The mind, pleased by the brief respite, unexpectedly began to paint an interesting picture. A simple charge, a request to retrieve a memory module, an unexpectedly late repairman. After all, if you think about it, here on the Moon, you have to fight for every order, you can say, tear it out with your teeth, and he was late. And an agitated Fly. Not happy, not pleased with himself. Agitated. Nemo popped a nut into his mouth.
"Veymi, don't misunderstand me, does your master value you highly?" but the phrase looked ambiguous. Although, on the other hand, why sacrifice someone? In general, why would Fly need this explosion? To hide the traces of his activities? But there are simpler ways. Did he panic after his hired men were killed, and two more were taken alive, and decided... Or did he simply want to eliminate his slave in such a way that no one would suspect him?! "Not like that. Does he have reasons why he would want to eliminate you physically? Yes or no?"
Her lekku rose and fell – a human would have shrugged.
"He won me from my previous master. I don't know what price he'll ask if someone wants to buy me. But to kill..." the slave looked up at him. "He doesn't need to blow up his office for that. He just needs to want to kill."
Nemo plunged into the Force; he needed not so much an answer as an emotional coloring and knowledge of whether the girl was lying or not. He felt the usual sense of doom – the Twi'lek was not lying. She was used to being a thing. Beautiful, expensive, but a thing that could be sold, broken, simply thrown away.
"Well, things..."
It would have been easier to get information through her head, with the help of the Force. But that was unacceptable. They were too different. The Twi'lek was even now defending her master. How this was possible, he didn't understand. The best he could do was send the girl to the utility room and talk to Fly. And then see how things played out.
"And why should I care about this girl's life?"
Somehow he had become overly sympathetic. What caused this? It required separate consideration.
"To clean up the mess so that no one would suspect him," he said calmly, after a small sip. "Just a note: if the situation starts to heat up, go to the restroom, okay?"
Veymi looked at him with undisguised surprise. She didn't understand what this man was talking about. What significance could a slave have? The master was almost blown up, but what did she have to do with it?
The girl didn't have time to answer, her master burst into the door. He hovered over a free stool, plopped down on it, and raised his proboscis.
"Is it him?" Fly asked the slave demandingly.
"Yes, Mr. Karvo," the girl replied, handing him the module. Fly snatched it like a dying man reaching for a glass of water.
"I don't know your name, but you've helped me a lot," the Taidorian extended a chicken-like foot to Nemo. "Semon Karvo, mediator. Do you want to work for me?"
As soon as Karvo burst into the cantina, Nemo dived into the Force. He was interested in the Taidorian's emotions, as well as the degree of sincerity with which he spoke.
"Depends on the duties and their payment," Nemo said with a smile, shaking Fly's hand. Behind the smile was bewilderment: he couldn't read Fly, but he wasn't lying.
"Nothing is impossible," Karvo's foot turned out to be tenacious and strong – for such a small creature. "And payment without delay. What can you do? Besides handling bombs."
"Anything related to technology," the Kontur replied without exaggeration, trying not to lose attention for a second. "I am a rather broad-profile specialist."
"Oh..." Fly twitched his proboscis – he was interested. "And you work as a simple repairman? I'll talk to your boss. Veymi, who did you call?"
"I'm a freelance worker," Nemo smiled, and as proof of his relaxation, popped a nut into his mouth, "and I decide who to work for. I intercepted this order."
Putting his hand on his heart, he had indeed intercepted it.
Fly twitched his proboscis again – this time with interest and caution simultaneously.
"Did you have any interest in me? If you were hired... I can give more."
"I'm not a bounty hunter," Nemo shook his head negatively, "and your life is not in danger. I have a couple of questions for you. If you answer them – consider that you've helped me a lot."
The Taidorian waved his proboscis towards the door. The slave immediately got up and went to the exit of the bar.
"You saved my data and the girl," Fly grumbled. "That's worth two questions. But I don't reveal my secrets."
"Who ordered Jethro the Durosa?" Nemo asked directly.
