The speeder landed confidently next to the smuggler, turning to face him at the last moment and allowing him to get into the back seat.
Sher's hands, not having finished braiding her hair, froze for a moment and then lay on her knees.
"I won't be able to walk around with my hair down all the time, Nick," she said softly. "I'm a doctor, and such a hairstyle is unacceptable in my work. And it seems the day off is over," she smiled, looking at Nick, her braid still half-done.
Rick didn't take the opportunity to sit down. Smiling, he tapped on the front windshield and announced:
"I'm waiting for you."
"Then wait a minute, I'll return the car," the pilot glanced at the girl. "Sher, will you stay with Rick, or will you go with me?"
"I'll wait for you here, Nick, with Cap," the girl decided, opened the door, and easily slid out of the seat.
"Good evening, Cap," the door closed almost silently behind her. "Apparently, something very important happened, for you to be here?" she asked Rick, subtly glancing at the ascending speeder.
"I decided it was time to settle into the ship," the guy smiled, also watching the car, "and for me, it's more like noon now. The days on this planet have very blurred boundaries."
"The ship?" Sher rejoiced. "So... pack your bags, Cap? How much time do you give us to pack, Rick?" she squinted cheerfully, simultaneously calculating how to pack the remaining medications.
"And does Jethro already know?" she suddenly remembered.
"No," he shook his head slightly, "I'm going to talk to Jethro while you pack, and Nick reports to Jiro that he's moving out. There are no time limits. But the sooner, the better."
"Wait..." Sher looked at the captain anxiously. "You're probably not taking him on board... Of course, why would you need another pilot when..." she broke off and started a new sentence. "And how will he remain without medical care? Yes, he's healing perfectly, of course, but you never know..."
The guy looked at the girl in surprise at first, then smiled.
"Sher..." sparks of laughter danced in his eyes, "even if the Duro we abandoned doesn't die from the wound... He'll die of boredom. So he's coming with us too."
"Cap, I've known you for a very short time, but I've been convinced so many times that you can't leave your people without help. And even not your own people..." she chuckled, remembering her call to Rick from the lower level. "Forgive me for thinking that," the doctor smiled guiltily. "And one more question, Cap," she paused briefly. "How much longer will we be on Nar Shaddaa?"
"As much as it takes," the captain replied evasively, but without a hint of a smirk or lecture. He chose to ignore the girl's unexpected praise.
"As you say, cap," Sher replied, too humbly to be true, hiding a smile. She took a few steps toward the cantina entrance and turned back. "I'll go pack up my medbay, cap."
"Alright," he nodded and remained in place, waiting for Nick.
The girl walked through the cantina hall, oblivious to the glances, the whispers thrown after her, or the Zabrak with his usual glass at the bar.
It was noon for the captain. And her day had begun so long ago that it felt like it had lasted... A month? A year? Just a day? There was the chair in the room, still pushed close to the bed. And the bird sat on the windowsill. At the mere sight of it, her heart gave a thrilling lurch. It was real. Here, she had stopped dancing and kissed him somewhere near his temple. And here, in the chair, Nick had slept while she watched him.
Everything was hastily packed into the bag, which hadn't been fully unpacked. Among other things, the bird, now completely hardened, was packed with special care.
"And the little dragon," Sher reminded herself as she entered the pilot's room. Strangely, she had dreamed so much of working on a crew, of flights and stars, of escaping the dirty atmosphere of this planet... And now she stood in the middle of the "Last Haven" room, and it seemed to her that the tender feeling of unconditional happiness she had experienced within these walls would never be repeated...
Sher sighed and began to pack the remaining medications.
The pilot appeared quite soon – about fifteen minutes later. Without a vehicle, still frighteningly thin, but his gait had become springy and fast, his movements confident. He was no longer the same person who had stumbled into the transport's hatch in orbit above the star. And the look in his gray-green eyes had changed: not a trace of cold indifference remained; Nick looked with a lively and keen gaze, in which, now and then, something suspiciously like a smile flickered.
"Gray in the beard, devil in the ribs?" the phrase was laced with irony, and hundreds of little devils danced in his eyes. Despite the seemingly sarcastic tone, Rick was glad everything was working out this way. "I hope you had the sense not to get yourself into the local news, unlike some?"
