"Darksaber (Kevin Anderson)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

Indigenous creatures took shelter in whatever shadow they could find until the
firestorm of afternoon trickled away into the cooler dusk.

The banthas moved with no noise other than the muffled crunching of their
footsteps in the sand. Swathed in strips of cloth, the Tusken Raiders astride
the shaggy beasts looked from side to side, keeping watch.

Wrapped entirely in bandages, yet still uneasy about the disguise, Han
Solo looked out through narrow metal tubes designed to shield the eyes from
blowing grit. His mouth was covered with a corroded metal filter for the sand;
the filter contained a small internal moisturizer to make Tatooine's fiery air
more breathable. The other Sand People had tiny ventilators studded around
their desert coverings. Only their strongest survived to adulthood, and they
prided themselves on it.

Han rode on his bantha, hoping to remain inconspicuous in the middle of
the procession. The hairy beast swayed as it walked, and Han tried not to
clutch its scalloped, curving horns more often than the other Tusken Raiders
did. The bantha's sharp back ridges were covered with matted fur, and the
disconcertingly thin saddle made the ride excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Han swallowed, taking another sip of his precious water and biting back a
complaint. This had, after all, been his own crazy suggestion. He just hadn't
expected Luke Skywalker would be so eager to agree, and now Han was stuck. The
mission was vital to the New Republic, and he had to follow through.

With a muttered command, the lead Raider urged his bantha to greater
speed. The procession trudged through fine sand, winding along the crest of a
shifting dune that stood like a towering sentinel in the arid ocean. Han did
not grasp the dune's great size until they had ascended for the better part of
an hour without reaching the top.

The suns grew even hotter, if that were possible. The banthas coughed and
snorted, but the Sand People were focused on a mission.

Han swallowed, trying to ease his parched throat. Finally, he could
remain silent no longer and whispered into the short-range transmitter
implanted in his breathmask. "Luke, what's goin' on?" he said. "I've got a bad
feeling about whatever they're up to."

It took Luke Skywalker a moment to respond. Han watched the thin rider
two banthas ahead of him sit up straighter; Luke seemed far more comfortable
in his disguise than Han felt. Of course, Luke had grown up on Tatooine-but
the young man's voice now sounded bone weary as it came over the voice pickup
in Han's ear.

"Nothing to do with us, Han," he said. "A few of the Sand People have
vague suspicions, but they haven't centered on us yet. I'm using the Force to
distract anyone who pays too much attention. No, this is something different
entirely. A great tragedy... you'll see." Luke heaved a long breath through