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

make some political deal?"
"Alas, Iella, that is the reality of the situation."
Iella sharpened her laugh and her expression. "You're assuming, of course, that
I don't have my own brand of jus-tice in mind. I wanted Isard because she killed
my husband. If I can't have her, you'll do." She raised her carbine and pointed
it at his head. "One shot and a lot of crime files are closed."
Vorru brought his hands together and applauded her. "Nice bluff, but I've read
the Imperial and Corellian files on you, my dear. You could never shoot me."
"True." Iella lowered her blaster. "But she can."
Elscol's single shot caught Vorru in the throat. It pitched him against the
doorjamb, from which he rebounded and fell on top of his blaster.
"Nice shooting."
Elscol looked down at her blaster. "I don't remember setting this weapon on
stun."
Iella smiled. "I do, when I stopped you from shooting him the first time."
Elscol frowned. "Why only stun him? Why the cha-rade?"
"Vorru always likes being in control. He was expecting you to burn him down-it
would have been his victory be-cause you would have killed a man who had
surrendered, and that would make you as much of a murderer as he is. Once he
realized I was out here, he decided to play another game. He was in control
until the last second, when I let you shoot him."
The other woman nodded, then snapped her carbine's selector lever off stun.
"What he said, though, about paying for his crimes is probably true. The New
Republic will make a deal with him."
"Sure, if they get a chance." Elscol smiled. "The Rogues pulled him off Kessel.
We can always dump him back there. No deals, only justice."
Elscol laughed aloud. "You know, you keep this up and you might convince me
there's more to do with unrecon-structed Imperials than kill them."
"Let's work on it, Elscol, but only after Thyferra is free."
39
Captain Sair Yonka picked himself up off the Freedom's bridge deck and staggered
to his feet. He swiped a hand at his forehead-it came away bloody so he tore a
strip of cloth from the tail of his tunic and jammed it against the wound.
Antilles, you paid me a lot, but it wasn't enough.
"Someone give me a report on what's going on out there. Lieutenant Carsa?"
"Carsa's dead, sir. His monitor blew up in his face."
"Are we blind then, Ensign . . . ?"
"Issen, sir. No, sir, not blind. The Lusankya has been hit again by torps and
missiles, but it's beginning to shoot at the freighters. We're being left
alone."
"Then it's not all bad news." Yonka leaned against a bulkhead. "Helm, can we
maneuver?"
A pained voice called to him from the depths of the bridge. "We've lost fifty
percent of our maneuverability, Cap-tain. We can roll, but speed and turns are
going to be tough. I can muster enough to get us out of here, though, sir."
"Weapons, what's our status?"
"We've still got most of our port weapons, sir, but star-board weaponry is shot.
No realistic judgment about re-pairs."
"What's the status of our shields?"
A bald man punched a button on a console, then clapped his hands. "Shields are