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

And there was more. Lara discovered, with glee mixed with a measure of professional horror, that Repness tended to turn on his sweeper whenever doing his most private work at his computer terminal. His paranoia about unseen listeners was his undoing, because he tended to mumble to himself, ver-balizing his passwords and secret computer account names when working this way.
Within minutes of listening to the recording, Lara could ac-cess all of the man's recordings that concerned his lucrative side business. It was a black-market business,' well entrenched on Coruscant but just getting under way on the training frigate Tedevium, in which cargo was diverted from its intended desti-nation-not even making it onto incoming-supplies manifests- and sold, profits making their way into the pockets of Repness and his team.



She found records of her own scores as a pilot trainee, plus those of a dozen other pilots Repness had subverted or tried to subvert this way. Some, like Wraith Squadron's Tyria Sarkin, had refused to steal for him... but had been blackmailed into keeping silent. Others had joined his team. The records didn't indicate whether they had been willing or reluctant. Still oth-ers, pilot trainees Lara knew, were going through the ensnaring process even now.
There was no sign that Repness had any allies in the Intel-
ligence division of the armed forces, or in the Inspector-General's
office. She wrote a letter to both General Cracken of Intelli-
gence and to the latter military division. It read,
i am the unseen, the unknowable, the unstoppable.
no computer can stand before me. gates open for
me. back doors are revealed to me. knowledge willingly
spools itself out for my inspection. i am the jedi of the
electronic world.
i have found evil aboard tedevium. i have found cor-ruption. like the jedi, i shall cut it down.
examine these files. test them for integrity. you will
find they are the truth.
go where these files lead you.
do what you must do, as i do what i must do.
signed, white lancer
She went back in and inserted some random misspellings and some painful grammatical errors. When it was done, it was, she decided, a note typical of code-slicers who performed anony-mous sabotage on computer systems. The true extent of her computer skills were not known on Tedevium, and those of many other crewmen and pilot candidates were; many of them would be suspected of this act, and in order to boost their repu-tations, some would probably allow the investigators to be-lieve that they were, in fact, the secretive White Lancer.
To the letter, she attached Repness's recordings and all the passwords and account names she had so far uncovered.
Then there were the files demonstrating how Repness had ensnared other pilots. She paused over those.
Best to expose all those pilots, she decided. Their careers would be ruined, at tremendous training cost to the New Re-public-that is, the Rebels-and this would help deplete the Empire's enemy of skilled pilots. Besides, if they became pilots, most of them would eventually die in action against Imperial pilots. They were better off having their careers torpedoed. If they knew she'd done it to them, someday they'd thank her for it.
Still her hands paused over the keyboard. As a child, she'd hoped to be a starfighter pilot. When she'd followed her par-ents' career path instead, going into Imperial Intelligence, she'd demonstrated skills necessary to become a pilot and had undergone basic pilot training, which her controllers had de-cided would be a valuable side skill... and there she'd discov-ered a genuine love for flying. But her request for permanent transfer to the pilot corps was denied. Her intelligence-related skills were better and rarer than her pilot's skills, so against her wishes she'd been obliged to stay in Intelligence. Believe us, it~ better this way, her instructors had told her. Someday, you'll thank us for this.
It came before her, the face of pilot candidate Bickey, in her class under Repness. He'd been transferred to the remedial training unit just days after Lara had. If Repness kept true to form, in just a few days, Bickey would be approached on some similar scheme of theft. He was such a young, eager, boyish pi-lot, anxious to demonstrate his skill and bravery. He had once said he'd prefer to die young, in battle against his enemies, than old and content on a farm somewhere. No, he'd never thank her for what she was about to do.
Uneasy, Lara attached her own file of scores to the letter she was sending General Cracken, then systematically destroyed the original and backup files implicating other pilots and pilot candidates now serving. Let them die as they choose, she told herself. Let them die as pilots.
She arranged for the package of letter and files to make its way through secret routes to the offices of General Cracken. It would be at his headquarters office and under the eyes of one of his subordinates by day's end.
Which left her one thing to do today.



She looked at the sweeper in Repness's hand and let an expres-sion of contempt cross her face. "Careful as always, aren't we, Atton?"
The colonel looked around, concealing nervousness, though the classroom was empty of other personnel. "You'll address me as Colonel Repness and show respect."
"I'll address you as Colonel Bantha Sweat and show you whatever I want."
He looked at her, mouth open, but didn't respond immedi-ately. Lara pressed on: "I've decided not to join your team, Repness. I'm not going to steal an A-wing for you. In fact, I'm going to tell your superiors about what you're up to."
He managed to laugh. "That won't do you much good.
There's no proof. And that's the end of your flying career.
You'll never sit in a cockpit again. Think about what the rest of your life will be like."
"I don't care. I can live without flying. I can't live without honor." For a moment, she was troubled as the unwelcome possibility flashed through her mind that the words she'd just spoken had come from her true self, not the role she was play-ing. She suppressed the thought, shoving it aside. "That's the end of your career."
"I don't think so. When they look over your psychological profile-a new one I'll be working up over the next few days- and see what a compulsive liar you are, they wouldn't believe you if you told them that hard vacuum is bad for the lungs."
She gave him a mocking smile. "And you think I'll give you those few days to falsify my records?"
"Certainly. You'll be sleeping." His blow was so fast that she saw it only as a blur. His fist struck her high on the cheek. She felt her skin part under the force of the blow.
Everything went white, her vision gone, sudden shock de-priving her of most of her senses. She drifted a moment, aware that she may have overplayed this hand, and dimly felt her back and head hit the floor. It should have hurt, but it didn't.
Her vision cleared a little, momentarily, and all she saw was Repness standing over her, his leg drawn back.
Then his booted foot swung forward to connect with her temple and that was the last she knew.
The X-wings of Wraith Squadron-the eight snubfighters re-maining in the unit-made one pass before the bridge of the Mon Calamari cruiser, waggling S-foils as a show of respect, then curved around smartly and lined up, by pairs, for their ap-proach to the vessel's portside landing bay.
Wedge and his temporary wingman, Face, were first through the magcon field separating pressurized hangar from depressurized space, first to see the reception party that awaited them in the one clear area tucked in among a sea of X-wings and shuttles. Wedge cut in his repulsors and reduced power to his main engines, settling into a slow glide forward, and was pleased to see Face mimicking his maneuver precisely. They settled onto the first pair of landing zones, facing the crowd that had gathered there, and brought their canopies up in unison.
Rogue Squadron stood before them, arrayed as precisely as a firing squad. In front of the line of pilots was General Han Solo, uncomfortable-looking in his New Republic uniform, his expres-sion a cocked smile that had to be from relief at seeing Wedge.