Chapter 11: Time and chance can do nothing for those who do nothing for themselves
200 stones extra chapter.
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Nabuan City was beautiful - many wealthy intelligent people from all over the galaxy flew to Naboo to enjoy their holidays at the local resorts. With no significant minerals, Naboo could only make more or less serious income from plasma sales and tourism. Naboo's architectural style was popular far beyond the sector, all the way to the central worlds. To a native of Earth, it would remind one of the buildings of Venice and Florence during the Renaissance, but for obvious reasons, there were no natives from a distant planet on Naboo. The buildings were crowned with coloured, tile-covered, straight roofs, with neat slopes at the edges and the obligatory small dome in the centre of the roof, as a tribute to ancient tradition.
The architecture of the entire Tidus was as pleasing to the eye as the individual houses - wide, long avenues filled with the sounds of crowds and the rumble of repulsors of all sorts of vehicles - from small speedybikes, barely bigger than their driver, to large cargo transports, carrying all sorts of goods around the city.
In the midst of all this splendour walked a tourist, carefully, with undisguised interest, looking at the sights of Tida. Since the tourist left the gates of the royal palace and preferred to walk, he could see all the most interesting places of the city - the royal palace itself, several large buildings of academies - art, technical, state administration (bureaucracy). Further down the street were shops and boutiques. Unlike the shops of Coruscant and other technogenic worlds, the shops of Naboo did not have glowing signs, and instead of holoprojectors in the windows there were beautiful installations of goods and pictures painted on ordinary canvases. It would seem to be an archaism, but to the surprise of tourists, ordinary goods and their layouts were pleasant to the eye and attracted attention no worse than advertising holoprojectors. Nabuans were famous for their arts in various forms - from music, architecture and painting, to building ships. The Nabuans were not good at the latter, but they still considered their yachts and other ships to be examples of style and works of art.
When the smuggler, having looked at all this splendour, turned towards the nearest shop to buy something to drink, two men caught up with him.
- Wait a minute. - The captain did not realise at once that they were addressing him, but after the visitors came close to him, he noticed them and looked around silently, making sure that they were addressing him.
They were clearly from the palace, a young man in his twenties wearing light anti-blaster armour and a girl in an orange-red long robe.
- Are you here to see me?
- Yes," she nodded, "you're the one who brought the letter, aren't you?
- Yeah. What's this about?
- Not here. - The girl looked back at the people who were already staring at them, "Let's go somewhere quieter.
The smuggler, not sensing a trick, followed the people who had turned round - after all, he wasn't being escorted, so he found no reason not to trust them. The young men, obviously well oriented in the centre of the capital, led the smuggler and in a minute the whole company came to a small street. The girl looked around and then asked:
- Excuse me, and what is your name?
- Georges.
- I'm Corde. You brought that letter, didn't you? - The girl asked impatiently.
- You mean the parcel? Yes, I was hired to deliver it.
- Who hired you? - she asked immediately. Georges thought for a moment whether he could reveal the identity of his client. Among smugglers, as among bounty hunters, it was not customary, to say the least. Recalling that there were no orders on the matter, the smuggler replied:
- "Just some kid. He was small, well-dressed, didn't look like a local Tatooinian. There was a man with him.
- "A man?" - That's what the girl said.
- Yeah. The guy's name was Julian, I think. He was young, looked like a careless peddler, a prime target for pirates. - Georges grinned. He'd seen the likes of Julian in his short life - young, naive. Those who survive may become wolves, but the fate of the vast majority of them is to perish on the space expanse - at the hands of pirates, other "traders", or even their own crew, if they naively dragged anyone on board.
The girl thought about it, and the guy stood silently aside, listening to the whole dialogue, pretending that the rustling of the crown of a nearby tree was much more interesting to him than the mysterious conversation between the maid and the smuggler....
- Thank you," the girl nodded, glancing briefly at her companion. He still pretended to be completely unconcerned.
- Er... can I go now? - Georges asked, looking round. He liked this conversation less and less.
- Yes, yes, of course. Goodbye. - The girl bowed briefly and walked on, accompanied by her companion down the alley, leaving the smuggler alone. Georges turned around and walked back to the busier street to buy something for himself with the money he had received for his work.
- Your Majesty, why would you do that? - The Jedi turned around, staring at the smuggler's back as he walked away.
- It's the right thing to do, Ronar!
- Yes, of course," the Jedi nodded, "but I still don't understand. And I don't like this guy..." Ronar glanced at the spot where the smuggler had been a moment ago.
