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

to berthing spaces.
A human member of the team kicked aside the severed arm of a security
droid. "These things could be dangerous if they ever learn to think straight."
"Shoot straight," the bearded man amended.
"Tell that to Rasper, Captain Cohl," another said--Boiny, a Rodian. "It
was a droid that sent Rasper on his way." A green - skinned and round-eyed
male, Boiny had a tapered snout and a crest of pliant yellow spines.
"A lucky droid, a luckier shot," a Rodian female remarked.
"That doesn't mean we treat this like an exercise," Cohl warned, eyeing
everyone. "The central control computer will be deploying backup units soon
enough, and we've got a kilometer to go before we hit the centersphere." The
infiltrators glanced down the curved hangar toward a bulkhead that loomed in
the distance. High overhead were massive box girders and I-beams, cranes,
maintenance gantries, and hoists, a puzzle of atmosphere and vectoring ducts.
A human female--the only among them--whichistled softly. "Stars' end, you
could hide an invasion force in here." As dark-complexioned as Cohl, she had
short brown hair and an elegantly angular face. Even the mimetic suit could
not camouflage her shapeliness.
"That would mean spending some of the profits, Rella," a male human said.
"And the Neimoidians don't do that unless they can spend it on new robes."
Boiny loosed a high-pitched laugh. "You grow up a half - starved Neimoidian
grub, that's what happens." Cohl raised his bearded chin to two of his band.
"Stay with the pod. We'll make contact when we have the bridge." He swung
to the others. "Team one, take the outer rim corridor. The rest of you are
with me." The Revenue shuddered slightly. Muted explosions could be heard in
the distance.
Cohl cocked an ear. "That'll be our ships." Sirens began to blare
throughout the hangar. The labor droids stopped in their tracks, as a basso
rumble gathered underfoot.
Rella gazed at the far-off bulkhead. "They're sealing off the hangar."
Cohl waved a gesture to the first team. "Move out.
We'll rendezvous at the starboard turbolifts.
Set your suits to pulse--that ought to confuse the droids--and use the
concussion grenades sparingly. And remember to monitor your oxygen levels." He
took a few steps, then stopped. "One more thing: You get blasted by a droid,
bacta rehabilitation comes out of your pay." Daultay Dofine stood rigidly on
the bridge's walkway, watching in arrant horror as the Nebula Front showed his
ship no mercy.
The motley starfighters fell on the Revenue in full force, pick ing away
at the freighter's fat arms and triple-thrustered hindquarters like ravenous
birds of prey. Many of the unshielded droid ships were annihilated as soon as
they emerged from the vessel's protective force field.
Emboldened by their effortless mastery, the enemy craft violated the
embrace the hangar arms threw about the centersphere by strafing the command
tower at close quarter. Ion cannon fire from the gunship sent waves of
aggravation through the Revenue's deflector shield. Violent light washed
against the bridge viewports.
It was all Define could do to keep himself rooted on the walkway, as he
cursed the terrorists under his breath.
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