"Star Wars - Dark Forces 02 - Rebel Agent(1998)(Dietz, William C & Tucker, Ezra)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dietz William)

Dree flipped the final switch, listened to repulsors scream, and pushed the planet away. He harbored no illusions about what would happen next. It was too late to tell the truth, too late to tell Norley how much he cared about her, and too late to take refuge in his father's
business.
The ship came off the ground, spun on its axis, and nosed down the road. Norley was dead, and the Imperials would pay.


Maw spotted the vessel first, roared a challenge, and waved his lightsaber over his head. The ship fired its blaster cannons, carved matching trenches down both sides of the road, and disappeared.
The skimmer bucked as it entered the ship's slipstream, veered off course, and rammed a hand-built stone wall. Maw jumped prior to the impact, Sariss was thrown clear, and Yun bruised a thigh. With the single exception of the helmsman, whom Maw beheaded, casualties were light.


The TIE fighters were waiting at the point where the last vestiges of the planet's atmosphere disappeared and space began. Dree put the ship into a turn, pushed the power plants to max, and entered a carefully prepared trap.
Like all ships of her size, the Vengeance mounted multiple tractorbeam projectors. Though normally reserved for docking and maintenance related purposes, they could be used to immobilize any ship foolish
enough to pass within range. The only problem was the fact that they consumed a great deal of power and required skilled operators. The vengeance lacked neither.
Dree swore as his vessel lost forward momentum. He fought to dampen the runaway power plants, and wished he were home with his family. Sensors beeped, a shuttle approached, and he was powerless to stop it.

Boc, also known as Boc the Crude, was in an excellent mood. And why not? Life was good. He enjoyed tormenting other living creatures and looked forward to the hours ahead.
A green light appeared as the assault shuttle made lock-to-lock contact with the Rebel ship. Boc released his harness, stood, and made his way forward. He wondered what the Commandos were thinking. The Imperials, ninety-nine percent of whom were human, had a strong xenophobic streak and were suspicious of aliens.
His species, the Twi'leks, had twin appendages that protruded from the back of their heads, which explained why bigots referred to them as "worm heads."
Still, the Commanders were his, not the other way around. His to use, abuse, conserve, or spend. He could do anything he wanted with their human bodies, and the thought brought him pleasure as did the opportunity to assert his superiority. "On your feet, scum. There's work to do."
The Jedi led from the front and would have been amazed to know that the Commandos respected, even liked him for it. Not that it mattered, since thcir opinions were of no value whatsoever.
An order went to the Rebels: "Throw down your weapons, open your lock, and surrender. You have sixty seconds to comply."
Sixty seconds passed, and nothing happened. Boc shrugged, motioned toward the hatch, and watched a specially trained team drill a hole through the barrier and shove a nozzle into the newly created opening. The sleep gas made a hissing sound as it entered the Rebel vessel.
Then, with their opponents unconscious, it was a simple matter to force the lock, strap the Rebels to stretchers, and remove them to the shuttle.
The Rebel vessel was left to drift, and the assault shuttle was on final clearance into the Star Destroyer's hangar bay, when the XO authorized a live-fire exercise. Turbolaser Battery Five scored a direct hit. The crew cheered, and the ship ccased to exist.


