The door behind the girl immediately closed, letting her out. There was almost no difference between the stale air of the dwelling and the city air. Only a dim sunbeam managed to break through the dense layer of smog, in which the soaring walls drowned. That was the only difference. But Pola squinted even from this light. So she got used to it...
What she really missed was a gulp of caf. Cold. To get to her room and wash away the fatigue of a sleepless night. And everything would be fine. And then she needed to check on the girl after the operation. Pola tore herself away from the wall with effort, adjusted her metal case, and walked along the concrete. The jumble of houses stuck together in a mess didn't remind her of Coruscant at all. Coruscant is completely different... Flying, light, soaring upwards... it was there that Lieutenant Pola Carrada lived. And this city is for people like her...
The wall ended abruptly, marking a turn in the road. Pola slowed her pace, seeing a motionless body. On this moon, it could be anything. A beggar, which swarmed the city, a trap, a hired killer. But even from a distance, the person sitting by the wall didn't look like either.
The blaster at her side acted as a good sedative. A hole in the forehead here was the usual price for everything, not excluding good intentions.
A shadow fell on the face of the emaciated man. Pola cautiously leaned over him.
"Sir... Hey, not a very suitable place to rest... Are you feeling unwell?"
Of course, he was unwell. That was clear. But Pola needed to know if he could answer her.
Illusion never replaces reality. No matter how you deceive yourself, the dirty atmosphere of the moon will not become a fresh lake breeze. And it will not bring the breath of life. Only sentient beings could give it here. Something he had forbidden himself to even think about.
It's so simple, an inner voice whispered. Tardi knew these insidious intonations. Jerec...
So simple. Take a drop here, a drop there. A drop from this woman who came too close... And without noticing, you'll become a likeness of what you ran from.
You can't take from everyone, the voice insisted. You can take from those no one will regret. There are many such people here. Very many. Is it really such a loss for the galaxy? One more bandit, one less...
"No..." the pilot rasped, forcing the insidious whisper to silence with an effort of will, and only then realized that he was being asked a question. "Yes... Tired..."
He answered. And adequately. A good sign...
"Everything will be fine now," Pola nodded and gave an encouraging smile to the unexpected patient. "It so happened that I am a doctor."
The girl sat down next to him, not losing sight of part of the street. You never know what might await you around the corner. Or behind the wall.
Sunken eyes, sharp cheekbones and nose... How did he even get anywhere? At his age...
"You're a real beauty, mister," she shook her head, touching the stranger's wrist with warm fingers. Thread-like pulse, no fullness... And shallow breathing.
"I'll give you an injection, and you'll feel better," the case was at hand, as were the patient's collapsed veins. The sterilizer signaled that the required degree of sterility had been achieved.
"Calm down, it won't hurt," Pola smiled gently, watching the old man's eyes as a micro-jet of the drug shot into a thin vein above his index finger.
Even if it had hurt, Tardi no longer had the strength to defend himself. Even if this girl was a bounty hunter. Even if they found him...
He shouldn't have wasted his strength checking for surveillance. Then he could have checked now...
"Then you wouldn't have had to check anything, because you would have reached..."
The pilot's pupils dilated for a moment. What had she injected him with? How would the drug work? If it was a truth serum, he had only moments to live...
His gaze became focused and sharp. And nothing like that of an old man.
"You mustn't worry," it was impossible not to notice the stranger's suddenly tense gaze. "And there's no need to," the girl added calmly. "It's a very good composition. It stimulates the vasomotor and respiratory centers, and stops hypoxia of organs and tissues. In simpler terms, you'll breathe easier now, your heart will beat stronger, you'll be able to stand up, and I'll be able to take you home. But this is just first aid. You need to be consistently administered blood-substituting solutions. You need to be taken care of and taken care of... Well, your skin is already starting to regain a normal color... Do you feel warmth in your chest?" Pola touched his hand again, where the beat of life could be felt.
He felt it.
The warmth of her fingers – no one had touched him with such care for so long. Something ached inside – the ache of what was no longer there... The flow of blood through his veins. A stimulant? He would have preferred to do without them, but here it seemed impossible.
