"Michael Stackpole "The Bacta War"" - читать интересную книгу автораhere?" He cut between and around tables and gave the taller, slender man a
friendly, back-slapping hug. "Normally you aces fly your A-wings through this system so fast I didn't think you even saw us here." Pash pulled a chair over for Corran, then pointed at one of the quartet of pilots already seated at the table. "Linna caught an unstart in one of her J-77 engines just as we swung through the fringes of Yag'Dhul's atmosphere. We called in an emergency and put into the station here. Zraii said he can fix it up-looks like a micrometeorite chewed up the alluvial compressor." Corran nodded. "That blows the pressure in the reaction chamber, and the engine pops out of synch with its twin. X-wing's damper system prevents that from happening." Linna, a blond woman with a mouth just a bit too wide, snorted. "Sure, if you want to be piloting something that should be in a museum. Speed is what will keep a pilot safe and the A-wing has plenty of speed to burn." Corran looked at Pash. "You let your pilots talk like that?" The red-haired man shrugged. "Children. What can I do?" "You can explain to them that going faster doesn't mean they're flying better." Linna and the other three A-wing pilots regarded Corran as if he and Pash had just taken public loyalty oaths to the Emperor. "If you can't handle the speed, you're not much of a pilot." Corran shook his head. "Pash, you were just hoping I would walk in here, weren't you?" Pash laughed lightly. "Actually I was waiting for Wedge or Tycho, but I figured you'd be up to the challenge. I know you know of times when speed wouldn't have helped at all." "Sure, as if such a time could exist." Linna grabbed a half-full pitcher of Lomin-ale, filled her mug, and topped it with foam. "Speed can't hurt." "Oh, the innocence of youth." Corran took the mug from in front of her and blew off the foam. "Let me tell you about this time we were on a mission and we got jumped by a Lancer-class frigate. If I'd been in an A-wing, well, Rogue Squadron would have a lot more dead on its rosters and Isard would still own Coruscant . . ." Though he knew the news he had would make Ysanne Isard happy-in and of itself a feat worthy of monuments-Fliry Vorru kept any sign of it from his face as he entered her office. He intended to surprise her so he could gauge her dis-position. The weather becoming hotter and the inclusion of daily rainstorms that hit in the early afternoon had combined with the pressure from Ashern strikes to make Isard more than disagreeable. Antilles and his antics had further exacerbated the prob-lem. Their hit-and-run tactics were costing the cartel in both credits and prestige. Each raid cost the cartel one or two TIE fighters, which really amounted to insignificant losses, if someone had access to a TIE fighter production facility. Sienar Fleet Systems had numerous starfighter factories scat-tered throughout the galaxy, but they neglected to put one here, on Thyferra. As a result, the cartel had to trade for replacements with the likes of Supreme Warlord Harssk and High Admiral Teradoc. They gratefully accepted bacta in re-turn for the fighters, but the scorn that came with each deliv-ery could drive Isard into furious tantrums. When Isard turned to look at him and smiled, Fliry Vorru felt something cold and serpentine slither through his abdo-men. "Ah, Minister Vorru, do come in. I was |
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