"That's not my secret," Karvo shook his proboscis. "If I start giving up clients, I'll be out of work. And out of a head. Ask something else."
Nemo sighed, the nut between his fingers turned to powder.
"Why is everyone so uncooperative?"
"It's your secret," the nutty dust flew to the floor. "But, okay, I respect trade secrets. Has anyone asked you this question before?"
"They came," Muha nodded, almost humanly. The tone made it clear he didn't like the visit.
The corners of his lips stretched into a semblance of a smile.
"Tell me everything you told them," he was interrupted, but it wasn't a problem.
Karvo sighed. Also, almost humanly.
"Or will you tie my proboscis in a knot too?" he clarified. "I said that if they want to find the client, they should spread a rumor that they intercepted an order from me and want triple the price. And a portion for the one in the duros's pocket."
"I'm not a fan of forceful methods," Nemo chuckled, remembering Fiji. "Willie and Fiji sold you out, do you need them?"
Muha almost tied his proboscis into a knot himself.
"Only to kill them," he grumbled. "They failed the mission, they sold me out..."
Alien let out a sound like a disgusted sneeze.
"So, you're the one who screwed me over? Then a piece of advice, human... Get lost. Because they're looking for you too."
"That significantly simplifies my task," Nemo grinned, pulled a piece of flexi-plastic from his pocket, and carefully began to draw the hangar number where the prisoners were. "Can you describe those who spoke to you before me?"
"Creature, I don't know that species," the alien was uncomfortable. "Completely insane. Promised to eat me like... like a chick. And there's a woman with her. Of your species."
"A woman of my species?"
If the speaker was a woman? Who comes to mind? Annette, who else? A difficult question. Most likely, the Tydorian simply wouldn't be able to describe her.
"How much do you charge for mediation?" Nemo wasn't smiling this time. "And is Weymi for sale?"
"This girl?" Muha visibly perked up as soon as the conversation shifted from a topic unpleasant for him. "She's a pleasure to look at, but useless. Didn't even check if the right worker arrived on call. We can come to an agreement... As for mediation, it depends on the deal. What's the order, who needs to be found, what's the sum involved."
"Then we'll agree a bit later, first I need to deal with those who are looking for me," the guy grinned. "Keep the girl in good condition, and as for the rest..."
The hangar number and the bill for the juice were placed on the counter.
"Here you'll find Willie and Fiji. I advise you to install explosive detection systems in your office and hire your own technician. And if you have any questions, I'll answer them, for what it's worth."
"Yes," Karvo nodded his proboscis. "How can I find you if I need you?"
"Update your status on your page." Smiling, the guy considered a few options. "Urgent need for a versatile specialist. Just kidding. Write down the comlink number."
"Don't mistreat the girl," the Tydorian grumbled, carefully selecting numbers on the keyboard. "If I find out you sold her to a brothel, I'll be upset."
"I have certain plans for her, not at all intimate," Nemo smiled. "Everyone will be satisfied."
The alien calmed down and put away the comlink.
"Then good luck," he flapped his wings and flew heavily towards the exit, grumbling to the bartender:
"On my tab. Within reason."
Nemo wasn't going to linger here, and as soon as his glass was empty and the nuts were gone, he left the alien he didn't know. He had dealt with one problem, more or less. The second remained. Acquiring a means of transportation.
Before he started looking for transport, Nemo decided that Jetro wasn't a droid. And he couldn't work in sleep mode without power. Especially since it all started right before dinner, and he had already managed to eat, but the duros hadn't. Rushing into a shop, he disappeared into dark alleys a couple of times, listening to the Force: he needed to avoid even the slightest possibility of a tail.
He returned to the hangar with two hefty paper bags.
And found an uninvited guest there. A fluffy creature with long ears sat by the "Patch's" support. Upon seeing the bags, it eagerly headed straight for Nemo, marching triumphantly, its tail held high like a banner.
His internal spring tensed to the maximum at the sight of a stranger, ready for battle, but a moment later it relaxed somewhat. He had seen the little beast before.
