Full of sounds, if you listened closely, the living silence was broken not only by the roar of the waterfall. The lake breathed, splashing with small waves, some little bird chirped in the coastal reeds. It was empty around, not a single living creature larger than a water rat could be felt. Flocks of some long-winged birds soared in the sky; before Rimon's eyes, one of them separated from its companions and plunged into the waterfall.
Moments passed, but the suicide's corpse did not surface. After a minute, the feathered lightning flew out of the silvery streams from the same place it had entered, and the Force whispered that there was something there, behind the water curtain...
Rimon unfastened his jacket, and then took it off altogether, leaving it on the grass; his vibro-knives and one of his blasters went there too. Enough walking around a peaceful planet like a bounty hunter. Approaching the waterfall, he looked with interest at the ground around it.
The wet stones glistened with the water dust constantly settling on them. A small, colorful frog, the size of a fingernail, croaked at Rimon, jumped into the water, and surfaced, angrily glaring at him with golden eyes. Nothing more suspicious than an angry amphibian was observed nearby.
Squinting slightly, Rimon extended his hand forward, and then plunged into the Force again, trying to look behind the falling water, which hid something from prying eyes.
Behind the boiling and sparkling wall, a cave was hidden. The masked opening of the passage was visible even to the naked eye, if one looked closely.
Rimon thrust his hand into the fountain, letting the water splash briskly against his open palm. If he had progressed a little faster in his study of the Force, there would have been no problem, just to push the water aside for a few seconds with telekinesis and walk through. But as it was – the spray from his outstretched hand splashed his face, bringing a refreshing coolness.
"Ah, to hell with caution," Rock whispered playfully, starting to pull off his shirt, which soon ended up on the grass, as did his boots and socks, and his trousers were rolled up just above his knees. The blaster shouldn't have been damaged by a brief encounter with moisture, but it was still not worth swimming with it. Uncertainly, Rock began to feel the bottom with his bare foot, doubting if it was too deep here. He still got his pant legs wet – the water turned out to be just above his knees.
Carefully, scraping the skin of his back against the cold rocks of the cliff, Rimon began to make his way to the cave, ready to dive into the water if necessary. He remembered the Dashades and the darkness perfectly. It was unlikely that Kailas had brought him to someone who was hunting him, but the Force protects the cautious.
When the transparent curtain of flowing water separated Rimon from the outside world, a nest attached to the rock wall appeared right in front of his nose. A yellow-beaked chick stared at the smuggler, chirped, and demandingly opened its beak.
Smiling, Rimon carefully bypassed the nest. It was better not to touch the chick, otherwise the angry parents might, at best, shit on his head, and at worst... at worst, they would shit on his head several times. And the water in the lake was still cold.
A small bird colony had settled at the very exit of the cave. Further on, the scattered light picked out some dark spots, resembling boxes.
Rimon sat in the darkness for some time, pressed against the cold cave wall. Kailas's hiding place? It looked very much like it, because he wouldn't have landed here just like that. This meant Rimon could be in serious trouble. But he might not be, depending on how you look at it. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he used the Force again to check if there were any traps dangerous to his life.
The Force was silent, which slightly reassured the smuggler, but didn't reduce his caution. Turning up the brightness of his console screen to maximum, he carefully illuminated the objects of his interest.
Several boxes were stacked in the cave. The darkened plastic of the walls was stained with mold in places, and further on, a weak beam of light disappeared into impenetrable blackness – the passage didn't end at this improvised warehouse. Carefully, looking at his feet, Rimon approached the boxes and began to examine them more closely, looking for locks, tags, labels, anything that could give an idea of their origin and contents. They looked like ordinary plastic containers, reinforced with metal corners. The lids were held in place by standard snap locks. But there were no inscriptions on them. After examining the lock as if it were a mine about to explode, Rock decided to try to open one of the containers.
The lock clicked softly, releasing the lid. Nothing happened, only a cloud of dust rose. Waiting for the dust to settle, Rimon carefully, fearing that light might have a detrimental effect on the contents, began to examine the container.
Under the lid was fabric disintegrating from age. Through the gaps, some flat objects were visible. Carefully lifting the edge of the fabric, Rimon peered under it with curiosity.
Inside the container were paintings. Various ones, but they had one characteristic feature: the eyes and stars were not painted. Instead, precious stones were inserted. Rock himself was not an art connoisseur, but he could tell that the contents were worth a considerable sum. Several paintings, wrapped in worn fabric, landscapes, portraits of unknown people – everything was interesting and most likely expensive, so Rock took pictures of most of the paintings, especially the last one, of a child with a dog, and then put everything back. Then he proceeded to examine the largest container. It contained boxes. In each – a blaster wrapped in oiled paper. All of them were very old. Probably not working, although it could be checked if suitable power cells were found. Which was problematic.
Taking a picture of one of the blasters, Rock carefully tidied up, putting everything back as it was before his arrival, and shone his light further into the passage.
The uneven edges of the passage disappeared into the darkness. Without a good flashlight, nothing could be seen there.
Deciding that the cave tour was over, Rimon decided to return to the ship, where he could search the holonet for the blaster model and paintings in peace and quiet to estimate their approximate cost. He found Kailas still sleeping and calmly began his search.
