The Twi'lekka didn't have time to get scared. Or to figure out what was happening. She froze, bewildered and not knowing how to react to the situation. The only thing she knew for sure was that the "master-slave" dynamic had nothing to do with it, and she had no other frameworks.
Clinging to the captain's neck when she was lifted, Weymi, after a few seconds, cautiously touched his cheek with the tip of her leku.
"Rick?"
"Huh?" Coming out of his daze, the guy immediately let the girl go to the floor and stepped back a pace. "Now I know what spukamases feel like when you hug them. I… I have a rare psychological disorder… Sometimes I need to hug someone. Or touch them. To feel tactile contact."
Rick hesitated, because he still wanted to hug the girl.
Weymi looked at him with wide eyes. She least expected to hear that the ship's captain had such problems. It seemed like nothing special, but…
She shook her head, stepped forward, and hugged him herself – with her arms, her leku… If he needed touch, he would have it. It was a very small price for what he had done. Not just for her…
Looking at the girl, Rick hugged her back, then gently patted her between the shoulder blades, smiling:
"Alright, alright," he politely pushed Weymi away. "Let's not feed my inner Arkonian, or I'll start talking about myself in the plural, my eyes will turn yellow, and my head will turn into a triangle. Why were you looking for me?"
A barely perceptible blush of embarrassment was lost in the dim light of the lampshade. The Lethan hid her leku behind her back and turned to the object of her displeasure:
"Here. When there was a shootout, they hit the container, and it seems to be working intermittently."
"What's in it?" the captain chose not to pay attention to the blush and approached the container.
"Meat, judging by the marking," the alien's finger pointed to the side of the damaged container. "I thought we could transfer some of it to the galley's refrigerator. But it won't all fit."
"Meat…" Rick scratched his head, thinking of options. "Meat is good. Coordinate with Sher; you'll need Les and the grav-lifter to move the meat to the refrigerator, and Shay to fix the container. The problem is that they probably need them too. The rest can either be dried – dried meat can be stored without refrigeration – or transferred to other working containers."
"We don't have a drying unit," Weymi reminded him. "Okay, I'll see what can be done. Maybe Shay will really manage… And who are spukamases?"
"They're a subspecies of felinx, distinguished by their greater intelligence and tough temper," the captain said, giving a brief zoology lesson. "We have an industrial dryer; it can be used if necessary. But that's just by the way. Weymi, I need the stone. I think I've found a use for it."
"Are you going to sell it?" the Twi'lekka clarified, turning to him. "Then I'll need to write recommendations for the new owner so the stone returns to its natural state."
"No, I'm going to keep it for myself," the captain shook his head. "I need it for my… let's say, scientific and technical research."
"Then don't forget that it needs to be exposed to light and a warm solution," Weymi reminded him, unfastening a clip and handing it to Rick. "The stone is in the middle nest."
"I think I'll definitely provide it with light," the guy smiled. "As well as a solution. And, not a word about the hugs, to anyone."
Weymi nodded seriously. She didn't need to be told why it was a forbidden topic. A captain with unstable psychology… That wasn't a topic for discussion.
"If you need…" she didn't finish.
"I know," Rick nodded. "I'll be in my room. For a while. Don't disturb me."
"Okay."
The girl got busy with the containers, looking for those from which something had already been removed.
Closing the cabin door behind Les, Day collapsed onto the bed in complete exhaustion and buried her face in the pillow. This crazy, endless day had drained all her strength. She felt like an old wreck: her left side of the chest, lower back, and legs ached, and on top of it all, her head throbbed unbearably on the left. The pills were in her bag; she didn't want to get up. The woman bit the pillow. Her heart was breaking with pity for Les and his mother, for Sher. Tears choked her; she lay on her back and lay there for a long time, looking at the ceiling and crying silently. She fell asleep like that.
When Day woke up, she found she wasn't alone in the cabin. Next to her lay a Kushiban, his long ears folded back.
Day shook her head sharply.
"Bus, is that you? Did something happen?"
The Kushiban twitched his ears and opened one eye.
"Should something have happened? I'm tired from this docking, refueling, and everything else…"
Day reached out and stroked the Kushiban between his ears.