"Didn't they tell you as a child that envy is bad?" Nick inquired insinuatingly. The malicious tone was softened by his laughing eyes. "I'm not sure, I haven't listened to the news yet, but I suspect the local cuisine will become somewhat more refined and varied..."
"Big deal, the cuisine," the guy waved his hand, "a new pyromaniac has appeared on Smuggler's Moon. Now that's news. Your ship's radiator grilles were red-hot. Is everything alright?"
The last was said with a touch of concern.
"Excluding a couple of bewildered crews in low orbits?" Nick clarified. "Then yes, everything is just wonderful."
Sher's packing didn't take long, and after a while, the girl crossed the cantina threshold. A droid rolled out behind her, loaded with a container of medicine and a bag of belongings. The girl met Nick's gaze, and her eyes lit up.
"I stretched my legs a bit in the sky," the pilot added modestly, looking back at the "Haven's" door. "There's no movement in the upper layers, you can turn around... Sher, you're a woman of ideals! Anyone else would have made us wait for two hours."
Rick shook his head.
"Then would you mind taking the container from her and going back to the rooms?" he allowed himself an ironic smile. "We need to have a chat with one... Duros. Let him choose where he'd rather be."
He didn't say what he thought about flying in the upper atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa. Nick was an adult and responsible for his own life in his free time. And the lives of those who had become dear to him.
"I'll wait for you here, cap, with the things," Sher said to Rick, but still looking at the gray-haired pilot. "I'll find something to occupy myself until you return."
She finally looked away, belatedly remembering her promise to Nick.
The pilot raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Is this conversation so secret that you have to leave the girl here alone and unsupervised?" he asked, but the question clearly implied "hell no, I'm not leaving her here." "It seems they're already quite familiar with this... Duros."
"Especially since the patient needs physical exercise," Rick added to what he had said, "so we're going back."
He himself didn't want to leave the doctor alone on this planet. Not even for a couple of minutes.
"Alright," Sher chuckled, looking at the men, her gaze lingering on Nick. She felt his anxiety and determination not to let her out of his sight. And again, her heart fluttered tenderly in her chest.
She was dear to him... And Rick too, apparently, he just didn't want her to stand here without them. Of course, it was silly for the guys to worry so much. She was perfectly capable of defending herself if necessary.
But their concern warmed her soul and filled her with gratitude.
They agreed to leave the belongings under guard. No point in carrying them back and forth, after all.
Reaching the Duros's room was no problem, and after a casual knock, Rick entered immediately.
"It's not locked," Jethro replied belatedly, caught in a rather extravagant pose: the Duros lay on his back, legs propped on the room's wall, and with the diligence of a piston mechanism, he lifted and lowered a heavy chair on his legs. "I'm just... exercising..."
"Jethro," the doc narrowed her eyes. "I thought I recommended completely different exercises? And you're not supposed to exert yourself like this yet. What, you're eager to dance?" Sher smiled understandingly at the Duros.
Rick shook his head again, fearing it wouldn't be the last time today.
"I see we all have brains and intelligence here," he said with a sigh. "Jet, we're leaving the 'Haven.' Are you staying here, in proud solitude, or will you settle on my ship for now?"
"I have cargo," Jethro reminded him, carefully lowering the chair onto his chest and moving it to the floor. "I thought it would be good for the legs, doc."
He noticed the pilot who had appeared in the doorway and looked with interest at Nick's jaw. To his disappointment, not the slightest trace of a blow was visible.
"Wow," the Duros commented almost admiringly at what he saw. "Like on a vornskr..."
"I don't think you're ready to be without my supervision yet, Jethro," Sher stated, looking at the captain with concern. But the Duros's last remark made her lips twitch, hiding a faint smile.
"I remember you have cargo," Rick waved his hand, settling on the nearest table. "I'm going to stay at Ninx's place in the Cosmodrome for a few days anyway. Flying an uncharted ship is like... eating at a Hutt's reception without a bio-analyzer. You'll take care of your cargo for now. Especially since if the deal goes through, you'll unload your cargo."
