What do successful, business-minded, and self-confident people do before a major deal that could secure them for life? That's right, first a beauty salon, and then a cup of caf at a café in the center of Coronet City. That's exactly what Rok did, after putting on his best suit. Absolute calm, no nerves: compared to everything he had already been through, what he was about to do now was a trifle. Checking the time, he smiled: his hand was pleasantly, almost imperceptibly, pulled by a quality chronometer from a well-known brand, an object of luxury and style. Rok had left "TechMaster" about four hours ago. The "Jaba" gnawed at the contract a bit, but he decided to splurge anyway. After all, what else were money for?
Three hours before the main office's lunch break, he stood up and walked with a confident stride towards the entrance of one of the most powerful corporations in the galaxy. Stopping in the lobby, the smuggler looked him over and, with an expression of benevolence and confidence on his face, addressed the employee sitting at the reception.
"Good morning, who is in charge of closing deals here?"
"Are you scheduled?" the administrator immediately clarified, thus checking the visitor's status. If it was by prior arrangement, that was one thing. If not, it was quite another.
"No, I'm not satisfied with the time it takes to schedule an appointment," Rok replied with a smile. He had roughly calculated the subsequent turn of events and therefore exuded confidence with a smile, waiting to be turned away.
"In that case, what kind of deal are you interested in?" the administrator continued to ask. "Do you want to buy something or order it, or do you have an offer for the purchase of goods that interest the corporation?"
There was a separate service for such clients. Sometimes, such deals brought good profits.
"The latter," Rimon's expression didn't change.
"One moment…" the administrator touched the virtual keyboard. "Mr…?"
A question hung in the air.
"Rok."
"Mr. Rok, you can proceed to discuss the terms of the deal in building 'Resh', second floor, office 202," the administrator smiled with a perfunctory smile. "To the right, through the passage, and then left to the end."
This was a pleasant outcome to the beginning of the meeting. Rimon smiled a little wider:
"Thank you," it was both an answer and a farewell to the administrator. Turning, the smuggler headed in the indicated direction.
On the door of the sought-after office, there was a plaque. "Kigami Zulkis. Head of the Private Procurement Department," it read in neat letters.
Mr. Kigami turned out to be an elderly man with a heavy, piercing gaze.
"Come in, Mr. Rok," he greeted the visitor and pressed the selector button. "Sadal, caf, please… Have a seat."
"Thank you," Rimon immediately took advantage of the offer and sat down. "Mr. Kigami, let's not waste time, it's precious in our time. I have a ship. And I know that its technical specifications are not in the general ship registry. There have been no mentions of it for the last thirty years. And yet, even now, it outperforms most ships of its class. And I want to sell all the technical documentation I have, as well as the exclusive right to inspect and study it by KIC. Naturally, with the right to patent, as their own developments, anything that has not been noticed by the patent office."
"If you hadn't mentioned three decades, I would have thought you were trying to offer me a Rakatan artifact," his interlocutor leaned back in his chair. The door opened silently, and an elegant young secretary appeared, placed a caf on the table in front of Rimon, and disappeared just as quietly.
"What ship are we talking about?"
"I would sell a Rakatan artifact to collectors; this is about very high-quality technologies that were ahead of their time," Rimon activated the prepared hologram "Oko". "We're talking about a ship that was seen only once, at least a model like it, on Naboo, during the first conflict with the Trade Federation. Thirty-two years ago."
"And you are its owner?" the businessman's eyes sparkled – and the predatory glint immediately died out. "Or are you an intermediary?"
"I am its owner," Rok noted very calmly.
"That significantly simplifies matters," Mr. Kigami nodded benevolently. "Of course, all documents are in order? No encumbrances such as co-owners, pledges, and the like?"
"Naturally, the ship is in my full possession."
"Well…" Zulkis clasped his hands together. "This is an interesting offer. Now I would like to hear what amount you consider sufficient to part with your ship."
"It's not about selling, Mr. Zulkis," Rimon emphasized this phrase slightly. "It's about transferring its technical documentation and the right to fully study all its components. I want to keep the ship. As a memento of my… wild youth. Naturally, I am willing to provide any solid guarantees that this ship will not fall into other hands. However, you will understand that it is simply not profitable for me."
The comlink began to ring in the middle of Rimon's sentence. The number was unknown to him, but the Force was thundering like a alarm bell: this call was important. Very. The smuggler was sure of it.
"Mr. Zulkis, I am very sorry to interrupt our conversation," Rimon put on a guilty face. "But I would like to ask for a favor. Could you provide me with a room for a few minutes where I can be sure I won't be overheard? I have a confidential conversation to have. And you can think over my offer in the meantime."
"Of course," if Mr. Kigami was displeased by anything, he hid it very well. "There is a negotiation room here, please…"
One of the wall panels slid aside, revealing a passage.
