The door was ordinary, which Sher saw as a clear oversight. Following their logic, the doors should have been made of anti-glare transparent transparisteel, so that clients wouldn't notice them at all. Although, after all, this wasn't Nar Shaddaa, she reminded herself, no one was trying to demoralize clients. Probably.
In the hall, all the office managers were busy serving various clients. And that was a good sign. But Sher didn't even have to think about where to go – they were already hurrying towards them. Perhaps this person was the most suitable for this place. He was so clean, almost washed to sterility, so neatly combed and serious.
"Ma'am? Istro Mell, senior manager. How can I help you?" the young man smiled very reservedly, shifting his eyes from Sher to Day and back.
Day quietly squeezed Sher's elbow. The negotiations were hers to conduct. The planetologist was just "for show."
"You can help us very much, Mr. Mell. We need medication. And its delivery to the Spaceport to the ship," the doctor stated bluntly.
"You have free delivery, as advertised on your company's website?" she clarified, looking at his smooth and slightly plump face.
"Delivery is free for orders over two thousand," Istro straightened slightly.
"That will do. What are your delivery times?" Sher continued her interrogation.
"We need it urgently, within two to three hours, otherwise the order doesn't interest us, Mr. Mell."
"We'll do it, ma'am," Istro said stoically with the same polite smile.
"come in, have a seat," he raised his hand, the palm of which was as piercingly clean as his face.
"Coffee, tea?"
"Coffee, please," Day said for the first time, having played the role of either a bodyguard or a statue until then, she smiled and winked at Sher.
"And more of it," Sher thought to herself, remembering that the last time she had seen coffee, it was... Hutt knows when it was.
"Coffee," she nodded and smiled at the Corellian a little guiltily.
"You'll have to be bored for a little while, Day, I'm sorry..."
Sher touched her hand.
Istro Mell moved a black plate from the back of his head to his eyes, which turned out to be a special visor for viewing the condition and remaining stock, making his face completely inscrutable. He and Sher became engrossed in work. Every item was discussed and checked, all the technical production documentation, the compliance of the declared pharmaceutical firms with their microchips. They both didn't look up from their datapads with the list, only once did Sher get distracted to grab a cup of coffee from the tray brought by a droid.
In general, Bacrana Remedias had everything that "Chance" needed. Istro solemnly promised to deliver a couple of items from a branch. Sher, sipping coffee, would nod at Istro or categorically disagree. But Mr. Mell's face expressed only attention and boundless patience. And even when he didn't like the nitpicking, he considered it beneath his dignity to show it to the client. To hell with everyone, he wasn't appointed senior for nothing!
Throughout the discussion, Day drank coffee with a strange smile and openly admired Sher, because she was simply superb in her element!
"Bear with it a little longer, it's almost done," Sher whispered to the planetologist, seizing the moment when Istro got involved in a conversation with the warehouse.
"It's okay, Sher," Day whispered back.
"I can wait as long as needed, especially since they make good coffee here."
Sher could only respond with a grateful look, because Istro Mell, having finished one negotiation, immediately switched to negotiating with her. After a few minutes, they settled everything.
Istro put on the visor backward.
"Ma'am, your order is already being prepared for shipment, but I have another offer for you," the senior manager smiled mysteriously.
"Only for you can I offer an unprecedented discount on the PFG-700 blood synthesizer!"
"And... how much?" Sher asked, holding her breath. A replicator solved many problems. And having one on the ship...
"We'll give it to you for just four and a half thousand credits, ma'am!" Istro Mell proclaimed almost triumphantly.
Sher chuckled. Four and a half thousand credits versus its usual five and a half didn't change anything for her. The captain couldn't even dream of such expenses. Not now, at least. But later...
"If this discount on the synthesizer is intended only for me, I hope it will remain so?" The gray watercolors of her eyes breathed black depth into her pupils at the senior manager.
"Sher Lonely... Don't forget, Mr. Istro... Alright? I'll be back for it."
Istro Mell swallowed and muttered, "Yes, Miss Lonely... This is your personal discount. on the replicator. And where should I deliver the medication?" he suddenly remembered.
Sher sent him the coordinates of "Chance" and, preempting his question about prepayment or advance payment, informed him that Captain Rickard Monroe would pay upon delivery. And as she said goodbye, she promised the dejected Mell that this would not be their last order.
Day and Sher left the office and had taken a few steps towards the elevator when the planetologist took Sher by the elbow and, leaning conspiratorially towards her ear, whispered: "Sher, and..." For a moment Day hesitated over whom – us, you? – "do we really need this thing?"
Sher even stopped, looking closely at the Corellian. The question surprised her somewhat, but she replied almost immediately.
"It would be better if we didn't need it at all," she answered with utmost honesty.
"You see, Day, this plasma replicator synthesizes ANY blood, of any creature, as long as you have a piece of its skin or hair. Perhaps it will never be needed, perhaps tomorrow, in a month, in a year. I don't know... But the crew is my family, I have no other..."
She managed to step over the word with a running start. With Day's appearance on the ship, memories of her parents, of the comfort and warmth of their home on Coruscant, became almost tangible, like this warm Corellian hand.
"And therefore, I would like to help them, if such a moment comes. And everyone we might meet. But... For now – it's an unattainable luxury for me. And for Rick, probably..."
"I understand," Day nodded briefly.
"In that case, I have a proposal: let me buy this... what is it? Device with my personal funds. Honestly, a saved life is worth much more."
"Day... You're probably right... To save someone's life – nothing is too expensive. Therefore," she paused for a second, looking at the planetologist with radiant eyes. After all, she would give her the credits. Maybe not immediately, but she would definitely give them back. And perhaps it wasn't elegant. But she couldn't miss such a device.
"Let's agree on this... I'll borrow these credits from you. And I'll return them."
"That's great! Agreed!" she couldn't tell a girl with such eyes that it was quite possible to come up with a way to make this Sith device a gift, if there was a desire.
"Shall we go back and buy it?"
"Let's go!" Sher grabbed the woman's hand with unexpected strength and rushed back into the hall. The senior manager was still there. Seeing the ladies, he smiled broadly.
"I knew you'd come back, ma'am!"
"What makes you so sure?" Sher chuckled.
"I didn't know, for example. But you're right, we're taking the synthesizer right now."
"I'm a good judge of people, Miss Lonely," he flattered himself, his washed face shining with self-satisfaction.
"Judging by... the thoroughness..." Istro stopped himself in time. The word that wanted to escape was clearly different.
"Now you and your captain have a discount on everything you've ordered now, and for subsequent orders, ma'am," he corrected himself.
"Thank you," Sher smiled politely and turned her head to Day.
"What do you think, maybe it's better to pay now, or the captain will have a heart attack when he sees the bill," she said to the planetologist in a worried voice.
Day nodded silently. Sher had no way of knowing that she reminded the planetologist of her friends left in Corellia, and this whole trip was a post-mission shopping spree. Back then, she also gave her friends the right to trade, while she herself smiled sweetly and remained silent. Only from this smile, for some reason, did the sellers lose the desire to "palm off" something that would fall apart after the first rain.
Istro Mell made adjustments to the order, smiled a little more, transferred the credits to the company's account, and the women safely left the building. They didn't have to search for their car for long. It gleamed brightly with its black and green sides in the sun of Bacrana, which was already leaning towards sunset. The outline of its two moons became even clearer.
"And now, please, to the supermarket, the best and cheapest one," Sher commanded the driver, straightening the lapels of her jacket. The driver grunted but said nothing.
"Thank you, Day," her palm found the Corellian's hand and squeezed it gently.
The minivan shot upwards, gleaming in the sunset rays, sped through the streets of Amma, and began to descend smoothly in front of the huge dome of the shopping center.
"We've arrived, ma'am," the driver said over his shoulder.
"Should I wait for you?"
"No need, really, Day?" the doctor smiled.
"This could take an indefinite amount of time..."
"Of course, no need," the women paid the driver and headed towards the hypermarket building, which towered and sparkled in the sun's rays.
The cockpit greeted Rick with the usual flickering of instruments and the navigator in his place. Sitting in the captain's chair, Rick calmly began to study the ship's condition – routine work that had become a habit.
"We've sorted out the supplies, and the refueling too, I see. All that's left is to decide on the next planet," he paused.
"I suggest we go for that mobile base you mentioned earlier."
Nick turned his head to him. His predatory profile was clearly visible against the background of the blister.
"The medication hasn't been delivered yet," he reminded quietly.
"And I would advise buying programs for the droid that will expand its capabilities. As I understand it, there's only a basic set."
"That can be done on Bothawui, it will be easier for me to do it there, and besides, I plan to tinker with it, and that requires time," the sun had already passed its zenith and was moving towards rest.
"Sher hasn't returned yet? Naturally, we'll wait for her. Food will be brought too... In forty to fifty minutes. I'm interested in possible resistance, both in space and on the planet. And what we can, at least approximately, profit from there."
Nick shifted his gaze to the hologram displayed above the console. The port and its surroundings, hundreds of flickering dots.
"There's a base, Rick. An Imperial research base. It was abandoned before it was fully deployed because transporting the equipment turned out to be more expensive than losing it. Only personnel were evacuated. Of what can be taken from there, I expect to find an outpost. Perhaps the planetologist could profit from something... Have you thought about offering her a place in the group?"
"I've been thinking about how to get her papers," the young man said without concealment, pondering the unfamiliar word.
"on the black market, I could get... a fortune for them. And... She's a family person, Nick, even if there's a place for her. But your opinion interests me... She cares about her work. A well-paid, respected job. Are you suggesting she trade that for the romance of space? I'll provide her with shelter until everything is settled, but I won't ruin a woman's life. How big is this outpost?"
"Standard – from five to eight containers, with a total mass of up to ten tons," the navigator informed him.
"The data could be worth a fortune. But who do you think they'll blame for the leak?"
"That's why I don't have copies of the data yet," he said very calmly.
"So, it can be loaded by tractor beam... Is the base in the jungle?"
"Yes," the navigator nodded.
"And if the Empire considered it a lesser evil to retreat... This won't be an easy walk. I wouldn't consider this option. But buying an outpost is beyond our means. Not to mention that such a purchase... will attract a lot of attention."
"I can ask Jethro for help," the young man said thoughtfully, remembering that he hadn't called him back.
"we'll take what's interesting to us, they'll take what's left. I think they'll allocate a couple of wings to us if we ask."
"As an option," Nick didn't argue. He didn't think pirates would do better than Imperial stormtroopers. But why not try?
"Larius reported that Mr. Solka decided to join us."
"Yeah, he's looking for a cabin and settling in, he even promised twenty thousand for the expedition. And possibly a sales channel for what we find."
"You mean, he's primarily interested in sales, not the opportunity to study a new culture?" a chill could be felt in the cockpit.
"I mean, he asked for priority for his House when we decide to sell our findings," Rick shook his head.
"you need to treat people better, Nick."
A pause hung in the bridge.
"I try," the navigator finally exhaled.
"May the Force witness, I try..."
"Nick, this Haylan, he's an aristocrat," the pause was more due to the captain's inherent artistry.
"sales don't interest him at all, he's interested in knowledge, maybe a bit of fame, adventures, damn them all... He... He suits us. The question is, do we suit him."
"Time will tell," Nick glanced at the hologram.
"Yes, time will tell," at this time the counter was typing command after command on the panel, and then began to patiently wait for Jethro to accept the call, and whether he would accept it at all, glancing at the navigator, he added.
"everything will be fine with her."
"I hope so," the navigator dropped and fell silent so as not to interrupt the conversation.
Jethro didn't respond immediately. But he did.
"Hey, kid, did you miss me that much?" came from the speaker.
"Sorry, grandpa," Rick replied with the same barb and just as harmlessly.
"but I was worried if you could make it and if I needed to tow you."
"I'm so touched by your attention..." the playful tone shifted to a business one.
"But I'll never believe that you're spending credits on communication just to ask if I can hit the john. Problems?"
"I could use some help requisitioning abandoned Imperial supplies," Rick threw out.
"I need the equipment that's there. We'll load 'Chance' to the limit, you and a few daredevils will provide cover. Then we'll leave, I'll take what I need, you take everything else, and as a bonus, what's left that can be taken from the planet."
"And what's there that could be useful to us?" Jethro doubted.
"They're unlikely to have abandoned weapons..."
"It's not known exactly what they left at the base," this was the weak point of the offer.
"but they left in a hurry. They could have left, for example, an arsenal. Or some expensive equipment. Information. All this can be sold, especially considering your new sales channel."
"They left a base there," the navigator's voice chimed in.
"In a semi-deployed state. If you have enough strength to explain to the local fauna that you are not edible, you will have a base that no one will approach unnoticed. If not... You can take out what hasn't been unpacked yet. And you'll definitely find a buyer."
"Ah, it's you, my skinny friend?" the Duro rejoiced for some unknown reason.
"I knew you were involved. A base that still needs to be conquered? I'm not sure Quintus will like that..."
"This is a chance to do what the Imperials couldn't," Rick smiled.
"if we can manage it, no one will be at a loss."
"Quintus isn't at an age to measure whose is longer," Jethro waved it off.
"I'll pass it on to him, but I can't promise he'll agree."
"That's enough," the counter nodded with satisfaction.
"I'll wait for an answer for twelve standard hours. Then I'll go there alone."
"Deal," the Duro summed up.
"End of transmission."
The navigator chuckled.
"Regardless of age, a Zabrak is unlikely to miss an opportunity to do what others cannot. And he's unlikely to let you get ahead of him."
"I don't understand, are you disapproving of instigating the pirate leader?" the captain chuckled, getting up from his chair.
"Or, on the contrary, do you think it's a good move?"
"I think our bald friend will contact you and give a positive answer," Nick chuckled.
"However, time will tell."
"I hope so," Rick said more seriously.
"I wouldn't want to deal with everything that will be there alone. I'll go deal with other matters. By the way, what do you know about the Rakata?"
"Rakata?" the navigator was surprised.
"Well, they ruled the Galaxy for ten thousand years, created and scattered a lot of things everywhere, had technical devices that worked on the Force... The technologies are lost."
"Oh, how nice, and I always thought of them as galactic beggars..." the young man smiled again.
"I wouldn't be so sure about the technologies, one of them is lying on my desk. I'm just about to take it to Solk for study."
"Where did you find it?" Nick turned to him with his chair.
"In the ship of the slavers whose cargo we took," Rick shrugged.
"it was hidden in the pilot's seat."
"Interesting," a barely perceptible pause hung in the air.
"Share the results when you have them."
"Certainly," the counter nodded and then left the cockpit.