Meanwhile, Sher moved the chair she had sat on that morning closer to Jethro's bed, sat down on it, and reminded the Duros of the exercises she had prescribed that morning. She bent and straightened his foot, his knee, silently showed him how to abduct the injured limb, how to tense various muscles of the wounded leg to activate blood circulation.
"And strength training can only be done later. And only under my supervision," she whispered, so as not to interrupt the captain.
Nick, with the air of "I'm just passing through, and generally, learn, rookie," settled into the chair, which Jethro had carelessly left without a pile of junk on the seat. He very carefully avoided looking at the pirate and Sher, but he listened very attentively. He hid his smirk with the meticulousness of a seasoned smuggler before a customs inspection.
"Deal or no deal, I just need to report to the captain," the Duros replied in tune with Rick, though he didn't stick out his tongue at Nick. "What's next? If it's a hot job, I won't be much use, with only one leg."
An indefinite, but clearly mocking sound came from the chair. In the Force, it was clearly read: "You're not much use on two legs either..."
"Go to the Maw Cluster, Jet," Rick waved his hand. "Why does everyone around think I'm always planning a hot job? Close the deal, take a taxi to your burrow here, and rush back to the captain. I care about you, you red-eyed mug."
This was said without any hint of malice or humiliation.
While Rick was talking, Sher silently got up from her seat to wash her hands in the shower. It was impossible to pass the chair with Nick sitting in it without looking at him, no matter how hard she tried. But her shy, tender gaze was noticed by no one except the one for whom it was intended. The mirror in the shower noted her abnormally bright eyes, a slight blush on her cheeks, and... a completely clear forehead, without any hint of yesterday's disaster... The bandage had probably fallen off that morning in the shower, but then she had completely forgotten what had happened yesterday. Could it be... the cap?! And him too? Does that happen? It was easy to compare the forehead, healed in less than a day, with the accelerated regeneration of the Duros's wound. It was harder to believe. She returned with washed hands, a question in her eyes, and a desire to immediately see the cap's blood. On her monitor. In full view.
"No, if it's like falling into a sarlacc's mouth, then it's Jethro," the Duros retorted jokingly. "But if it's about a share, then it's immediately a mug. At least it's for the best intentions. What's more convenient for you? What if you have another cold deal – all cold bodies..."
"Me?! It makes no difference. But if I have to pull your skin out of somewhere again, it's more convenient when it's not far to run," Rick concluded.
"You'd think I have two dozen orders," Jethro grumbled, handing him the deck. "Have you watched the news lately, our speedy one? And by the way, they just showed such an air show, I was so envious. Who could it have been?"
"A couple of dozen... what a big deal," Rick waved his hand. "When it's closer to fifty, I'll start worrying. Nick, is this your work? The show?"
The pilot, who had managed to intercept the doctor at the exit of the medical bay and drag her to the armrest of his chair, put on the most innocent face.
"A show? What show? I didn't see a single spectator, it was too high up..."
"You'll tell me about it later, not now," Rick said thoughtfully. "So, Jet, are you with us or will you be resting at the 'Haven'?"
"It's boring alone," the Duros sighed, glancing at Sher and the pilot. "So I'll be with you for now. We'll see after that."
And Sher immediately forgot about the captain, about his blood.
"My personal magnet," she thought, looking at Nick and smiling. "I'm always drawn to him..."
In the crosshairs of his eyes, everything else lost its significance. True, she didn't really like the comments about Nick's flight. To call that dance of wind-blown leaves and wandering lights a "show"?
Hutt!.. They were filmed... In the gaze directed at Nick, anxiety was clearly read. Such a flight leaves a very bright trail, by which the pilot could be found by those who were looking for him...
"If you're talking about my piloting style, they won't recognize it," Nick shook his head. "I'll bet any hand – I've never flown like that before. By the way, Jethro, did you record the broadcast?"
"Of course," the Duros chuckled. "I don't know how you flew before, but if you keep swinging your tail like that on the bell – you'll fly yourself to death very soon."
"Let's see..." Nick reached for the deck, not letting go of the girl.
"Yes..." Rick shook his head again, little devils dancing in his eyes. "This is my crew... Two shamans, a slave, a drug addict, a daredevil doctor, and a gray-haired kid. I definitely won't die of boredom."
