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

Coruscant.
He rubbed his eyes, then opened them again. Emtrey was still there. "What's
going on here? Did General Cracken send you to keep an eye on us?"
"Since I do not have eyes per se, sir, I would have to say no." The droid's head
canted to the right. "I do not recall any orders being given to me by my former
owner."
"Former owner?" Wedge realized he was becoming more awake all the time, but
nothing seemed to be getting much clearer to him, and that caused him some
concern. Someone has to be having fun with this. "Get Tycho for me."
Tycho cleared his voice and Wedge turned to see him leaning against the doorjamb
of the bedroom. "Thought you'd like to wake up to a familiar face, since you're
in unfa-miliar surroundings."
"Right." Wedge narrowed his eyes. "As I recall, I've not gotten you back for the
other trick you pulled-that post-mortem message from Corran at Borleias. You
better watch your step."
"Or what? You think you can cause me more trouble than a treason trial and a
stay in an Imperial prison?" Tycho thrust his chin out defiantly, but softened
the gesture with a smile. "You're welcome to try any time you want, Antilles."
Wedge shook his head. "One hopeless battle at a time. Got any caf out there?"
Tycho nodded. "Brewed hot and strong enough to dis-solve transparisteel."
"Great." Wedge rolled out of bed and slipped into the thick robe Emtrey held out
for him. Knotting the belt around his middle, he followed Tycho into the small
parlor attached to his bedroom. The furnishings were a mixture of styles and
colors, but all of them were fashioned from hollow metal tubes and light but
strong cloth. Less mass means less cost in transport and energy to maintain the
gravity generation for the station.
Wedge dropped into a chair across a low table from Tycho and wrapped both hands
around the barrel of a steam-ing mug of caf. The steam caressed his face and
could have been melting his eyebrows for all he cared because the caf tasted
wonderful. He felt the warmth spread out from his belly and a layer of fog in
his brain began to dissipate.
"So, Tycho, how is Emtrey here?"
Tycho's smile broadened considerably. "Politics."
Wedge sipped more caf. "Okay, give me the exploded view because I'm not seeing
it."
"It gets weird, but I'm not complaining." Tycho leaned forward. "Before his
capture at Yavin 4, Jan Dodonna de-signed the A-wing fighter. The Alliance got
it into production and introduced the A-wing late on in the Rebellion. Most of
them were made in locations that weren't so much factories as they were private
shops. They all worked from the same design, but were constructed on an
individual basis. The one I flew at Endor, for example, had Fijisi wood panels
in it-I'm guessing it was built on Cardooine."
"I recall how reinforcements of those ships used to drib-ble in."
"Right, well Incom and Koensayer are afraid their X-wing and Y-wing fighter
designs are going to be supplanted
by the A-wing and B-wing designs, so they've been trying to get the Provisional
Council and the Armed Forces to open bidding on new contracts. Incom thinks it
has an edge on winning a contract for new X-wings, when all of us up and resign.
Koensayer starts the rumor that part of our disaffec-tion is because we don't
trust the X-wing anymore.