"Poor boy," she smiled. "Can I do anything for you?"
The alien thought seriously, twitching the tip of his tail.
"Well, if it's not too much trouble," he finally decided, "could you comb me?"
"With pleasure, but where is the… tool?"
The long ears perked up.
"I thought you had one… I manage with my fingers, but I can't reach everywhere… Shay used to help me, but she's covered in grease and blaster parts right now; I barely managed to convince her to eat, and she immediately went back to the workshop."
"With your fingers? I'll try… Where do I start?"
"You don't have claws," Bus sighed and slid off the floor. "I'll go get a comb from Larius."
"And maybe this will work?" And Day showed Bus a wooden hairbrush.
"Quite possibly," the Kushiban returned to the bunk, stretched out to his full length, let his fluffy tail hang to the floor, and turned green.
The woman very carefully ran the brush from his head to his tail for the first time.
"Do you like it?" she asked quietly.
"Of course," the alien replied, resting his head on his outstretched paws and closing his eyes.
Day combed Bus's surprisingly pleasant fur, which most resembled warm silk. A cozy silence settled in the cabin.
While the planetologist brushed out the long, silky fur, which kept changing shades of the entire pastel spectrum, and the Kushiban seemed to be dozing, only occasionally twitching the tip of his long tail, the atmosphere in the cabin subtly changed. The air seemed to become cleaner, and it was easier to breathe. The heaviness and unwept grief gradually disappeared, replaced by a deep peace of acceptance, having nothing in common with the feeling of helplessness before fate… This was the little that the little shaman could do for this woman without disrupting her path.
Day felt the heaviness in her left side disappear, and breathing no longer caused pain; only warmth remained.
"Bu-us," she called softly. "Are you sleeping?"
An ear perked up, only to lie down beside her head.
"No, I've slept enough," the alien replied. "You slept for a long time, Day; I managed to rest. I just find it very pleasant."
"And how long were you sitting over me?"
"I wasn't sitting; I was lying down," the alien corrected. "We've already refueled and taken off. We're now heading to a planet where Nick intends to get something important."
"And if I ask what exactly the navigator is looking for, wouldn't that be excessive curiosity?" the woman asked, admiring the Kushiban.
"An outpost," Bus explained, turning on his side. "A small rapid deployment base like that; you should also use it where there's no atmosphere, or it's very dangerous outside."
"I know what that is," Day nodded, continuing to comb the first mate. "And why does the navigator need it?" she continued to play the blonde.
"He found a planet with a vanished civilization," the Kushiban opened one eye. "It's assumed we'll be studying it."
"Well, that sounds like a pretty fun prospect," the former planetologist thought, and aloud said: "To determine what kind of civilization it was, or what caused its demise?" Day knew that curiosity was born before her, almost since she learned to speak, so the alien could be pitied.
"To find sufficiently valuable artifacts, and at the same time not interfere with scientists studying the civilization later," the second eye opened. "Alas, you can't get anywhere without credits in our world. From what I've heard, the planet lost its atmosphere. Maybe you'll find something to do there too? All sorts of catastrophes are your job, aren't they?"
"Catastrophes? Mine?" the woman laughed. The first mate switched to "you" so easily and naturally that Day felt entitled to respond in kind.
"Well, you're something else, my friend, just like in that movie, remember: 'the planet too, me?'" and, becoming serious, added:
"The atmosphere is lost, you say… And the planet survived? It's all strange… I have a slightly different specialty, of course, but… And when did the civilization perish, is it known?" Her brain was already in working mode.
"You'd better ask Nick about that," the alien closed his eyes again. "I only heard the conversation with the captain. The atmosphere was lost, the planet is covered with a layer of snow that used to be air."
No, it couldn't be said that Sher was delighted with her conversation with the captain; she had expected more, at least in terms of time. Is incompleteness a system for them?
"...everything as always… And you tell yourself – well, okay, next time, not today, not now, the captain is busy, the captain is leaving, the captain just arrived… Now, it seems, everything is resolved with the med-bay. No matter how busy Rick was, he managed to break away… And with personal matters…" Sher smirked. What she called personal was the desire to know what paths led gifted individuals to the Dark Side. The HoloNet was overflowing with hundreds of yobibytes of information, but why not a single byte about what was most needed now?! And she really didn't want to ask Nick about these paths.
