"Ann Crispin "Han Solo. Rebel Dawn"" - читать интересную книгу автора

Han tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Lando is an expert at this, he thought. He could have put that card cb'swn in just that manner, knowing I'd see its telltale color, and guess that he's holding the Idiot. But why? To bluff me? Scare me into folding? Or am I imagining things?
Han looked back up at his opponent. Lando was holding two cards in his hand now. The professional gambler smiled at his friend, then, quickly punching a notation onto a data-card, he pushed it and his few re-maining credit-chips toward Han. "My marker," he said, in his smoothest, most mellow tones. "Good for any ship on my lot. Your choice of my stock."
The Bith turned to Han. "Is that acceptable to you, Solo?"
Hans mouth was so dry he didn't dare speak, but he nodded.
The Bith turned back to СLando. "Your marker is good." Lando was holding two cards plus the Idiot, which was safely in the interference field. Hah fought the im-pulse to wipe his hand across his eyes. Could Lando see him sweating? Have to stay calm, think, Han ordered himself. Does he have the Idiot's Array... or... is he bluffing?
There was only one way to find out.
Hold, hold, he ordered his hand, and slowly, deliber-ately, he pushed forward his last stack of chips. "I call," he said. His voice emerged as a strained croak.
Lando stared at him across the table for an endless second, then the gambler smiled slightly. "Very well." Slowly, he reached over and turned up the card in the Interference field.
The Idiot stared up at Hah.
Moving deliberately, Lando took his next card-chip, and laid it down beside the Idiot, face up. The Two of Staves.
Han couldn't breathe. I'm dead... I've lost ever'sj-thing ....
Lando turned over the last of his cards.
The Seven of Flasks.
Han stared unbelievingly at the losing hand, then, slowly, he raised his eyes to regard his friend. Lando smiled wryly and shrugged. "Gotta hand it to you, buddy," the gambler said. "I thought I could bluff you."
Lando was bluffing! The Corellian's head whirled as it sank in. I won! I can't believe it, but I won!
Slowly, deliberately, he laid down his card-chips.
"Pure sabacc," he said. "The sabacc pot is mine, too."
The Bith nodded. "Captain Solo is our tournament winner, gentlebeings," he said, speaking into the tiny amplifier attached to his collar. "Congratulations, Cap-tain Solo!"
Dizzily, Han nodded at the Bith, then he noticed that Lando was leaning across the table, his hand out. Excit-edly, Han reached over and wrung his friend's hand. "I can't believe it," he said. "What a game!"
"You're a better player than I ever gave you credit for being, old man," Lando said genially. Han wondered how Lando could be so composed when he'd just lost so much, then he reflected that the gambler had probably won and lost fortunes before.
Han picked up the data-card that was Lando's marker, and studied it. "So, what ship are you going to claim?" Lando asked. "I've got an Сalmost new YT-2400 Corelli-systems light stock freighter that would be your best bet. Wait'11 you-" "I'm taking the Falcon," Han said, in a rush.
Lando's eyebrows went up. "-The Millennium Fal-con?" he said, obviously dismayed. "Oh, no. Han, that's my own personal vessel. That was never pa's of the deal."
"You said any ship on your lot," Han reminded him, levelly. Their eyes locked. "You said any of your stock. The Falcon's sitting on your lot. I claim her."
"But-" Lando's mouth tightened, and his eyes flashed.
"Yeah, buddy?" Han said, letting an edge creep into his voice. "You gonna honor this marker, or what?"
Slowly, deliberately, Lando nodded. "Nobody can say I don't honor my markers." He drew a long breath, then let it out in an angry hiss. "All right then ....the Falcon's yours."
Han grinned, then threw both arms up into the air and whirled around in an impromptu dance, giddy with joy. Wait'll I tell Chewie! The Millennium Falcon is mine! At last! A ship of our own!

Bria Tharen stood alone in the deserted holo-lounge, watching Han Solo as he rejoiced in his victory, wish-ing she could be there to hug him, kiss him, celebrate with him. This is wonderful/she thought exultantly. Oh, Han, you deserved w win/You played like a champion!
