Time and chance can do nothing for those who do nothing for themselves

The Nabuan city was beautiful - many wealthy intelligent people from all over the galaxy came to Naboo to enjoy the local resorts. In the absence of significant minerals, Naboo could only have more or less serious income from the sale of plasma and tourism. The architectural style of Naboo, was popular far beyond the sector, as far as the central worlds. A native of Earth would be reminded of the Renaissance buildings of Venice and Florence, but, for obvious reasons, there were no natives from a distant, distant planet on Naboo. The buildings were crowned by colored, tiled, straight roofs, with neat slopes on the edges and the obligatory small dome in the center of the roof - as a tribute to an ancient tradition.

The architecture of the whole Thida was no less pleasing to the eye than the individual houses - wide, long avenues filled with the sound of crowds and the hum of repulsors of all sorts of machinery, from small speedibikes barely bigger than their driver to large trucks hauling all kinds of cargo around the city.

In the midst of all this splendor walked a tourist, looking intently, with undisguised interest, at the sights of Tida. Since the tourist came out of the gate of the royal palace, and preferred to walk, he could see all the most interesting places of the city - the royal palace itself, several large buildings of academies - art, technical, public administration (bureaucracy). Further down the street were shops and boutiques. Unlike shops on Coruscant and other technogenic worlds, shops on Naboo did not shine with glowing signs, and in the windows instead of holoprojectors were beautiful installations of goods and paintings, painted on ordinary canvases. It would seem to be an archaism, but to the surprise of the tourists the usual goods and their layouts were pleasant to the eye and attracted attention no worse than the advertising holoprojectors. The Naboans were famous for their arts in various forms, from music, architecture and painting, to ship building. It is true that the Naboans did not do well with the latter, but they still considered their yachts and other ships to be examples of style and works of art.

When the smuggler, having looked at all this splendor, turned aside the nearest store, in order to buy something to drink, two men caught up with him.

- Wait a minute. - The captain didn't realize at once that they were addressing him, but when the visitors came close to him he noticed them and looked around silently, making sure they were addressing him.

The men who approached were clearly from the palace-a young lad in his early twenties in light anti-blaster armor and a girl in an orange-red long robe.

- Are you here to see me?

- Yes." The girl nodded, "you're the one who brought the letter, aren't you?

- Well, yes. What is it, exactly?

- Not here. - She glanced around at the people who were staring at them.

The smuggler, sensing no trick, followed the men who had turned around - after all, he wasn't being escorted, so he found no reason not to trust them. The young men, clearly well-versed in the center of the capital, led the smuggler and after a minute the whole company went to a small street. The girl looked around, and then asked:

- Excuse me, what is your name?

- George.

- My name is Corde. You brought that letter, didn't you? - She asked impatiently.

- You mean the parcel? Yes, I was hired to deliver it.

- Who hired you? - She asked at once. Georges wondered if he could reveal the identity of his client. Among smugglers, as among bounty hunters, this was, to put it mildly, not customary. Remembering that there were no orders to that effect, the smuggler replied:

- "Some kid. He was small, well-dressed, and didn't look like a local, a Tatooine. There was a guy with him, too.

- "A man?" - The girl asked back.

- Yeah. The guy's name was Julian, I think. He looked young, a careless tradesman, and a good prey for pirates. - Georges grinned. He had seen the likes of Julian in his short life - young, naive. Who survives can become a mature wolf, but the fate of the vast majority - to perish on the space expanses - at the hands of pirates, other "traders", and even their own crew, if they naively dragged aboard anyone at random.

The girl pondered, and the boy stood silently by, listening to the entire dialogue, while pretending that the rustle of the nearby tree's crown interested him far more than the mysterious conversation between the maid and the smuggler ...

?? Thank you," the girl nodded, glancing briefly at her companion. He still pretended to be completely unconcerned about anything.

- Er... may I go now? - Georges asked, looking around. He liked this conversation less and less.

- Yes, yes, of course. Goodbye. - The girl bowed briefly and walked on, accompanied by her companion down the alley, leaving the smuggler alone. Without thinking for long, Georges turned around and walked back to the busier street to finally buy something for himself with the money received for the work.

- Your Majesty, why would you do such a thing? - The Jedi turned around, staring into the back of the swiftly departing smuggler.

- It's the right thing to do, Ronar!

- Yes, of course," the Jedi nodded, "but I still don't understand. And I don't like this guy..." "I mean," Ronar said, glancing over to where the smuggler had been a moment ago.

- Like it or not... what difference does it make? Was he telling the truth?

