"Ann Crispin "Han Solo. The Hutt Gambit"" - читать интересную книгу автора

At the moment the cards in Han's hand had a numerical value of positive four. The Queen of Air and Darkness had a value of minus two. Han could throw that card into the interference field, which would "freeze" its value, then hope to get the Idiot and a card with the face value of three. Since the Idiot had a value of zero, this would give him an "Idiot's Array," which would beat even a pure sabacc . . . that is, cards whose value added up to either positive or negative twenty-three.
As Han hesitated, gazing at his Queen, the card-chips rippled and altered. His Queen was now the Master of sabers. The six of sabers had become the eight of flasks. His total was . . . positive twenty-two. He waited while the other players examined their card-chips. The Barabel, the female Devaronian, and the dealer threw in their hands disgustedly-they'd "bombed out" by exceeding twenty-three.
The Sullustan raised the bet, which Han matched and raised. "I call," the little alien said, laying down his card-chips with a flourish. "Twenty," he announced.
Han grinned and put down his own. "Twenty-two," he announced casually, laying down his own hand. "Afraid that hand pot's mine, pal."
The other players grumbled a bit as he scooped up their money. The Barabel female hissed and gave him a look that could have melted titanium, but said nothing.
The Sullustan took the next hand, and the Devaronian dealer the one that followed. Hah eyed the growing sabacc pot, and decided to try to go for the bigger payoff.
They continued to play for several more hands. Han won the hand pot again, but nobody had gotten the sabacc pot. Han tossed the three of coins and the Idiot into the inter-ference field, and his luck held the very next change of cards left him holding the two of flasks.
"Idiot's Array . . ." Han said casually, tossing the two down next to the other two cards in the interference field. "The sabacc pot is mine, ladies and gentlemen . . ."
He bent forward to scoop up the pot, and the Barabel female let out a roar. "Cheater! He's got a skifter, he must have! No one can be so lucky!"
Hah sat back and stared at her, outraged. He had cheated at sabacc plenty of times, using skifters-cards that would assume different values when their edges were tapped and in other ways. But this time he'd won fair and square!
"You can take your accusations and stick Сem in your ear!" the Corellian burst out indignantly. Of course the Barabel didn't have any visible ears, but his meaning wasn't lost on her. Dropping his right hand down to his thigh, he silently unsnapped the strap on the top of his holster. Shak-ing his head vehemently, he added, "I wasn't cheating! You were just outplayed, sister!"
Left-handed, Han reached across the table, grabbed a fistful of credits, and stuffed them into his pocket. Nobody moved or spoke, so he reached for the remaining handful. In a blur of reddish fur, the Devaronian female's hand shot out, grabbed his wrist, and pinned it to the table. "Maybe Shallamar is right," she said, in strongly accented Basic. "We should search him to make sure."
Han glared at her. "Take your hands off me," he said very quietly. "Or I'll make you really sorry."
Something in his eyes and voice must have impressed her, because she let go of him and stepped back.
"Coward!" Shallamar snarled at the Devaronian. "He's just a puny human!"
The Devaronian shook her head and backed away, indi-cating that she wanted no further part in the conflict.
Han smiled smugly as he reached for the last of the card-chips. Seeing that smile, the Barabel roared again. One armored, sharp-taloned hand came sweeping down in a mighty blow that smashed the table in two, sending board, credits, and card-chips flying. Shading, she ad-vanced on Han. "No! I'm going to bite your head off, cheater! We'll see how good you are then !"
Han took one look at her gaping maw, realizing that she was big enough to make good on her threat, and went for his blaster. His right hand dropped to his thigh with blur-ring speed, then the well-worn grip was there, nestled against his palm.
His hand, still moving with extraordinary speed, started back up as he began his draw-
----only to stop short when the blaster hung up in the holster!
Han had barely a second to realize that the blaster's front sight, mounted on the end of the barrel, was caught at the bottom of his holster. He tugged, trying to free his weapon.
The Barabel leaped for him. Han jumped back, but not
far enough. Shallamar's huge, sharp talons grabbed the
front of his jacket, slashing the tough material as though it
were tissue. Still yanking at his trapped blaster, Han was
hauled toward the Barabel's wide-open mouth so fast his
vision blurred. He let out a choked gasp as a blast of hot,
reeking reptiloid breath engulfed him.
Suddenly Han glimpsed a blur of brownish tan at the comer of his vision, just as a huge roar nearly deafened him. A long, furred arm snaked around Shallamar's neck, jerking her back, away from Han.
