The guards unloaded the sick guest onto his cot and returned to their duties. When the doctor entered the room, Tardi was talking to someone via intercom, but his voice weakened with each word.
"I'll pass it on..." it sounded almost like a whisper now.
Eni paused at the threshold, involuntarily hearing the end of his conversation, tiredly placed her case on the floor, and silently took the intercom from his hand.
"Mr. Tardi," the crease between her eyebrows became sharper, "I won't let you kill yourself," she said quietly. "I've been your personal doctor for several minutes now. And I really ask you to help me with this."
"I will be... a very obedient patient," Tardi promised. "If you... help another pilot."
The gray-green ice shard eyes looked calmly and stubbornly.
"Will you take it? I promise... to lie still."
"Agreed, Mr. Tardi," Eni replied in the tone of Lieutenant Carrada. "And I consider making this a condition of your recovery to be superfluous," she looked away from his eyes, which now reminded her of bottom ice that doesn't melt even in summer.
"Although, perhaps it's easier this way..."
"And until your pilot appears, I will be taking care of you," the doctor declared. "Ready?"
"He won't appear..." Tardi closed his eyes, guessing that the pressure was unpleasant for her. "He's wounded. A person who... helped me a lot... asked for him."
He tried to speak evenly and calmly, but his breathing failed him.
"You need to fly there..."
He dictated the coordinates, not interfering with the doctor's work.
"They won't hurt you there... I can... guarantee that."
The portable device, collecting data on the physical and biological parameters of blood circulation, pressed against the elbow's subcutaneous vein, trembled slightly under the doctor's fingers.
"You are full of surprises, Mr. Tardi," she said calmly after a few seconds. "I'm ready to fly, especially to a wounded person. But how can I leave you? In your condition?"
The pilot turned his head slightly at the voice. Even closed eyes can give the impression of a gaze. Perhaps it would be more comfortable for her this way.
"You mentioned IV drips, miss... I can lie under them... I'm not wounded..."
"You're just dying, it's not scary..."
"And the count there might be... in hours."
"If not minutes..."
Something wouldn't go down, but stuck like a lump in her throat. Perhaps her mouth was just dry. Perhaps it was this choice... between duty and... duty. Between the life of one who is wounded and perhaps dying. And the life of another who might also die...
"Are you a Higher Power, Pola Carrada, to decide who lives? But it is you who will have to take on this responsibility. And no matter how you decide – there is no forgiveness for you."
Eni silently prepared the IV drip, not looking at Tardi. Her fingers quickly, almost mechanically, injected insulin, vitamins, and drugs to support the heart muscle into the blood substitutes, everything that was so necessary to sustain Tardi's life.
The Academy instructor, an emotional old man in a gray Imperial uniform, appeared before her eyes... "Who will you run to, cadet Carrada, the wounded one who is screaming, or the one who is silent? Girl, save the one who is silent, he's in really bad shape..." And who should she help now, Uncle Colonel?
The micro-needle entered the vein precisely and clearly. In it was all the hope of seeing Tardi alive. After his return.
"Where do we need to fly?" Eni focused her gaze on the IV drip. "How long will I be gone?"
"Sector three hundred sixty, fifty-fourth level, hangar area, hangar number thirty-four," Tardi said clearly, having gained a little strength while Eni prepared the solution. "I don't know what happened there. The pilot is a duros. A deep stab wound on his leg."
He guessed why the smuggler hadn't treated his pilot himself. That was a situation where a doctor would do better than a rush...
"I'll be fine, miss..."
Eni stared at the pilot for a few seconds with wide eyes.
"Great Force! So it's on Nar Shaddaa? I thought..." she didn't specify what she thought, just cut herself off sharply. And continued calmly: "The IV drip will take some time. The speed is not high – that way it doesn't create extra strain. Do you have any unpleasant sensations? You'll feel better after the IV drip, Mr. Tardi. Use my absence wisely – sleep, okay?" Her fingers, just like in the morning, touched his wrist to feel his heartbeat. And she stepped towards the door with the usual case on her shoulder.
