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

She whispered back tightly, "You have this wonderfully evocative way about you, Luke, of reducing the most excruciatingly uncomfortable circumstances to the merely mundane."
Luke looked hurt. The Captain-Supervisor concluded his conversation with the stunted figure, which promptly bowed and scurried from the room. Idly, Luke wondered if the thing under the cloak was human or maybe one of the natives. His speculation was interrupted by Grammel's return.
"You miners started the fight," he stated in a no-nonsense tone, pointedly excluding Luke and Leia from that category.
"Oh, but Captain-Supervisor," the largest of the three began obsequiously, "we were provoked. We were trying only to uphold the town law about fighting."
"By breaking it," Grammel countered, "and by attacking this young lady?"
"It wasn't anything serious," the man ventured. "We were only goin' to have a little fun, first."
"Your fun will cost each of you a half time-period's pay," Grammel declared. "I'm going to be lenient with you." The three men hardly dared appear hopeful. "The mine laws here are lax and permit you considerable leeway in terms of relaxation." Now he glowered at them.
"However, assault with intent to murder is not the Empire's idea of productive leisure. Whatever," he added as an afterthought, "I may think personally."
Emboldened, one of the miners decided to push his luck. Stepping forward, he announced, "Captain-Supervisor Grammel, I appeal the judgment."
Grammel eyed the man the way a botanist would a new species of weed. "You have that right. On what grounds?"
"Shortness... shortness of trial and informality of circumstances," the man finally got out.
"Very well. Since I am the Imperial law here, I will consider your appeal myself." Grammel paused a moment, then said easily, "Your appeal is rejected."
"Then I appeal to the Imperial Department of Resources representative in charge of mining operations," the man riposted. "I want to see the judgment reviewed in another fashion."
"Certainly," Grammel agreed. He walked over to the wall behind his desk. Taking a long thin bar of plastic from its place there, he pressed the switch at one end as he came back around the desk. "The conversation has been recorded," he informed them all.
He depressed another switch and the bar showed a moving line of words across its waxy surface. When the record had finished, he raised and abruptly thrust one end of the unyielding plastic into the argumentative miner's left eye.
Blood and pulp squirted in all directions as the man collapsed, screaming, to the floor. One of his terrified companions bent over him, tried to staunch the flow of blood from the ruined socket. It ran in a steady stream down the man's face and coverall front.
"You three are dismissed," Grammel told them perfunctorily, as if nothing unusual had happened. "Sergeant?"
"Captain-Supervisor?"
"Take these three into the rear holding cells. Their two companions can join them as soon as they're well enough. Let them sit and think for awhile. Record their names and identification codes so that they may more easily pay their fines. Unless," he finished conversationally, tapping the recorder rod in one palm, "someone else would like to appeal my judgment?"
As the two miners half-carried, half-dragged their unconscious companion to the exit, under guard, Grammel gestured at them with the rod. "He still has his eye, you know. It's recorded permanently on this. Bring him back when he recovers and I'll let him see it again."
The sergeant saw the guards and miners out, then returned to stand watch beside the door.
"I dislike these administrative details," Grammel said amiably to Luke and the Princess. "But this is a largely unknown, unexplored world and I have little time to waste. Sometimes my decisions must be fast and harsh.
"Only the degree of their ability to devise more sophisticated debasements for themselves separates the human animals that work here from the natives. This kind of inventiveness has been a persistent and lamentable quality of mankind's for millennia. Realizing that as you must, I'm sure you two will be more sensible than those lower types who just left us." He sat back on the edge of the desk, commenced tapping his lower leg with the red-tipped rod. Luke watched it nervously.
"I told you, Captain-Supervisor," he reiterated, "we must have lost our identification in the fight. It must have fallen in the mud. If you'll just let us go back there I'm sure we can find it. Unless," he added with seeming concern, "someone came by after the fight and stole it."
"Oh, I don't think any of our hard-working citizens would do that," Grammel commented, turning away. He looked sharply back over his shoulder. "In fact, I don't think it's lying there, either. I don't think you two had any identification to lose.
"From what I've been told, you both are more than strangers to this town. You're strangers to the mine, to the Imperial presence here, to this very world. How you arrived undetected and unauthorized and in one piece I can't imagine." He gritted his teeth and added dangerously, "I will find out, however. I always find out what I want to know."