Lost in deep thought, the doctor unconsciously reached the Arkonian's cabin, mechanically knocking on the cabin door panel, and only a second later realized it.
The door opened. Shay stood on the threshold, looking at the guest with curious golden eyes.
"We are happy," the alien said, "we are very, very happy."
She stepped back, letting the doctor into the room.
Sher stepped in and, succumbing to an involuntary impulse, hugged the alien.
"I'm very happy too, Shay! I haven't seen you in so long; I missed you," the doctor confessed, immediately leaving all paths to the Dark Side outside the threshold. The girl's words touched her much more than she wanted to admit, especially after the conversation with the captain.
"Well, tell me, Shay, how are things with us? How is your health – I'll see now," Sher smiled, releasing the Arkonian and taking out her deck. "And how is your worldview in general?"
The thin lizard bones under the baggy jumpsuit shifted – Shay curled up in her embrace, a cozy gesture of a creature trying to connect as fully as possible with another creature, but obediently stepped back when released and sat on the edge of the bunk.
"We are well," the lipless mouth smiled. "We worked a lot today."
"I agree, Shay," the doctor looked understandingly into the Arkonian's golden eyes. "Work is sometimes the best medicine, especially when it's to your liking. A very ancient philosopher of ours said that work saves from need, boredom, and vice, but honestly, I would expand that list," she smiled. And she had to beam again, but this time from what she saw on the deck. The med-sensor impartially recorded very good functioning of the organ, vital for Arkonians.
The doctor looked at the alien.
"You're a very smart girl, Shay! We are all very proud of you; we are very happy, our girl," Sher said sincerely. "And here's another piece of good news for you, in addition to the other two."
Shay blushed, looking at the doctor with curiosity.
"We don't understand," she said apologetically. "What did we do?"
"You're holding up, Shay," the doctor simply said. "And that's a lot… Look!" The girl swiftly slid from her place and sat on the bunk with Shay, flipping through files on the deck. "Here," a three-dimensional image enlarged frame by frame so Shay could see. "This is when you appeared in our… in our clan." All signs of ammonia deficiency, shrunken blood vessels, unclear, uneven contours, and reduced organ size, but the hyperechogenicity of the parenchyma layer, Shay… The organ barely worked; it was slowly starting to shrivel and die…"
Sher's finger slid across the screen, changing frames.
"And look now! There's so little in common with that image; the organ is recovering! This is wonderful, Shay," the doctor happily hugged the Arkonian by the shoulders. "You're getting better, just hang in there!"
The golden eyes blinked. Shay tilted her head, examining the pictures.
"Does this device hear us?" she wondered. "Can it hear stones too?"
"No," Sher smiled, "it doesn't hear stones, but it hears and sees us, living beings made of organic matter. That's enough for it. And by the way, I wanted to tell you… Our clan is expanding, Shay. Now we have a geologist – Day; you have common interests with her – stones, rocks. As far as I know, she really wants to meet you."
The alien's gaze became interested.
"We would be glad…"
"Wonderful," the doctor rejoiced. "When a common favorite activity – communication becomes one of the greatest joys in life. Well, and finally, you won't be lonely and bored anymore. Although," Sher smiled again, "you certainly won't be bored. I have a request for you, Shay."
"We are happy to help," the Arkonian replied. "What needs to be done?"
"I'll show you now," the doctor buried herself in the deck again, catching the right file. "Here, I found it, look. This is a bactericidal emitter – a recirculator, for disinfecting indoor air, water from viruses, fungi, bacteria, and protozoa. The spectrum of action on microorganisms should be quite wide, so a high-power bactericidal flow is needed, and synplast should allow this radiation flow. And we need two such lamps, Shay, for our temporary med-bay. Portable ones are fine," the doctor added, remembering the captain's order that the entire med-bay could be easily dismantled in a short time. "Will you help, Shay?" she asked the Arkonian, looking hopefully into her golden marble eyes.
"We need a schematic," she replied after a slight pause. "At least an approximate one."