A doctor...
"I'm... not far..." it was hard to speak. "The hotel... 'The Last Refuge'..."
What a telling name. If he could, he would have smiled.
"Tardi. My name is... Tardi."
"Wonderful, Tardi, you're a brave one," Pola smiled encouragingly and looked away. "Eni. Eni Wedge."
The name was spoken without hesitation, and its sound evoked neither surprise nor protest in her soul. She was used to it... That's how it was. She was Eni. And she had already forgotten how the name of another, missing person sounded in the mouths of others.
A small oxygen cylinder should be enough to support Tardi's body for transport. Secure the cylinder with one movement and open the valve.
"Breathe, Tardi. And you don't have to touch the cylinder with your lips. The stream of oxygen is precisely directed."
While treating his abrasions on his palms, she raised her attentive gray eyes to him. She hadn't had such patients in a long time. Not since... Yes, exactly.
Pola snapped the case shut. She could give him an IV drip here. But it would be better for them to get out of here faster.
"How are you feeling, Tardi? Can you take a few steps with my help?"
"I can..."
She couldn't wait for the scavengers to show up. She wasn't worried about herself. There was nothing to take from her. But the girl...
The temptation to take her blaster had to be asked to step aside. He was a good shot. Certainly better than her. But the habit of shooting while looking through the Force could now finish him off...
"As much as... it will be necessary..."
Two words at a time. It could be considered progress.
The bony fingers gripped the doctor's arm with unexpected strength – Tardi began to get to his feet.
"If anything... save yourself, miss..."
"Save yourself... Oh no, Mr. Tardi," Pola thought, smiling to herself. "It's my job to save others..."
And for some reason, she also wanted to protect this very old, very tired man... From everyone. And maybe from himself?
"You can lean on my shoulder, Tardi, don't worry, I'm strong," Pola slung the case strap over her shoulder, freeing her hand to support the man, and her other hand habitually rested on the blaster. They had to take a few steps to the corner of the building. Her speeder was hidden there.
Straightening up, the pilot closed his eyes for a moment. The street wasn't spinning, but it was noticeably swaying.
"A block..." Tardi croaked. "To the hotel... There's a room..."
"You don't need to talk, I know the place," Pola felt him sway and caught him.
"Hug me around the neck," she commanded Tardi. And without waiting, she threw his arm over her shoulder. And she had carried worse to the medbay, and here it was nothing. The sleepless night reminded her again of thirst and a dry throat, but thinking about a cafe was useless and unsafe. They had just turned the corner...
Around the corner, there was a warm company. In other words, quite warmed up by alcohol. It was still quite a distance to them – further than to the speeder stash. Busy with a bottle of murky liquor, the vagrants hadn't yet noticed the appearance of the doctor and her accidental patient.
"Hutt... How inconvenient!" Pola cursed. It was a few steps to the stash, and clearing away the remains of the leaky metal and plastic structures was a matter of seconds. But not now... Her speeder was very fast, expensive, bought with her officer's salary. And upgraded so that no one would have guessed. In appearance, it had long been crying out for the junkyard. But even this junk would be a coveted prize for someone.
Pola cautiously peeked out from behind the protruding wall, assessing the distance to the vagrants and her chances of success.
"Can you roll into the speeder on the move?" she glanced at him with dark gray eyes, her pupils dilated by the shadow of the wall.
"I can drive," Tardi exhaled. "Pilot... Was."
He knew he could. As long as he could hold the steering wheel. The company continued to have fun, ignoring them. Even without resorting to the Force, he could assess the mood of the vagrants.
"They don't look... aggressive," Tardi leaned against the wall to make it easier for the girl. "Is the car far?"
"Pilot? Of course... Most likely an Imperial pilot... Judging by the inner core that remains in an Imperial officer, even when there's nothing external to hold onto... Hello, Pola... The past will find you everywhere."
She shook her head negatively, her heavy knot of hair.
"You mustn't. Any overexertion will kill you. I'm not a pilot, but I drive a speeder well," Pola said resolutely. "When I slow down, roll over the side, okay?" She hesitated slightly and handed him the blaster.
