The hangar, Nemo, and the injured man were somewhere behind. The speeder was picking up speed, and her anxiety returned with redoubled force. Tardi... His complete indifference to his own life wouldn't leave her alone. And if a patient starts playing on death's side, Eni knew, medicine's chances plummet. What had happened to him, this strange man with such icy eyes? Questions, questions... Asking questions wasn't the practice of doctors here: the less you know, the longer you live... But that wasn't the issue now. In war, it was always clear. Here's a wound, a disease. You're a doctor – treat. But Tardi had no such physical damage. Near-fatal exhaustion – yes, and consequently, functional disorders of most of the body – yes. But this isn't...
A blow hit the left side of the speeder. Eni momentarily lost control of the steering, and the speeder was thrown back and spun. With incredible effort, she managed to level the machine about a meter from the concrete wall. With a pounding heart, the doctor turned her head slightly and saw that she was being pursued by a powerful car with two stoned youths. They clearly intended to finish off the rusty wreck for fun. Their faces showed they were shouting something at her. She couldn't hear them, but it wasn't necessary. Their intentions left no doubt.
Eni swerved the speeder sharply to the side, up, down, dodging their powerful nudges, pushing it to its maximum speed, but the car didn't fall behind. It only made them more agitated and angry that they couldn't finish off the rusty piece of junk.
The labyrinth of streets twisted and diverged radially, narrow, wide... Narrow? Yes, that was the only chance for salvation. Not this way, not that... A little more and they'll corner her like a beast... There! Eni shot into a narrow gap between buildings, tilting the machine almost on its side, and flew through it, gripping the steering wheel with all her might...
"Just get me out, my good one, just get me out..."
She didn't even immediately notice how the chase fell behind, raging, but not daring to follow her in with their bulk. The girl flew through the wall and dived into the labyrinth of dim streets, turning off the screeching engine and moving at maximum speed. On autopilot, the girl reached 'The Last Haven' and parked somehow. Her hands... Her hands were cramped from the tension. And besides, she was starting to shiver more and more noticeably.
But, as always, the thought that she had a seriously ill patient forced her to make an effort. She got out of the speeder and walked towards the entrance on stiff legs.
The patient lay where she had left him, and even in the same position, as if he hadn't moved the entire time she was gone. He reacted to the doctor's appearance by turning his head towards the door.
"You're fast..." his sharp gaze caught the girl's face, his gray eyebrows furrowed. "You're agitated, miss. Did something happen?"
"No, no, the pilot will be fine, and very soon," Eni tried to smile. "I was in a hurry, Mr. Tardi, just in a hurry."
After all, it was true. She didn't drive a speeder like that every day.
"And you, Mr. Tardi, how are you feeling?" her eyes now shone with their usual soft smile. "I see you're keeping your word of honor."
Tardi's presence somehow immediately had a calming effect on her, and she was used to being strong. If the doctor is weak, woe to the patient who entrusts their life to them. That's what they taught her at the Imperial Academy, that's what life taught her.
His gray-green eyes continued to study her inquisitively. She's not lying. But she's being disingenuous. And it's good if she's not being disingenuous about something important. Not about something that could put...
"Thanks to your care, miss..."
He had rested enough to answer confidently, without gasping for breath. But not enough to risk reaching for her through the Force. He had tried it today, and it was more than enough.
And then, as she washed her hands, and as she hastily finished her long-cold caf, Eni felt his piercing gaze on her. Her memory immediately brought before her the investigator of the Imperial Tribunal.
"...so, Carrada, tell me about your involvement in the prisoner's escape."
"Sir. I know nothing about the escape. I am a doctor. I treated him. But I am a lieutenant of the Empire. And I took an oath, sir."
His gaze... Sharp and distrustful. Penetrating. As if drilling a hole in her forehead to pull out all her thoughts...
"Aren't you tired, Mr. Tardi? I planned to give you another IV drip if you don't sleep. And you probably haven't eaten without me," she looked around for the tray of food brought by the droid. But meeting the pilot's eyes, she encountered that gaze again.
"Mr. Tardi, am I doing something wrong?" she finally couldn't stand it, approaching his cot.