"There is a schematic," Sher assured her, flipping the file to another one, which contained a drawing and all the technical specifications. "And yes, I also have small, portable ones," she remembered, "but the principle of operation is the same. I can bring you one… You see, Shay, we're landing on Florne in a couple of days, and the environment there is very aggressive, so we need a med-bay. It would be good if it wasn't needed, but… it's better to be prepared for anything," the former radiance of her eyes faded. She was clearly not ready for "anything."
A long finger touched the screen, enlarging the image. For a few minutes, Shay examined the schematic, then raised her head.
"We'll do it," she replied confidently this time.
"Thank you!" a delighted Sher impulsively kissed the alien on her dark cheek. "Thank you, Shay, you're helping us so much! Only on the condition that you don't overwork yourself, and eat more dactyl, agreed? I think Rick will have everything necessary for work, even med-crystals, if needed."
The Arkonian closed her eyes, gently hugging the human woman. Clan.
"We will," she promised.
The shoulders under Sher's palms seemed incredibly fragile. But it was a deceptive fragility. "Like all women in the Galaxy," she smiled to herself.
Dismantling the stone turned out to be simple. She felt a little sorry for Weymi's decoration; the girl had tried, but he clearly saw that now, in this situation, it was precisely this stone, breathing life, that should become the center of his blade. Undressing to the waist, the counter took off his boots and socks, remaining in his pants. Sitting in a meditation pose, he relaxed, placing his hands one on top of the other, palms up. In his right hand lay the Gallinorian gemstone.
A stone that was another form of life… It couldn't be changed as one wished, but it could be tamed. It could be made a comrade, a pet, a younger brother; one could endlessly invent names, and none of them would fully reflect its role. Immersing himself in the Force, Rick began to concentrate on the stone, gradually enveloping it in layers of his influence.
At some point, he realized that it was impossible to continue further and began to discard distracting thoughts. Gradually, only the stone remained in his consciousness. Now, in a way, the captain that his surroundings were accustomed to seeing was not in the room; the Force connected him to the stone, and the Force guided him. Gradually, step by step, he began to fill the gemstone with Force.
In a way, it was a fusion. Not the crude and direct one with Shay, for which he paid the price; this was… unusual. And at the same time, understandable and justified. Rick somehow knew what to do, completely surrendering himself to the Force. He opened himself to it, establishing a connection with the stone, he began to pump it with Force, strengthening and helping it. All negative emotions – fear, hatred, anger were rejected; now the captain's consciousness was not "pure" of emotions, but he was calm, peaceful. He was in harmony with himself and with the stone. And the Force, which flowed from him to the stone, returning in a small part, imprinted the state on him.
He lost track of time again, and when he came to, he unexpectedly felt satisfied. In his hands lay the stone, looking the same as before. But… in the Force, it reflected somehow differently. The guy didn't have suitable definitions, but the gemstone became purer, closer to him, somehow strangely responding when he touched the iridescent surface.
There was one more operation left before he could fall asleep again.
The workshop greeted them with its usual semi-darkness; only a few indicators provided light. Turning on the main lighting, Rick took the finished hilt elements from the container and began the final assembly. When everything was ready, he spent some time adjusting the groove for the crystal, after which he secured the Gallinorian gemstone and securely closed the compartment.
All that remained was to charge the blade's power cell. This action, quite banal for him, somehow caused apprehension.
Again assuming a meditative pose, Rick placed the hilt between his palms, feeling the cold of its facets. A wire protruded from the end, but the captain was in no hurry to turn on the power, again beginning a kind of meditation. After some time, he understood why it seemed so important to control the first charge of the blade. Visually, it was a well-tuned device that should perform its role acceptably. But in the Force, it was still a scattered set of parts. Cold, unconnected parts. Filling them with energy, the counter had to bind everything into a single, monolithic structure. Activating the charging device through the Force, Rick, concentrating, began the final stage of creation.
As in the first two cases before this, Captain Monroe lost track of time. Since the beginning of the blade's creation, he had only drunk water, eaten food bars that were in his pocket, completely disregarding his body. He was so focused that he could simply die of exhaustion now. However, the Force sustained him and did not let him cross the line.
When everything was ready, he still didn't dare to turn on the blade; he wrapped it in a clean rag and, taking it with him, went to sleep.