In the girl's back, she heard:
"Intercom number... His name is Nemo."
Eni, as she left the cantina, was noticed, if at all, but no reaction followed. Her employer was absent, and the rest didn't care about her. The blaster lay under the seat, where the hand of the weakened pilot had let go. And that was lucky. The doctor's fingers ran over the control panel, entering the coordinates indicated by the pilot. The navigator plotted the shortest route, marking the pulsating red target. Now everything depended on Eni.
The rattling and vibrating speeder, accompanied by the crooked grins of those loitering in the parking lot, suddenly soared up and rushed into the labyrinths of the streets... Somewhere above, beyond the dense layer of smog, the sun began to set, adding a drop of scarlet watercolor to the foul fog. But the sunset reflections always fell on the dirty concrete of the lower city layers like rusty patina, only emphasizing the desolation and hopelessness.
The high speed the speeder developed, and its not-too-great distance from the cantina, made the red dot pulsate across the entire screen faster than Eni expected.
Intercom number... waiting for a response...
"Mr. Nemo? I'm from Mr. Tardi. I'm a doctor."
When the girl responded, Nemo had already managed to carefully disable both attackers and, dragging them on a cart to the ordered hangar, leave them lying in a corner. On the way back, he received a message via intercom.
"Excellent, I'll be waiting at the entrance," Nemo said cheerfully, heading to where he was supposed to meet the doctor.
Hearing the answer, Eni reduced her speed to a minimum and began to descend. Almost immediately, in one of a whole row of hangars, she saw a human figure. As she approached, she could distinguish that he was wearing a gray technician's jumpsuit, the same cap, and a visor. It seemed he was waiting for her. And it seemed – this was Nemo...
The man in the gray jumpsuit stood in a relaxed pose, his black visor lenses drilling into the approaching car, his hand resting on the blaster's grip, in a hip holster. He expressed neither friendliness nor aggression, trying to act as a pointer.
Eni smoothly turned before the entrance, and her clanging transport flew in and landed on the concrete floor of the hangar. It immediately became quiet. The girl was in no hurry to get out of the speeder and kept her hands on the controls.
The man didn't move, and the visor, hiding his eyes, didn't let the doctor understand what he was feeling. The only thing that was clear was that the man's entire attention was now focused on the girl.
The silence became oppressive. The man didn't move, only his black visor followed her relentlessly.
The girl decided to break the silence. Time was too precious to waste sitting idly in a speeder.
"Eni Wedge, doctor. Personal physician to Mr. Tardi of 'The Last Haven.' Does that mean anything to you?" she asked, addressing the black visor.
"Nemo," the man introduced himself immediately. "Get the ship into the hangar."
Then he disappeared through the door. A moment later, the battered gates slowly began to rise.
In the hangar, a completely different person stood. Or, at least, he behaved completely differently. His eyes, the color of a cloudy Corellian sky, looked at the girl with a mixture of joy, anxiety, and gratitude. His hands, it seemed, couldn't find a place to rest, but as soon as the ship entered the hangar and the gates lowered, he didn't reach for his blaster. He felt no direct threat from the girl. Opening the door, Nemo offered her his hand.
"Thank you for responding so quickly, Miss Wedge," he said politely, his voice even carrying a hint of haste.
"Eni. It saves time, and we're not at an audience in the throne room of Coruscant," the girl quickly grabbed the case from the speeder's seat. "Where's the injured one? Take me to him quickly... Is the blood loss significant? You can tell me everything on the way..."
"He's a few dozen meters away," Nemo pointed to a nearby stormtrooper. "The blood loss isn't too great, thankfully. Arteries and veins aren't hit. The muscle is cut, below the knee. Down to the bone."
Climbing up the fighter to the cockpit canopy, he knocked with his knuckle on the blister.
Movement behind the transparisteel of the cockpit didn't happen immediately. When the Duro finally poked his head out of the hatch, he looked somewhat disheveled. And quite in pain. His blue-green skin had taken on a gray hue, his stern mouth was contorted.