"And where is your mistress..." he said, looking at the blister of the "Patch" and simultaneously thinking about what he would have to give to the beast. There was no doubt that he would have to give something. Putting one bag on the floor, he took a vacuum-packed slice of ham from the other, and, tearing it open, threw a piece to the beast, while simultaneously probing the hangar through the Force.
The owner of the luxurious ears followed the ham with his gaze, sighed almost humanly, and clearly replied, twitching an ear towards the ship:
"There. And not a mistress, but a partner."
To say Nemo was surprised would be an understatement. Regaining his composure the next moment, he unexpectedly began to piece together the puzzle.
"Hungry?" he finally asked the alien he didn't know, shaking a piece of ham in his hand.
"Is there anything edible?" the creature reached for the bag with its paw. "Milk, cheese... Some fruit? Though where would fruit come from here..."
"Eat whatever you find, just leave some for the duros," Nemo smiled, the smile strained. "I don't need you eating me like a chick."
"Tattletale," the eared one snorted and rummaged in the bag. "I should have at least bitten for decency... My name is Bus..."
Something crunched suspiciously in the bag.
"Nemo," the guy introduced himself, taking the second bag. "Enjoy your meal."
And he headed for the "Patch": first he had to feed the pilot, and then have conversations.
As he approached, a ramp extended. Nemo's seat was occupied by the same mercenary he had encountered in the transport line capsule.
Jetro wasn't asleep, but he looked significantly better than after the doctor's visit - the treatment had benefited him.
The woman looked calm and open.
"They say you wanted to see me?"
"They say correctly," Nemo stood on the nose of the ship as if he were two meters above the floor on forty centimeters of polished transplastic. Next to the duros lay a bag. "I remembered, though a bit late, that you asked about dinner."
The pilot nodded and awkwardly rose in his seat.
"Lie down," familiar hoarse notes slipped into the woman's voice. "I'll help."
The duros obediently quieted down. The woman took the bag and quickly looked through its contents.
"You need more meat and fish. And some plants, which you can't get here. You know, boys, if I were you, I'd hurry up and go to some nice wild planet with good hunting and fishing."
"I have other plans," Nemo objected very calmly, sitting down on the transplastic. The previous bag with ham was on his lap. "And I see no particular need to change them. Did you find Larius?"
"And why do you need Larius?" the woman laid out what she considered suitable for the pilot.
"I don't like people who might have scores to settle with me," the concise answer was given immediately after a piece of meat disappeared down his throat – and it seemed to be absorbed before reaching his stomach. He hadn't managed to get full on nuts... "We could meet, talk. Find a common multiplier."
The optimal multiplier for Larius, in Nemo's opinion, was zero. Or the same state as his two buddies were currently in.
"I want to understand how you found Muha," this was the second truth Nemo decided to voice.
"I have no scores to settle with you," the woman replied imperturbably. "We met. What did you want to talk about? About Muha?"
Nemo froze. So that's how it is?
"Muha is a mediator, a good guy, for a Tydorian, he didn't tell you the client's name, just like he didn't tell me," scratching his stubble or short beard, the counter continued to speak. "I propose we combine efforts to find the client. Considering he's also looking for me, it will be easier for us to find him together."
"The client needs what you brought with you," the mercenary was placing pieces of food in front of Jetro, guided by some of her own ideas about how to feed the wounded. "Hunting with bait is dangerous, but usually successful. Only you have two incapacitated people on your hands, Nemo. That severely limits your options. Together – we can. But I need freedom of maneuver."
Nemo even stopped chewing. How did she know about Kailas? Pulling himself together, he finished the piece of ham.
"What kind of freedom of maneuver do you need?"
"Assurance that no one will get to those behind me," Bus, who had scurried underfoot into the cockpit, replied. "When there's no need to worry about their safety, my claws are free."
