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

"Come on. We have to hurry."
She put hands on seal-curve hips, cocked her head to one side and stared meaningfully at him.
"Oh," he murmured, half-smiling. He turned away and continued undressing. Feeling that nothing had changed behind him, he sneaked a glance, saw the Princess still eying him uncomfortably. "What's wrong, Princess?"
She sounded embarrassed. "Luke, I like you, and we've known each other for awhile, but I'm not sure I can trust you... now."
He grinned. "You know it won't make any difference if the stormtroopers find us here in our flight suits." He gestured. "You can change in the bush."
Turning away from her, he continued changing his own attire. She looked back at the nearby jungle. Tiny yellow points of light, the eyes of unknown creatures, winked on and off in the bushes. Strange, discomfiting sounds hissed and bleated at her. She sighed, started to slip out of her own flight suit, then paused.
"Well, what are you two staring at?"
"Oh... sorry, I..." An insistent whistle. "Yes, you're right, Artoo." Both 'droids turned away from the Princess.
Shortly, Luke was able to turn and study her approvingly. Her simple, worn suit was a bit snug, but otherwise looked quite natural on her.
"Well?" she asked, obviously not enthralled with her new wardrobe. "What are you staring at?"
"I think maybe something in a print..." he began. He had to react quickly to duck the boot she threw at him. It clattered off the metal door.
"Sorry," he told her, sounding like he meant it as he picked up the boot. Bending over his old suit he began transferring various items from it and from his backpack to the belt pouches of the miner's uniform.
One small case he flipped open carefully, went rapidly through its contents before snapping it shut and slipping it into a pocket. "I've got enough Imperial currency to last us a while. You?"
She glanced away from him. "What would a representative of the Alliance be doing with common currency on a diplomatic mission?"
Luke sighed. "We'll make do, I suppose. How would you like something to eat besides a concentrate?"
She faced him, visibly more cheerful. "I could eat half a Chou-shou, Luke. Are you sure we ought to, though?"
"We have to mingle sometime. As long as we don't look or act like total strangers, no one should bother us." They started back toward the main street, after burying their packs and flight suits in a syrupy bog.
They were halfway there when the increasing light caused Luke to stop.
"What's the matter?" the Princess asked, worried.
"Two things," Luke insisted, eying her. "First of all, there's your walk."
"And what's wrong with my walk?"
"Nothing. That's the trouble."
Her brows drew together in puzzlement. "I don't follow you, Luke."
He explained slowly. "You're walking like... like a Princess. Not like a working woman. Slump your shoulders, take some of the confidence and distance out of your stride. Stagger a little. You've got to walk like a tired mineral-grubber, not like one of the Imperial family. And then there's the second thing...."
Reaching out, he touseled her neat hairdo violently.
"Hey!" she objected, struggling. When he stepped back, her hair formed a nebulous maze of undisciplined strands around her head and face, the intricate double-bun she'd worn now completely obliterated.
"That's better," he observed, "but there's still something not right." After a moment, he reached down, picked up a handful of moist earth, then stepped toward her.
"Oh no," she warned him, putting up both hands defensively and moving backward. "I've been living in sludge for days. I'm not letting you smear that gunk on me!"
"Have it your way, Leia." He dropped the dirt and it hit the ground with a loud splat. "You do it."
The Princess hesitated. Then, using spit and hands and a minimum of dirt, she succeeded in wiping every trace of makeup from her face and dirtying it as little as possible.
"How's this?" she asked guardedly.
Luke nodded approvingly. "Much better. You look like someone who's been out in the desert too long without water."
"Thanks," she muttered. "I'm beginning to feel like it, too."
"It's necessary. I just want to see us get off this world alive."
"We won't if we don't find that food you mentioned." He had to hurry to catch up with her as she headed toward the street....

III

THEY conversed in whispers as they made their way down the metal walkway toward the better-lit buildings. More and more miners and other figures began to appear, materializing out of the mists.
"The town's beginning to come alive," Leia murmured. "They probably run three alternating shifts at the mine. Looks like one is just letting out."
"I don't know," Luke confessed, "but you've got to do something about your walk. Slouch some more."
She nodded, made an effort to comply. Luke tried not to stare at passing faces, afraid one might be staring back at them.
"You're still too tense. Relax. There, that's better."
They stopped before a reasonably quiet, fairly well maintained structure that advertised itself as a tavern.
"It looks peaceful enough." He turned. "Threepio, you and Artoo wait out here. No sense asking for trouble. Find a dark corner somewhere and stay quiet until we come back."
"You don't have to urge me, Master Luke," the tall golden 'droid exclaimed fervently. "Come on, Artoo." Both 'droids headed for a narrow passageway between the tavern and its neighboring building.
"What do you think, Princess? Should we take a chance?"
"I'm starving... we've wasted enough time." She put a hand over the door switch. Immediately the double doors slid apart.
Lights and noise and talk in overwhelming quantities assailed them instantly. Having exposed themselves, they had no choice but to enter, as casually as they could manage.
Low booths filled with hectic humanity honeycombed the tavern interior. The miasma of narcotic incense and other smokes nearly asphyxiated Luke, and he had to struggle not to cough.