"Michael Stackpole "The Bacta War"" - читать интересную книгу автора

years his junior. Yonka had known Aellyn Jandi years before on Commenor. They
had grown up together and had slowly begun to realize their attraction to each
other when he won an appointment to the Imperial Na-val Academy. He lost track
of her until, much later, he had come down to pay his respects to the Moff after
rooting out a band of pirates that infested the system's asteroid belt. Once he
and Aellyn laid eyes on each other, their feelings were rekindled and, for the
past five years, they'd carried on a secret affair.
Kina Margath, owner of the hotel in which Yonka was staying, had befriended
Aellyn Jandi and agreed to help her conceal her affair from the Moff. Rumors
were spread that Yonka came to Margath's to romance Kina. Aellyn used her
influence with the Moff to get favorable treatment for Kina's casino and hotel
operations, and Yonka always managed to haul a goodly supply of exotic liqueurs
and beverages from the worlds he patrolled to Elshandruu Pica, enabling the 27th
Hour Club to meet its boast of being able to supply any drink a patron could
name.
Yonka turned away from the railing and, looking back through transparisteel
viewports, watched the droid brush specks of lint from the two suits he had been
shown. A choice based on my mood is not the way to go. I should dress to make an
impression. Aellyn will like either suit, but I won't be wearing clothes very
long in her presence, so her tastes do not matter. He slowly smiled. What others
think is impor-tant. Her husband, for example, what would he like to see me
wearing?
"Poe."
The droid turned to face him. "Sir?"
"Please arrange for the repulsor limo to be ready in an hour. It will take that
long for me to refresh myself and dress."
The droid nodded as best he could. "You have made a decision on what to wear,
sir?"
Yonka laughed and strode back into the suite. "Poe, I have indeed. This affair
is not without danger-the wrath of
a Moff is not often survivable." He stroked his goatee with his right hand. "If
one is going to dress for death, can blood-red ever be a wrong choice?"
Because of his position half a kilometer due east of the plane-tary Moffs
oceanside cottage, Corran saw the repulsor-lift limousine approaching first. The
driver had it speeding along, which would have made it a difficult target for a
blaster rifle shot, but he wasn't sideslipping or changing height to make such a
shot impossible. No fear of ambush, which is good.
Corran turned on the comlink clipped to his helmet and tapped it twice with a
gloved finger. A single click came back, confirming Wedge's reception of
Corran's warning about the limo's approach. Corran watched for any more vehicles
fol-lowing. Their briefing suggested Yonka wouldn't be bringing his own security
detail, and that the Moffs wife regularly eluded hers; but the chance that her
husband had others watching her or Yonka had to be covered.
He waited for one minute, then slowly started working his way back to the
rendezvous point. Like the other Rogues on the mission-save Ooryl and the other
Gand accompany-ing them-he wore some of the stormtrooper armor they'd gotten
from Huff Darklighter. The dark blue color Dark-lighter had stained it so it
matched his personal security force's uniforms blended perfectly into the night.
He carried a blaster carbine, wore a blaster pistol on his right hip, and had
spare power packs for both on his belt. He clipped his light-saber to the back