The blasters turned out to be old. So old that modern power cells would hardly fit them. So they were only of collector's value. Not the rarest, so no profit could be made from them, but a good profit could be made, if the antique catalogs were to be believed.
But with the paintings, things were much more interesting. The search led to an artist named Tamir Martie; the use of precious and semi-precious stones for inlaying eyes in paintings was a distinctive feature of his work. The artist disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and some of his works were lost and never reached the exhibition on one of the neutral planets, and their author was wanted. A reward was offered for any information about him or the missing paintings. It was believed that he died in a pirate attack, but the search had not been closed.
Rimon wasn't concerned about the reward, for the most part. He could make a much larger sum from the stones or the paintings in general. But his interest in the artist's biography was such that he decided to read it to find out at least who he was. And at the same time, to see the auction price of his other works.
Tamir turned out to be a very young man. No older than Rock himself, but quite popular – mainly due to his manner of conveying emotional states in his work. His paintings could lift one's mood, make one dream of the impossible, or bring a heavy, oppressive anxiety. Born into a simple, unremarkable family who had lived their whole lives on Biblos, he first drew attention to himself in his school years. This was followed by a rapid rise and an equally rapid disappearance.
Tamir Martie was called a "falling star" – he streaked across the night sky with a dazzling flash and disappeared.
After reading the biography, Rock's interest in the artist's personality grew even more. Deciding to dig further, he looked at which exhibition the paintings were intended for.
The exhibition was called "Fresh Perspective" and was held on Corellia. Martie was listed with a new series of works, "Hungry Darkness," but neither the artist nor the paintings appeared at the exhibition.
Rimon estimated the distance between Corellia and Dantooine. The presence of the paintings here became a mystery. If the artist was abducted for ransom, then why had nothing been heard of him since? If they wanted to sell the paintings, then why the hell bring them here? They could have been hidden on Corellia, especially since they were clearly not cared for and had long been forgotten. Rimon went to search for a list of paintings that were supposed to be delivered to the exhibition. But there was no data on the collection anywhere; it was impossible to find out the number and titles of the paintings. Rimon put his console back in its belt mount and thought. What did he have? Someone kidnaps a popular and famous artist, and then transports his paintings to a distant agricultural planet. The question was, were these done by the same people or not people, or not? And the weapons. Who decided to collect a bunch of archaic blasters? Maybe there were power cells, maybe not. One thing was clear – the paintings and the blasters didn't fit together somehow. And therefore, he could try to dig something out of this difference. Although what difference did it make what happened to these items before they were found? The main thing was that Rock knew about them now, and all this had to be hidden, preferably so that no one would find out. Rimon entered the coordinates of the lake into his console, obtained from the navicomputer, and with a clear conscience went to sleep in one of the cabins, dragging the mattress and pillow there.
Opening his eyes, Rimon looked at the gray ceiling of the ship, and then deliberately slowly got out of bed. His feet unerringly found the boots standing next to the bunk. Wincing slightly from the cold touch, he dressed and moved towards the cockpit to see if Kailas had finally slept enough.
And he seemed to have slept enough, judging by the empty seat. Immersing himself in the Force, Rimon tried to examine the ship to understand if he was on board or not. Although a guess about where the imperial was now was already forming at the edges of his consciousness.
Fortunately, Kailas was somewhere nearby. Heading in the direction where the pilot's presence was felt, Rimon almost hit himself on the forehead. What could a person who was extremely tired do after a long sleep? Restore spent energy, eat, in other words. Blaming himself a little for starting to rely on the Force more than his mind, Rock went to the galley.
Kailas was working magic over a frying pan; next to it on the table lay a pile of shells from bird eggs and the remains of some greens. He only nodded at Rimon's appearance, not tearing himself away from his task.
Rimon didn't distract him. Scrambled eggs weren't a dish that took hours, he could wait with his questions.
The complex mixture of eggs – judging by the small shells, possibly from those very birds nesting behind the waterfall – and local greens was indeed prepared quickly. Kailas placed the pan on the countertop with a thud and began to cut bread in vacuum packaging into large slices. Right along with the packaging.
"Well, you slept," he greeted Rimon politely.
The thought that Kailas didn't need to know about the discovery under the waterfall came naturally and very opportunely. Shrugging his shoulders, Rock replied, "There's nothing else to do anyway, we landed in some wilderness."
"I don't like passing out where they can take advantage of it," Varu attacked the food as if he hadn't eaten for a year. He ate quickly, greedily, but carefully, without losing visible signs of good manners – no smacking or stuffed cheeks. "When I recover, we'll move closer to civilization."
"I see," Rimon poured himself some caf, deciding to limit his morning ration to just that, "and what's your relationship with Malihai?"
"Various," Kailas said, glancing at him from under his eyebrows while devouring the scrambled eggs. "Mutually beneficial, as a rule. He sent you at the right time..."
"I've already figured that out," the smuggler grunted, taking a sip from his mug, "I have a purely personal interest here, I want to know if a couple of pennants with a peacekeeping mission will arrive here in the next couple of months."
