Silently opening the door, peeking into the Toydarian's cabin, hearing his breathing, seeing him open one eye for a second and close his eyelids again, closing the cabin... I'll need to give him a drink and feed him a little. But now I'll have to torment Shai...
The girl appeared at the threshold unexpectedly and silently.
She was met by the gaze of the Kushiban, who waved his ear in greeting. Shai was not asleep and tried to lift her head, but immediately lowered it back onto the pillow.
"We're so tired of lying down..." she complained.
Sher's eyes lingered on Bus a little longer than they should have, but the question that remained unanswered last time was not asked. She nodded to the first mate and turned to the alien.
"I've already thought about it, Shai. I want to untie you, at least for a while," the girl approached and placed her hand on the Arkonian's clawed palm, "if... If you control yourself, Shai. Can you promise me that?" her gray, attentive eyes met the golden gaze of the alien.
"We'll be in the cabin," the Arkonian agreed readily. "We won't go anywhere. We need to move..."
"I'll keep an eye on you," the Kushiban promised quietly. "Besides, movement will help remove toxins faster..."
"Okay, Bus... Thank you," her gaze, cast at the first mate, was again too intent. Will it be easier for her if she hears confirmation from him of what she not only suspects, but is almost sure of?
"Shai, I ran your blood through a hemosorbent, it's like that of a newly hatched chick... Don't move for now, please..." Bending over the bunk, Sher began to untie the restraining strap. The knot was complicated, but it unraveled surprisingly easily once the end of the strap was pulled. After a few minutes, the Arkonian was freed from the bonds that chained her to the bunk. And Sher repeated again, supporting her as she began to get up:
"Your blood has been purified. And I hope I won't have to resort to this difficult procedure for you anymore. Agreed?" she added with an encouraging smile.
"We will try very hard," Shai assured her, trying to sit up. It didn't work the first time, but it did. With difficulty assuming an upright position, the alien began to rub her arms and legs with a groan: circulation was not impaired, but the bonds still left a mark on her skin. "I need to move," she repeated. "Otherwise, I can't listen to the stone..."
"You want to ask me something," Bus sat casually on the table so that his eyes and the human's eyes were at the same level.
A barely noticeable wrinkle appeared between Sher's dark eyebrows, seeing dark furrows from the cord on the alien's burgundy skin. Violence, unfreedom, pain... Things that always disgusted her. And now she has to practice it. Even if for good.
The Kushiban's words made her turn her head sharply towards him. And he even feels that...
"I suppose so," she decided and did not look away.
Shai, groaning, hobbled to the medical bay. The Kushiban watched her with an ear that swiveled like a locator.
"What is bothering you, Sher?"
"And you felt it, Bus?" Sher chuckled. "If you felt it... Then you are also like Rick? Like Larius? Like Nick? Gifted?"
She asked this point-blank, looking into the light green eyes of the first mate.
"I am a shaman, Sher," the Kushiban reminded her. "Have you ever seen a non-gifted shaman? Of course, I am gifted. With my own peculiarities, not without that. But I would like to know why this worries you so much?"
Sher nodded. It was so. She wanted confirmation - she received it. Four of them.
"Bus... - how good it is to have a strand of hair to twist around your finger... - Imagine, I've never seen a shaman, let alone an gifted one. In my 25 years, until recently, I've only met one gifted person. And in the last few days, on one ship - four of them... It's. a bit... unusual," her braid with a white ring was thrown over her shoulder. That wasn't the whole truth. She couldn't shake the feeling that among the gifted, she was like a specimen under a microscope. With Nick - it was completely different...
The Kushiban shifted on its furry paws, wrapping its tail around them.
"But did we do anything bad to you?" its long ears perked up, emphasizing the bewilderment on the alien's expressive face.
"Oh, no," Sher said, flustered. "Quite the opposite, only help, protection, only good things! Believe me, I'm infinitely grateful to you! You've all helped me so much in my endeavor, Rick saved me... Nick..." Sher faltered for a moment. "Thanks to Nick, I'm here," she found her words and added, "You see, it's just that I feel strange among you..."
"How exactly strange?" Bus clarified. The question might have seemed abrupt if it hadn't been softened by the genuine concern in the alien's voice.
Sher looked thoughtfully at the first mate. She probably wasn't ready to discuss such matters. How could she explain that she felt a distance even with Nick, who was closer than anyone? A distance between an ordinary person and a gifted one... It was immense. And their ability to read others' feelings... How to tell the first mate, "I saw you feel THAT I was dancing"?
"Shai is taking a long time," Sher turned her head restlessly towards the door.
"She was lying down for a long time, she needs to tidy herself up," the alien explained. "She's bathing. You don't want to talk," it wasn't a question. "I can't insist. Such things are a matter of trust... But the longer you remain silent, the harder it may be for you later to understand that..."
He didn't finish, glanced at the floor, and headed for the exit.
"Wait! Please wait, First Mate..." Sher blurted out, flustered, even taking a step after the alien. "I... I also wanted to ask permission to pet you," she said unexpectedly after a pause, and then asked more calmly, "What should I understand, tell me, Bus?"
