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

glanced knowingly at the Ishi Tib, who returned a faint grin. "Your world is
far removed from normal space lanes," he said calmly toward the screen. "As
far from the Rimma Trade Route as from the Corellian Trade Spine. Your
situation, therefore, demands additional expenditures.
Of course, if you are displeased, you could always do business with some
other concern." The woman snorted a rueful laugh. "Other concern? The Trade
Federation has put everyone else under." Dofine spread his large hands. "Then
what is a hundred thousand credits, more or less?" "Extortion is what it is."
The sour expression Dofine adopted came naturally to his slack features. "I
suggest you file a complaint with the Trade Commission on Coruscant." The
woman fumed; her nostrils flared and her cheeks reddened. "You haven't heard
the last of this, Dofine." Dofine's mouth approximated a smile. "Ah, once
again, you are mistaken." Abruptly, he ended the transmission, then swung back
to face his fellow Neimoidian. "Inform me when the loading process is
concluded." Deep in the hangar arms, droids supervised the disposition of the
cargo pods from traffic stations located high above the deck. Humpbacked craft
with bulbous noses that gave them an animated appearance, the pods entered
through the hangars" magcon orifices on repulsorlift power and were routed
according to contents and destination, as designated by codes stenciled on the
hulls. Each hangar arm was divided into three zones, partitioned by sliding
bulkhead doors, twenty stories high.
Normally, zone three, closest to the centersphere, was filled first. But
pods containing goods bound for destinations other than Coruscant or other
Core worlds were directed to berthing bays in zones one or two, regardless of
when they were brought aboard.
Scattered throughout the hangars were security automata toting modified
BlasTech combat rifles, some with dispersal tips. Where the worker droids
might be hollow-bodied asps, limber - necked PK'S, boxy GNK'S, or flat-footed
binary loadlifters, the security droids appeared to have been inspired by the
skeletal structure of any number of the galaxy's bipedal Life forms.
Lacking both the rounded head and alloy musculature of its near cousin,
the protocol droid, the security droid had a narrow, half-cylindrical head
that tapered forward to a speech processor and, at the opposite end, curved
down over a stiff, backwardly canted neck. What distinguished the droid,
however, was its signal boost backpack and the retractable antennae that
sprouted from it.
The majority of the droids that comprised the Revenue's security force
were simply appendages of the freighter's central control computer, but a few
had been equipped with a small measure of intelligence.
The foreheads and chest plastrons of these lanky commanders were
emblazoned with yellow markings similar to military unit flashes, though less
for the sake of other droids than for the flesh and bloods to whom the
commanders ultimately answered.
OLR-4 was one such commander.
Blaster rifle gripped in both hands and angled across his chest, the
droid stood in zone two of the ship's starboard hangar arm, halfway between
the bulkheads that defined the immense space.
OLR-4 was aware of the activity around him--the current of cargo pods
moving toward zone three, the noise of other pods settling to the deck, the
incessant whirrs and clicks of machines in motion - comb only in a vague way.