She wondered what the dark-skinned gambler had given the Corellian as a marker. Something valuable, obviously. Han was clutching the data-card as though it were the key to the most wonderful treasure in the universe.
It was late on the night of the fourth day, and the Corellian Commander's meetings with the Duros, the Sullustan and the Alderaanians would be concluded to-morrow morning. They'd made progress in reaching some agreements, and all of them had learned a great deal about each other's culture, but nothing major had been decided. None of the three other Rebel groups had been willing to commit to Corellia's proposed Rebel alliance.
Bria sighed. She'd done her best, but it was obvious that there was still a long way to go. She supposed she shouldn't blame the other groups for their caution, but she couldn't help it. The situation with the Empire was only going to get worse, and the others were blind if they couldn't see that for themselves.
Heating the sound of footsteps, Bria turned, to find the Alderaanian girl, Winter, coming toward her. She was a lovely young woman with her crystal-colored hair and pale green eyes. Her simple, modestly cut green dress revealed a slender, regal figure. She was tall, though not as tall as Bria.
The Corellian Commander nodded, and the two of them watched the action from the tournament ball-room for a few minutes. Han was in the midst of other players now, mingling, being congratulated. Food and drink were circulating, and tournament officials, deal-ers, and hotel staff were now part of the crowd. A party atmosphere reigned.
"It looks like they're having more fun than we are in our meetings," Bria said dryly. "I envy them. Not a care in the world."
"Oh, I'm sure they have cares," Winter said. "But at the moment they've thrown them aside so they can exist only in the present."
Bria nodded. "Quite the philosopher, aren't you?"
The girl laughed a little, a musical, pleasant laugh. "Oh, we Alderaanians have a long tradition of debating philosophy, ethics, and morality. There are cafes in Aidera where citizens sit and argue philosophy Сall day long. It's a planetary tradition."
Bria chuckled a little. "Corellians have more of a reputation for being hot-headed doers, who get things accomplished, but love taking risks."
"Perhaps our two worlds need each other as a bal-ance," Winter observed.
Bria gave her a thoughtful glance. "Winter, would you like to go over to the bar and get a cup of vine-coffeine?"
"I'd like that," the girl said, nodding. Her crystalline hair rippled over her shoulders with each movement. Bria had hearkl that adult Alderaanians didn't cut their hair. Winter's cascaded down her back like a glacier.
When they were comfortably seated, with cups of the steaming, fragrant brew before them, Bria dis-creetly pressed a button on her golden bracelet, and aimed the cornsca jewels that studded it outward into the room, then she turned her wrist upward, all the while studying the jewels. When no light flashed amidst them, she relaxed. No spy devices. Not that I expected any, but better to be safe than sorry ....
"So, Winter, tell me about yourself," Bria said. "How did you happen to come on this mission?"
"The Viceroy has been like a father to me," the girl said, quietly. "He raised me with his own daughter, Leia. I've been the princess's companion ever since we were little children." She smiled faintly, and Bria was struck once again by how poised, how mature, she was for her age. "There have been times when I've actually been mistaken for the princess. But I'm glad I'm not royal. It's hard being in the public eye all the time, the way the Viceroy and Leia are. Constant pressures, be-ing hounded by the press... your life isn't your own."
Bria nodded. "I suspect it's worse than being a vid-star, being royalty." She took a sip of her vine-coffeine. "So Bail Organa raised you... and yet he allowed you to come on this mission, knowing there could be dan-ger, if we were discovered?" Bria raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised. You seem a little young to have to en-dure such risks."
Winter smiled. "I'm a year and a few months older than the princess. I just turned seventeen. That's the age of responsibility on Alderaan."
"Same as CoreIlia," Bria said. "Too young. When I was seventeen, I didn't have a bit of sense." She grinned ruefully. "That's so long ago... it Seems like a million years, instead of nine."
"You seem older than that," Winter observed, "even if you don't look it. Twenty-six and a Commander? You must have started young." She stirred traladon milk into her vine-coffeine.
"I did," Bria agreed, lightly. "And if I seem older than my age, well... a year as a slave on Ylesia will do that to a girl. Those spice factories take a lot out of you." "You were a slave?" Winter seemed surprised.