"Miss?" now surprise flickered in the patient's gaze. "I'm not a doctor, how would I know what and how to do... Food... I'm being fed, and very well."
The guy tried, he paid for the highest class of accommodation. Except they don't send girls - what girls in his condition...
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Oh, no, not at all, sir," she replied quickly, removing the old IV drip. "Sorry, I must have imagined it. It's just that due to the specifics of local work, I often encounter distrust. It's normal here, although it doesn't help with treatment."
Eni lowered her eyes, moved to her case.
"But you can be sure," she concluded, glancing in his direction, "I'll get you back on your feet, Mr. Tardi. And very soon." Her hands worked precisely, taking out the medications. She added vitamins and insulin to this IV drip. This would not only reduce blood flow deficit but also speed up metabolism and act as a general tonic. Exactly what the gray-haired pilot, as Eni called him to herself, needed.
"Sir, are you ready?" asked the doctor, mentally distancing herself from everything unrelated to treatment, including the unnecessary questions she had asked him.
"Nerves, memories..." she told herself.
"No tie," the pilot replied regretfully. "Otherwise, I'm quite ready. It's my main occupation right now anyway, lying here and recovering."
Eni couldn't help but smile. The clearly defined distance was breaking...
"So, Mr. Tardi, the IV drip will be informal. No ties," with these words, the needle in the girl's hand entered the pilot's bluish vein with a precise movement.
"How are you feeling, sir? Any unpleasant sensations?" the girl's gray eyes carefully watched his pupils' reaction.
They twitched only for a moment – a reaction that couldn't be controlled. The situation couldn't be controlled. The IV drip could contain anything. The doctor could be anyone. The consequences...
Tardi was afraid.
And he accepted what caused him fear.
"Everything is fine, miss..."
And it would be fine. It was unlikely she would have access to medications for which he had a sudden and incurable allergy...
"Good, Mr. Tardi, then sleep... I'll step away to give the owner a list of medications; mine won't be enough anyway," the girl pressed the button on the remote twice, and the drops began to fall a little slower. "And I'll briefly go to my room; it's next to yours. And then I'll be back," she adjusted the pillow under Tardi's head. "Do you mind?"
"Miss..." endless patience reflected in the patient's gaze. "I already said: do what you deem necessary. Why should I interfere with you getting me back on my feet?"
"If you were my patient, wounded in battle, I wouldn't ask what I can do, and tell you what I intend to do. I would simply treat. If you were my patient from the lower levels of the city, they also wouldn't demand an account of my actions, because both have no one else to trust... But you are neither. You don't trust... And I'm being paid a decent sum for this work. I'm at work, mister... So it's better to say and better to ask..."
The order for Tardi's medications, with specifications of manufacturers and suppliers that had earned a good reputation, including her own, was entered on the deck and sent for approval to the anks. She ordered and drank a half-liter mug of caf. And she could still dedicate a little time to herself. For the first time, she looked around her room. Ordinary, unpretentious, but comfortable. A cot, a table, a shower. Even a mirror...
Shower! Of course, a shower. First, a hot one, to wash away the tension of the day, the dust of this city. And then an icy one, invigorating and banishing sadness. Eni removed several hairpins from the knot at the nape of her neck, and her sunstone-colored hair fell in a heavy wave onto her shoulders.
The mirror saw not only bluish shadows under her eyes but also sadness in those eyes.
"What's wrong with you, Pola Carrada?" she said to her reflection. "Since when do you react so nervously to patients' gazes? I don't recognize you..."
"I don't know. Memories, damn them. Twice in a short time. The Academy, the Tribunal... And today, these car races..."
"I don't know..." her lips moved.
"You're just tired, Pola Carrada, just tired... Should I tell everyone to go to hell, when you've treated this pilot?"
Hot streams poured onto her upturned face.
Where? Nonsense. No one, on any planet in the Galaxy, is waiting for her. She doesn't exist – so her father has no career problems, and her mother has no problems with her clinic's reputation. Everyone is fine...
No, really, a shower is a miraculous remedy. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks turned pink, her unruly hair was gathered into a high ponytail and braided into a braid. Eni knocked on the door of the neighboring room and entered.
