"The New Rebellion (Kristine Rusch)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

anything unusual in nearby space." "What are you afraid of?" Mon Mothma asked.
Alderaan flashed before Leia's vision at the moment of explosion, a flare
of brilliant, horrible light. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe a Death Star,
or a Sun Crusher. Something that could destroy us all."

THREE

Han sat in the back corner of the smoke-filled room. He hadn't been
in this casino since he won the planet Dathomir in a game of sabacc before he
married Leia. The casino had changed hands at least fifteen times since then-
now it was calling itself the Crystal Jewel, a misnomer if he'd ever heard
one-but it looked no different. The air smelled of damp decay mixed with smoke
and alcohol. A mediocre band played Tatooine blues with a decided disinterest.
All around him, conversation rose and fell with the fortunes at the sabacc
tables.
He clutched a pale blue Gizer ale, which he had snatched off a servo
droid. Han's companion, Jarril, had disappeared a few moments ago, searching
for the bar. Han wasn't sure if Jarril would be back.
Han was watching the sabacc game at the nearest table, where a Gotal was
betting all it owned. As it slid the chips across the table, it shed piles of
gray hair. Most Gotals had learned to control their shedding. This one had to
be extremely nervous.
Its companions didn't seem to notice. The Brubb, a large brown reptile,
was scratching its knobby hide, leaving scales all over the floor, its tail
knocking the mechanical base of a nearby servo droid. The two-armed Ssty was
counting her cards, her claws making indentations in each. The tiny Tin-Tin
Dwarf stood on its chair, its ratlike features focused on the pile in the
center of the table.
The dealer droids had been upgraded since Han's last visit. This dealer
was bolted to the ceiling, but unlike its predecessors, it could slide down to
table height and knock aside an unruly player. The dealer had done just that
after Jarril left, and had riveted Han's attention. He had never seen such an
aggressive droid before. Although he had to admit, they were needed in a place
like this.
"The line was incredible." Jarril slipped back into his chair at the
table. He had two drinks, both bright green. Neither looked appealing.
Han wrapped his hands around his Gizer ale. "I'd've waited if I'd known
you were buying." Jarril shrugged. He was a small man with narrow shoulders,
and a face scarred from years of harsh living. Han had always envied Jarril's
hands, though. They were smuggler's hands, with long, thin, tapered fingers,
perfect for piloting, blasting, and those forms of gambling that required
dexterity. "More for me," Jarril said.
The smuggler's credo. Han grinned. It'd been too long since he'd been in
a place like this. He probably wouldn't even have answered Jarril's contact if
it hadn't been for Leia. She had looked like that sharp-tongued princess he'd
rescued back when he'd been an equally sharp-tongued scoundrel. Sometimes he
missed that part of himself more than he cared to admit.
Han slid his chair back so that it hit the wall. He wore a blaster at his
hip, having learned almost before he could walk that no sane man entered a
place like this without protection. Besides, he didn't really know the reason