The district where Fly had located his office did not qualify as fashionable. Not even by a stretch. True, it couldn't be called the absolute bottom of civilization either. The moderately dirty street in front of the entrance looked almost clean – the Taidorian maintained order. The sign was slightly askew, and attempts to mask bullet marks were visible on it. The street itself was relatively uncrowded – there were no attractions worth strolling around. The inhabitants were either staying at home or in cantinas.
Having "borrowed" a cigarette from the first human passerby and asked the second for a light, Kontur stood thoughtfully on the opposite side of the road, studying Fly's dwelling.
"I wonder if it was shot accidentally or if those were grateful clients?"
The visor impeccably adjusted the contrast for general human characteristics. Now he was interested in the cameras. Being a technician, Nemo first wanted to clarify the technical side of the issue, and second, whether there was a back entrance or a technical entrance, alleys near the office, and other interesting things that could ensure an emergency exit if Plan A went south.
If there were cameras, they were well camouflaged. Or placed at some distance. There wasn't a single one near the entrance.
There was no back door visible on this side of the building either. Nearby was a small bar, further away – a flophouse for those not yet completely down and out, on the other side – several shops selling food and household items, and a transport parking lot. This was the extent of the local attractions.
Finishing his cigarette, Nemo smiled at the thought that he had now fully entered the image of a chain-smoking technician. The hair on his head began to grow back slowly, as did the stubble. He had taken the second pill about half an hour ago. The butt flew under his feet, and the guy himself walked with an unsteady gait towards the entrance of Fly's office.
No one stopped him, he didn't ask anyone. Nemo had learned a simple truth in childhood: if somewhere is forbidden, either a sign is posted, or guards are placed. And while he was looking for Karvo's office, he tried to remember all the passages he came across, although a fire evacuation plan would have been most helpful.
The building was designed for many small offices. At the entrance to the foyer, an elderly Togruta dozed, glancing briefly at the grease-stained repairman, grumbling something about "only send for death" and dozing off again.
Holographic indicators obligingly informed that Mr. Karvo's office was on the second floor, to the right, block 215. They also warned that the fire exit was on the roof.
The Togruta's phrase was interesting. Interesting enough to remember and use under certain circumstances.
Whether he could convince Fly or not was unknown. How to retreat in case of trouble – also unknown. But first, he wanted to talk to him. It was audacious, but there was no time to ponder a course of action. Or was there? And again, the thought came that it would be much easier with a partner. For some reason, everything related to showdowns would be much easier with a partner. The thought was discarded as unnecessary.
"What if Fly..."
But Nemo didn't let himself finish, politely knocking on the door of Karvo's office.
The door opened, also politely sliding aside. Behind the door was a small office with pretensions of coziness. Coziness was provided by worn soft furniture, a coffee maker, and a secretary – a femme fatale brunette.
"Good..." she began, smiling invitingly, but her face immediately contorted. "Oh, you must have the wrong door. There's a short circuit in the next office."
Nodding politely, Nemo left. Can everything be done more simply? Probably. The question was, could Karvo see in the dark? Assuming he couldn't, Nemo walked briskly to the next office and knocked on the door. The technician hadn't arrived yet. The concierge had told him so. But Nemo didn't know how quickly he would arrive, and time was running out, he had to act fast.
The room smelled of burnt plastic, despite the windows being wide open. The terminal with a melted casing was drowning in fire extinguisher foam. When the repairman appeared, a Twi'lek girl rushed in from the balcony, wringing her hands agitatedly and twitching her lekku.
"Ah! Finally!" she chattered. "The memory module. I really need it!"
Nemo scratched his stubble with interest. It seemed that most people really didn't care about the belt or the blaster hanging in the holster. No. He could, of course, restore the memory module. In theory. And in Garion's workshop. And... That was in another life. In any workshop with the necessary equipment.
"Well..." he drawled, with the most significant look, "did you do that to it?"
Not really expecting to hear anything coherent in response, Nemo immediately wiped the foam from the top of the interface and began to study it. The terminal could be disassembled even with closed eyes, without tools. Anything could happen in life. But if water got in there, the girl was in trouble. She was in deep trouble. Unscrewing the lid when there was no more foam, Kontur peered inside the terminal.
"No, what are you talking about!" the girl waved her lekku. "It was the owner. When everything caught fire. He was taken to a meeting, and he told me to wait for the technician. I need to get the memory module, you understand? The rest doesn't matter."
"And is the owner some important person?" Nemo asked casually. His mood was worsening; he had hoped to get to the wiring and cut off power to the entire building. What was happening now was... not according to plan. After making sure the memory module was completely de-energized, Kontur carefully disconnected it from the power and slowly began to remove the mounting clips. Meanwhile, he dived into the Force, studying the situation in the room, and especially in the corridor. He didn't want to miss the real repairman, and what he was doing to the terminal, with his skills and experience, could be done automatically.
The Twi'lek nervously shifted behind his back.
"Well, he has many clients," she said cautiously. "Why do you need it? Are you looking to change jobs?"
The Force buzzed over his ear like an annoying fly, warning of some danger.
"Idle curiosity," Nemo replied with a smile, continuing to unfasten the clips. "Not good. Danger – not good. On the other hand, a repairman who shows up to reproach him won't be able to complicate the situation in any way. Even if he really wants to. Meanwhile, out of the same curiosity, Nemo began to examine the room. It just occurred to him that this office might also belong to Karvo, and it would be easier to retrieve the memory module than to give it to the cute alien.
