"Then you'll have to kick me out of here," his smile was slightly crooked. "Because I'm just going to settle here..."
"Unlikely," Shergi shook her head, smiling. "You only came in after using 'special means'... Tell me, will I always have to use such potent ones to prove to you that you didn't influence me? Or will you finally stop doubting?" she asked the navigator shyly. "Otherwise, I might easily overdose..."
"Not doubt," the navigator shook his head, as if listening to an invisible interlocutor and disagreeing with him. "Fear. Always fear causing harm, completely unintentionally. But I understood you... The right to kick me out at any moment remains yours."
The movement was light and imperceptibly fast. Just a moment ago, Nick stood still, and the next moment he stepped towards the narrow ship's bunk.
With the girl in his arms.
"Kick me out?" Sher managed to say and saw her feet lift off the floor. "What a useless right..." she whispered.
"Someone here really needs rest," the navigator reminded her, gently lowering his burden onto the bunk. "Turn onto your stomach... please."
The last word, very timely, turned an almost-command into a perfectly acceptable request.
"Actually, I wanted to give you a massage, Nick, you need to rest..." she weakly protested, turning and stretching blissfully on the bunk, "but you took the initiative, and now I won't refuse."
"Initiative is such a thing..." Nick carefully pulled the pillow from under her head. "If you miss it, it turns against you. However, sometimes it's pleasant..."
Sensitive fingers, barely touching, ran along her spine, stroked her shoulders. They found muscles tensed by old strain. The navigator shook his head, reached the dense fibers with a quite palpable pressure, and began to work.
He wasn't an experienced masseur - he wasn't taught that, but the Force told him where the next knot was, and how to knead it to drive the tension and fatigue out of the muscle. And what he felt besides that, catching the emotional background, made his work even more fascinating.
Nick had such hands... Strong, skilled, like an experienced masseur. Under his fingers, kneading, stroking, blood ran hotter and faster, leaving a feeling of warmth and lightness after a slight pain. Exactly where it was so desired. It wasn't just pleasant. It was wonderful... And the realization that it was Nick's hands filled her with such bliss that she could only exhale:
"You're a magician, Nick..."
"I'm just learning," the navigator informed her, finishing with her shoulders and reaching her occiput and neck. "It's better to place your head forehead down on your folded hands, it will be more comfortable to breathe."
He gathered the scattered light hair and threw it over the girl's head. Tendons clearly stood out on her exposed neck, and Nick couldn't resist - he ran his fingers over them, listening to the response in the Force.