Rimon walked quickly to the hall adjacent to the recruits' rooms. He expected to be told what had happened here along the way.
On the way, he was intercepted by a guard:
"What are you doing here?! Didn't you hear the alarm? To your room!"
"I'm going there," Rimon replied with a smile, continuing his way. He didn't want to sit locked up with a chatty comrade, but he didn't have much choice. He doubted they would let him wander around the base during an alarm, and even less likely that anyone would be more talkative than this guard.
They followed him with their eyes, but there was no particular alarm from the guard – rather, mild annoyance: people wandering around, getting in the way... The annoyance was mixed with a strange, cold, and cruel joy – this man was waiting for something.
Rimon didn't like this "something" at all. He rarely met people who rejoiced in the misfortunes of others. And here, almost every other person. Although, maybe they just picked such people for the guard? So that they wouldn't stand on ceremony if someone changed their mind and wanted to return to a peaceful life...
Returning to the room, he first looked to see what Kailas was doing.
His roommate was lying on his bunk, playing some space shooter on his datapad, and only nodded in greeting at Rimon's appearance, without taking his eyes off the small screen. A damp strand of hair stuck to his forehead, Kailas blew it away, and in frustration put down the deck:
"Lost again, what bad luck! What's all the noise about?"
Looking at his neighbor, Rock shrugged:
"I was playing on the simulators when the alarm went off," he said, listening to Kailas: were there any changes in his emotional state? "Were you here the whole time?"
"I was playing too," he was clearly upset about losing. "Well, it's okay, I'll catch up. The main thing is to be allowed to do the real thing... I'm sitting here, guessing, waiting for you. I thought you'd say something."
Shrugging again, Rimon settled onto his bunk. The fact that Kailas hadn't answered the question didn't escape him, but he decided not to dwell on it. For now. Although he took note of the evasive wording and the sweaty hair. Who sweats so much over a game?
"I'll say that until they tell me something, I won't say anything either," Rimon took out his "ComMod" and began to study the data received for creating a light saber, not forgetting to glance at Kailas and the door.
The door remained quiet, Kailas – not so much. He started his game again, though he turned down the sound so as not to disturb too much, and the study continued to the cheerful "pew-pew-pew!" After a few minutes, he lost again and started over, humming something quietly to himself.
What was happening didn't distract Rimon too much; much more than his neighbor's vocal abilities, he was bothered by the fact that all the computational power didn't allow him to create a contour of the necessary precision. No matter what configuration he tried, the light beam didn't want to become a saber blade. This meant that precision here took on a different magnitude.
"It seems that a light saber can only be created with the help of manipulations through the Force, which means my attempts to master it need to be accelerated," but how to do that when there was such an unobtrusive but watchful spy nearby was unclear. Putting aside the datapad, Rimon stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes, then reached for the Force, gradually encompassing the entire room with his perception. He could practice. Look for, for example, all the energy circuits in the room, maybe find a bug, or something else?
Alas, rookies weren't honored with bugs. And even those who had lived here before had left nothing behind as a memento. Simple energy conduits, enough to light the room and maintain its temperature – and that was it. Deadly boring...
He had to open his eyes. At least that way he could see something other than the amorphous stone mass around him.
"What are you playing with such fervor?" Rimon's voice sounded, looking at the ceiling. What was that just now? A snippet of a song?
"An old game," Kailas grunted, tearing himself away from the deck. "The graphics are primitive, seemingly simple, like a datapad, but it's addictive. And you have to think. Think very hard."
The chatty lover of primitive games had an unexpectedly serious look.
"Thinking is useful, can I have a go?" Rimon lifted his head from the bunk and stared at him, probing his overseer's emotions.
"I'll save mine now..." Kailas tapped the screen with his stylus, handing the device to his roommate. "Here."
He was tense, despite his outward relaxation, but it was the tension of anticipation, not threat. Kailas was in a state of constant readiness to repel an attack – and didn't even think about it.
Catching the deck, Rimon reflexively examined the labels on the screen, pausing for a second on the name of the saved game. "Agree to Everything." An unexpected name for a file of a simple, datapad-like toy... Especially under the circumstances they both found themselves in.
What exactly did the annoying chatterbox Kailas want to say? "Agree." Was it a threat, or a warning, or something else? There was no point in clarifying. So, they were listening – and not through standard listening devices. Otherwise, Varu would have said it aloud, not passed on instructions in such an original way.
Starting the game, the counter focused intently on the screen.
