Speculation-2

Hyperspace, Anakin Skywalker.

* * *

I sat over my sword and meditated. It's a good way to kill time-sitting and meditating. And at the same time I could think hard, or take the sword apart, or something. Of course, the ship offered plenty of entertainment to choose from in hyperspace, but it was not that. Besides, it wasn't the best way to cram my brain with the local information sludge. Thus I spent almost all my time in meditation, during which I had time to think over the forthcoming events. It was impossible to predict them, but there was a sure way to think well about the available information. Metals, especially valuable ones, were consumed by Corellia's shipyards in gigantic quantities-hyperdrives, electronics, blaster cannons... None of these things went without them, and they would definitely find a use for the Beskar. The price of five hundred per kilogram should justify the expense of extracting it. Erdva had made his home in the control room, as he was the one who had to navigate the ship through hyperspace, along with the lousy navigation computer.

In general, the ship was rather spacious on the inside - like a big bunk-room apartment - wide corridors, large rooms, like the cargo room, where my belongings and the speedibike were dumped. Even the cabin takes up a lot of space, although it looks very unassuming. So, little by little, I reached the goal of my journey.

I have nothing much to say about my journey, there's no holonet and I can't talk to anyone except Erdv, so I made full use of my teacher-droid and slowly began to program my next course.

* * *

Corellia. Three days later.

* * *

- Your terms are unacceptable to us... - said the elderly Corellian, sitting in an armchair, "so if you want to sell...

- I'll find someone who will," I smiled. - After all, Beskar is one of the rarest metals in the galaxy, unlike the rest", I rose from my chair, cursed the Korellian bureaucrats, and turned around to leave. The bureaucrat got worried - even without the power sensitivity, it was obvious to the naked eye that he decided to fool me like a little child. It wasn't going to work, it was silly to even hope for it. I left the conference room of the Corellian Machine Corporation at a brisk pace. And, not at all surprised, when the official's excitement peaked, he called out to me:

- Wait! Skywalker!

- Yes?" I stopped and, turning halfway around, looked at him like he was an idiot who honestly didn't want to earn his way out of the deal.

- Don't make such hasty decisions... - he immediately found himself. We've been taught to talk a lot, and we've been taught well:

- Why not? You made the decision, so I'm not to blame. If you don't want to buy, your competitors will.

- There's no hurry. I didn't say we couldn't reach an agreement, did I?

- In case you didn't understand, we don't negotiate at all. I have the goods and their cost, if you're not happy with something, don't take up my time," I cut him off. The official flared up, but didn't show it in any way.

- No, not at all, it's just that the cost you mentioned...

- That's the cost. Is there something I don't understand? You either take the goods or don't prevent others from buying," I was sure that there would be other consumers besides CMC, but there would be no other markets, so I dictated my prices. They needed Beskar, badly, as a particularly rare metal, ideal for passive armor, hyperdrive shielding, for starships of almost all classes and purposes. Fortunately, Beskar's forms were varied - metal pellets, aerosol, foil...

The cost of five hundred credits per kilogram, which I told him, and moreover, if they were in charge of the development and mining, was not in their favor, but not everything can have three hundred percent profit.

- No, everything is understandable and affordable, but the price you are asking clearly does not correspond to the value of the metal and...

- Again, in case you haven't heard, are you willing to make a deal?

The official, pressed on the one hand by the fear of competition and on the other by my demands, immediately backed down:

- I need to consult with management, if you'll wait...

- I'll wait. I can wait ten minutes," I nodded and returned to the negotiating table. Erdva watched our argument not without interest.

I stood my ground, for I was the monopolist in possession of the beskar. Beskar, owned by Mandalmotors and through them by the Mandalorian government, would certainly not be sold on the outside market, so I had a monopoly and as a consequence, the ability to dictate my prices. The official was well aware of this and saw that I did not agree to concede one bit. With bureaucrats and businessmen one does not have to be polite and intelligent, but firm and tough. If you give in once, you always have to give in.

The official was silent for a while and went to his datapad, but quickly came back out and immediately declared:

- We can make a tentative contract...

- I am not satisfied with the preliminary contract. First of all, I won't have the opportunity to come to you for every reason, and secondly, I need guarantees.

- We also need guarantees that you have the deposits in question.

- So send out a reconnaissance party! - I exclaimed. - Check everything yourself. I gave you a sample of ore, is not enough?

- No, no, what do you...

- That the deposits are deep beneath the bed of rock, I also told you, as well as the coordinates...

- Yes, yes, of course," the Corelian nodded, "we'll check all the information immediately.

- That's better. I hope for you. At the latest I can conclude the contract in two weeks, I have more work to do, so don't drag it out. When you're ready for the deal, contact me. - I stood up and politely nodded to the official and left, leaving the last word. Although no, Erdva had the last word, squeaking "greedy clerk" in the direction of the official. He, understandably, did not know the binary and did not pay attention to the droid at all.

I returned to my ship, which stood in the hangar. The hangar was in turn located in the city of Coronet, the capital of Corellia. I liked it here, very much - the architecture of the city, with its combination of buildings of the most futuristic appearance, the fountains, the abundance of traffic and people on the streets of the metropolis... The city was not an overgrown giant like the cities of earth and other backward worlds, it had its own zest and its own uniqueness. Corellia. Coronet. Home to smugglers and pirates from all over the galaxy. The locals were indistinguishable from Europeans, and to meet a face like Harrison Ford, the incarnation of Han Solo, on a street full of people or a square with fountains was quite realistic.

Another detail was that the locals didn't exactly look like the actors who played them, but there was a resemblance nonetheless. For example, Qui-Gon was a little more... alive or something? I'll say nothing of Obi-Wan - the young guy, meanwhile, did not remind me of the Jedi fanatic from the movie. Padme is Padme - a fourteen-year-old girl who clearly wasn't the right age for it. But the scale of local intrigue and the sheer pacifism of her planet prevented her from becoming the calculating bitch you might find in politics. Especially when she thought she was playing the role of maid well, you could spot a very young girl.

Deciding not to bullshit, I went to the cargo bay where I kept my stuff and took the Vestar 34 blaster, the light ball and my bike and rode out through the open cargo hatch into the hangar. The reason was plain and simple-Corellia was still a free-range of smugglers and pirates, and Tortuga and Port Royal all rolled into one. There were plenty of dealers, hirelings, and the like, and Tatooine wasn't even close! True, according to the net, they were clustered in a particular area of the city that was considered dysfunctional. That was a far cry from my home planet. Planet. Where they could easily slap me in the street and throw me in the sand.

I flew out of the hangar (you can't call floating over the surface thirty centimeters above it a trip, can you? It had no official name as such, since the city was divided into districts very conventionally - in the center were state institutions, cultural sites, statues-fountains-parks. Then in a ring around the center, without any sharp transition, were the "middle class" houses, stores, most of them, offices, almost a whole office town, a few entertainment venues. Next came the largest area, the regular town, small company offices, basic housing, apartment buildings. Very apartment buildings, stores, supermarkets, a spaceport, institutions like brothels and casinos. These last two were a gentle transition into the last neighborhood of Coronet. The police don't frequent here, prostitution and gambling flourish, and the bars are full for all kinds of visitors - from the local oligarchs to the Urkagan creep.

In general, I felt the greatest affinity to Korellians - outwardly I was absolutely indistinguishable from the rest of the representatives of this planet, both before the metamorphosis with appearance, and after them. I thought, just in case, to ask my mother about the fascinating history of my ancestors in her line - maybe she is a Corellian? Who knows... It's almost impossible to tell from the genes, unless of course I stumble across the nearest relative here, but it's such a fantasy that it's easier to believe in a little green man ruling a horde of light-skinned Buddhist fanatics... shit.

The bike flew through the neighborhoods like a kaleidoscope - from the cozy and well-appointed business center to the most beloved, native, crime-ridden. It was here that, armed to the teeth, I felt in my element. I parked my bike near one of the bars. Overall the neighborhood was beautiful - dark streets, not much advertising, a couple of brothels as the neatest buildings, a few bars with speeders like mine parked in front of them... the alleyways were obviously very dark, the dirt, the presence of burglars on the street, judging by their appearance, looking for an easy meal... it's heaven on earth! A Corellian paradise, to be exact.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I went into the bar. It was quite cozy - dark, minimalist design, but pretty cozy. I didn't come here for work, just to gaze at the locals. I ordered a couple of dishes, though the menu wasn't great in a diner like this, but it wasn't Tatooine either.

They demanded money up front, so I had to pay the waiter.

They paid no more attention to me than to an empty place - smugglers were among the local customers, and were quite recognizable to me - they were distinguished by several small signs that you would not notice at once - the gait of a man clearly accustomed to the standard gravity of ships, a little twitchy, but accurate movements - a smuggler must control himself well. He has a look of searching and evaluating - in his work, he constantly has to assess the situation and look for ways out of difficult situations, and this is so ingrained in the subcortex of the brain that even a smuggler chooses a place in the bar, after thinking a little and looking around the room, instead of going to the first available table. Not getting drunk can lead to big problems, so if a smuggler gets drunk, it's not in the bar, but on his ship... you wouldn't notice it right away, but all together it easily singles out a man from the locals who have come here once again to relax.

The room was relatively noisy -- people weren't talking out loud, of course, but they were talking softly, which was quite loud for fifty humans and non-humans. The smugglers' mecca was quite an interesting place. Although it was only one bar, I was not allowed to see everything. I left the dish I had ordered, took a sip of the local, one might say, national drink, and, having tipped the waiter, left. Immediately on my way out, I felt someone's attention on me. Insistent. When I closed my eyes, I looked around - it was some jerk, who was obviously following me. I didn't want to disappoint him by getting on my bike, but walked down the street-this made him happy, and he followed me. The street wasn't crowded, but I didn't want to get into a scuffle, so I quickly turned into an alley between a casino and some house that apparently housed the local prostitutes... a public one.

The place was well chosen - no windows or witnesses. The Urk went about his business, Rabinovich... I stopped and fumbled for a lightsaber on my belt, pulled it out, without stopping my "advanced vision" (in English "Advanced vision", absolutely no exact translation). Urka pulled out his blaster. I fumbled for the lightsaber button, and a second later I heard the sound of a gunshot. It was shot exclusively in the back. In fact, the blaster shot wasn't as slow as they tried to make it sound in the movies. The velocity of the charge is such that it is difficult to dodge, but not the same as a bullet - it was quite realistic to parry it with a light ball, especially if you know exactly where the charge would be. This was done - at the same time as the urk, a man in his thirties or forties, unshaven and angry-looking, pulled the trigger, I pressed the sword activation button. Within a quarter of a second, a silver-white blade appeared in the air, knocking back a charge in flight, and I turned sharply. The Urk was taken aback, either by recognizing the weapon or by not recognizing it. Dazed, he fired again with the same success - I easily beat off one shot after another and approached him. He backed up, and when we were four meters apart, he darted away. The fact is, it's already quite demoralizing to hit him with a blaster shot, and I approach him with a rather bloodthirsty grin... The thing was, I had to teach the asshole a lesson - judging by his looks, he was a junkie from the local rabble. I took out my gun and shot him in the left leg. The shot from the pocket blaster wasn't particularly lethal, if you shoot at the legs, it wouldn't tear his leg off, but it went right through, and he fell on the dirty pavement and was now whimpering, holding on to the wound. To avoid surprises, I covered my eyes and approached him:

- "So, honey, you don't have any dope, you decided to kill some suckers? You could have at least chosen a drunk, but no, he came at me.

- Suuuka... - he moaned.

- You'd better not swear, this is a civilized society, - I smiled, - so you better run away from here, quickly and far away... - I kicked the body, and walked past it back to the bar, where my bike was parked. Nothing makes me feel better than winning a gunfight!