"Oh..." he mumbled upon seeing the doctor. "You're fast, ma'am. Should I get down, or will you come up? It's cleaner here, more spacious."
"No, no! You absolutely must not walk, you'll worsen the blood loss. You should have been lying down with your leg elevated," En said worriedly, looking at the Duro's pale gray face and his mouth, twisted with pain and devoid of lips. "I'll come up now."
"One moment, ma'am..." the pilot disappeared, and a few seconds later, a ramp extended. The hatch opened wider, letting the doctor in. "Please come aboard 'The Patch'."
"Thank you," Eni replied, stepping aboard. "But I wish it were under different circumstances..."
The circumstances were indeed far from ideal. The Duro, with his pant leg cut almost to the thigh, a strip of plastic applied above the knee. And all of it in green blood, which had caused black-green stains to spread on his trousers, now soaked with it.
"You'll have to lie down," Eni said, glancing around as she spoke. "It's a bit cramped, of course, but we can just recline the seat."
The pilot lay down, his red eyes gleaming at the girl.
"Don't worry, it'll stop hurting soon," she smiled at the pilot. A small portable aseptic emitter activated in the cockpit. After a few moments, it signaled that the operating field, the injection area, and the doctor's hands, encased in a solidified synthetic "second skin," were completely cleared of bacteria and their spores.
"I'll give you an injection of a strong painkiller... It'll take effect in a couple of minutes," she raised her head to say this and look at the patient. "Work your little fist... Now unclench it... Well, that's all..."
An antibacterial agent, intended to prevent infection, was also administered intravenously. Now it was possible to proceed to the wound itself. Eni leaned over the Duro's leg, illuminating the area and magnifying details with a special medical visor. The picture was very interesting... The wound healing process was proceeding in a rather unconventional way. Eni shook her head. She had never heard of Duros having such accelerated regeneration... Or was it just this one?
"How are you feeling now?" her gray eyes looked at the pilot attentively and kindly. "It's going to be a little unpleasant now, can you bear it?"
"Ma'am," the humanoid responded hoarsely, "just do what you think is necessary. I'll bear it."
The doctor nodded. A clean cut in the soft tissues, deep enough that if the edges were pulled apart, the bone could be seen. Whatever regeneration the pilot had, cleaning the wound was still unavoidable.
With several sterile antiseptic swabs, she went over the pilot's leg, cleaning it of the green blood, which had already begun to crust in places. With others, she quickly treated both the operating field and the edges of the wound. The injector needles plunged into the Duro's gray-blue skin in several places around the gaping green incision. This was local anesthesia. After all, the procedure she was preparing the patient for was not pleasant. But it wasn't long either. The edges and walls of the wound were cleared of dead tissue remnants quickly and neatly. Bringing the edges of the wound together and applying stitches took only a minute. She applied a bacta-patch and straightened her back with satisfaction.
"Well, it's all stitched up now. It would be good for me to see the wound in a couple of days... Until then, sleep and eat. And don't get up. And don't get into such situations again," she quickly gathered her case, slung it over her shoulder, and smiled at the Duro as she got out of the stormtrooper.
The pilot endured the operation without a sound. Only his fingers, clenched into pale nail beds, gripping the armrests of the chair, could betray his tension. Only when the doctor turned away did a quiet voice reach her back:
"Thank you, ma'am..."
Outside, a somewhat nervous technician was already waiting for her. Nemo was genuinely worried about his friend; he didn't want one of the best pilots he knew to lose his leg.
"How is he, doc?" the guy asked as soon as he caught the doctor's attention.
"Everything will be fine, Mr. Nemo," Eni hastened to reassure the worried technician. She had always been impressed by that trait in people that involved caring for others as much as for themselves. Especially here, on Nar Shaddaa...
"You know, it's strange, but he has incredibly fast regeneration," the girl recalled. "It's the first time I've seen a wound process proceed like this. Usually, such repair takes until the end of the week. But for epithelialization to begin within the first day..." the doctor shook her head. "I've only seen that once with..." she suddenly stopped herself and didn't finish, with whom exactly.
