"Cloak Of Deception (James Luceno)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Luceno James)

Dofine was one of genuine surprise. "Maybe you're not as thick-skulled as you
look." He leapt up onto the walkway and turned to the viewport array.
Rella joined him.
"The scenario has changed," Cohl announced to everyone. "The Acquisitor
will launch starfighters as soon as it's within range.
Order the Hawk-Bat to take the fight to the freighter." Dofine allowed a
smile of satisfaction. "Perhaps you will have to forgo your treasure, after
all, Captain Cohl." Cohl shot him a withering glance. "I'm not leaving without
it, Commander--and neither are you." He reached for Dofine's right wrist to
regard the countdown timer.
"Fifty-five minutes." "Cohl," Rella said leadingly.
He looked at her askance. "Without the aurodium, we don't get paid,
sweetheart." She took her lower lip between her perfect teeth.
"Yes, but we have to be alive to spend it." He shook his head. "Death's
not in the cards--at least not in this hand." Close to the bridge, a Nebula
Front starfighter, chased down by packets of lethal energy, vanished in a
nimbus of white-hot gas and debris.
"Fire from the Acquisitor" one of the mercenaries reported.
Sudden disquiet tugged at Rella's features.
Cohl ignored the look she sent him. Plucking Dofine from the command
chair and standing him on the walkway, Cohl shoved him toward the bridge's
ruined hatch.
"Double time, Commander. Our departure window has just narrowed." I n the
chaotic gloom of the starboard hangar arm, a final pod moving on repulsorlift
toward a zone three docking bay didn't draw much attention.
Somewhat turnip shaped, it was larger than most of the pods that had been
routed into zone three, though not as large as the one the Nebula Front had
infiltrated, and nowhere near the size of some of the ore barges. More, the
pod gave no hint that, like the terrorists' craft, it carried a living cargo.
Strapped into back-to-back seats were two human males who, in dress, were
the polar opposite of Daultay Dofine. Their light-colored tunics and trousers
were loose fitting and unadorned, their knee-high boots were made of nerf
hide, and they affected neither headpieces nor jewelry.
Their modest garments only made their obvious guile all the more
mysterious.
The fraudulent cargo pod lacked viewports of any sort, but vidcams
concealed in the hull transmitted assorted views of the hangar to display
screens inside the craft.
On observing the disorder Cohl's band had left in its wake, the young man
in the forward seat remarked in a nasal voice, "Captain Cohl has left us an
easy trail to follow, Master." "He has indeed, Padawan. But the trail you take
into the forest may not be the one you wish to follow when leaving. Stretch
out with your feelings, Obi-Wan." Fairly squeezed into the aft seat, the older
man was also the larger of the pair. His broad face was fully bearded, and his
thick mane of graying hair was pulled back from a gently sloping, noble brow.
His eyes were a sharp blue, and the bridge of his strong nose was flattened,
as if it had been broken beyond the repair of bacta treatments.
His name was Qui-Gon Jinn.
His counterpart at the controls of the pod, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had a
youthful, clean-shaven face, a cleft chin, and a high, straight forehead. His