The room needed cleaning, and a lot of cleaning at that. Nemo laid Troy next to a fallen duracrete and a steel frame sticking out of it. Handcuffs were attached to the rebar. It was unlikely that the man had enough strength to tear out the metal structures in one go. And no one would allow him a second one.
Wiping his hands on his vest, the counter felt the bulge of the syringe tubes, shuffled in his chest pockets. After that, he sat on the floor where there was no garbage.
After the ordeal on Oovo, Nemo became very careless about how clean his surroundings were. But now he needed free space. Concentrating and closing his eyes, he carefully created a sphere of influence around himself, marked its edges in the Force, noted the lying Troy, and then began to act. Slowly, carefully, inexorably pushing the garbage into the corners of the room, bypassing the man. It didn't require much effort. For some reason, it was harder for the guy to do something fast or even instantaneous than something massive. When he opened his eyes, there was relative order in the center of the room.
Meanwhile, Larius unpacked the delivered box. Fruits, slices of meat baked over coals, and a bottle of wine gleaming with dull glass lay on a relatively flat piece of debris.
"Ah, food," Nemo smiled, swallowing his saliva, "there's one nasty property on Nar Shaddaa. The swill they sell here, by smell, can be compared to exhaust, coolant, or electrolytes, but not to food."
"Sometimes you can afford a feast," the mercenary opened the bottle, sniffed it. "It's drinkable. It's not for liquidation, but I'll beat your face in."
"My body doesn't tolerate wine in large quantities," Nemo complained. "It doesn't tolerate alcohol in large quantities at all. So I specialize more in something more... Flammable. I once had two bottles of Abrax. I didn't even get to open one."
The guy sighed: the loss of a rare type of alcohol upset him. Even if it was in another life.
"And I don't know anything about wines. Not at all."
"There isn't a large quantity here," the mercenary waved her hand. "One bottle for three... Do you need him to see it? Or just guess by smell that it's here?"
"We need to leave a portion for him," Nemo grinned, "our friend turned out to be a poisoner. I want to repay him for that."
Larius turned to the body tied to the debris. Her gaze was very long.
"He burned Clark. Alive. Well, this is also not bad..."
"I'm not going to poison him," Nemo smiled again, but this time the smile didn't bode well for the prisoner, "I'm studying the possibilities of influencing the mind. Specifically on him... I want to work out ways to enhance senses, emotions. It will be useful in the future. I want to play on contrasts. Good. Bad. Very good. Very bad. And having understood the emotions that are strongest in him... I will break him."
Now Larius looked at him.
"Just don't break yourself..."
Nothing was reflected in the woman's eyes.
After a short pause, Nemo finally replied:
"I've thought about it... I won't break. But I might get exhausted. I'll go relieve Bus, you two need to eat, then I'll deal with Troy."
The mercenary nodded, turned away from Troy, and began to lay out the delivered food on disposable plates.
Going outside, the guy looked for the kushiban with his eyes, guessing that most likely, until he showed up himself, it would be impossible to find him this way.
"I'm here," a grumpy voice came from above. The alien was perched in the recess of the arch directly above his head. "Better view from here."
"Go eat, I'll keep watch," Nemo unbuckled Troy's blaster holster and leaned against the arch with the carelessness of a teenager.
Bus didn't need to be asked twice: he jumped onto his shoulder, prudently retracting his claws so as not to scratch, from his shoulder to the ground, brushing his fluffy tail against his ear, and disappeared into the void.
When the sentient furball disappeared, Nemo closed his eyes, immersing himself in the Force and allowing it to wash away all the negativity he had accumulated during this time. All these tortures were exhausting for the counter, but so much depended on the information Troy possessed. Or he hoped that much depended on it. No one knew the truth.
In addition to the cleansing effect, he brought a small area including the entrance and the car into his sphere of attention. If someone paid direct attention to them, he would definitely feel it.
Nothing happened. If someone saw the car landing, they didn't show any interest.
The kushiban returned quite quickly - it hadn't even been a quarter of an hour. His raised tail proudly waved behind him. With a running start, he jumped back to his previous spot, Bus licked his lips and carefully wrapped his luxurious tail around himself.
"Larius left you something to eat," he informed. "Go, I'll keep watch for now. Yes, our hangar has already been blown up."
"I sympathize about the hangar," Nemo said, heading down where Troy and Larius remained.
The prisoner was in the same position as the smuggler had left him. The mercenary sat with her back to him, thoughtfully swirling wine in a plastic cup.
Nemo approached her, took some food from the plate and the cup, and took a sip.
"I didn't ask right away," he addressed the woman, "have you heard anything about this Troy? Or about a poisoner who uses parasites. Or about this symbol."
He showed Troy's knife with a flying dragon.