The game was indeed primitive, but interesting in its own way. To guide a small ship through a labyrinth of all sorts of threats – from black holes to some monsters – to a reward. What the reward was, was unknown, but the computer mind was diligent in inventing nasty things.
Kailas, left with nothing to do, lay on his back, hands behind his head, and chatted, looking at the ceiling.
"When all this circus is over, I'll find a good girl, start a family. Maybe. Or I'll go out and party some more, I haven't decided yet. What are you planning to do?"
The game turned out to be unexpectedly interesting, almost like smuggling through asteroid belts, though here a mistake didn't border on death. Starting to play, Rimon carefully guided his ship towards the intended goal. To Kailas's question, he answered honestly:
"I'll find a ship, go back to my old job," the thought of starting a family didn't bother him much yet. Either he hadn't found his soulmate, or he just wasn't made for it. Or Annet had gotten into his heart deeper than he would have liked...
"Hauling goods?" his interlocutor clarified. "Well, that's a job too. What next? I mean, besides trading, there's nothing else to do, is there?"
Rimon smiled. How to explain to a person who supposedly was tired of space that where he heard "hauling goods," he heard "flying"? Rock really loved to fly, to get acquainted with something new, to feel the taste of danger and profit, to play cat and mouse with imperials and other authorities. For some reason, he loved exactly this, and he didn't need anything more... And how to explain this to Kailas?
"I'm just not tired of space yet," Rimon said, deciding to avoid the question.
Kailas didn't have time to answer him – the door opened, a guard peeked in.
"Rimon Rock? Kailas Varu? Command is calling."
Throwing the deck onto Kailas's bunk, Rimon stood up, ready to go wherever they told him.
They didn't have to go far. Kailas stomped behind him, muttering something about lousy imperials who wouldn't leave him alone – he had just wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk, found a sensible interlocutor, and here you go, get up and run. The guard paid no attention to his displeasure. Opening one of the doors in the corridor, where Rimon had been forbidden to go not long ago, he stepped aside, letting the recruits pass.
Rimon didn't say a word, pondering Kailas's behavior. He was called by the "Executioners," and he cursed the imperials. Was he playing again, or was he truly a fanatic? Or, while he was messing around in the training room, an imperial patrol had managed to stumble upon the base. Entering the forbidden zone, Rock looked around first.
The room they were led into was characterized by a pronounced asceticism. Their room with Kailas was cozier. The walls were paneled halfway up with cheap plastic, and above, melted stone was visible. A holotable, a few chairs, and three people in dark camouflage – that was all that could be found there.
"Nice interior," Rock said, examining the melted stone. Who would have thought of such... An irrational use of resources and space. Unless the whole station was located in stone, and this wasn't the natural ceiling.
"It's temporary," one of the trio waved dismissively. "Mr. Rock, on the way here, you suggested, as a possible action, an attack on the Karida Academy. Whether by chance or not, your suggestion coincided with our plans. Do you want to participate?"
The tone was polite, almost friendly, but behind it was something that clearly indicated – refusal would not be accepted.
"Why not?" Rimon shrugged, tensing inwardly. Was this what Kailas wanted to tell him? "Sitting in simulator chairs won't make the imperials any fewer."
"We've already seen how you sit in simulator chairs," the second nodded. "For someone who's seeing a fighter cockpit for the first time, the result is very, very good. And I like your attitude towards those who try to escape from the battlefield, Mr. Rock... Now, to business."
The third, who had been silent until now, moved on to business.
"We have a courier who is supposed to arrive at the Academy. You will need to bring him to the location and put him in the hangar."
"And what's the catch?" Rock asked calmly, looking at this third person. The fact that he just needed to land a courier seemed somewhat strange and too simple.
"The catch?" the camouflaged man wondered. "It's not a catch, it's a combat mission. The Academy must receive its cargo, the rest is our concern."
Rimon narrowed his eyes, was silent for a few seconds, and began to speak quietly and calmly:
"I'll deliver the cargo, and then what? How much time will I have before the attack, how will I get out from under fire and leave the planet?" Despite his desire to bend and play the fanatic they were supposed to see in him, he couldn't calm the smuggler within him, who wanted to know exactly how he would leave and under what conditions.
The three terrorists, for some reason, were not looking at him, but behind him.
"Varu?" Did he imagine it, or was there some uncertainty hidden behind the commanding tone?
Kailas, who had been quietly silent by the door, stepped forward.
"I'll be the one to transport from the surface," he explained reluctantly. "The details are already in flight, the courier should arrive on time."
