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

"Great. Thanks." He released Mirax and gave Iella a hug. "Yet one more time
you've had to watch me bobbing in bacta."
Iella smiled. "As long as you keep coming out whole, hale, and hearty, I don't
mind."
"Thanks." Corran let her go, then nodded to Elscol and Sixtus. "Sorry to have
inconvenienced you."
The big man just shrugged. Elscol's eyes narrowed. "The crossfire was a bit more
inconvenient than this. We've gotten some work done while we've been waiting."
"And good work it has been." A tall, slender man came through the archway and
gave Corran a once-over. "I'm glad to see you healed. You were in a bad state
when I first saw you."
Corran hesitated. While he'd floated in the bacta he'd mulled over the identity
of the man he'd seen standing above him in the spaceport. He'd looked like Bror
Jace, but Corran knew that was impossible because Bror Jace had been killed by
the Empire. Corran had decided that the man he'd seen was someone affiliated
with the Zaltin corporation, as Jace had been, and perhaps was even closely
related to Jace. That solution made perfect sense to him and seemed to satisfy
all the facts in his possession.
But there's no mistaking that tone of voice. Corran's jaw hung open. "You are
Bror Jace."
"Indeed I am." Jace bowed his head, then graciously waved Corran toward one of
the day beds. "You'd like an explanation on why I'm not dead?"
Corran sniffed. "I've been reported dead myself. Those things happen."
Mirax slapped him playfully on the belly. "You're dying to know what happened to
him, just like the rest of us."
"Well, if the rest of you want to indulge him, then I think the only polite
thing for me to do is listen." Corran sat and
adjusted the towel to preserve his modesty. "Go ahead, Bror, knock us out with
the story."
Jace, whose blond hair picked up green highlights from the bacta tank, smiled
easily. "I hardly think the tale engross-ing enough for you to endure a second
telling of it, so I beg your forbearance."
Corran glanced at Mirax. "You've heard this before."
"Yes, and I'd rather have him tell you instead of having you get it out of me
later."
Corran winced. "Right. Okay, Bror, do it."
The Thyferran began to pace, clasping his hands behind his back. The short pants
he wore and the thin shirt rustled with his movements-and Corran found the whole
ensemble a little hard to reconcile with the pilot he'd known and com-peted with
in his early days with Rogue Squadron. The pac-ing is right, as is the imperious
tilt of the chin, but the clothes are what kids wear.
"I joined Rogue Squadron for a number of reasons, not the least of which was to
maintain parity between Zaltin and Xucphra. This was important because Xucphra
had Imperial-istic leanings. They'd been the first of our two companies to be
given an Imperial license to be an exclusive producer of bacta, establishing the
cartel. Zaltin had been brought in by the Empire to serve as competition for
Xucphra-Zaltin had no real desire to become part of the cartel, but the choice
we were given was to join or be put out of business. In effect this was no
choice, so we did what we had to do to survive."
Corran raised an eyebrow. That was as close as he'd ever heard any human from