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

The ship, unable to hold its position for more than a few seconds, had fallen two or three stories and was in the process of rising again. Kyle lowered himself downward, eyed the window, and made the sideways leap.
The maneuver was more difficult than he'd thought it would be. His arms hit the windowsill, his legs kicked the wall, and the ship hovered meters away. It was so close that he might have been able to see the crew's faces had he turned to look. What were they doing? Waiting for him to fall?
The droid, well aware of its circumstances, wailed as it roared by. The crash came five seconds later.
The vessel was so huge, so overpowering, that it took every bit of Kyle's courage to throw a leg over the sill, ignore the cuts he had suffered, and pull himself into the recently devastated apartment. The ship addressed him via the loudspeakers. He waved in hopes that they would continue to hold their fire. Debris lay everywhere, holes had been punched through walls, and a fire burned in one corner of the room.
There was nothing graceful about the way he tumbled through the window, scrabbled toward the still-open door, and threw himself through it. He was barely through when the ship fired. The recently vacated apartment seemed to explode.
Kyle made it to his feet, sprinted down the hall, and heard the ship continue to fire. Windows shattered, walls vanished, and kitchens exploded as the Imperials probed the inside of the building. How many had died? The Imperials neither knew nor cared.
The corridor came to an end; the agent slipped into a fire escape and made his way downward. The attack and the noise that accompanied it gradually died away.
It was tempting to take a moment to reflect on what he'd been through, to check whatever wounds he'd sustained, but Kyle knew better than to do so. The Imperials would stop at nothing, and reinforcements were on the way. He took the stairs two at a time.
Kyle considered using the turbolifts after three or four floors but knew they would be dangerous and settled on the stairs, drop tubes, and ladderways instead. And he was not alone. Over time, other beings had been forced into the city's back ways. Now they called them home.
Still, threatening as some of them were, most had no desire to mix it up with the wild-eyed lunatic who came careening out of the dark, blood clotting along one side of his face, clothes hanging in shreds.
They appeared like snapshots, their expressions of fear, hatred, or surprise forever burned into Kyle's memory as they peered out of tunnels, bared their fangs, or jumped out of his way. Gravity and his own inertia pulled him downward.
There wasn't much time to think, to analyze his progress, but certain things were obvious. The city was constructed in layers. By descending into Nar Shaddaa's depths, Kyle was traveling back in time.
The metal beneath his boots took on a different ring as old alloys replaced new.
The ever-present graffiti transitioned from standard to alien hieroglyphics and back again.
Murals spoke through layers of grime, telling stories of a people so wealthy, a culture that held art in such high esteem, that it beautified even the most insignificant of passageways.
Wreckage, including the hull of an ancient spaceship, spoke of hard times, too, when someone or something had been shackled to wellanchored ring bolts and spent days scratching its name into the wall.
The farther Kyle went, the warmer it became - so warm that moisture ran down the walls, rust coated everything in sight, and his clothes hung heavy on his body.
The source of the warmth was no mystery. As Kyle neared the moon's surface, he entered the realm of the city's massive exhaust ports. Built to vent the excessive heat thrown off by Nar Shaddaa's antiquated power plants, the stacks were one of the reasons why the
city's residents had pushed their structures up and away from the moon's rocky surface.
Sweat poured off Kyle's body as he made his way down ancient stone stairs, passed through a shattered gate, and stepped over a strangelooking skeleton. The Rebel activated a glow rod and played the beam on the area in front of him.
Water was everywhere, dripping, gurgling, and gushing, as if part of a conspiracy to mask the sounds his enemies made. The agent swallowed and drew his blaster. Its weight was comforting.
A series of left-hand turns carried the Rebel away from the tower and out into a gap. An exhaust stack rose to Kyle's left, the remains of what appeared to be a temple appeared on the right, and a plaza opened in front of him.
The rain was warm and sticky. It soaked Kyle's hair and ran down his face. Moving cautiously, his eyes probing for movement, the agent edged his way forward. A landscape composed of puddles surrounded him. The rain churned them into miniature oceans with waves that dashed every which way.
Light gleamed off something, and Kyle used the back of his gun hand to wipe water from his brow. The glow rod wavered, touched something, and returned. Could it be? Yes, there it was! 88's arm was stump-down and fistup! The disk glowed with reflected light.
Kyle splashed his way forward and was reaching for the disk when a Trandoshan exploded out of the water next to him. He was armed with a vibroaxe and knew how to use it. It seemed that what the Rebel had taken for a puddle was a good deal deeper - deep enough to hide a bounty hunter.
Kyle turned in the direction of his attacker, raised the blaster, and felt it struck from his hand.
The Trandoshan was proud of the manner in which he had disarmed his opponent on the upswing and planned to cleave the human's skull on the downstroke. One blow, one kill. Now, that's the way of the warrior!
Kyle, who had no desire to be split like a piece of firewood, dived to the side. He saw 88's arm and took it with him. Water broke the Rebel's fall, sprayed sideways, and rushed back in.
Furious at the manner in which the cowardly human sought to avoid what the bounty hunter saw as a righteous and well-deserved deathblow, the Trandoshan charged.
Kyle turned onto his back and instinctively raised his hands. The vibro-axe made a clanging sound as it hit 88's arm. The Trandoshan roared, raised his weapon, and went cross-eyed as Kyle kicked him between the legs.
The resulting splash brought help from the shadows. "Porg? Is that you? What's going on?"
Kyle swore, grabbed the bobbing glow rod, and turned it off. The agent felt the seconds tick away as he groped for the weapon's familiar outlines. Then he remembered the trick, the one he'd learned by accident and had used in the Rimmer's Rest. