Shortly after landing, Captain Lowe was summoned to the command mess hall. After some time, a representative of the spaceport security arrived and asked the crew a few questions about the circumstances under which they ended up on board the "Chance," which for some reason was called "Gella." The story was short – pirates attacked, then pirates again, they woke up at the station, and from there Captain Monroe picked them up. They saw traces of a shootout, bodies, but they didn't know who shared what with whom. With that, the head of security got to the passengers.
"Your name?" the officer prepared to write.
The Alderaanian didn't like any security officers. Simply because he himself had been one for some time. But he understood their work and their goals. Therefore, he tried to cooperate as much as possible.
"Haylan Solka. Lieutenant of the Alderaanian Security Service, retired."
"Oh… Colleagues?" Captain Hoyt brightened. "I have the same questions for you as for your unfortunate comrades. You understand, official instructions…"
Where Captain Hoyt saw these instructions, which took him away from watching a holoseries about brave security officers, didn't need explanation – the intonation was enough.
"Former colleagues," Solka clarified. "I doubt I can add much. I was returning from a hunt on Corellia. Our passenger yacht was attacked. Most likely, they used sleeping gas. I think the yacht's crew will tell you more and better about this. I woke up at the pirates' base. Judging by the general condition of my body, several days after the attack. Upon waking up, we exercised our right to self-defense. I and two other prisoners managed to break down the wall of the room where we were held and got out. It turned out that at that time the base was under attack. Apparently, by other pirates. After killing those who had captured us, they offered the prisoners a choice – either leave the base with them, with appropriate ransom, or join them, or stay. I stayed. The rest has probably already been told to you. I am ready to describe any episode in more detail."
"That's enough," the head of security wasn't interested in details. For the report, this was enough; he wasn't going to chase pirates anyway. "You can use one of our communication channels to inform your relatives, or your work, if you are employed. In addition, until you can leave the planet, you can use official housing, or arrange for a flight home with someone, as you wish. Until then, you can move freely around the planet, provided you comply with local laws."
"I would like to get to the nearest intergalactic bank branch, as I am left without a single cash credit," the Alderaanian clarified. "Naturally, after I contact my family."
"The nearest one is directly in the spaceport building," the security officer informed him, putting the datapad with notes into his pocket and standing up. "Gentlemen, please follow me, you will be accommodated now and communication will be organized for those who wish."
And the Alderaanian followed.
Instructions were clearly followed "to get rid of it," just so the report would be accepted. But the victims were treated quite responsibly. All evacuees from the "Incident" were accommodated in double rooms at the service hotel, informed when meals were served according to local time, and shown the door to the communication room for those who wished to speak with relatives and superiors, apologizing in passing that they could only provide five minutes of communication.
Even five minutes was quite generous, and Hailan understood this well. After waiting his turn here too, the Alderaanian, in response to the service droid's question about the addressee, said:
"Alderaan, Solki manor, Lord Nareus or any family member. From Hailan."
The call confirmation did not come immediately. Not immediately at all. His father's hologram appeared in a robe, slippers, and looked somewhat sleepy. He looked displeased at Hailan and frowned.
"Who is this here? Is it the prodigal son?"
However, his tone betrayed relief. Apparently, the news of the yacht's disappearance had already reached him.
"Yes, Father, I confess. But that's not important. Tell me, how is the family? Are they all alive? Is everyone okay?"
"Alive. Okay," he nodded, "But since when did you start worrying about the family?"
Hailan dejectedly lowered his head. The reproach hit the mark precisely.
"Yes, you're right. There's a reason. The yacht I was flying on was hijacked by pirates. Everything is fine, I got out, even without any ransom. They fought among themselves. But in the skirmish, a shapeshifter with my documents was killed. And that could be serious. I simply must warn you about it. From what I learned, they chose me by chance. But what if..."
His father suddenly became very, very serious. The last remnants of sleep vanished as if by magic.
"It's good that you informed us. And all the rest is bad. We will be ready, don't doubt it. Are you alright?"
"Yes, more than alright. In fact, I even have some positive news."
"What?" Lord Nareus reacted with clear skepticism to this news.
"The ship that pulled me out of there. Or rather, its crew. They found a planet with traces of an unknown civilization. And they want to organize an expedition. For excavation and preliminary study. When the ship's captain learned about my education, they invited me to participate."
"Participate? In what role?"
"You won't believe it, Father, but as a scientific consultant," Hailan replied.
"Scientific..." The lord almost chewed the word. "It's better than just cruising the galaxy. Alright, I give my consent. But all the interesting stuff goes to the family! Do you need any funding?"
"Preferably," Hailan understood that his position was quite precarious. "Especially since I'm left without any credit in my pocket after the attack."
"Well, alright," his father replied after a short pause, "2000 credits for personal needs. For now. 20,000 for the expedition. You'll report. If more is needed, prepare a serious justification. I'll send the transfer information in five minutes. Anything else?"
"Yes, of course," Hailan nodded. "Send my regards to Mom. And to everyone else too."
His father's face softened.
"Alright. Disconnect."
His father's hologram disappeared. Lost in thought, Hailan left the HoloNet terminal and followed the signs to the branch of the intergalactic bank.
The parental home did not fail with the transfer - soon Hailan received the sum promised by his father and could look more confidently into the future. Which seemed quite varied - depending on the choice...
First, the Alderaanian went for databases. He was interested in crystals from the Great Galactic Encyclopedia, collections on galactic archaeology, materials on Rakatan writing, and a catalog of their artifacts.
Holographic indicators indicated that the shop where one could acquire spiritual food also existed in the port complex. A pretty Pantoran woman, accustomed to somewhat different requests, was very surprised, but after a few minutes of searching in the drawers of the far counter, she brought everything she could find.
"People don't ask for this often," she apologized, "perhaps we don't have everything that interests you, but... Here."
A small box of crystals lay on the counter before Hailan.
The Alderaanian meticulously examined the crystal catalogs, nodded with satisfaction, and then inquired:
"How much do I owe?"
"One hundred and two credits," the saleswoman smiled. "With a discount - ninety-eight."
"Of course, what would I do without such a discount," Hailan muttered, handing the saleswoman the credit chips and stuffing the crystals into his pockets.
He also had to buy several sets of spare clothes and other personal trifles. Since his luggage was lost anyway.
Hailan emerged from the Solka supermarket with a large, fully packed bag. And after visiting the clothing store, he had two. And although the purchases cost another five hundred credits, Hailan was satisfied. At least, he no longer had to worry about everyday things. Just like about clothes. Both everyday and field wear.
Despite the apparent laziness of the local security personnel, order on the port territory was impeccable. No one tried to pickpocket a stranger, steal his belongings, or offer dubious services. He didn't look like a wholesale buyer, and no one approached him with offers to buy food.
Having loaded himself up, Hailan surveyed the nearest information board with a map of the spaceport, oriented himself to where the "Incident" was located, and headed there. He could only hope that the captain was there.
Kontr felt somewhat insecure without a weapon, although he understood that he could protect himself and the crew even without it. Warming up the engines, he nodded to the girl:
"Command, miss, where should we go first?" he said, smiling as he put on his glasses.
The Twi'lek immediately buried her face in the deck, searching the map for the planned places of visit.
"Probably for groceries first," she decided. "It's the furthest, but on the way back we can stop for household goods. And for alcohol."
"Hmm..." the guy started off thoughtfully, "I have a suspicion that you don't approve of alcohol and my desire to acquire it..."
Meanwhile, he studied the route that needed to be covered. It turned out that it wasn't far to fly.
"The consumption of alcoholic beverages is rooted in ancient, pre-space times," Rick began businesslike, picking up speed. The car was a heavy and slow machine, but he had to put up with it. "The problem of every generation: they know how to drink, but they don't know or observe the culture of drinking."
Rick puffed out his chest and ruffled himself, giving himself a pompous, majestic, and ridiculous appearance:
"And I observe it," he declared, pressing the pedal but not exceeding the speed.
"So you get drunk, but you don't cause trouble?" Vaymi clarified. "You remind me of a pufferfish bird right now."
The corners of her lips twitched upwards.
"Why wouldn't I cause trouble?!" the guy exclaimed sincerely. "Why do you think my nose was bent? No... The culture of drinking lies in knowing the exact doses, norms of behavior, and other guiding parameters. And what kind of bird is that?"
"I read about them," the Lethan explained. "They figure out who is the leader of the flock by puffing themselves up and spreading their feathers. Whoever puffs up the most is the leader."
"That's clearly not about me," the guy smiled, driving into the parking lot, "I never aspired to be a leader. Especially by such methods. But it's interesting to hear why you came to such a comparison?"
"You looked so important and significant," another mischievous smile flashed on the Twi'lek's face. "Exactly like a bird that won a competition."
"That's because, my dear lady, I am important and significant," the Kontr chuckled, "not because I'm participating in a competition. Alright, let's go knock some arrogance off the merchants."
He said the last phrase without a smile, suddenly becoming serious.
"Let's go," Vaymi readily agreed, immediately sticking her nose into the deck. "Are they arrogant? The planet's information says nothing about that..."
"All merchants are arrogant, insolent, and bad," he said with a sigh, heading towards the entrance, "often cowardly too. And the most disgusting of them are the Neimoidians."
Doubt reflected on Vaymi's face, but she didn't argue. After all, what did she know about life beyond Nar Shaddaa?
There were no Neimoidians at "Molen."
"How can I help you, gentlemen?" the Twi'lek manager hurried towards them.
"Good day," Rick beamed with a good-natured smile, "I'm interested in buying a batch of provisions for the ship, according to the list."