- Like him or not, what difference does it make? Was he telling the truth?
- Yes, there was no doubt about it.
- Then Anakin is alive. - Padmé smiled, but then frowned, "And with some man... who's turned to smuggling... it's a dangerous profession.
- No more dangerous than the path of the Jedi. - the bodyguard remarked phlegmatically.
They were silent for a while, thinking about their own things. The small alley was the perfect place for such thoughts. Between the small one- to two-storey houses were equally small gardens, a tribute to Nabuan tradition. Fences the size of an adult's shoulder, with ornamental iron bars, were as much a tribute to tradition and decoration as they were a real defence against intruders.
Ronar was distracted from his thoughts and said, looking at the alleyway:
- Then we should return to the palace, your majesty. You have business to attend to.
- Yes, yes, of course. - Padme looked around and headed back to the palace with a quick step.
* Barloz, hyperspace. Anakin Skywalker. *
Erdwa woke me up. I quickly got up and looked sleepily at my iron friend:
- Hey, what's wrong? Can't sleep...
- Exiting hyperspace in five minutes. - The droid squeaked on the binary and, buzzing caterpillars, turned around and drove back. Coming to my senses, I walked out towards the latrine. Yes, it's called a toilet on land, but what kind of latrines on a ship? So it'll be the loo.
After five minutes I didn't keep up - I stayed at the mirror and tried to do a few things quickly - brush my teeth, comb my hair, tidy up my clothes. I tried for nothing, I guess, but it's still a habit. It's inescapable.
The ship shook, but after a second the shaking stopped, and there was a sound. It's the way the ship brakes. I'd never noticed ships coming out of hyperspace before. There were no sounds in Nubian, and last time I was on Barloz I didn't have time to listen to any sounds.
I looked at myself and recognised that I'd be a handsome man in ten years, so I finally got out and headed for the control room. Julian was here, in his chair, sitting and reading something on the monitors.
- Good morning, Ju! - I drew the smuggler's attention to myself. He took his eyes off the monitors and grumbled unhappily:
- "Well, Hutt, you're getting ready for a date. We're about to have a checkup, so get ready. - He leaned back in his chair and returned his gaze to the monitors again.
- Er... Ju? What am I supposed to do?
- Go make sure all the hiding places are locked up tight. Then wait for the team, I'll open the docking hatch from here, you meet them. You're a young boy, you're still young. Maybe they won't be too hard on you. I'll come out later.
- All right, then. I'll be off then. - I nodded and walked briskly to the hatch area. The docking hatches were a kind of back door - they were only used for docking ships in space. For other purposes they were of little use. In fact, I couldn't open the cargo hatch for a team of local cops.
Erdva met me on the way, he was going somewhere on his own, so he didn't even notice me. The docking bay was in the cargo bay, so I headed that way. As I walked, I looked at the hatchway after inspecting the crates of goods and the floorboards that served as covers for the secret compartments, and finding the disguise to be adequate. The airlock was closed, and I had to wait a while - after a minute there was a clanking sound on the other side, and the indicator above the door showed that the pressure was equalising. When the green light above the door, just so nostalgically lit up, resembling a lamp with the word "exit" on it, the doors moved.
I stepped back and leaned against a small stack of crates to keep out of the way.
Two men came in. Their faces resembled those of traffic policemen - there was no glimmer of intelligence in their eyes - like clerks. The first to enter through a small corridor-sleeve was a man in his forties, in uniform, and with a blaster on his belt. Looking around the cargo bay, he turned his attention to me:
- Who do we have here?
- Who's who? Я!
- I see you. What are you, a kid, a pilot? Where do they get these guys?
- No, Julian will be right with you. - I shook my head. The ones called cops relaxed. Number two looked round the compartment and walked along the crates. Looked at the markings on them, sighed regretfully. - I don't see anything like that. What's your gear? - he asked the apparently senior man.
- How many times do I have to tell you, this ... what's-his-name ... will come. - waved away the chief.
They waited. The inspectors looked round again, not paying attention to me. At that moment Julian came in, carrying a datapad.
- Sorry to keep you waiting...
- Don't slow down, we've got work to do. Come on, what have you got? - Roughly said the main one of the inspectors. The second one came closer and stood right next to the first one. Julian transferred the data from his device to the same one at the cop's. He briefly looked through the information and asked:
- What, are you dealing instead of the federation now? Ah, Hutt is with you. - He handed the datapad to his assistant and took a device off his belt and waved it around the boxes. It reminded me of a search with a metal detector, only, apparently, the device was of a qualitatively different level.