"That's funny," noted the Princess, "because you strike me as having a particularly limited capacity for learning."
Her remark didn't faze Grammel. If anything, the Princess' studied insults appeared to please him. "A little while ago, young lady, you called me incompetent. Now you belittle me intellectually. I am no intellectual, but I am also neither incompetent nor uneducated. I got that way by learning how to get answers to my questions.
"But your first comment was correct, about my manners." He drew back his left foot and kicked her in the left thigh with the point of his boot. Moaning in pain, the Princess grabbed her side below the hip and sank forward to her knees. Her right hand stopped her fall while the other continued holding the bruised place. Luke raged inside but resolutely stared straight ahead. This was not the place or time to die.
"However, I am straightforward," Grammel continued, gazing down at her. Using his leg again, he kicked her right arm out from under her. She fell forward, then rolled over and sat up, still holding her left leg. The Captain-Supervisor kicked out sharply, catching the base of the spine but not hard enough to paralyze her. She wailed as both hands went to the small of her back and she fell over on her side, where she lay moaning.
Grammel drew back his leg again. Unable to stand by any longer, Luke stepped between them, said rapidly, "If I told you the truth, Captain-Supervisor, you wouldn't believe me."
That offer was intriguing enough to cause Grammel to forget the Princess for the moment. "I'm always willing to listen, young man."
Luke took a disconsolate breath, looked downcast. "We're escaped criminals from Circarpous," he confessed painfully. "We're wanted there for extortion and blackmail." He indicated the prone form of the Princess.
"The girl's my partner and lure. We... made the mistake of compromising some people who turned out to be more important than we thought. We're not very important criminals, but we managed to get some very important people mad at us." He stopped.
"Go on," urged Grammel noncommittally.
"Circarpous still maintains the death penalty for many crimes," Luke continued. "It's a hectic, private-enterprise-style world."
"I know all about Circarpous," the Captain-Supervisor snapped impatiently.
Luke hastened to go on with his story. "We stole a small lifeship. We'd heard about the small colonies on Twelve and Ten."
"So you tried to flee there," Grammel interjected. "Logical enough."
"In hopes of finding a way to gain passage out system," Luke finished rapidly. His enthusiasm was honest, because Grammel, at least so far, hadn't rejected the story out of hand. "We even," he added for good measure, "went so far as to consider joining the Rebels if that would help us escape prosecution."
"You'd both make pretty pitiful traitors," Grammel observed, "The Rebels would have sneered at you. They don't enroll criminals in their ranks. Odd, since they're all technically the worst sort of criminals. Anyone can see by looking at you that you'd never be accepted by them." Fortunately, the Princess was in too much pain to snicker, Luke knew.
"I happen to think that your story, young man, though plausible, is a cleverly crafted falsehood." Luke went cold inside. "But... it could be true. If that's the case, if you are what you claim to be, we might even manage to bend the laws a little for you. I admire ingenuity in others.
"We might even find something for you to do here on Mimban. The Empire has many malcontents working in the mines. You've already encountered five of them.
"Of course," he concluded, "I could always return you to Circarpous for prosecution there."
"Oh no, Captain-Supervisor!" Luke cried, dropping to his knees and clutching desperately at Grammel's trouser legs. "Please don't do that. They'll have us executed. Please, we'll work till we drop, but don't send us back there!" He was sobbing openly now.
"Get off my boots," Grammel ordered disgustedly. As Luke backed away obediently the Captain-Supervisor bent to brush at his pants where Luke had touched him.
Wiping tears conjured with difficulty away from his eyes, Luke tried not to appear too hopeful as he regarded Grammel. The Princess, meanwhile, had shifted to a sitting position. She was still rubbing the small of her back with one hand, carefully avoiding Grammel's gaze.
"As I stated, everything you've told me is possible and unlikely," the Captain-Supervisor went on. He eyed Luke in a funny way. "There is one thing which does interest me, however. It would be a sign of your good faith if you were honest with me about it."
"I don't understand, Captain-Supervisor," Luke admitted blankly.
"I am told," Grammel continued, "that you have in your possession a small gemstone...."