"I don't need it."
"You risk not seeing me again, kid..."
The thought was almost indifferent. He had rested enough to cling to life – but not enough to do it at someone else's expense.
"This will never be enough..."
"I'll cover you, miss..."
Dry, knotty fingers closed around the pistol grip.
How heavy...
She let go of his hand, and the concrete wall seemed particularly cold to her. The slender female figure detached itself from the wall and became visible in the opening of the garbage-strewn street, narrow as it was. She walked, carefully avoiding every obstacle so as to disappear behind it for a while. But her gait was even and calm. The girl clearly had no intention of changing her direction. The main thing was that this company didn't get to the stash before her.
They noticed her not immediately. The doctor had already managed to reach the place where she had hidden the speeder when a surprised exclamation was heard.
"Hey, there's a girl here... Looking for something."
They watched her, but no one was in a hurry to get up yet.
At the beginning of the alley, a thin, gray-haired man squinted at the scene with eyes like shards of gray-green ice.
"Yes, I'm looking," Pola thought, catching the vagrants' last words. "For Felinks, for example... And he's hiding under this pile of garbage, the scoundrel..."
"Kissy-kiss... Pussy, Pussy..." Pola dived under a piece of rusted-through metal and threw it aside. "Where are you wandering, hutt damn you?" she threw aside a huge plastic sign of an ancient office and jumped into the speeder. The rusty iron rattled with every detail as she pressed the start button. And in this wild symphony of completely agonizing sounds, the speeder quite briskly soared above the vagrants' heads.
The drunken company reacted predictably to the takeoff of the machine – they scattered. One of the vagrants clutched the precious bottle to himself, saving the moonshine from inevitable death in a dirty puddle.
Hissing hoarsely, the speeder made a sharp turn between two walls, as dirty as the concrete underfoot, even though they stretched upwards, like the entire Vertical City. Pola landed the speeder near a wall protrusion.
"How are you, Tardi?" the door slid aside with a bang. "Need help? Don't worry, it won't fall apart on the way," Pola grinned, "it's all props and mimicry. There's no other way here."
Taking two steps to the open door was no easier than a forced march with full gear. He managed. He managed to reach the back of the seat, fall onto it, dropping the blaster next to him. And closed his eyes so as not to see other hands on the control panel. So as not to reach out to help them.
"Room twenty-one," the pilot said clearly and distinctly.
Pola looked at him intently, and a small vertical crease appeared between her flying eyebrows. He looked the same when she saw him on the road. But the wave that beat in his wrist was of good fullness, though a little rapid. The doctor pressed a button on her bracelet, and the speeder gently and silently soared into the narrow labyrinths of the streets, although it still frightened oncoming vehicles with its decrepitude. The camouflage would reactivate on approach to 'The Last Refuge'. He had chosen his hotel well...
There were still free spots on the parking platform. The doctor expertly maneuvered between two menacing-looking hoverers, threw a credit chip to the approaching duros, and swung her legs over the side of the speeder. Tardi sat there, his gray head thrown back on the headrest. It seemed he hadn't even felt the journey. A fleeting sadness, almost imperceptible to the mind, quietly squeezed her heart.
"Mr. Tardi, we've arrived," the doctor said quietly, leaning towards him and extending her hands to help him up.
"Lean on me, like this... Everything will be fine now... You'll lie down now. Just a little more..."
And they stepped under the dark sign of the hotel, which promised everyone a final refuge.
The place Pola took for a hotel turned out to be a cantina. At this time of day, it was noisy, colorful, and motley. The public was mostly watching a group on stage playing something light, with a touch of romance, but their appearance did not go unnoticed. First, the doctor caught the murky gaze of an anks, then almost immediately two appeared next to her: a twi'lek and a rodian, both armed with small semi-automatic blasters, which, however, they did not hold, letting them hang.
"Miss, did something happen?" the zabrak asked friendly, looking at the girl.