"Chewie!" Hah yelled. He'd never been so glad to see someone in his life.
The Barabel roared hack at the Wookiee, dropping the Corellian as she swung around to grapple with her attacker.
"Hold her for a second, Chewie!" Han yelled, yanking at the bottom of his holster as he twisted the grip of his blaster. At last! He pulled it up and sighted at the Barabel as she wrestled with the Wookiee, but he couldn't get a dear shot.
The two huge beings, snarling and hissing, rampaged across the room, knocking over tables and chairs. The other sabacc players and denizens of the bar scattered before the fray, screaming advice and curses in multiple languages. The Sullustan sabacc player dropped his hand to his own blaster, but when he saw that Han was now armed, he turned and flung himself behind the bar.
Shallamar and Chewbacca swayed back and forth, locked in a grim parody of a loving embrace, each testing the other's strength, trying to get each other off balance. "Chewie, c'mon!" Hah yelled. "Let's get outta here!"
Chewbacca and Shallamar whirled in a blur of brown fur and black scales, then Shallamar lowered her head and snapped at the Wookiee's arm. Her needle-sharp teeth sheared off a chunk of fur and meat. The Wookiee roared in agony and, with a burst of strength, grabbed the Barabel's arm and slung her around with dizzying speed, so fast that her feet slid out from under her. As she went down, Chewie Сalso grabbed her tail, swinging her so hard she was airborne.
With a final howl of triumph, CheWbac~a released his grip and sent the huge reptiloid flying across the room, while sentients scattered to avoid her trajectory. Shallamar landed on her back amid a ruin of chairs, tables, and sabacc card-chips.
Stun won't work, don't want to kiU-a jumble of thoughts raced through Han's mind as he thumbed the setting on the blaster, aimed, and fired at the dazed Shal-lamar, hitting her at half force just below one huge knee joint. She hissed in pain and sagged back, black scales smoking and steaming.
"Chewie, c'mon!" Han yelled, snapping off a stun shot at the sabacc dealer, who was aiming a blaster at the Wookiee. The Devaronian went down without a sound. Chewie, drip-ping blood, was right behind Han as they raced for the exit, knocking over chairs and tables.
The tavem's owner, a Devaronian female, blocked his way, screaming curses and threats, but Hah slapped her aside with the barrel of his blaster and kept running. He slammed the door with his shoulder, then bounced off. Locked!
Swearing in six nonhuman languages, Hall thumbed the indicator on his weapon up to its highest power, and blasted the door. The proprietor howled in protest, but tile Corellian and the Wookiee were already gone.
Hah and Chewbacca pelted down the squalid alley, then swung out onto the street with its rustic-looking buildings made of blue native wood and stuccoed permacrete. A chilly breeze made the Corellian shiver. It was early spring here on Devaron's souill polar continent.
Hah quickly holstered his blaster as he dropped his pace to a fast walk. "How's the arm, pal?"
Chewie groaned, ending in a shad. Han glanced down at the damage. "Well, it was your choice to come back," he pointed out. "Not that I'm sorry you did, mind you. I . . . I want to say . . . uh . . . thanks for saving my rear."
The Wookiee made an interrogatory sound. Han shrugged. "Well, sure, I guess . . ." he mumbled. "I've never had a partner before, but . . . yeah, why not? It can get kinda boring on long space flights without someone to talk to, I guess."
Chewie rumbled with satisfaction, despite his pain. "Don't push your luck," Han said dryly. "Listen, we got to get that arm seen to. There's a med droid's clinic across the street. Let's go."
An hour later the two were back on the street. Chewie's arm, after a bacta treatment, was sheathed in a protective bandage, but the med droid had assured them that Wookiees were quick healers.
The Wookiee had just finished commenting that he was hungry, when Hah heard a soft call from the shelter of a nearby doorway. "Pilot Solo . . ."
Han stopped in his tracks and looked over to find a Duros male beckoning to him. He glanced from side to side, but the Devaronian street scene was quiet and peace-ful. This section near the town square was reserved for pedestrian traffic. "Yeah?" he replied, in a low voice.
The blue-skinned Duros motioned for Han to follow him into a nearby alley. The Corellian walked to the mouth, turned the corner, then stood with his back against the wall, hand on the grip of his blaster. "Okay, this is as far as I go without knowing what you want."
The Duro's mournful expression lengthened even far-ther. "You are not a trusting sentient, Pilot Solo. I was referred to you by a mutual friend, Truthful Tory[ He said you are an excellent pilot."