- Yes, there was no doubt about it.

- So Anakin is alive. - Padme smiled, but then frowned, "And with some man... who's gone smuggling... a dangerous occupation.

- No more dangerous than the Jedi way. - The bodyguard remarked phlegmatically.

They were silent for a while, thinking to themselves. The small alley was the perfect place for such thoughts. Between the small one- or two-story houses were equally small gardens, as a tribute to Nabuan tradition. Fences the size of an adult's shoulder, with decorative iron bars, were also a tribute to tradition and an element of decoration, rather than a real defense against detractors.

Ronar took his mind off his thoughts and said, looking out into the alley:

- Then we should return to the palace, Your Majesty. You have business to attend to.

- Yes, yes, of course. - Padme looked around and walked quickly back to the palace.

* Barloz, hyperspace. Anakin Skywalker. *

Erdva woke me up. I stood up quickly and looked sleepily at my iron friend:

- Hey, what's wrong? You can't sleep...

- Coming out of hyperspace in five minutes. - The binary droid beeped and, buzzing its caterpillars, turned around and drove back. Coming to my senses, I walked out toward the latrine. Yes, here it's called in land manners a toilet, but what kind of latrines on a ship? So it will be a latrine.

I didn't make it in five minutes - I lingered at the mirror and tried to do a few things quickly - brush my teeth, comb my hair, tidy up my clothes. I probably tried for nothing, but it's a habit anyway. It's an unstoppable habit.

The ship shook, but after a second the shaking stopped, and there was some sound. That's the way the ship brakes. I hadn't noticed ships coming out of hyperspace before. In Nubian there were no sounds, but the last time I was on Barloz, I didn't have time to listen to the various sounds.

I looked at myself and realized that I would be handsome in about ten years, so I went out and headed for the cabin. Julian was here, in his chair, sitting and reading something on the monitors.

- Good morning, Ju! - I drew the smuggler's attention to myself. He took his eyes off the monitors and grumbled unhappily:

- Well, you, Hutt, you're just like a date. The inspection's coming up, so get ready. - He leaned back in his chair and turned his gaze back to the monitors.

- Uh... Ju? What do you want me to do?

- Go make sure all the caches are locked tight. Then wait for the crew, I'll open the docking hatch from here, you meet them. You're a little boy... maybe they won't be too picky. I'll come out later.

- All right. I'll be off then. - I nodded and walked briskly to the hatchway. The docking hatches were a sort of "back door" - they were only used for docking ships in space. For other purposes they were of little use. Really, I couldn't open the cargo hatch for a team of local cops.

Erdva met me on the way, on his way to run some errands, so he didn't even notice me. The airlock was in the cargo bay, so I headed there. I looked over the crates of merchandise and the floorboards which served as lids to the hidden compartments, and found the cloak to be good, and looked at the hatch. The airlock was closed, and I had to wait a moment - after a minute there was a clanking sound on the other side, and the indicator above the door showed that the pressure was equalizing. When the green light above the door turned nostalgically green, reminiscent of the "exit" lamp, the doors moved.

So as not to disturb those entering, I stepped back and leaned against a small stack of crates.

Two men came in. Their faces resembled those of traffic cops - there was not a special glimmer of intelligence in their eyes - like clerks. The first to enter was a man in his forties, in uniform, and with a service blaster on his belt, walking down the small hallway-sleeve. After looking around the cargo bay, he turned his attention to me:

- Who do we have here?

- Who? Я!

- I see it's you. What are you, a kid, working as a pilot? I don't know where they hire these guys...

- No, Julian's on his way. - I shook my head. The men called cops relaxed. Number two, looking around the compartment, walked along the crates. Looked at the markings on them, sighed regretfully. - Nothing like that. What's your gear? - he asked, apparently, the older man.

- Now, how many times do I have to tell you, this ... what's-his-name will come ... - ...what's-his-name..." brushed off the chief.

They waited. The inspectors looked around once more, without paying any attention to me. At that moment Julian just walked in, carrying a datapad in his hands.

- Sorry to keep you waiting...

- Don't slow down, we've got a lot of work to do. Come on, what have you got? - Roughly said the main one of the inspectors. The second came closer and stood close to the first. Julian transferred the data from his device to the cop's device. He briefly flipped through the information and asked:

- What, instead of the federation now you're selling? Ah, Hutt is with you. - He handed the datapad to his assistant, removed a device from his belt, and wiggled it about the crates. It reminded me of searching with a metal detector, only it seemed to be a qualitatively different device.