"Thank you," Rimon nodded. Entering the room, he first immersed himself in the Force and scanned it for listening devices.
A serious corporation conducted business seriously. Clients were not eavesdropped on.
Having confirmed this, Rimon pressed the connection button.
"Yes?" he said with a touch of formality.
"I see things are going well for you," a familiar, tired voice chuckled. "Still want to learn to fly like me, kid?"
"Kailas?" For a moment, surprise flashed in Rok's eyes, then it was immediately replaced by recognition. The picture in his mind obligingly adjusted what was to what is. Instead of a talkative, lively pilot, he saw an old man tired of existence. Who reeked of madness. "I do… But you… Are you in a state to teach anything right now?"
His voice clearly conveyed doubt.
"Not right now," the pilot shook his head. "And I won't be if I don't get out of here. I need to disappear, kid… Will you help, or do I have to get out of this myself?"
"Disappear…" Rimon tasted the word. He preferred another. A more accurate one. To die. Someone who has disappeared can be found. The dead… cannot be resurrected. But he wasn't going to talk about it to Kailas… Not until now. "Why not help, especially since you can hardly help yourself right now. Do you have a plan?"
Kailas nodded. He had a plan. A rather crazy one… However, he himself was almost crazy and understood how thin the partition was that separated him from madness. The doctor would confirm, if anything…
"Remember your jump, kid?" the pilot asked quietly. "Now I'm jumping. And you'll catch me."
"Interesting idea," Rimon smiled. A jump in the atmosphere is quite easy to track. As is the ship. However, the "Oko" could overcome the planetary surveillance systems of most planets in the outer and middle rings, and even some planets in the center of the galaxy… See, he landed on Arkania without unnecessary witnesses… "Details?"
"I'll give you the coordinates," Kailas closed his eyes for a moment. "To the second. You'll need to jump there. You'll find yourself on the edge of a star's gravity well and you'll see… a ship. You'll need to dock with it and take me aboard. And then detach… After that, let me take the helm. Only I can get your ship out of such a mess. A jump against the star's radiation won't be registered by any sensors. But the flash from a burning ship – they'll see it…"
Entrusting his ship to someone… That's where problems could arise. At times, his sense of ownership played a strong role. However… The Force technology gave him too great an advantage over… Everyone. And he couldn't afford to lose it.
"Okay," his voice conveyed uncertainty, as happens when you convince yourself of the rightness of an action.
"But we have to wait six hours," he added, calculating something else in his head. "Plus travel time."
"You'll get a message," Kailas grinned wryly. "With a threat to get even with you and get you from the other side of the Force. Take the first letter of every other word, starting with the third. Substitute their ordinal numbers in the alphabet. These will be the coordinates. Departure – one hour after the message arrives. I can hold on at the edge of the shadow… About an hour, I think. That's in case something delays you."
"Kailas," Rimon suddenly became calm and friendly. "I am currently negotiating with one of the most influential forces in the galaxy. If the message arrives earlier than six hours, I won't be able to fly out. I won't have the ship at that moment. I don't see any other problems in helping you."
"Not now," Kailas tugged at the collar of his baggy jumpsuit – the smuggler had somehow perceived this movement. "Right now, I can't even get to the port on my own, let alone steal a ship. You have about a day. I need… to recover a bit."
"A day will be enough for me," Rimon nodded. "Anything else?"
Rok glanced quickly at the chronometer on his wrist.
"Nothing else," the pilot shook his head. "Everything else – later. When I'm listed as a crazy suicide."
"Then we'll talk," Rok nodded. "End of transmission."
Rimon shook off extraneous thoughts. Now it was time for the big game. Returning from the negotiation room, Rimon sat opposite Zulkis:
"I apologize again," he hid behind a mask of benevolence and good nature. "Have you thought about my words?"
"A ship at our full disposal would suit us better," Kigami didn't hide. "But you are the owner, and the decision is yours. So, your sum?"
"Let's say, one hundred thousand credits would suit me," Rok said with complete seriousness. "Plus, two hundred and thirty-five hundredths of a percent of KIC shares."
Kigami's eyebrows shot up. Judging by his reaction, if Rimon had asked for the position of CEO, he wouldn't have been more surprised.
"You don't skimp, Mr. Rok," he finally remarked. "For such a percentage, we would be entitled to a Rakatan hyperdrive. At least."
"I'm afraid Rakatan engines won't satisfy us in terms of power," Rimon smiled. "I am providing you with a ready-made platform for a premium light courier. And I only stated the upper limit."
"One can't help but recall the joke about 'he could have just shot me'," Zulkis chuckled. "As attractive as this offer is, I don't think KIC will agree to more than twelve hundredths of a percent. As an exception, we might be able to increase the rate somewhat."
"You yourself said that the offer is attractive to you," Rimon smiled, checking the other man in the Force to see how willing he was to raise the price. He had no doubt that this was not the final decision. "So, the price is roughly acceptable to you. Roughly, not half of what I'm asking. And that's how much? Two hundred and twenty, two hundred and ten hundredths?"