"This is a lagarto," Larius touched the drawing with her finger. "Military intelligence. They removed the number so it wouldn't lead to their service location. Troy served before, they say. But I don't know his real name. He doesn't shy away from anything..."
She took out a melted piece of glass and tossed it in her palm.
"This is what's left of Clark. The medallion he wore around his neck. My gift... So I wouldn't be surprised by poison or parasites. He appeared here about five years ago and rose very quickly. He assembled his group, with very strict discipline. Any mistake - death. But he paid very well, people came to him..."
"He's already made his mistake," the guy said quietly towards the side, "well, this information will help me. Now... Can you leave us alone?"
Larius nodded, got up, and silently headed for the exit of the basement.
"Before you leave," Nemo was behind Troy, touching his temples with the tips of his index fingers, "any advice?"
The mercenary looked back.
"He's very dangerous," the woman said quietly. "Be very careful with him..."
A nod was her answer. Nemo immersed himself in the Force. What he was about to do was aimed at making Troy lose his sense of time. Simple and effective - to speed up the man's metabolism so that a few hours passed in a couple of minutes. All this time, he had to control Troy so that he didn't accidentally wake up. This was not part of Nemo's plans.
At the edge of his consciousness, the thought flickered that such a use of knowledge, which he usually spent on restoring his strength, was wrong.
When he finished, he moved a good three meters away from the prisoner, spread out the food around him, and forced him to wake up.
The situation repeated itself. The chained man woke up and the first thing he did was check how free he was, trying not to show that he was already conscious. And he opened his eyes only to find that he was still tied up.
There was no fear in Troy's eyes. Only cold interest.
"Good day," Nemo said with a smile, looking with interest at the prisoner's actions, "if this greeting is appropriate for Nar Shaddaa and for your situation."
"You are unyielding, Mr. Nemo," Troy stated. "A pity. I could really use a man with your talents. And your connections."
"I wouldn't work in such a categorical organization as yours," the guy put a piece of meat in his mouth, took a sip of wine, carefully studying Troy with his eyes and through the Force. This way he could quickly react to any change in the situation, but first of all, he was interested in the reaction to food.
Troy was not interested in food. Not at all. He was preoccupied with the man who had captured him.
"I see you've done your research," it was strange to see a smile of superiority on the face of a bound and helpless man. "That pleases me, Mr. Nemo."
"Naturally, I've done my research," Nemo chuckled, eating another piece, "information is the key to successful actions."
"And what are your impressions?" Troy asked casually, as if asking about the exchange rate for a loan on the stock market.
"Information is the key to successful actions," Nemo repeated, "Don't you still want to tell me why you need me?"
"I just told you that directly," Troy grinned. "Connections. If a duros works for you, you are involved in a curious incident that happened to a cruise yacht... I have my own interests in this matter."
"Oh, you're interested in a mundane robbery? Why?" Nemo took another sip with interest.
"Enjoy your meal," Troy politely wished him. "I'm not interested in the robbery. I need those who are behind it."
"Do you need access to pirates?" Nemo looked towards the exit; visual contact with him was not necessary to control the man, "If you had simply contacted the duros, perhaps they would have dealt with you. Sometimes."
"I need a lot of things," Troy chuckled. "But I've already said under what conditions I'll talk to you substantively."
"And why isn't this place a restaurant for you?" Nemo asked enthusiastically, thinking mentally that it was time to finish. This man was too cold-blooded.
"I'm not in such a dire situation that I have to hide in ruins," came the almost indifferent reply.
"You are a very self-confident person, I would even say overly self-confident," Nemo finished his cup with a smile, "Are you waiting to be found and helped?"
Troy laughed in response.
"If they could, they would have found me long ago. No, Mr. Nemo. I don't think so. You've made a mistake. Are there any other options?"
"You know, Troy, if I resort to physical methods," the guy grinned, "it will mean I've lost. And I don't want to go down the path I've been on recently. What I'm getting at... Do you value your mind?"
"And you?" the prisoner replied with a question. "What do you value, Mr. Nemo?"
"My freedom, Troy," the guy stopped smiling and now looked cold and detached, the man's blaster was in his hand, "and I've died for it. And I will die again if necessary. I'm giving you one last chance. To tell me all the information I'm interested in. Otherwise, I can't promise that after my intervention, you won't become a vegetable."
"I gave you a chance too," Troy made an indefinite shrug. "It didn't suit you. Intimidation is useless for me, Mr. Nemo. Neither by loss of sanity nor by death. If I were afraid, we wouldn't be talking now."
"All the best, Troy," after that, Nemo pulled the trigger. The blue haze of the stun shot almost instantly covered the distance separating him from the man. Then the blaster was put back in the holster.
Troy slumped, sinking back to the floor. The guy, taking another piece of meat into his mouth, walked up to him. He had done this before, and he had done it quite well. Only Eugene was a less strong-willed person than the one lying before him.