Strange attraction to the criminal elements, yes, strange. But when I think about it, the hothouse conditions created for the students at the Alderaan Academy were really getting on my nerves. They all had the same problems as at school-the local hierarchy, with its leaders and its outcasts, the local hobbies, all that was annoying. What do I care if some pepper, for instance, is the son of a senator? And he walks around cackling like it's the planet revolving around him. Drives the most expensive speeder and picks up the prettiest girls... ...almost in full view of everybody else... it's annoying. I could turn him into a piece of meat with a stroke of my lightsaber, so I don't really care about their hierarchy or their student society. I only hung out with Alessia and a couple of the other guys, the simpler ones, the hardworking ones, for whom studying was the only way to make something of their lives. No attitude, no attitude, but a realistic outlook on life. It is more pleasant to talk to such people than to those who occupy a de jure high position. The "golden youth" and the student hierarchy frankly made me nervous and unnerved me with their pointlessness. What is the value of a nonviable individual? A place in the group can be bought for money - for expensive bling, for petty problems solved by daddy, but how can you buy a place in life? You can't. So it was the fact that here, in the most disadvantaged neighborhood of Corellia, my place was determined not by the number of credits in my pocket, but by my ability to stand up for myself and my personal abilities alone, regardless of money, that made in my eyes this dirty, full of drunkards, junkies, prostitutes and burglars, a much higher place than the Academy where I was studying. Next time I'll have to go to the Hutt sector for the vacations, where they say it's a hell of a situation. I'll get a break from boys and girls with glued-on smiles, from empty ponces and aristocrats and those who actively mimic them.

With these thoughts I flew back to the ship, checked my weapon, and went to sleep. It was not Erdva who woke me up, contrary to my expectations, but a call on the comlink. I turned on the holomonitor and looked at the time above it - it was early morning ship time, but on Corellia the office plankton had already begun its working day. I had an unknown caller on the line.

- Yes?" I answered, getting up. My voice sounded pretty rough from sleep, even for my small age.

- Mr. Skywalker? The manager of the Corellian Mining Company is here to see you. You were with us yesterday...

- Yes, yes... - I nodded, shaking off the remnants of sleep," Is there something you want?

- Yes, I would like to call you to conclude a contract. Is it possible?

- Sure, where to come?

- To our office, where you were yesterday. The droid will tell you where my office is... - the voice replied.

- In that case, I'll be there in an hour, - I said, and once again looked at my watch. I can make it.

- I'm waiting, - the manager answered in the tone of the notorious dentist Shpak, and passed out. I jumped out of bed and ran to make myself look decent - in words it is easy, of course, but in an hour I had time to wash, arrange my hair, get dressed decently, collect documents ... It's not a small thing. I also had to get to the office, although my bike was quite fast, and I could fly it with virtuosity. What could I do, the cost of using power...

Half an hour later, I got out of the ship, stuffed my documents in the trunk of my speedbike, and headed in the direction of the KMK building. The corporation occupied a small neighborhood by galactic standards, consisting of four buildings and a small garden between them. All in all, a pretty cozy office. It took me another ten minutes to get there. After parking my bike, I entered the entrance hall. Inside... as usual, it was a mess - employees and customers, so many people and non-humans, you could get lost between them. It wasn't crowded, of course, but the head office of one of the largest corporations in the galaxy wasn't complaining about being uninhabited.

The secretary droids stood along the wall in a line, like soldiers on parade. They were called upon to advise visitors on any matter. I walked up to one of them and asked:

- "I'm Anakin Skywalker, I have an appointment. How do I get to the manager?

- Just a second," replied a squeaky voice from a droid that looked like a tripio, only silver in color, "You should go to the fourteenth floor, room A-28. Go to the elevators, go to the fourteenth floor, after the exit to the right - sector a. The numbering of the offices is on the side of the entrance to the sector.

- Thank you," I nodded to the droid and made my way to the elevators. But first I was examined from head to toe, checked for dangers, explosives, and other delights. The neuranium network in the sword shielded it from radiation from all kinds of scanners, it was simply invisible, whereas metals, especially weaponized ones, phoned terribly. There was also stealth technology that hid weapons from the scanners, but none of it could overcome the kind of protection they put on scanners like this-at least fifty different types of scanning... And it's almost impossible to make a neuranium network - for now it's the most difficult metal to work with, so creating a dense network of forty thousand strands of a few hundred molecules thick is out of the question. The scanner let me through and I entered the building. An office building in the galaxy and on Earth is practically the same - I find minimal differences, and those are rather purely technical.

I found the office without difficulty, and once again glanced at the clock on my comlink, and it was five minutes past the time, I got ready. The door slid aside as I approached, and I entered. Inside was a rather cozy office, by the looks of it, of a single boss.

A Corelian, in his fifties, with a rather tenacious gaze and pleasant features... that's who I saw in the office.