"You didn't need to ask permission for that," the Kushiban snorted softly, glancing back. "I've learned to appreciate affection... You should consider that perhaps there's no significant difference between us."
Sher took a second step and knelt beside the Kushiban. Her warm palm touched Bus's head with its pointed muzzle. The light cream fur was so soft and silky to the touch that petting the alien was a pure pleasure, hard to tear away from.
"Still, it's better to ask permission before petting the first mate," Sher smiled, trying to scratch him behind his long ear. "Do you really think so? But your superpowers set you apart from ordinary people. You're just as ordinary, unless..." Sher thought of Tardi, who Nick was at first, "unless you can't use the Force?"
"We can," the alien purred with satisfaction. "But what, in your opinion, does the Force give us?"
Sher smiled, scratching the soft, fluffy fur on Bus's neck.
"I've looked up information about the Force from various sources, but there wasn't much, and I don't know how reliable it is. In the Empire, such knowledge is, alas, forbidden," she said quietly. "I read that the Force gives power, that the Force helps to perfect the abilities an individual already possesses," she said, glancing at Bus. She really wanted to hear about the Force firsthand. And perhaps it was even better that she was talking to Bus. Nick shouldn't be bothered with her doubts.
"And that the Force is a means to achieve a set goal," the girl added, daring to stroke the bridge of the alien's nose between its two bulging eyes with a delicate finger.
"You draw quite well," the Kushiban wriggled out from under her arm and jumped onto the bunk. "It's better to talk sitting on something more comfortable than the floor, I think... So, drawing - is that a means for you, power? And dancing?"
"Drawing?" Sher said, rising from the floor after Bus. Asking how he knew she drew was superfluous. Another confirmation that she was an open book to the gifted. "It's not something that can be answered in one word," she said thoughtfully, sitting down in an armchair. "Rather, it's a means to express all the shades of feeling, my vision of myself and the Universe... Perhaps, if I were a talented artist," a slight smirk flickered in the watercolor haze of her gray eyes, "like Tamir Martye, it would be a means to bring something into the souls of those around me."
"Does it bother you that you don't have Martye's talent?" Bus perked up an ear, looking at her with interest.
"No, of course not," Sher looked at the alien in surprise. "Each of us has our own path, I can't change the world with my art, but I can heal, I can reduce pain, I can alleviate suffering. At least for someone. And drawing..." she smiled softly at Bus. "I draw because I can't not draw. It's a need of the soul..." she shrugged.
"But giftedness is exactly the same talent," the Kushiban settled down more comfortably. "It's rare, and it often brings its owner far more problems than benefits. To feel what others are experiencing is often... unpleasant. And we learn to shut ourselves off from it. Yes, when it comes to survival or protecting loved ones, it's a very useful skill – to guess what the enemy will do. But loved ones, friends, beloveds – they are not enemies... To intrude into their consciousness, into their feelings – that is... akin to violence. None of us would do that to those we hold dear. Except for those for whom the concept of 'dear being' means only what benefit they can bring... Power? We are not omnipotent, not immortal. We can get sick just the same, we can be wounded, killed. We simply have one more sense organ, an additional tool for interacting with the world, Sher. Nothing more."
"But..." Sher said, contemplating what she had heard, reaching out to stroke the light fur of the first mate. "You can't help but feel strong emotions, even if you don't want to? Like when Vaimi and I were dancing? Right?"
The girl's palm stroked the warm back of the Kushiban, and her pupils still pulsed restlessly in her eyes.
"I can't," the alien nodded. "Even if I close myself off. If you close your eyes while looking at the sun, you'll still see light. And it's good if these strong emotions are kind... When you only feel cruelty and contempt..."
He shivered under her palm.
"There's nothing to envy here, Sher."
The girl's fingers gently stroked the soft fur on the fluffy alien's nape.
"No, I don't envy it, Bus," she shook her head. "To feel someone else's grief and suffering is agonizing... even for a non-gifted person... And it can be like an abyss. Thank you for reminding me of that," Sher said, lost in thought. "I was thinking about how to live among you gifted ones, and I forgot what it's like for you – with me, with my excessive emotionality. Thank you, Bus... It was important for me to understand..." she didn't finish the sentence, looking at the first mate with her bright eyes. "I'll try to be more careful."
"Your emotionality is not a problem," the Kushiban twitched its ears. "You don't gush with emotions so strongly, and they aren't the kind of emotions that oppress. But wariness... It's upsetting because it makes one feel like a being unworthy of trust. But it's understandable, and I'm not offended by it. You also have... something very unpleasant in your past, don't you?"
"Bus," Sher said, flustered, "please don't take my slight shyness as distrust. Especially since the time spent on Nar Shaddaa has also left its mark on my sociability. Well, and the first gifted person I met, willingly or unwillingly, became the cause of the destruction of my world," she smiled sadly. "The cause of my troubles and life on this Moon. So please forgive my prejudice... And I think – it's over now," Sher's smile now resembled the holographic images of Paula Carrade with its openness.
The alien wagged its tail.
"That's good. We have a lot of work and life together, it's good that you've gathered the resolve to talk about what was troubling you. Yes, we don't read minds. The emotional background is enough.