Rimon nodded calmly. If the details were in flight, then fine, at least he could try to escape on the courier if something didn't suit him.
"What are we waiting for?" Rock asked, addressing the trio.
"The end of loading," was the answer. At that moment, the intercom on the table beeped. After listening to a short report, the terrorist nodded to Kailas:
"We're not waiting anymore."
Rimon watched the situation with interest. He had a couple of questions for Kailas, but there was no point in asking them now, and it wasn't the time or place. But he hoped there wouldn't be any extra eyes and ears nearby...
"Let's go," Varu turned and headed for the exit, without saying goodbye or asking permission to leave.
Rimon followed him, asking on the go a question that had long interested him:
"So, who are you really?"
"The one who will get your precious person out of there," Kailas chuckled, who apparently didn't need a guide to get to the airlock at all. "That should be enough. Now listen and..."
He lowered his voice to a whisper:
"The courier is packed to the brim with explosives. Several tons... Enough to leave a crater where the Academy is. Don't even think about escaping – the cargo will explode half an hour after landing, they've calculated everything. If they suspect the courier is going somewhere else, they'll detonate it remotely."
"Nice," was all Rimon could say, looking at his neighbor. He had managed to get into a bad situation for the second time, even more successfully than the first. Well, he hadn't taken down a patrol, he had been framed. But here, you couldn't even blame it on being framed. He had gotten into it himself.
The whisper became even quieter.
"You're flying alone, I have my own transport. If you want good advice – over the Academy, hand over control to the autopilot and jump. Just jump. I'll pick you up. If you have a way to contact those who sent you here – pass on the information. If not – you'll have to figure it out yourself."
Rimon looked at Kailas, stunned, showing for the first time that he was surprised. But there was still time to think before Karida. The big question, however, was how exactly to jump, he didn't seem to know how to fly yet. Maybe there was something in the cargo hold besides explosives? A jetpack, for example... What could he say in such a situation, he didn't know: on the one hand, it could be a test, on the other hand, who knows who else had a grudge against the "Executioners"? So Rimon decided to check Kailas's emotions to get at least hints as to whether he was lying or not.
Behind his interlocutor's hurried whisper lay a cold determination – with such a grip, a seasoned wolfhound would grab a wolf by the throat. It was possible to understand that Kailas had been waiting for this moment for a long time. A very long time. But nothing more.
The Force gave nothing definite, though it wasn't surprising, given how little he knew yet. Rimon no longer asked questions, hoping that while he was flying, he would figure out what to do. Clasping his hands behind his back, he felt the ring with which he could contact the rebels.
"I need some items from the room," he finally said.
"Your things are already here," Kailas shook his head, stepping aside. "The coordinates are in the computer. Give them hell!"
His grin would have done credit to a couple of dragons.
Rock's lips twitched almost imperceptibly: it seemed they weren't expecting him back. How convenient: if nothing worked out, it would look like he had decided to settle scores with the Empire, and if it worked out – then all the glory to the "Executioners"? Or no glory at all? Why would they need fame, really? Just to scare civilians?
In the hangar, he was met by a standard Imperial Lambda-class shuttle. The white, easily recognizable hull sharply contrasted with the hangar, carved directly into the rock. Boarding, he pressed the ramp-raising button and lowered his gaze to the floor. Arkania was not enough for him...
Entering the cockpit, Rimon sat in the pilot's seat and began to warm up the engines, recalling what he knew about this machine. The "Lambda" was a standard Imperial shuttle, encountered often and became one of its many symbols. This ship also had a rather impressive tonnage for its size, and considering that there were explosives everywhere, it should have blown up quite a bit. Lifting the shuttle into the air with repulsors, Rimon slowly brought it out of the hangar and found himself in open space. Suddenly...
The base was on an asteroid.
Immediately switching to engines, Rimon laid himself on the course suggested to him. And then he began to make calculations. He had the exit coordinates, the direction of the route, and the time he would spend on the flight, which meant he had approximate coordinates of the base. However, he could have simply sent his coordinates from the navicomputer, but were they correct? Thanks to Kailas, he knew that this base was the last one. This meant he had partially fulfilled his part of the deal. True, he hadn't managed to penetrate the database or talk to any of the important figures, but he didn't have time for that. Sketching out an access code on the deck, Rimon sent all the developed data on the "Executioners," the base coordinates, his calculations, an indication that the base was located in a large or medium asteroid with artificial shafts, and where he was flying now, and why. Along the way, he also sent information about Kailas. And then the ship went into hyperspace. The journey would take several hours, so there was time to think.