- Nothing. All right, let's go. - He tossed him to the other one and left in English. The second, hurried after him. When the hatch closed, and the lamp above it changed color to red, Julian exhaled noisily, and leaned on a stack of crates.

- Well, lucky..." Ju looked as if he'd just unloaded wagons.

- What do you mean?

- Oh, you don't know..." The aspiring smuggler wanted to lecture, judging by his tone, but said instead, "Let's go into the cabin and talk.

In the booth, then in the booth. We went into the cockpit, where I immediately took the co-pilot's seat. Ju sat in his own seat and began to enter the new data for the next jump. It didn't take long, and when he finished and left the computer to calculate the jump, he leaned back in his chair and spoke:

- It's lucky that our route is provincial - far from the main trade. There's bound to check for geocaches, too. And, of course, sometimes they demand bribes. We got the wrong kind of customs officers. They didn't nag us about anything...

- Maybe it's because our cargo isn't particularly valuable, and the ship doesn't look...

- Barlosas are simpler than the other models. Well, almost the most primitive. But that's not the point. I once took a load of cargo up the Correian trade route... and there's a customs post near Jiroha. They charged me a thousand dollars for allegedly packing the cargo wrong. And try to prove it...

- Is it that bad?

- Tell me about it. They seem to have their hands full and are looking for bigger prey...

- Maybe. Beginner's luck. I don't think we should get too comfortable. Next time it could be worse...

- Don't say a word, technician. Go over there and check the engine. The right one's got five percent less thrust than the left one," muttered Ju. I see, he's worried. But it's true, next time I won't be so lucky, I'll have to cut my way in or pay for it. It's not that I'm that greedy... but we're the ones who should be paid for our work, not us, right? Oh, it's not easy being a smuggler...

On my way to the engine room, I ran into Erdva. The droid seemed to feel at home on the ship, if you can say that about a droid. Erdva, as long as I see him, is always doing something. Right now he had unscrewed the panel that held the sensor for the automatic door opener and was doing something with the sensors, if I may say so, enthusiastically.

- Erdva, are you very busy? Something important?

- Negative. Listening.

- Something with the left engine. Didn't you look?

- There's a malfunction in the cooling system. Overheating at a hundred and seventeen percent of normal. We recommend a partial disassembly of the engine to clean out the coolant gas system.

- "Coolant gas"?

- The engine cooling system uses a compound coolant gas. Mark..." here Erdva gave out trills and whistles corresponding to the set of letters and numbers.

- Yeah... well, it's gas-cooled. Like refrigerators. All right, let's see. - I headed for the maintenance bay, leaving Erdwah behind.

The engines weren't working. By the time I entered the compartment, the ship was humming again and was apparently already in hyperspace. The sublight engines are unnecessary in it, so you can inspect them, if not fix them, for sure. But... right. I had to practice the skill that allowed me to assemble a lightsaber on something.

I sat down next to the engine in a non-dolotos pose and leaned my arms against the hull of the engines. In the compartment they looked like two huge, shoulder-high pipes that ran out into the compartment and ended in bonnets-boxes. Even without the use of force it was clear - there were cables and pipes that carried power and refrigerant to the engines. After a second, I felt most if not all of the system - the ability was effective at about an arm's length away. It was long enough for me to move around the compartment and get access to all the parts I was interested in.

- Well, well, well, what do we have here... - like a doctor over an operating table I tried to concentrate and concentrate on the mechanism.

The engines were... complicated. I did not have the knowledge I needed, but ignorance was compensated by the first rule of the programmer - "if it works, don't touch it". The engines were working, and the only problem was, as Erdva said, cooling.

One of the pipes was found quickly - something felt inside, with extremely dispersed force. I still don't understand - is there a force in space, or not? Apparently it was denser in matter - otherwise I wouldn't have been able to see with it. Everything would have been filled with a fog of force.

A tube of metal, a couple of inches in diameter, ran from somewhere in the floor of the compartment, through the hoods into the engine. There was extremely scattered power inside, but it wasn't absent at all. There was also a power conduit, a big cable with some kind of metal inside, but I didn't touch it yet. I concentrated on the first tube that I saw, so I telekined the gas through it to see what was wrong. All in all, it looked pretty good. I fixed a couple of the cracks that were coming up in the blink of an eye. The next thing I found was some sediment that looked like sand. Cleaned it up. I had to create a hole in the pipe and pull that chemical stuff out. It was like a powdery blue color. Before I left, I did a little more work with the engines - I returned the integrity of the pipe, removed all the defects and, at the same time, corrected the same defects in the power line.