"MOESTA, KEVIN J. ANDERSON REBECCA - DIVERSITY ALLIANCE" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moesta Rebecca)

power. She was the political movement's outspoken and charismatic
leader, uniting downtrodden alien species that had suffered for so long
under human domination.
Now Nolaa held the deepest, most defensible chambers beneath the
mountains, and had set up her headquarters there.
After her rise to power, her followers had excavated an
underground spaceport adjacent to the grotto that allowed her powerful
allies direct access to Ryloth, and from there, out to the galaxy at
large.
The Twi'lek leader sat in her cool, expanded grotto, a throne room
of sorts. She had a great deal of work to do. Managing a galaxy-wide
political movement required constant effort, concentration, and
vigilance.
Here, deep underground, she had to rely on chronometers and
assistants to tell her when it was time to stop working and begin the
sleeping period. Of late, though, she had curtailed her rest hours.
Plans she had set in motion continued to brew; their demands
weighed heavily upon her, and she had far too many obligations to
bother with sleep. If her revolution failed and she was killed, then
she could sleep for all eternity.
Nolaa sat comfortably in her stone chair, not allowing the
seething thoughts and emotions inside to show though her facade of
outward 'calm. In a sense, the rich red lighting in this room spoke
for her.. It reflected the deep-seated anger and thirst for revenge
that boiled in her heart, and the multitude of ideas for bringing about
the ultimate triumph of the Diversity Alliance that whirled through her
mind.
She clacked her finger claws together, feeling their tough
hardness, like the spines on the shell of a sidrek megapede. Nolaa
could rip out the throat of any enemy or unsuspecting friend--with one
sweep of her hands. Although she kept herself physically ready for
combat, her primary arsenal consisted of the words she used to forge
the emotions of crowds into weapons, turning her followers into a
fighting force. Nolaa Tarkona had become good at getting her way.

Hovrak, her wolfman Adjutant Advisor,

marched into the room, his fetal eyes bright in the grotto
dimness. Nolaa kept the reddish lights turned down, but her
rose-quartz eyes focused well in the shadows.
She could see that he bore a dispatch in his hairy paw.
With his other hand Hovrak brushed down the dark brown fur that
bristled on his face. He bared his teeth in a gesture of respect and
said, "Esteemed Tarkona, I have excellent news--dispatches from two
more candidate worlds."
"Good." Nolaa bowed her head, twitching her one remaining
head-tail in satisfaction.
The burned stump of the other jiggled in a reflex of
long-remembered pain.
Hovrak kept a long and detailed list on an electronic datapad,