"Some kind of scholar," the girl's voice held both irony and respect.
There was nothing interesting in the office. But under the terminal panel, something was found. A friendly blinking display of an explosive device winked at Nemo. And judging by the numbers, there wasn't much time left until the explosion. Three minutes.
Nemo scratched his stubble thoughtfully.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Veymi," the Twi'lek replied. "Coffee?"
"Definitely, but later," Nemo agreed, examining the device. Even with his level... He had never encountered this type of device before, and there was simply no time to figure it out. Making a decision, he gave his voice a soft, lulling, and commanding tone.
"Here's what, Veymi. You now press the fire alarm button, it's in the corridor, without panicking, and go to the exit. Because, besides the memory module, there's a bomb here."
The girl gasped softly, but did not faint or have a hysterical fit. The slaves here were well trained to follow orders. She backed away towards the door, then ran, glanced back at the threshold – and disappeared into the corridor. A few seconds later, the siren wailed.
"Excellent, one less corpse..."
A crooked smile touched Nemo's lips, but immediately disappeared. The memory module was still hanging on the last two clips. He carefully touched the explosive device through the Force. Kontur didn't know how to disarm it. He didn't know, but he really wanted to. Diving deeper into the Force, he accelerated, and the timer slowed its run. What did he know about explosive devices? Based on a thermal detonator. They have a detonator and explosive material. The device felt very distinct, a small deadly core ready to explode. The detonator was also clearly felt. There were no energy conduits, the device had an autonomous power source.
What problems could disconnecting the power source cause? Are there redundant systems? The device was connected in series, from the power element to the detonator and then to the fuse. This meant there were no redundant systems in case of detonator failure. There was only one detonator, which meant that to disarm the device, it was necessary to simply disable the fuse. But how? He foolishly left the entire set at home. Why would he need it here? If only he had elementary pliers...
The detonator needed to be disabled immediately and permanently. He needed to find that little wire that went to the cap and break it with the Force. How? Break the interatomic bonds? He probably couldn't do such a complex job. He didn't want to experiment. Take a risk?
He took out his vibroknife, activated the blade, and carefully cut the power line connecting the fuse to the cap.
The display blinked resentfully and went out.
"That's it?!"
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Kontur was surprised at how quickly it had appeared. Nemo deactivated the vibroblade and hung it back on his belt, next to the blaster. Disconnecting the memory module, he carefully hid it in one of the pockets of his jumpsuit. The main thing was not to think about what would have happened if he hadn't come here. He didn't believe in omens, but it was worth noting that the Force itself had led him here.
"I need a drink," his throat was as dry as after a week-long binge, "at least some water."
Stopping the flow of unnecessary thoughts, he touched the Force: he needed to find out if Fly had left his office or not. Defusing the bomb did not cancel the main task for which he had come here.
The Force was silent. No one wanted to tempt fate – everyone had left the building.
How long would it take him to hack Fly's systems? He couldn't plant a bug there. He couldn't do anything with one deck. The conclusion?
"The conclusion is simple, let's go outside, we'll figure out what to do there."
But first, he quickly connected the deck to the memory module using adapters, there was nothing complicated about it. And he began the process of copying the information.
No one was in a hurry to return to the building. But after three minutes, the hum of engines was heard. A heavy speeder was rapidly approaching the building.
The sound caught Nemo as he descended the staircase, the deck was in his pocket, and he held the memory module in his left hand. He needed to give it to the girl.
Veymi hadn't gone anywhere. She was guarding the exit, nervously clenching her fists. Her lekku were wrapped around her shoulders.
"Oh!" she exclaimed upon seeing the repairman. "You're alive! What about the bomb?"
"It's still where I found it," Nemo continued to rasp due to the dryness in his mouth, "I need to wet my throat."
In his outstretched hand, he held the memory module.
The Twi'lek grabbed the module, pressed it to her chest, looking at Nemo with wide eyes.
"And you still took it..." she breathed. "Let's go!"
The girl pulled him towards the bar.
"The owner won't mind if I ask to put it on his tab."
Nemo looked at the approaching speeder and decided to wave it off. Fly wasn't going anywhere. After all, no one had given him such tasks, so it was quite possible to follow the pretty alien.
Also a source of information, and much more pleasant than Karvo.
The bar was almost empty. The girl waved her lekku, greeting the Lermin bartender, and climbed onto a high stool.
"Order," she offered the repairman and took out her comlink. "Mr. Karvo? Yes, I have the module. We're at the bar next to the office... With the guy who took the module and disarmed the bomb... Are you flying already? Yes, I'll be waiting."
The Twi'lek hid the device and raised the tips of her tails in a gesture of bewilderment.
"The owner is very agitated."
"If I had a bomb found in my terminal..." Nemo grinned crookedly, "I'd be agitated too."
His order included a pint of fruit ale and a plate of nuts.
How well everything turned out...
The girl was a slave. He should have guessed from the first "owner," but he had overlooked it. Although some lived harder lives than she did...
But no one knows what lies beneath the outward gloss.
"To cover his tracks 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 owner was almost blown up, but what did she have to do with it?
The girl didn't have time to answer, her owner 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?"