"As an exception…" Kigami was ready to make concessions, but the percentage Rimon named did not suit him at all. "Perhaps fifteen hundredths of a percent. That's very good money, Mr. Rok."
"Very good money," Rimon agreed, then looked away, waited a couple of seconds. "And if it were only about me… I would agree to the first offer. But… Mr. Kigami, I am one of the orphans of the last war that swept through the galaxy, and I need the package of shares to provide for my adoptive parents. No more, no less. Two tenths."
"A peculiar form of charity," Zulkis nodded understandingly. "It certainly does you credit, but sixteen hundredths of a percent is an amount that exceeds the budget of some underdeveloped planet. Are you planning to provide your adoptive parents with a personal kingdom?"
"Why not? I was a very restless child," Rimon smiled. "Nineteen hundredths. I like prime numbers."
"There is another prime number," apparently, this was the limit beyond which his interlocutor was not going to yield. "Seventeen hundredths, Mr. Rok. And that's two hundredths more than you would get from any of our other employees. Shall we stop at that, or will you have to find another buyer?"
Rimon hesitated. Primarily because the other buyers collaborated too closely with the Imperials. But he extended his hand to his interlocutor.
"I accept your offer," Rimon calculated how much he would need for the trip to Kailas. "I think three days to finalize all the documents and agreements will be enough for you?"
"Are you in a hurry?" this didn't surprise Kigami; he was just clarifying the terms of the deal. The handshake was brief but firm. "Our lawyers will do their best. And if you want the shares to belong to your adoptive parents, we will need their details to arrange the transfer."
"You will have the details, and no, I'm not in a hurry," Rimon paused slightly. "But I would like the deal to be completed within a week. If you want to conduct any checks, I am ready to grant KIC access to the ship at any time."
"I think we will solve this problem," Zulkis stood up and pressed a button. The quiet, ghost-like secretary reappeared. "Please prepare a standard contract, form nine, for Mr. Rok… The rate is seventeen hundredths of a percent."
"This is my comlink number," Rimon placed a business card he had made the day before on the table. "If you have any questions."
"We will contact you, Mr. Rok," Zulkis assured him. "Where do you plan to keep the ship?"
"Currently, it is in a private hangar until all documents are signed. After that, I plan to hand it over to you for study."
"I just wanted to clarify whether you want to leave it where it is now, ensuring access for our specialists, or if it will be transferred to our docks," Kigami explained. "I hope our cooperation will be mutually beneficial. If you have a similar offer – you know who to contact."
This was a veiled farewell.
Rimon tilted his head almost imperceptibly, then turned and left.
On his way out, he received the papers he was interested in from the same secretary and, with the same confident gait, headed for the exit.
At the same time, he figured out how to bypass the problem of transferring control of his ship. After all, the ship didn't necessarily have to be his. With these thoughts, Rok got into the car that had flown up at his beckoning, and leaning back in the rear seat, dozed off.
As it turned out, renting a freighter without a crew was a piece of cake. And if you talk to the right people in the right way, you can get a ship without any unnecessary questions for a period you can afford. No unnecessary questions that overly zealous landlords love to ask.
A few hours to bring the ship up to Rimon's satisfaction, and it was ready for departure. All that remained was to wait for Kailas's call.
Meanwhile, KIC employees, under the questioning glances of Harrion and, initially surprised, Anis, were studying "Oko." At first, without Rimon's presence, the corporation's employees were not doing… entirely smoothly. Two ran into a random discharge that "accidentally" occurred in the de-energized power lines, fortunately, not lethally.
The main thing was that Rok had managed to deactivate his training system, and now the droids were cheerfully playing around Gar, carrying out his commands.
Rimon remained silent, like a partisan. And why he needed his adoptive parents' documents, and how he allowed his favorite toy to be disassembled and studied, or at least attempted to be. Fortunately, no one could now find out that there were two hidden compartments, and the blasters were reliably hidden in secret caches. Everything was done to legally earn a lot of money. And in such a way that Harrion would be left guessing for now.
A day later, a letter arrived from Kailas. Rimon had already handed over all the documents. The contract was in hand, or rather, in Harrion's safe, the code to which the former smuggler knew. The technicians were busy gathering superficial data about the ship. Anis was feeding them pies. Rimon amused himself by finding out what his new freighter was capable of. It turned out, not much; he could have outclassed such a vessel with the "Oko" in no time, but for what he was asked to do, it would suffice.
An hour later, Rimon was already in space. All passive locators, communication systems, and other nonsense that could give him away were turned off, down to the "Mayday" signal. Rok had no intention of dying anytime soon. Entering the coordinates, Rimon felt the usual slight jolt as the ship entered hyperspace.
The time to repay debts had come.