"Something happened," Pola thought, turning cold. The blaster, which she never let out of her hands, remained lying under the speeder seat... True, she still had a stunner, but even if she managed to knock someone out, she still had no chance. The cantina was full of people like these two. And the one who was drilling her with his gaze...
Pola scanned the smoky cantina hall, catching the anks' intense gaze. It seemed she had heard that the owner of 'The Last Refuge' was an anks. Perhaps it was him. The fleeting thought of the blaster left in the speeder was immediately dismissed. The girl turned her gaze to the zabrak with calm gray eyes.
"I need to take this gentleman to his room. He's not feeling well, I'm a doctor," Pola said softly but insistently. "Please let us pass."
"Twenty-first," the pilot's voice was barely audible in the cantina's noise. "Miss is not lying."
The zabrak glanced at the anks, who nodded affirmatively.
"Allow me to help you," he said, seemingly politely, but it was clear that this was not so much a pretext as a statement of fact. Tardi was carefully taken by the shoulders, "we'll carry him to the room. You are asked to approach the main table."
After which he pointed to that very anks. When the horned one turned, the girl could see a small intercom near his ear.
There was nothing to be done. The doctor glanced anxiously at Tardi, who was being carried out of the hall, and resolutely headed for the anks' table.
"Good day, sir. You wanted to talk to me? I'll answer all your questions. And then let me return to the patient," the doctor stated crisply. Such a voice suited Lieutenant Carrade better than Eni Wedge from Nar Shaddaa.
The anks held a long hookah pipe in his hands, letting out small streams of scarlet smoke.
"All right," he agreed, thinking about something, "how is your patient feeling?"
Hearing the actual permission from the anks to treat the pilot, the girl breathed easier.
"He has general exhaustion. And in a very severe degree, up to a collapse state." She cast a worried glance at the anks. The first imperceptible wrinkles appeared in the corners of her tired eyes.
"He needs infusions of blood substitutes, parenteral protein nutrition, immunomodulators, vitamins," she listed to the anks. "All of this in courses and all of it urgently, sir. And complete rest," she added. "No stimulants. The body's resources are depleted. There's nothing to stimulate."
She shook her head, lost in thought. How had he managed to walk a whole block? By what Force?
"Sir," Pola reminded the cantina owner of her existence, "do you have any more questions for me?"
A scarlet ball of smoke went up to the ceiling, where it was almost immediately absorbed by the ventilation.
"All right... Then I have a proposal for you, miss. You will take a leave of absence from your main job and will look after your patient," the emphasis was on the last two words. "You will receive everything you think is necessary for his recovery, a neighboring room, food, salary, within reason."
After that, he looked at the girl. Even sitting, he towered over her by a good half meter.
The girl looked into the dim eyes of the establishment's owner and pursed her lips. She hesitated to answer. It was one thing to take care of Mr. Tardi like any other seriously ill patient, and quite another to leave all the others under her care for his sake. If she were guided by sympathies and preferences, she would cease to be a doctor. True, there was an option... "Allow me to speak with my partner," she said to the huge growth on the anks' head, taking the comlink from her belt.
The anks nodded and took another puff.
"I'm not forbidding you anything," he said calmly.
Her partner didn't have to be persuaded for long. Orri didn't mind getting her client base, and despite all his laments about being terribly busy, he couldn't hide that he was pleased with her unexpected absence.
"It's just that circumstances have developed this way, Orri," she gently cut off her colleague's questions and glanced at the anks. "And, please, look after this girl today. She needs to get up. I'm on call... Everything is arranged," she nodded to the cantina owner. "Now can I go to the patient?"
The anks' crest turned slightly green.
"Naturally," the owner of the establishment said, lightly touching the deck lying near his hand several times, "you will be escorted."
A small droid on a repulsor platform appeared nearby.
"All right," Pola nodded with satisfaction. She was already ready to follow the droid, but then the aroma of freshly ground caf wafted from the bar, immediately reminding her of what she had been dreaming of all morning before meeting the gray-haired, emaciated man.
"If possible, caf, please. And a lot of it," the girl added, after thinking. She readjusted her grip on her case and followed the droid, weaving between the tables.