"The wound had to be cleaned. I gave him a good painkiller and a long-acting antibacterial. Infection, I'm sure, is ruled out. I'd like to see the stitches in a couple of days, mostly out of curiosity. He needs to eat and sleep," she smiled at the technician. "I think that's the best medicine for him now. Blood loss isn't fatal, no need for a transfusion. It will be compensated quickly. There might be some minor pain in his leg; I'll leave some medication just in case. But I think with his regenerative abilities, it will all heal easily and quickly."
Nemo didn't explain where Jethro got these abilities. There was no direct question, and therefore he wasn't going to elaborate on the topic of his giftedness. For the doctor's safety.
"Wonderful," Nemo smiled. "I have another request for you, but before I state it, I'd like to ask if you have any problems with the law?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Nemo? Whose laws?" the girl looked intently at the technician. Something unpleasant jolted in her heart. Hello, Lieutenant Carrada... She has no problems with the law, this Eni Wedge. Because the real Eni died during the epidemic...
"It's all very simple, miss," Nemo smiled, despite his nervous demeanor. "I have two prisoners who need to be handed over to the clutches of justice. There's a reward for that. I don't need the reward, but I don't want to get my hands dirty with their blood. Or to be seen by the authorities. I have... complicated relations with them."
The doctor averted her gaze. "And I, apparently, want to be seen? They'll show it on the holos, how they supposedly present the reward, or something similar - and that's it..."
"Mr. Nemo... This is more complicated than the operation," she finally said. "I don't like receiving undeserved rewards, I don't have any sympathy for the local police, who they'll bribe anyway... And there are two other reasons, one of which is your acquaintance from 'The Last Haven.' I'm afraid for him."
"Well, if you don't want to, you don't have to," Nemo smiled again. "I'll find someone else. I'll take all your recommendations into account. I won't keep you any longer."
Eni nodded and took a few steps towards the hangar exit, then turned back and asked quietly,
"And do you really need to get rid of them, Mr. Nemo? I understand that they were the ones who cut your pilot?"
"They were involved in it," he said coldly, "and I would like them to be punished for it. And Kessel really washes brains and stomachs."
"Then there's an option to do without a reward and publicity, but still bring them to justice. I hope it's worth it," the girl smiled slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "We'll give them a sleeping potion, put them in the trunk of my speeder, unload them on the way, and inform the Imperials. What do you think, Mr. Nemo, will that suit you?"
As she was explaining this, an interesting idea came to Nemo's mind, which he decided to implement immediately after the doctor left.
"You know, I just came up with another option to avoid exposing anyone and punish the raiders. Would you lend me a couple of injections of a sleeping potion and its antidote?"
"Alright, Mr. Nemo," Eni agreed. The technician's words pleased her. Of course, she didn't want to leave him in a hopeless situation, but since he had figured out how to manage without her help, it meant she could return to her patient. Because her anxiety for him was growing stronger with every minute.
"If only this gray-haired man showed even the slightest desire to live..." the doctor mused, laying out her case on a container by the wall. After sorting through several injectors, she handed them to the technician, explaining the purpose of each in detail. It wasn't her usual practice, but the technician inspired her trust. And besides a deep sleep, nothing threatened the bandits.
The strap of the case again fell onto the girl's shoulder.
"Good luck, Mr. Nemo! Justice wasn't my specialty, but I hope these bandits get what's coming to them," the girl walked under the opening hangar doors and waved goodbye.
When the doctor left, and the hangar doors were closed, Nemo twirled the ampoules in his hands thoughtfully. The injector was neatly attached to his belt so as not to be conspicuous. The thought flashed through his mind that he should buy a dart gun.
Carefully putting the ampoules into one of the many pockets, he decided that Jethro needed rest and, gathering his things, headed to the hangar to his prisoners.
After his unconscious state transitioned into a healthy, albeit imposed, sleep, he went to his room. He needed to get transport, identify the main authority covering this area, and try to catch the image of the person who sent the message on the deck.
But first, he needed to return to his room.