"Aaron Allston "Iron Fist" (STARWARS. X-Wing #6)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Come on, people, Phase Three, snap it up."
Castin found the hangar's main computer terminal at the back of the building. He brought up the main menu and began looking at what was available to him. The others, once they were sure that the roof-mounted holocams observing the hangar were positioned to view only the vehicles, clustered around him.
Castin leaned back from his keyboard. "Good news and bad news, Commander." "Let's hear it."
"I can get into this pretty easily, do everything I'm sup-posed to do from here." "But ?"
"But, security seems to be based on flag counting. For every anomaly in routine the computer registers a marker, or flag, that it keeps track of. When flags grow too numerous at any one site, the computer raises an alarm. It might send a routine query, in which case an incorrect response would raise more flags; it might just send investigators out. If this system works like other, similar Imperial systems, flags have greater or lesser 'weight' depending on just how anomalous they are. For ex-ample, a storage-room door being unlocked at the wrong time will raise a little flag, while the door into a hangar full of valu-able interceptors being unlocked at the wrong time will raise a big one."
Wedge nodded. "Have we dropped any flags yet?"
"Probably not. We did open a door, but the guards outside



have to have regular access to the refresher, so I doubt that's a flag."
"Very well." Wedge considered. They had to ready six of the interceptors for departure, disconnect any tracer comm units functioning within them, sabotage the other two vehicles and perhaps the hangar, exit the hangar, and cover tile separate escapes of the interceptor hijackers and the Wraiths who would be departing on foot. "I assume, then, that a change in maintenance schedules would raise a smaller flag than the holocams observing a bunch of anomalous pirates moving around their hangar."
"That's a fair assumption."
"Then get into the base scheduler. Forge a request for im-
mediate maintenance of this hangar's interceptors. Time-stamp it an hour or so ago. Assign it to a fictitious work crew, or, if you can get into the personnel listings, a crew that's off-duty. Follow this up with an acknowledgment of the arrival of the work crew a few minutes ago. Then do the same thing with a request for servicing of the hangar's holocam system. Time-stamp that one earlier today, lower priority, also with an ac-knowledgement of arrival in the last few minutes."
Castin managed the task within a few minutes, then switched off the hangar holocams. The Wraiths got to work.
Castin stayed at the computer terminal and began work-ing on their escape distraction.
Wedge, Janson, Kell, Runt, and Dia checked out the eight interceptors. All but Runt had some experience flying TIE fighters; Runt, as communications specialist, used what gear he had to find and disable slave circuitry that might enable the base commanders to seize control of the interceptors remotely, then disabled automatic tracer systems built into the comm units.
Tyria and Donos had what the others enviously referred to
as "vandalism duty." With the hangar mechanics' own indus-
trial cutters, metal-shearing tools utilizing a tight, focused
form of the same destructive energy that made blasters formi-
dable weapons, they burned messages across the interior walls
of the hangar: HAWK-BATS NEEDED THESE MORE THAN YOU! KNEEL
TO THE HAWK~BATS, WORMS. GET OUT OR BE SORRY; THIS PLANET IS
NOW OUR PROPERTY. Then there were some choice epithets, and Donos's fairly artistic rendering of a hawk-bat, one of the tena-cious flying predators of the duracrete canyons of Coruscant. Tyria added some creative misspellings to her efforts.
When they were done, they looked over their handiwork. Donos nodded. "Pretty close to the work of ego-ridden, semi-literate pirates," he decided.
Tyria smiled. "As a former counterinsurgent, are you offended?"
He managed a wry grin. But he was saved from answering by a sound-a warning pop across the comm channel the Wraiths were using.
All the Wraiths stopped what they were doing and either donned their helmets again or held pocket comms up to listen.
Face's voice came across in a whisper. "Skimmer full of stormtroopers approaching. Not a hostile attitude, but they're coming right here."
Wedge replied, "Stay loose. Keep us informed." He looked among the Wraiths. "Tyria, Donos, get on the door. Be pre-pared to support Face and Phanan. The rest of you, what's our status ?"
Kell answered, "Five interceptors prepped, Runt and I are on the last, no work yet on the two we were going to sabotage."
"Don't worry about the sabotage. If we're pressed for
time, we'll just blast them on our way-"
Phanan's voice came in over the corem: "It's shift change.
They're supposed to drop off two and take us away. Face is
talking to them. He's been listening to those Quadrant record-
ings and knows the guy's voice. But-it's not going well-"
The next sound was the scream of blasters from outside.
Blasters, shouts, armored bodies hitting the duracrete.



6
Face had tried to be reasonable. "We're ready to go, Lieu-tenant. But our packs are inside. Permission to go inside and retrieve our packs."
The stormtrooper seated next to the skimmer pilot sounded contemptuous. "What idiot let you bring unauthorized gear out on a normal sentry watch?"
Tactic: When asked for information you don't have, try to present the asker with a variable he can define himself. Face said, "The new one, sir. What's-his-name."
"Balawan?"
"That's him, sir."