"Ask the Emperor about that, I don't command the fleet," Varu replied imperturbably. "But I personally don't plan to stay here for a couple of months. There's still a lot of work to do."
"And I don't have any work yet," Rock said with a hint of sadness, "and probably won't for a few more weeks."
His interlocutor even stopped chewing for a few seconds, looking at the smuggler in surprise.
"In what sense?"
"In the sense that I don't have a ship yet," Rock explained calmly, "and without a ship, you can consider that there's no work. And in general, there's nothing yet. For now. What."
"And who's not letting you take it?" Kailas's jaws started working again. "While you were sleeping, I contacted Malihai, he's pleased, you've fulfilled your obligations. I'll drop you off with them, they'll return your ship, safe and sound. And you can pick your own orders. Only... be careful."
"Malihai said something about two months," Rimon reminded him.
"The ship is at one of the Alliance bases," Varu replied, pushing away the empty frying pan. "I think, as an Empire-justified person, you're more beneficial to him than as a particularly dangerous one. That's why I warned you: be careful in choosing your orders."
"Let's hope life has taught me," Rimon said with longing, finishing his caf. "When do we take off?"
"Well, now I'll clean up after myself – and we'll fly," Kailas reached for his mug. "I'll drop you off at the landing pad, they'll meet you there. Oh, before I forget..."
He took a data card out of his pocket and sent it to Rimon with a click. "Your certificate of termination of wanted status."
Catching the data card, Rimon glanced at it. Then his eyes narrowed to slits, but he said nothing. After all, the imperial needed Rock for some reason too, but why? Most likely, he wouldn't find out until the time came.
"Thank you," he mumbled, putting the card in his pocket.
"You're welcome," Kailas replied politely, burying his face in his mug and looking at the console with one eye. The speed with which messages flashed on the screen was impressive.
"Oh, there's also a notice of termination of wanted status. They were very timely with that..."
"They" sounded with a slight hint of disdain, but Varu didn't look further, turning off the screen.
Noting Kailas's intonation, Rimon stood up and slowly walked to the cockpit. There was nothing more to say. That is, Rock had many questions, but asking them of Varu... was at least dangerous, and unpleasant. For him, the smuggler was a tool, and let Kailas think that the tool suspected nothing. Although he really didn't suspect anything in detail.
Cleaning up the galley didn't take long – a few minutes later, a quiet hiss was heard as the ramp rose, and the transport gently tilted, lifting off on its repulsors.
The flight was not long. Varu flew in the atmosphere no worse than in space – the ship didn't shake once, and the moment of landing could only be determined by the cessation of the barely perceptible vibration of the hull.
Getting up from his seat, Rimon looked at the pilot:
"Leave the coordinates for contacting you."
Kailas chuckled – barely noticeably, at the corner of his lips, and dictated the comlink number.
"Try not to get into trouble too much. I'm not omnipotent either, I can't pull you out of everything."
"It's just one time I got caught," Rimon waved it off. "And one more thing... I assume Kailas isn't your real name?"
A surprised look was fixed on the smuggler - he was the very picture of a good fellow, fresh from the sticks.
"That's my name," Varu said emphatically. "And also... give me the deck."
"Yes, I don't dispute that it's yours, but is it real?" Rok repeated, holding out the deck. Most likely, the Imperial would delete the algorithms he had recorded, which was somewhat disappointing. They could have been extracted from the general code and studied, and perhaps he could have learned something else.
"Does it matter?" The pilot's fingers flew over the buttons, then Varu picked at the back cover of the deck with his fingernail, pulled out a tiny square "bug," replaced the cover, and handed the gadget to its owner. "Take it. Otherwise, you'll keep informing the ISB of your every move..."
He raised his head, and this time the Imperial's gaze—or whoever he really was—was that of an intelligent, tough, and determined man.
"And also... Maliha highly respects Jedi, for world peace and other good ideas. But never forget – he is, first and foremost, a businessman, and he has the grip of a vornskr. You won't get out without losing part of your own skin. And now..." he glanced at the landing pad, "they're already flying for you."
"I should at least know the real name of the one to whom I owe the integrity of my skin," Rimon smiled. This was indeed one of the reasons he wanted to know the Imperial's name. But not the only one. He merely curled his lips slightly at the remark about Maliha and the Jedi. "Unfortunately or fortunately, I won't be graced with Maliha's respect, but thank you for the warning."
"Who do I owe?" Kailas's eyes glinted slightly as he watched the approaching speeder. The machine swayed, stopping at the lowered ramp. "You owe me nothing..."
Rimon didn't bother to warn him of the consequences of saying such a phrase. If he didn't owe, he didn't owe. But he also took into account another fact. If Varu said so, then he had other leverage over him. And also, that Kailas didn't trust him. Well, to hell with trust, but the leverage...
"I don't owe, but consider that I need it, just to know," Rimon said, looking at the arriving car, adding, "I need it personally, no one will find out about it. If you can't or don't want to say it, then don't."
He really needed it, needed to know who was in front of him, to know at least something besides his appearance, which could be changed, and his fake name. He didn't delve into the Force; he could sense superficial emotions anyway.