"Foster, Alan Dean - Star Wars - Splinter Of The Mind's Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Leia became aware of the miners' stares. Several buckles and straps on the tight-fitting clothes had come undone while she'd been wrestling with Luke. Despite the coating of mud over them, their exposed areas were drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention. She felt as if something was crawling all over her under her clothing.
Ignoring the mud and trying to draw the loose ends of her attire together, she drew herself up regally, announced with shaky dignity, "Thank you very much. This is a private matter. Now, if you'll all be so kind as to leave us to settle our differences."
"Thank you very much, this is a private matter," one of the men echoed in a mincing tone. The others guffawed. The one with the beard leered down at her.
"You're not a registered citizen, lady-love." He indicated her shoulder. "No name tag, nothing. Fighting in a public street's against the law. Mine law says we got to apprehend anyone breaking the law when and where we can. C'mere and lemme apprehend you." He reached out a massive paw.
Backing up a quick step, the Princess continued to glare at them, but her confidence was seeping away like snow on a stove.
"I can't tell you who I am, but if any of you put a hand on me, you'll answer for it."
Barrel-chest moved closer. There was no humor in his voice and he did not smile at her. "Little mudhen, I'll put more than a hand on you...."
A slim form interposed itself between the Princess and her would-be apprehender. "Look, this is a private argument and we can finish it ourselves, friend."
"I ain't your friend, sonny," the man said evenly, putting out a hand and shoving Luke backward. "Stay out of this. Your argument ain't important anymore."
The Princess let out a startled exclamation. One of the other men had slipped up behind her and had grabbed her around the chest with his left arm. Luke stepped over quickly, brought the edge of his palm down hard on the other's wrist. Letting out a hurt yelp, the miner stepped back, holding his wrist.
It had grown deathly silent on the street. All eyes were focused on Luke now, not on the Princess. The only sounds in the mist came from the distant jungle.
"Sonny boy wants to play," snickered the man whose wrist Luke had clipped. "Resistin' public apprehension." He flicked his right forearm. There was a clicking sound and a double-bladed stiletto slid out from under his coverall sleeve. The flat of the blades lay flush against the back of his fist. Faded light from the shielded tavern windows reflected ominously off both blades as the man started moving in a low crouch toward Luke.
The Princess said nothing, just stared. So did Halla, Threepio, and Artoo from the safety of the shadows.
"Come on, sonny," the man urged, gesturing with his unarmed hand for Luke to approach. Then he flicked the weapon, and twin blades flashed out of his empty sleeve. He kicked his right leg, then his left. Double blades protruded from each boot sole. "Come on, let's dance. I'll make it last."
Trying to watch all eight blades at once, Luke tried to distract his attacker. "The lady and I were discussing something. We don't need any outside involvement."
"Too late, sonny," the man grinned. "You and I are involved, now." His companions were watching and chuckling, occasionally nudging one another. They were obviously enjoying every second of the action.
Jumping forward, the knife-wielder swung at Luke with his left hand, followed up the miss as Luke moved back with a spinning side kick, then swung around in an arc, reaching with his right hand. The double blades made whooshing sounds in the thick, damp night air.
"We don't want any trouble," Luke declared, his hand moving reluctantly to the pommel of his light-saber.
"In a couple of minutes you won't have to worry about it," his assailant assured him. He dove with a yell toward Luke, who dodged both kicks and arm swings agilely.
"Look out, Luke!" the Princess shouted... too late. One of the other men had come up behind Luke and now pinned both arms to his sides. The knife-wielder was approaching leisurely, the smile gone from his face, making entwining motions with his fists. The blades gleamed like his eyes.
"Fancy dancer, ain't you, boy? I'm tired of chasing you."
"Do him slow, Jake," one of the onlookers advised. "Wise-mouth kid."
"I said," Luke began, keeping his eyes on those nearing, weaving blades even as his right hand moved to his waist again, "we don't want any trouble." He pushed the stud on the hilt of the saber.
Activated, the backward-pointing, meter-long beam of blue energy materialized, straight through the right thigh of the man who was holding him. Howling, the man let go of Luke and dropped to the ground, clutching at his leg.
Knife-wielder froze for a moment, then started forward. With the saber, Luke described an intricate series of interweaving arcs and circles in the near darkness that caused his attacker to hesitate. A steady moaning came from the man on the ground.