Rick took out his deck to download the file.
"Oh, you have a wholesale purchase... " the manager cast a quick glance at his countrywoman, then focused on the list. "More like a small wholesale... We have the best semi-finished products in this part of the planet, mister. If you buy more, I can give you a discount."
"How much more?" the guy inquired, mentally calculating if he needed this discount, "and what is the size of the discount?"
"Five percent," the manager explained, glancing at Vaymi again. The Lethan was looking at the list and didn't notice these glances. "For example, if you buy for an amount exceeding a thousand credits, the discount will be fifty credits. You have nine hundred here. Thus, the overpayment will be..."
"The same fifty credits," the girl summarized, raising her head. "Not a serious enough amount to go to such lengths for it."
"It's not money at all," the guy said, "I'll buy for two thousand credits, but on the condition of delivery to the ship and a ten percent discount. And on the next route along the Corellian path, I'll buy from you again."
"I need to consult with management," the manager apologized, taking out his comlink and stepping aside. The conversation was short.
"Eight percent and delivery to the ship," the Twi'lek said. "And a customer card, which will entitle you to a cumulative discount."
"I accept that," Rick nodded, "let's proceed with the paperwork."
The paperwork didn't take long. As a result, Rick became the owner of a card with a gold edge and became poorer by one thousand eight hundred and forty credits, and the manager received instructions on where and by what time to deliver the order. Vaymi didn't miss the opportunity to inquire about the assortment and expand the order list with items not indicated there.
"Variety won't hurt," she explained to Rick.
"Are you here for long?" the manager inquired.
"A couple of days, maybe three," the guy said vaguely, glancing at Vaymi, then at the Twi'lek, "Why do you ask?"
"Just asking," he evaded the answer, but met the surprised gaze of the Lethan and gave in. "Our girls don't appear here often, mister. I thought I could show your companion the planet."
Rick looked at the guy assessingly, then shifted his gaze to Vaymi.
"If the girl wants, she can leave you her number, or you can give her yours."
Bewilderment mixed with surprise reflected on the mobile face of the Lethan. The very thought that she could make such decisions herself, without his, Rick's, approval or permission, seemed astonishing to Vaymi.
Her lekku twitched uncertainly.
"I'll think about it," she finally said. "Provided you introduce yourself."
The captain nodded with satisfaction, but did not interfere in the conversation.
At that moment, the Twi'lek's comlink blared.
"Oh, excuse me..." he pulled a business card from his pocket, handed it to the girl, and ran somewhere into the depths of the warehouse, hastily responding to an unknown interlocutor.
"Shall we wait?" the guy inquired with a smile, "or retreat, taking advantage of the moment?"
"We still have frozen products," Vaymi twirled the card in her hands, shrugged her shoulders, and tucked it into her pocket. "And I would have liked to get more grains, but it's easier to arrange that with one of the farmers..."
"So we retreat," Rick summarized her answer, "let's go to the car."
The documents with the food contract were carefully put into his pockets.
"Let's go," the girl agreed, looking at the lists. "Now we have 'Donis' on the agenda. We'll look for alcohol elsewhere, I assume."
"We'll sort out the alcohol," he waved off the girl, heading for the car. Something else interested him now. Getting behind the wheel of the car, he started the engine, but was in no hurry to move.
"How are you feeling?" he said somewhat stiffly.
"I'm perfectly healthy," Vaymi replied with slight bewilderment.
"You took me literally again," Rick had the thought that the girl didn't want to talk about what had happened, "well, if you don't want to talk, I won't insist. We're going to 'Donis'."
With these words, he tore the car from its place.
"I don't want to talk?" the bewilderment became more distinct. "Rick, I don't understand... Explain it to me?"
The instruments showed that if they reached the next point, they would be able to, but then the car would have to be pushed, turning towards the nearest gas station.
"You were just invited on a date," the Kontr was focused on the road, "given the circumstances, I'm asking how you feel about it. But I don't want to force you to answer. And I won't."
"Rick, but he sees me for five minutes and already invites me on a date?" Vaymi was perplexed. "How can this be taken seriously? I'm surprised and..."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm probably a little unpleasant."
"Unpleasant?" the guy smiled and, stopping at the gas station, allowed the droids to do the routine work. "Vaymi, you are beautiful, both by the standards of my species and yours. And this guy is right, Twi'leks are still less common guests than humans. His offer is natural and logical. Why are you unpleasant about the recognition of your beauty?"
Her lekku twitched uncertainly.
"I talked to Sher," the girl finally replied. "I asked her to explain what it means to be free. From her answer, I understood that freedom is primarily responsibility for one's choice."
She looked at Rick, carefully choosing her words.
"You see, a slave doesn't choose. He does what he is ordered. And he is not responsible for his master's order. It seemed to me... I was expected to agree, as if I had no choice. And it made me uncomfortable."