He glanced at the san-block. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Shai appeared. She looked considerably more cheerful now.
Sher touched the Kushiban's paw with her hand. A gesture akin to a friendly handshake. Sher wanted to express her gratitude for this conversation, which she so desperately needed, and which had resolved her doubts.
She turned her head to the alien and noticed, giving her a cheerful look:
"Shai, you're looking chipper after your shower. How are you feeling? Do you want to move around and eat something, perhaps? Or should we have a session first?"
"We want to walk, yes," the Arconian agreed. "We're better. We're good. Only... The ship is singing again."
Sher's gaze restlessly darted towards where the corridor leading to the cockpit lay beyond the cabin door.
"And what is it singing about?" she quietly asked the Arconian, tensing with premonition.
"That there's air there," Shai pointed at the bulkhead. "Outside. Hot air."
"We've entered the atmosphere," the Kushiban explained. "Rick is going on an operation. And, by the way, someone is hanging on our tail..."
Sher looked at Bus and heard him, but it seemed she no longer saw him. Only from the pupils of his gray eyes, such anxiety wafted towards the alien...
"Nick is there..."
Without a word, she sprang from her seat and rushed out of the cabin.
The door panel, thrown aside to its limit, didn't close immediately, and for a few seconds, the sound of her running down the corridor could be heard.
These meters, which she covered with the alarm of her own heart, seemed endless.
The cockpit was dimly lit: the darkness was dispelled by a hologram on which a green light tried to escape two red dots. Nick desperately tried to break free from the pincers, but he was being pressed towards the atmosphere, unable to leave the planet's gravity well.
For a moment, a sharp profile lit up – the navigator glanced back.
"Can you shoot?"
"I've shot," she said curtly, rushing to the weapons. The latches clicked, securing her to the seat. A couple of seconds to understand: this was only similar to training in general. But there was no time to sight in. Absolutely no time... They were being driven into the gravitational shadow... Suddenly, everything left her mind except one thing: two red dots on the inversion sight, catch them in the red reticle and destroy them...
No one dares to harm Nick.
The crew.
The ship.
Brief, short bursts of fire crisscrossed the distance between "The Lucky Chance" and the pursuers with bright flashes, forcing them to maneuver and retreat. For now, short bursts... For now... Catching the wildly jumping dots in the reticle and locking onto the target was much harder than in training. But this only made her concentrate more on the target. To feel, to decipher the maneuver... The red reticle! The space was blown apart by the long trails of her bursts.
The first shots missed. The pursuers hadn't had time to orient themselves in the changed situation, and the next burst grazed the shields, forcing the enemy to turn away to avoid exploding into a plasma cloud. Nick immediately took advantage of this to break free from the trap. "The Lucky Chance" darted into the gap and began to accelerate for the jump.
The enemy gave chase – they clearly weren't going to let them go. A targeting burst passed from the side, then another – closer to the hull.
"Scare them off again," Nick asked in a toneless voice.
Sher didn't need to be asked. A whole downpour of tracer plasma rained down on the pursuers.
"So you didn't understand?!" she whispered through clenched teeth, her voice more like a hiss.
Again, jumping dots. Two. Persistent. And again – a burst. And again, trails, lightning-fast, extending towards the unknown pursuers. One after another. They flew across the reticle Sher had placed on the enemy ship. They were just targets that needed to be destroyed. Those who threatened the lives of loved ones and friends ceased to be anything else. To save from wounds and illnesses, one must first simply save... She was cold-blooded and calculating. She thought she had deciphered the dance of death. Lock on. Trigger! Until her fingers turned white...
The hail of fire disrupted the aiming of the enemy gunners – several volleys landed dangerously close to the departing ship, but none hit their target. At the very moment Sher squeezed the triggers, the stars finally scattered, and "The Lucky Chance" plunged into the hyperspace corridor. Whether her shots hit their mark remained a mystery.
Nick froze, closing his eyes and placing his hands on the control panel. After a few seconds, his fingers trembled, ejecting the fugitives into open space beyond the system – only to set a new course and immediately jump again.
"We lost them..." the navigator exhaled.
The finger that had been on the trigger didn't relax. Nor did her clenched teeth. The tension didn't hasten to loosen its grip. And she still hadn't realized that they had escaped.
"Nick," she couldn't say it right away, "how could you possibly do that..."
The navigator's fingers found her hand, squeezed it, gently removing it from the triggers.
"Shhh... It's over. It's all over, we're gone. You did great..."
"No," she rubbed her cheek against his delicate fingers, realizing her happiness. They had managed to escape. He was here... "I'm not great at all. I didn't even shoot any of them. Although I always hit in training... Let me make you some caf or brew some herbal tea instead... And give you a massage. I'm better at that," she looked at him with eyes darkened by dilated pupils and added quietly, "You need to rest, Nick... Maybe we can leave the cockpit for now? You need to sleep. I won't disturb you," she added hastily.
"You're not disturbing me," the straps of the pilot's seat clicked softly. "I just couldn't get distracted for a second to call you. Now..."
Nick pressed the selector button.
"Larius, please relieve me on watch."