Rahn opened his eyes and looked up from his position on the deck. Something, he wasn't sure what, looked back. It had two heads - wait a minute - two heads and two bodies. One was two meters tall, and the other a good deal smaller - so small, that it hung off the larger creature's combat harness. Both carried lightsabers, and that suggested Jedi. The smaller one spoke. "Get up."
Rahn's hand went to the place where his lightsaber would hang. Not the first weapon, the one that he had left for Katarn's son, but the second, which had been Yoda's. The smaller creature, who was known as Pic, smiled. "Thanks for the lightsaber . . . Hurry up. Or we'll use it on you."
Rahn struggled to his feet. The sleep gas had aftereffects. His head hurt as did the blaster burn. A hatch opened. The giant had an oversized lightsaber. He used it as a pointer. A grunt took the place of words.
Rahn forced a smile. "A creature of few words. How refreshing."
Pic frowned. "Shut up."
Rahn nodded agreeably and stepped out into the corridor. A squad of Commandos stood behind his companions. They were a bedraggled lot, and Gron was bleeding from a recent cut. The Jedi started to say something but stopped when he was shoved from behind.
It was a long march down gleaming corridors, past the sick bay and weapons control center, and onto the bridge. A utility droid crossed in front of them, and crew people passed in the other direction. None of them had the slightest bit of interest in who the prisoners were or what would happen to them. Rahn had never felt so lonely and isolated. More than that - he'd never encountered a concentration of evil like that which lay ahead.
It felt as though the Force had been turned inside out. The dark, inner core was a seductive place in which power could be had, but at the cost of one's spirit.
And there, like a shadow within a shadow, waited the one called Jerec. A man once, but less than that now - or so it seemed to Rahn. The Force churned as the Dark Jedi schemed, hated, wanted, and plotted.
But the good side of the Force was present as well, and Rahn drew on its power, wrapped himself in a cloak of white, and smiled as the darkness retreated before him.
Duno Dree, Nij Por Ral, and Rolanda Gron followed behind, their features downcast, unaware that a battle had begun.
Jerec waited as he had chosen to wait, with his back to the
command pit and his nonexistent eyes on the stars beyond. It was a trick, but an effective one. At least half the crew believed he could see, in spite of the fact that both of his eyes were clearly missing. The manipulation amused the Dark Jedi and fed his gigantic ego.
There was a considerable amount of shouting and stomping as a noncom led the prisoners onto the bridge and rattled off some military nonsense. Regardless of what his position seemed to imply, Jerec had never spent so much as a day in the military. He saw their rituals as boring.
The Jedi waited for the commotion to cease and waited some more. He wanted to turn, wanted to rip the knowledge from their brains, but refused to submit to such weakness. No, it required discipline to control his spirit, as well as those belonging to his subordinates, subordinates who had more power than they knew, or were likely to know, since jealousy, envy, and a nearly universal lust for power kept them apart. That's why he never showed any signs of weakness, never revealed what he really wanted, even when others thought they knew.
Finally, when the self-imposed penance had been paid, Jerec turned. Captain Sysco was waiting. "The prisoners are ready for interrogation, sir."
Jerec nodded. He felt Rahn the way hands feel a fire, as a presence that can warm flesh or burn it beyond all recognition. Even here, even now, the man was dangerous. Fear trickled through Jerec's veins and made him angry. Others were supposed to react this way, especially when he arrived. But him? Never!
Rahn watched the other Jedi's approach. Sadness filled his heart. Here was a spirit so malignant that it rivaled Emperor Palpatine's. If allowed to achieve its goals, it would plunge the civilized worlds into a darkness so complete that a thousand years would pass before the light managed to dawn. The Jedi's head continued to hurt, and his shoulder felt hot. He pushed both sensations aside and waited for the assault.
Six additional Jedi, including Yun, Sariss, Maw, Boc, Gore, and Pic, emerged from the shadows and added their power to the growing sense of menace. Duno Dree, Nij Por Ral, and Rolanda Gron stirred uneasily.
Jerec, careful to count his steps, stopped five meters short of his subjects and regarded them through long-dead eyes. "Rahn - we meet at last. And who might these sad specimens be? Servants, perhaps?"
"I speak for myself," the Klatooinian technologist growled. "My name is Rolanda Gron, and you will learn nothing from me."
Jerec seemed to consider the technologist's words. He nodded in agreement. "It shall be as you say. Kill him."
Rahn lurched toward Jerec, but hands held him fast. The odd pair known as "the twins" shambled forward. Gorc walked and Pic rode. The Klatooinian tried to back away as the pair approached, but guards held him in place. Gore activated his clubsized lightsaber and seemed ready to strike when Pic jumped for the technologist's chest. He landed, hissed, and drove a dagger into the scientist's throat.
The Klatooinian looked surprised, felt blood gush through his fingers, and toppled over backward. Pic rode the body down, retrieved his knife, and wiped it on his victim's clothes. His three-toed feet left tracks through the blood. He jumped onto one of Gores tree-trunk-sized legs and scrambled upward.
"So," Jerec said reasonably, "now that the stakes are clear, please answer my questions. I have reason to believe that you know about the Valley of the Jedi, that you may have been there. Where is it? Provide the coordinates for the planet, or the location where the coordinates can be found, and die a merciful death. Deny my request, and the suffering will last a long time. The choice is yours."