Luke lunged at the knife artist, just enough to make him retreat. "All of you, now... clear off."
Instead of clearing off, the grim-faced quartet exposed more blades and other hand weapons. They began maneuvering to encircle Luke, staying just out of range of that darting, lethal beam of light.
Leia evened up the odds by leaping on the back of the man nearest her and clawing at his face. The three remaining men continued to probe at Luke with their own weapons, testing his speed and reflexes with professional acumen, talking among themselves and comparing notes on Luke's abilities while planning the best way to take him. If they were waiting for their fourth companion to join them, they'd be disappointed. He had his hands full with the Princess, who was cursing them at the top of her lungs.
Halla was looking on anxiously when movement further up the street drew her attention from the fight. A knot of efficient figures clad in black and white armor was moving at a fast trot toward the tavern. From the approaching Imperials she looked back to the stalemated battle.
One man lunged at Luke from behind. Luke jumped above the charged prod the man was wielding and swung downward simultaneously. Off came a hand, cut and cauterized neatly at the wrist, to land in the mud and lie there smoking slightly. The man fell backward, speechless, staring at his carbonized stump.
The troopers were close now. Halla left her hiding place and, gesturing for Artoo and Threepio to follow, slunk off down the accessway between the buildings, vanishing into the night. After a second's pause to see they could do no good by getting themselves captured, the two 'droids followed.
Both remaining assailants continued to stalk Luke, more cautiously now. Having dispatched her single opponent with judicious pressure in the right place, the Princess was looking to take on another when something sun-bright and loud exploded in their midst, stunning everyone. They all turned, blinking against the lingering glare, to see a number of energy rifles focused on them.
"Put up your weapons," the sergeant in charge ordered them sharply, the angular markings on his armored sleeve showing triple in the dim light. Matching marks crossed his helmet. "You are remanded to custody, in the name of the Emperor, for fighting with weaponry in a public place."
As soon as the miners had retracted or otherwise holstered their various weapons, Luke shut off his saber. Two troopers came around and collected the small arsenal. The Princess noticed her one victim recovering consciousness and kicked him soundly.
"You there, stop that!" the sergeant ordered.
"Sorry," she replied sweetly.
They were marched through the town under armed convoy. Luke took the opportunity to study the surrounding structures. Few showed much difference from those they'd already encountered. In a town like this, interchangeability was an economic necessity, he reflected.
Those inhabitants who encountered them pressed close to the walls of the buildings and whispered among themselves, pointing from time to time at the unlucky miscreants. The spectators obviously had some idea what was in store for them.
Luke wished he did, too.
"Where do you suppose they're taking us?" he murmured to the Princess.
"To the local jail, where else?"
Luke nodded forward. "If that's it, I'm impressed."
They were approaching a massive, forbidding ziggurat of ancient Mimbanian architecture. It was constructed of gray and black stone, exactly like the ruins Luke had spotted when searching for the Princess' ship. The edifice towered, despite its roughly tapering shape, over the more recent, simpler structures of the mining town.
"Not your average lockup," he commented softly as they strode under the thick stone arch over the entrance. Boldly, he queried the trooper next to him. "What is this place?"
The helmeted soldier turned to him with, "Prisoners and violators of the law are to provide answers, not questions."
Surprisingly, as they moved down a stone corridor lined with modern tubing and electronic componentry, the trooper volunteered some information. "This is one of the old temples built by the natives of this world."
Luke's surprise was genuine. "You mean, those pitiful wretches who beg for drinks?"
Unexpectedly, the man laughed. "Good, you've got a sense of humor. You'll need it. Greenies, building this? You must spend all your time in the mines. Not me."
The trooper swelled with self-importance. "I'm always trying to improve myself. As you know," he began, "there are several semi-intelligent races on this world, besides the greenies. Some are more degenerate than the others. Whatever race built these places," and he gestured with his rifle at the stone roof arching overhead, "has long since died out. At least, insofar as the Imperial survey has been able to determine." They turned another corner and Luke marveled at the size of the structure.
"This one's been converted to house the mine offices and Imperial headquarters for Mimban." He shook his head. "You miners, you don't know much of anything except your own work."