Nemo was sure that Tardi was safe. Anx took care of his guests, and renting a room was a problem without personal acquaintance or a guarantor. As for Jetro... He could open up to Anx. And put him in danger. To endanger one to ensure the safety of another. Jiro would do it for him... But he himself wouldn't do it. He didn't want to say it out loud, but...
"Are you suggesting I ensure his safety?"
"I suggest we gather the sick in one place," the mercenary moved, and Bus crawled to Jetro's wounded leg, lying on top. The duros clearly felt no discomfort from a ten-kilogram mat lying on his wound. "This way you'll cover them and the doctor. Ideally, we should get all three of them out of here, but there's no time."
"I'll do it," after all, Tardi could vouch for Jetro. "Anything else?"
The woman finished gathering the remaining food into a bag and turned her head.
"A place where you'll let them catch you."
"There's a motel," Nemo said almost without thinking. "I rented a room there. For two days. A quiet, peaceful place."
"Bus..."
The mercenary's furry companion twitched his ears.
"I'm almost done," he replied. "I'll take a look, but I need the address."
"Sector drone-flight, seventy-fourth level, two blocks north of the Carvers' Quarter," the counter specified.
Bus twitched his tail and slid off the pilot's leg. The light fur flashed in the hatch opening.
The mercenary stood up.
"Now we can talk business. Rest, Jet."
Nemo slid off the nose of the ship and, landing softly on his feet, brushed himself off.
Larius jumped down after him, with a soft, cat-like movement. The hatch behind her closed. Bus was no longer visible.
"What's your business with Jet?" the mercenary asked, leaning against the side of the assault ship.
"Friendly," Nemo replied evasively, but then explained. "He's gathering, has been gathering some information for me."
The woman nodded.
"He's in big trouble," a dark ball rolled out of her sleeve into her palm, the mercenary rolled it in her fingers, tossed it, and caught it. "His supply chain has been cut. If he tries to sell the goods, he'll fall into a trap. He'll lose both the goods and his head... If you leave now, you'll leave someone unknown with unknown capabilities behind you. That's a threat. If we cut off the client's legs, we'll buy time and break the trail..."
"Agreed," Nemo nodded. "We need to check the cargo, since someone wants it so badly..."
He nodded towards the "Patch."
"What's your relationship with him?" the question also required an answer. He needed to know, at least roughly, who he would be working with.
"A few common dealings," the woman replied calmly. "Clark was my brother."
Even so...
Nemo looked at the floor for a few moments. Larius indeed had a reason to go after Jetro's clients. Much more compelling than his own.
"Let's discuss the trap plan," he suggested after thinking.
"Muha gave good advice," the mercenary's composure was unshaken. "Good enough to follow. Too good to do exactly as he suggested. Instead of spreading rumors, you can cautiously start looking for a middleman to sell the goods. Without going into details, you're doing it as Jet's partner, or as his... Heir."
"Okay," the guy nodded. "How do I contact you?"
"Here," Larius handed him a business card. "This is for emergencies. I'll find you myself if anything comes up... Officially, I'm hunting you."
The business card disappeared into one of the jumpsuit pockets.
"Then I need to make a couple of calls. And after that, I suppose I'll have to disappear. I'll make sure Jetro is delivered to a safe place."
"Bus will make sure it's truly safe," there was no hint of distrust in that phrase. Only the intention to contribute to ensuring safety.
Nemo didn't object. Extra precautions wouldn't hurt.
"There's one more nuance," the counter waved vaguely towards the wall. "Your accomplices Willie and Fiji, do you have plans for them?"
"Do you need them?" the woman clarified.
"If I needed them, I wouldn't be asking," the guy grumbled. "I can't kill a bound person. I mean, I can. But I don't want to. And I have no right to let them go."
"You have a contact middleman," the woman shrugged. "And they fetch a good price. For a percentage of the reward, Muha will do what's necessary."
"That's true," Nemo nodded again. "Then, talk to you later."
The mercenary headed silently towards the exit. She didn't look back, but a thought suddenly arose clearly in Nemo's mind, which couldn't belong to him.
"They are not my accomplices."
The hangar door closed.