- I thought my subordinate was playing a practical joke on me," he smiled very professionally, "are you Anakin Skywalker?

- That's right, Mr...

- Lort, just Lort," the man introduced himself, "come in and take a seat... - he said politely, and nodded to the chair next to his desk and waited until I was seated there.

- You are acquainted with my terms and conditions... - I began, but he interrupted me immediately:

- Yes, Mr. Skywalker, I am, and I agree. Of course, it's a pity you don't want to give us a little, if only because the extraction will involve some difficulties...

- Oh, don't," I grimaced, "you know perfectly well how much profit you'll get from Beskar, and I also know where and how it can be used and what it will lead to, so it's all within the bounds of propriety. I won't mention the five hundred percent profit in the final sale.

- Three hundred percent. Bescar is a rather... capricious metal," the manager clarified.

- Still," I didn't give up, "let's get down to business.

- Let's," the manager agreed easily, "you want, as far as I understand, to give us the opportunity to mine in your territory beskar, with payment by the weight of the extracted metal ... The survey tells us that you have a reserve of ores...

- More than large," I finished for him.

- Exactly," the manager nodded, "penalties to the parties for failure to fulfill obligations... - he began, but I interrupted him:

- Excluded, as my proposed contract strictly establishes the rights and obligations of the parties. You pay a specified sum for each ton of mined metal, and I, in turn, do not prevent you and do not interfere in your affairs. Since the territory is subject to the laws of the republic, everything is quite simple. The only penalty is to break the contract if someone tries to cheat or take advantage of someone.

- Yes, yes, I see your point," he nodded. The situation was clearly and unambiguously not favorable to the company. I made that point clear, though:

- If you don't try to deceive me, then the situation will be under your control one hundred percent. I won't even show my nose at Mandalore. All your questions will be decided by yourself, except those that require my presence as the owner of the territory. So unless you have any plans to deceive me, which, believe me, is a bad idea, you and I will never see each other again. You mine, you smelt, you buy, you take away. Without too much hassle...

The manager wasn't so much displeased as rather annoyed by my unassertive stance.

- All right," he nodded, "have it your way," he took several sheets of contracts from his desk and placed one pile in front of me. - This contract was drawn up today by the lawyers according to your requirements. Let's proceed to the signing... - he was looking at his own copy and didn't stop me from reading his.

The contract said everything that I demanded - extraction on my land with subsequent purchase. And there were no penalties - if someone cheated someone, the contract would be automatically terminated. And the manager also wanted to bargain... The price for a ton of metal smelted was correct, in full accordance with national standards, and I left my signature and a drop of blood, that is, my DNA, in the right place in the contract. The manager did the same and we, after reading each other's copies - in case there were any discrepancies, figuratively speaking, struck up a hand. Before the contract comes into force, it should have been registered - we had to show all the necessary documents, details of which were specified in the contract, enter them into the database and attach copies, electronic or physical, to the contract, put the signatures that the parties are familiar with the documents. This paperwork took another five minutes - the package of documents was frankly small - my documents, certificate of ownership and contract of sale... some of them were automatically generated and I only glanced at them.

When it was finished, Lort informed me:

- I think it's time we got to work. Your metal will save our company from another disgrace from the board of directors...

- The higher-ups are like that... - I shrugged my shoulders, demanding indicators without going into detail. - I think I should go, I do not like to sit in one place, though circumstances sometimes force me...

- I understand," he nodded, relaxing a little and becoming more... human, or something, "I didn't like to sit still when I was young, either.

The conversation ended with a very friendly exchange of little bits of information about himself. When that topic ran out of steam too, we said goodbye. The credit card they were supposed to transfer the money to was in my pocket, and the receipts wouldn't come until a few months later. I think they will still try to screw me over, but in that case I will set the stage to renegotiate the same contract with another company, like Kuat Shipyards. Although it is KMC that needs such metals the most - their market is small, but also high-tech ships, so they need progressive technologies and materials to meet the market and provide high performance for a wide range of goods.

It was a month until the end of my vacation, and the flight to Alderaan was only a few hours away, so I decided to finally relax, allow myself some carefree time, and spend a certain amount of money carefree at the casino. It's too early to go to the brothel-no physical ability or desire to cheat on Alessia...