He could use torture, pain, threats, blackmail... But he was sure it wouldn't work. If he broke all his bones, it would only bring an unpleasant feeling in his chest. Self-disgust. All that remained was to give him what he wanted. Six months ago, he wanted to influence a customs officer and didn't know how. Six months ago, he hadn't yet jumped without a parachute in the middle layers of the atmosphere, hadn't talked to ghosts, hadn't cut his hands in search of knowledge. Six months ago, he simply didn't exist yet. Now... What he was about to do had already been tested on Eugene.
Except for that...
No! He shouldn't see the difference. He must be sure of success. Otherwise, nothing would work out for him. Sitting behind Troy, Nemo picked up his floating consciousness and slowly, step by step, began to create a picture. The speeder, the view outside the windows, two guards, and he and Troy in the center of it all. He drew a line to fence off all the man's memories after this event, leaving only the beginning of the conversation.
"Where you can't reach him," Nemo said coldly, "why do you need my man?"
Troy's image flickered, as if another appearance was showing through the illusion created by the smuggler. The stockbroker changed for a moment to a man in uniform, and then returned. Even in such a state, Troy continued to fight - it was too deeply ingrained in him.
"I need his contacts," the prisoner finally answered. "Those he works for. I suspected..."
For a moment, someone who clearly had military service connections sat next to Nemo. Then the appearance in which Troy arrived for the meeting returned.
"He works for me," Nemo was indifferent, partly because of the repetition of what happened, albeit in a different way, partly because he needed strength to maintain the illusion. "And I don't like people interfering in my business so unceremoniously."
"Mr. Nemo, you surprise me. This is Nar Shaddaa, not the royal court of Hapes. What kind of ceremonies can there be here?"
Troy's icy self-confidence remained unshakable.
"If I had another acceptable way to make you reveal yourself, I would use it."
"I left you a path so you could come and politely knock on the door. Instead, you sent two thugs," Nemo tensed, calculating options. "Gathering information about you, I hoped you were a more reasonable person."
"Would you go where you are so uniquely invited?" Troy asked sincerely surprised. "I thought you were more cautious. But that's rhetoric. How can you confirm that the duros really works for you?"
"In no way. And I would be very surprised if an outsider could establish that," the guy said, adding a note of irony to his voice, "But after problems arose, I had to intervene personally."
"Well, if you're not who you claim to be, it will still be found out, and quite soon," the image changed again for a moment. "What position do you hold in your group, Mr. Nemo?"
"Right hand, Troy," he didn't know how long he would last. And whether he would last at all, "I oversee the execution of orders. I intervene if something goes wrong. You still won't reach my boss."
"Nevertheless, you can serve as a liaison between us," the tone did not imply refusal. "I have something to offer your leadership."
"I am his representative, and at the moment I am speaking on his behalf," the counter said dryly, "Anything you can offer him, you must first offer me. And if I deem the offer worthy, I will pass it on. Of course, after you compensate for the damage caused by your actions."
Troy leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes. The Force conveyed the readiness of a lurking predator to strike.
"I have reason to believe that your leadership is involved in the recent attack on the cruise yacht. I am interested in possible cooperation," the speech became official, dry, losing its condescending tone.
"The attack on the yacht did happen," Nemo agreed, "what business do you have with the fat cats from the Corellian sector?"
"With them - none," Troy was really not interested. "Small fry. There's an opportunity to get more without much risk. And not just once."
"And that's all?" Nemo asked with genuine surprise. "For this, you killed the intermediary, organized an attack on my man. Captured me. And all this for an offer of cooperation?"
The predator extended its claws, then retracted them again.
"The intermediary refused to cooperate and even listen," Troy waved his hand. "The attempt on your man was the work of another intermediary, he will get his due. My people tried to prevent the attempt and didn't make it in time. Eugene didn't lie, you are a very fast person... I repeat again: the yacht is a trifle. There is much larger prey. But my group cannot take it alone."
"What kind of prey?" Nemo asked with interest. He wasn't going to get involved in this, but there had to be compensation for Quinn for the inconvenience, "and I think it would be easiest to talk about this in another place. But I would like to avoid publicity."
With an effort of will, the guy threw out the idea of Troy's base.
"There are no listening devices here," the prisoner replied. "We monitor security... You can tell your leadership that I have the coordinates of a large transit base of one of the splinter groups of the 'Black Sun'. A very large shipment has settled there. And it can be taken."
"Good," Nemo said in one breath, and then with powerful impulses struck Troy's mind, where he thought the center of this man's will was. He was unable to break through it. But to bend it for a short time... "The coordinates of the base. Quickly."
A chain of coordinates flashed before his mental gaze, and at the same moment, Troy struck back. Clumsily, instinctively - but very strongly, rejecting the invasion of his own mind.