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

Captain Cohl set foot on this bridge." In the starboard hangar arm, Cohl's
team had barely made it through the bulkhead door when every device in zone
three conspired to prevent them from getting one meter closer to the
acceleration compensator shaft that connected the centersphere to its
embracing arms.
Overhead cranes threw grappling claws at them; towering derricks toppled
in their path; binary loadlifters dogged them like mechanical nightmares; and
oxygen levels plummeted. Even worker droids joined the fray, brandishing
fusioncutters and power calibrators as if they were flame projectors and
vibroblades.
"Central control's turned the entire ship against us," Cohl yelled.
Rella squeezed off bolts at a posse of hydrospanner-wielding PK droids.
"What did you expect, Cohl--the royal welcome?" Cohl gestured Boiny,
Rella, and the rest of his team toward the final bulkhead that stood between
them and the centersphere turbolifts. Sirens shrieked and howled in the thin
air. Crisscrossing and ricocheting blaster bolts created a pyrotechnic display
worthy of a Republic Day parade on Coruscant.
Cohl fired on the run, losing count of how many droids he had dropped and
how many blaster gas cartridges his weapon had expended. Two of his band were
pinned down by droid fire, but there was little he or anyone else could do to
help them. With luck they would get to the rendezvous point, even if they had
to drag themselves there.
Pursued by three binary loadlifters, the team raced through the final
bulkhead door and fought their way to the closest bank of turbolifts.
The hatch that accessed the transfer tubes was locked down.
"Boiny!" Cohl shouted.
The Rodian holstered his blaster and hurried forward, eyeing the hatch up
and down, then moved to the control panel set into the wall. Preparing to
slice the code, he rubbed his palms together and cracked his long, suction-
tip-equipped fingers. Before he could lay a hand on the panel keys, Cohl
slapped him in the back of the head.
"What is this, amateur night?" Cohl asked with a menacing scowl. "Blow
the thing." Define was pacing the walkway when the bridge hatch blew inward,
loosing a brief storm of paralyzing heat that tumbled him to the deck.
Cohl's band of six hurried in behind a roiling cloud of smoke, their
mimetic suits allowing them to blend even with the burnished bulkheads of the
bridge.
Quickly and efficiently, they disarmed the Gran and shot restraining
bolts onto the chest plastrons of the droids.
Cohl waved one of his men toward the communications station.
"Contact the Hawk-Bat.
Tell them we've secured the bridge. Have the starfighters deploy for
defense, and stand by to cover our exfiltration." He waved another of his
cohorts toward the Gran's duty station. "Order the central control computer to
stand down. Have it open all bulkheads in the hangar arms." The human nodded
and dropped down below the walkway.
Cohl tapped a code into his wrist comlink and raised it to his mouth.
"Base team, we have the bridge. Move the pod into zone three and set it down
as close as possible to the inner wall hangar portal. We'll be here soon
enough." Cohl zeroed the comlink. His eyes roamed over the faces of his five