"Michael Stackpole "The Bacta War"" - читать интересную книгу автораthat and face criminal charges."
Corran looked down as he accepted the card back, refus-ing to meet the man's eyes. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir. You have been most kind, sir." "Yes, well, be gone. Next." Corran shuffled on past and into the spaceport's main building. Its long, low shape, with softened edges and decora-tive elements clustered in groups of six suggested to him that the insectoid Vratix had designed and created the rectangular spaceport. The whole structure looked as if it had been worked around and between existing trees, with the roof be-ing open to let some of them grow up through it. While clearly artificial, the two-story building showcased the natu-ral beauty of what had been there before it had been created instead of trying to supplant and surpass the beauty of the native plants. Inside the spaceport itself, Corran rejoined Mirax. Ahead he saw Elscol and Sixtus, off to the left he saw Iella. Their Ashern contact was supposed to meet them in the spaceport building, but no one appeared to be paying any of them any attention. There were backup contingencies in case contact could not be made for some reason, but Corran hoped they didn't have to fall back on them because they involved a lot of waiting and, in an emergency situation, sitting around waiting meant disaster. Seeing that nothing was happening immediately, Corran guided Mirax over to a row of seats set beneath an overhead walkway servicing offices on the second level of the space-port. The seats were also located fairly near a refresher sta-tion of which he wanted to make use. "Watch my stuff for me?" Mirax nodded and sat while Corran piled his satchel and tool belt in the empty door opened and a stormtrooper with a blaster carbine slung at his right hip came walking out. In that armor, how can they . . . ? Cor-ran realized he was staring, then turned away quickly. He realized that looked suspicious as could be, so he leaned down and smiled at Mirax. "What did you say, dear?" The look of fear in Mirax's widening eyes and the reflec-tion of a stormtrooper's helmet eclipsing her brown irises told Corran his attempt to look inconspicuous had failed utterly and completely. He felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder, straightening him up and turning him around. Belly to belly with the stormtrooper, he looked up into the black eye lenses and tried to smile. "Is there something I can do for you?" "I know you. Identification card." Corran's mind reeled. It had to be impossible for the stormtrooper to actually know him, then he realized the man may have been on the Lusankya and might have seen him there. Then again I could just look like someone else. Anxiety began to build in Corran as he handed over his identification card. Think, quick, what to do? He forced him-self to breathe normally. First thing is to avoid panic. The identification is good and solid. It will hold up. The stormtrooper held it up and examined it forward and back. "It seems fine, but you're familiar, and I don't know anyone named Eamon. Come with me so I can check you out." Fighting the urge to panic, Corran flashed on one of the Jedi stories. He settled a simple grin on his face and stared intently into the black recesses of the helmet. "I don't need to go with you." "You don't need to go with me?" Corran's grin grew. Hey, it's working. I'm influencing his mind. "I can go about |
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