"Make up your mind, will you?" the pilot retorted sarcastically. "Sometimes an old man, sometimes a kid... A slave – okay, that happens. But where did you find the drug addict?"
"So that's who called Nick an old man," Sher thought, glancing at the captain with a slight reproach. But then she smiled at him again.
"Cap, you can rest assured about me. I have nothing else to be reckless with. Unless... I learn to fly a ship?" the girl said with playful thoughtfulness, glancing at the gray-haired pilot. "And when will we all get acquainted, cap?" she addressed Rick.
"I don't know, we don't have a vehicle, it's a long walk," he said thoughtfully, starting to answer from the end. "I haven't decided yet what's more in you, from an old man or from a kid. As for the drug addict... He dug himself up."
In passing, he began to rummage through the deck, looking for drivers on this planet.
There were plenty of people willing to earn money by transporting everything and everyone suitable for transport. While Rick was choosing a suitable delivery agency, the pilot thoughtfully observed him.
"There's been no reason to suspect you of excessive altruism," he finally said. "What can this drug addict do that you took him into the deal?"
"To put duty above his needs," the car was ordered, and the guy received a message on his deck that a car for four would be waiting in ten minutes. "And other minor things, a technician. A geologist. A handsome guy."
"Do you know what substance he's addicted to, cap?" Sher asked quietly. "And for how long? 'Is it possible to help him, in principle? Most often, when the body is cleansed of intoxication by this substance, such an exacerbation begins... And psychological support from everyone around is needed. And the drug addict himself must have incredible willpower.'"
"Salt," the absurdity of the statement brought a smile, even when she didn't want it. "He's addicted to salt. Ask him about everything else."
"Salt..." Sher repeated disbelievingly after the captain.
"Well, everyone has their own drug. It's just that not all of them have a destructive effect... Why not salt?"
"Yes, of course, cap," she replied, sliding off the armrest of the chair she was sitting on. "I'll ask him about that. And I'll ask you about something else, Rick," the last phrase was spoken in passing.
"Arcona," Nick stated, getting up after her. "An interesting acquisition..."
Jethro stopped pretending to be a dead lizard and busied himself around the room quite nimbly, gathering the most necessary things. The rest, he reasoned, could be delivered by Jiro. For an extra fee, of course.
"You're accumulating junk, like a downed customs officer, in orbit above the mynocks," Rick interjected without missing a beat.
"We only live once," the Duros shrugged. "And I prefer to do it with all the comforts. You can't take credits into the Force with you."
"Do you need help packing?" Sher asked Jethro, watching him hastily gather his belongings, limping.
"Ma'am, women and men have different ideas about what's needed first," the alien politely refused. "Besides, I'm almost done..."
From Jethro's point of view, the most necessary items were a weapon, a sabacc set, and a flat flask with something that could easily replace nuclear fuel.
Sher shrugged and chuckled. Indeed, she would have definitely forgotten the sabacc set.
"Cap, then, perhaps it's time to move to the starting positions?" she asked Rick, holding his gaze. She was still very interested in whether her suspicions about the cap's abilities were correct.
Regarding the Force's statement and the death in his eyes, a spark of anxiety flashed in the guy's gaze. After all, in the Outer Rim, many remembered the terms that the Emperor had tried to eradicate in the settled galaxy.
"Yes, we have no reason to linger here. Nick, did you inform Jiro about your departure?" he needed to stop using "I think," "probably," and other words that indicate uncertainty. His speech needed to change, like everything else. Slightly, but inevitably.
"Yes, he has no claims against me," if Jiro had claims, the whole group would already know about it. "He returned the rest to me."
The Duros shoved some bundle into his bag, glanced around the room, and decided it wasn't worth further attention.
Sher also cast a final glance at the walls of the room, the monitor that served as a window. Only, for a completely different purpose. The rooms in the "Haven" were almost identical. And this was another opportunity to soak in the feeling of the happiest days of her life. In this cantina. On Smuggler's Moon.
"Then let's go," Rick went out first, having received a message on his deck about the arriving taxi. It was time to put a period at the end of another chapter in a book that had united so many lives.
A new chapter began aboard the "Gale."