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

behind Jarril's visit.
"I don't believe you came to Coruscant just to buy me a drink," Han said.
He didn't bother to mention that the Jarril of old would never have bought
anyone anything. A lot had changed about his old colleague, including the
price of the man's clothes. Jarril used to wear shirts until they fell off
him. This one was made of a dyed green gaberwool, a singularly ugly garment
despite its obvious newness.
"I didn't," Jarril said. He downed one green drink, coughed, wiped his
mouth, and grinned. His teeth glowed for a moment before he licked the liquid
off them. "I came to tell you about an opportunity." This was rich. An
opportunity. For Han Solo, hero of the Alliance, husband, father, and family
man. "I've got opportunities," Han said, and immediately wondered what they
were.
"Yeah, sure." Jarril pushed a strand of hair off his pocked forehead. "I
gotta admit you stayed legit a lot longer than I woulda thought. I figured six
months with the princess and you and Chewie would be back on the Falcon,
heading for parts unknown." "There's enough to keep me busy here," Han said.
"Busy, maybe," Jarril said. "But it's a waste of talent if you ask me.
You and Chewie were the best pirates I knew." Han slid one hand to his blaster
and rested his fingers against the trigger. "I haven't been away that long,
Jarril. I still don't con easily. What do you want?" Jarril leaned close. His
breath smelled of mint, ale, and cream candy. "There's money out there, Han.
More money than we ever dreamed of." "I don't know," Han said. "I can dream of
a lot." "So can I." Jarril's voice was so soft Han could barely hear it over
the band. "And I can't spend all I got." "Congratulations," Han said. "You
want me to propose a toast?" "You're not interested, are you?" Jarril asked.
He had a curiously intent look.
"Maybe I would have been years ago, Jarril, but I've got a life now."
"Some life," Jarril said. "Sitting around all day, watching the babies while
the little woman runs her own private empire." Han leaned forward and grabbed
the collar of Jarril's shirt in one quick, practiced movement. "Watch it, pal.
" Jarril grimaced in a vain attempt to smile. His eyes shifted from Han's face
to his hidden hand and back again. Good. Han hadn't lost any of his reputation
during the time away. "Didn't mean anything by it, Solo," Jarril said. "Just
making conversation, you know?" Han tightened his grip on Jarril's shirt.
"What do you want?" "I want help, Han." Han let Jarril go. Jarril slammed back
into his seat. He grabbed his second glass, gulped down the hideous green
contents, and wiped his mouth. Han waited, finger still on the trigger.
Smugglers never asked each other for help. Sometimes they conned their friends
into assistance, but they never asked.
Jarril had been conning him. It just hadn't been working.
Jarril licked his teeth, and took another glass off the passing servo
droid.
"Make it quick," Han said. "The little lady expects me home, dinner done,
when she arrives." He tilted his chair back on two legs, his head resting
against the wall. "I make a mean Smuggler's Pie." Jarril held up his hands.
"I'm not kidding you, Han. About any of it. The money-" "You said you needed
help." "I think we all do." Jarril lowered his voice again. "That money comes
with a price. I never seen so much money in my life." "I got it," Han said.
"You're rich. That brings its own problems. I know. I'm not in the mood for