Nothing had changed in the room. The patient seemed to be dozing, but he woke up when the doctor appeared. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes.
"You need to rest," his voice hadn't gotten stronger, but it had gained strength. "I'm not going anywhere."
Eni's hands, reaching for the IV drip, froze for a moment. She cast a quick glance at the pilot. The phrase was meaningless to anyone else. Only not to Eni, and only not today. Too many references to Pola Carrada for one, albeit long, lunar day.
"If you can escape, Mr. Tardi, it means you've recovered a bit," she chuckled in response to some of her own thoughts. "But I'd like to finish the treatment to know for sure that you'll be alright. And to rest... I'm on vacation," the girl smiled. "No, really. One patient is a luxury that is almost impossible to afford. I'll stay here until the IV drip is finished, I'll sit and rest. Because I still have plans for your evening, Mr. Tardi."
"Who told me last time that I needed to rest?"
Too little information. Too much room for speculation. But something was wrong with this girl. Even considering she's a doctor, stopping by every vagrant on this moon? It can't be attributed to medical duty. Nor to youth. Even the very young here quickly become hardened cynics. A local doctor wouldn't stop to save a dying person for free, because they wouldn't get paid for it, and might even lose their head if they saved the wrong person.
And such a reaction to his words...
Kailas closed his eyes. Not from here. And either very recently arrived, or there's a good reason to remain human on this low-life planet.
"Girl, what are you doing here?"
His voice didn't get stronger. But it carried a commanding demand for an answer.
Eni held her breath. "Again... Why is he asking?"
"Calm down, Pola," she told herself. "You're not such an important bird that the Empire would be looking for you in such an elaborate way. Yes, the escaped rebel was far from a simple prisoner, if they made such a fuss, if many heads rolled. And along with them, hers almost did too. But sending dying Tribunal agents is too much, even for the Empire."
"You ask strange questions, Mr. Tardis," she replied with a slight smile, looking somewhere through the wall. "Doctors are needed everywhere, and here, perhaps, even more than anywhere else. Many simply have nowhere to go. And everyone gets sick. From destitute wanderers to criminal bosses, Mr. Tardis. And everyone needs a doctor, don't they? By the way, the solution in the IV drip has run out," she added and shifted all her attention to freeing his vein from the micro-needle.
"A year," Tardis dropped, watching her movements from under his eyelashes. "A lot is two. And then a person burns out from within. He stops being bothered by other people's problems. And if he isn't, a random vagrant will cut his throat for a dose from the first-aid kit. Or they'll shoot him on the boss's orders because the doctor helped the wrong person. How long have you been here?"
She noticed that the pilot was addressing her informally, but it sounded completely different from the informal address of the local bandits and vagrants. Of course, for some reason, Ani felt hurt – in front of him, she was almost a girl…
"In your opinion, it's a critical period, Mr. Tardis. Two years," she chuckled, throwing the IV drip into the disposal unit. "And emotional burnout among doctors is common. Both on Coruscant and Naboo… For some, it's the same two years. And they can get their throats cut on the first day. But I'm a good doctor, Mr. Tardis. Maybe that's why they don't bother me. But in general, you're right," she agreed.
"The key word is 'yet'..."
The pilot closed his eyes, the conversation tired him. He had never had to recruit agents or hire staff in such a state.
"Everything happens for the first time..."
"How about an alternative?"
"An alternative?" Ani repeated, turning to the pilot. If not for his closed eyes, he would have seen the shade of her eyes change from light to dark gray. Did she even have an alternative?
"A doctor as part of the crew," Tardis didn't move, only his lips twitched. "Permanent job. Payment. Bonuses in case of special conditions. Guarantee of safety..."
He wasn't looking at the girl, but he caught every sound of movement and breath.
"And clean documents over time."
"Mr. Tardis," her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, but it was the only thing that betrayed her excitement. Besides, she quickly dealt with it. "What kind of crew is it, may I ask?"
"There isn't one yet," the pilot replied just as quietly. "But a doctor will be needed there. Very much needed. At least to help people like me. When we ourselves can no longer... If the offer interests you..."