- Nothing. All right, let's go. - He threw to the other one and walked away in English. The other one followed him. When the hatch closed and the lamp above it changed colour to red, Julian exhaled noisily and leaned against a stack of crates.
- Well, lucky..." Ju looked like he'd just unloaded the wagons.
- What do you mean?
- Ah, you don't know... - The aspiring smuggler wanted to give a lecture, judging by his tone, but instead he said, "Let's go to the cabin and talk.
Into the cabin. We went into the cockpit, where I immediately took the co-pilot's seat. Ju sat down on his and began to enter new data for the next hyperjump. It didn't take long, and after he finished and left the computer to calculate the jump, he leaned back in his chair and spoke:
- It's lucky that our route is provincial - far from the main trade. There is obligatory and on the subject of hiding places are checked. And, of course, they sometimes demand bribes. We got the wrong customs officers. They didn't bother with anything.
- Maybe it's because our cargo isn't very valuable, and the ship doesn't look...
- The Barlos are simpler than the other models. Well, almost the most primitive. But that's not the point. I once hauled cargo along the Correlean trade route... and there's a customs post near Jiroha. They charged me a thousand for something that wasn't properly packed. And you can't prove it.
- Is it that bad?
- You don't say. They seem to have their hands full, and they're looking for bigger prey.
- Maybe. Beginner's luck. I don't think we should relax. It could be worse next time.
- Shut up, technician. Go check the engine. The right one's five per cent less thrust than the left one," said Ju. I see, he's worried. Next time I'm not so lucky, I'll have to go in the backyard or pay for it. Not that I'm that greedy... but we should be paid for our work, not us, right? Ah, it's a smuggler's lot...
On my way to the engine room, I came across Erdva. The droid seemed to be in his native element on the ship, if you can say that about a droid. Erdva, as long as I could see him, was always busy doing something. Now he unscrewed the panel where the sensor for automatic door opening was located and was doing something with the sensors, if I may say so.
- Erdva, are you busy? Something important?
- Negative. Go ahead.
- Something's wrong with the left engine. Didn't you look at it?
- Cooling system malfunction. Overheating at one hundred and seventeen per cent of normal. Recommend partial engine disassembly to purge the cooling gas system.
- "Coolant gas"?
- The engine cooling system uses a compound cooling gas. The brand..." Erdwa gave a trill and whistles corresponding to a set of letters and numbers.
- Yeah... well, it's gas cooling. Like a refrigerator. Well, we'll see. - I headed for the maintenance bay, leaving Erdv behind.
The engines weren't working. By the time I entered the bay, the ship was humming again and apparently already in hyperspace. There's no need for sublight engines in it, so you can get them, if not repaired, then you can inspect them for sure. But... right. I have to practice the skill that allowed me to assemble the lightsaber on something.
I sat down next to the engine in a non-lothos pose and leaned my hands against the hull of the engines. In the compartment, they looked like two huge, shoulder-high pipes that went out into the compartment and ended in cowls. Even without using force it was clear - there were cables and pipes carrying power and refrigerant to the engines. In a second I could feel most of the system, if not all of it - the ability was about an arm's length away. That's enough to move around the compartment to access all the parts I'm interested in.
- Well, well, well, what do we have here... - like a doctor over an operating table I tried to focus and concentrate on the mechanism.
The engines were... complex. I didn't have the knowledge I needed, but the ignorance was compensated by the first rule of a programmer - "it works - don't touch it". The engines were working, and the fault was only, as Erdva said, in the cooling.
One of the pipes was found quickly - it felt something inside, with extremely atomised power. I still don't get it - is there force in space, or not? Apparently it was denser in matter - otherwise I wouldn't have been able to see with it. Everything would be filled with a fog of force.
A tube of metal, a couple of inches in diameter ran from somewhere from the floor of the compartment, through the cowls into the engine. The power inside was extremely diffuse, but not absent at all. There was also a power conduit, a large cable with some metals inside, but I didn't touch it yet. Concentrating on the first pipe I found, I telekinesed the gas through it and looked to see what was wrong. On the whole, it looked pretty good. A couple of cracks I fixed in a flash. Next, I found some sand-like deposits. Removed it. I had to create a hole in the pipe and pull out this chemical nasty stuff. It was like a blue coloured powder. Before he left, I did some more work with the engines - I returned the integrity of the pipe, removed all defects and at the same time, on top of that, corrected the same in the power supply.
That's it, the flight mechanic's work is done to a "yat".
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