"I agree, Mr. Tardis," she said quickly. "I agree. Your offer is the best I've received in years," her lips trembled slightly into a smile.
"And... And you have another procedure now, I'll bring the oxygen..."
She disappeared through the door almost instantly. She needed to be alone now.
If you don't have the opportunity to change the circumstances you've found yourself in, you start to get used to them, forbidding yourself to imagine another life, even in your thoughts. Pola told herself that she wasn't meant for anything else. At work, she forgot about everything, and fell asleep before she could think about anything. And now… Tardis's words had stirred up a whole storm of emotions that surprised her. To leave Nar Shaddaa, with its thick smog, to see the stars again up close… And… She pressed the cold glass of a water goblet to her cheek and took a deep breath to calm herself.
She needed to go back. The haste with which she left Tardis's room was like an escape.
The oxygen cylinder was found quickly, and the small deck easily fit into the pocket of her jumpsuit.
"This is for you for the evening, Mr. Tardis," she said, entering and showing him the oxygen therapy cylinder. "And you can choose the sounds of nature of which planet you'll breathe to. I'll wait here until you fall asleep. One more thing, Mr. Tardis," she added quietly and looked at him seriously. "You don't know anything about me."
The pilot was resting, waiting for her return. The haste with which the girl left the room could also have very different reasons. But the probability that she had run off to report her discovery was too small. And she had met them at too opportune a moment. They needed a doctor – they got a doctor. All that remained was to offer her something she was unlikely to refuse.
"Either trust completely, or don't get involved..."
"You don't know anything about me or my partner either," he replied after a short pause. "And you're unlikely to learn more than you'll be allowed to know... For your own safety..."
Green ice sparkled under her eyelashes.
"I know that you most likely served. Most likely, not for long. Too young... You received specific training, it marks you as a field medic. Although I could be wrong. And you don't ask questions."
"Is it written on me in big letters?" Pola asked, twirling the small deck in her hands. "Another reason not to ask you questions. Otherwise, you'll learn a lot about yourself. Especially since, yes, you're not the one who answers questions. Rather, the one who asks them. Although, maybe it's just an association with one person," she shifted her gaze to Tardis and finished to herself:
"These icy, distrustful eyes."
"And that association does me no honor," the patient smirked with the corner of his mouth. The Force likes to joke. You won't allow yourself to give up again, because...
An imperceptible ache flared inside him. He didn't remember why it was so important that a girl in trouble didn't catch a bolt or a knife. Didn't fade away after a short time.
"I can't prove to you that the guarantee of safety isn't an empty promise. As much as it can be provided in a society of not the most harmless people in the galaxy. Just as you can't prove to me that you can be trusted. Everyone has their skeletons in the hold. All I can offer you, miss..."
He paused, knowing how strange the word would sound here. On Nar Shaddaa.
"Trust."
The girl secured the oxygen cylinder next to the cot and placed the deck in the pilot's hands. Her palm was much warmer than during their first meeting on the street.
"Mr. Tardis," Pola looked thoughtfully at the pilot. "The answer to the offer can only be equivalent. Trust for trust. And... And to the Hutt association..." she smiled with her eyes only and said softly, "And let's continue the treatment."
"I promised to be an obedient patient..."
Tardis didn't smile back. But the heavy, seasoned ice in his eyes momentarily turned into the green of sunlit leaves.
"Let it be the sound of the sea..."
The room plunged into the soft twilight of night lighting. Invisible waves of the Corellian Sea rhythmically lapped at the sandy shore, carrying away with a rustle the golden sand and small shells back into the depths, and splashing out other sand, other multicolored pebbles polished by water…
Pola chose a spot in the room where she could comfortably observe Tardis. The chair was ordinary for the room. Moderately stiff, and without a headrest. Well, that wouldn't let her fall asleep before the procedure ended. She settled in more comfortably, rested her head against the cool wall, and through half-lowered eyelashes, saw the pilot's face. The dim light had changed Tardis's face. It no longer seemed so gaunt, and soft shadows hid his wrinkles… And the sound of the sea lulled her… And she didn't want to think about anything bad…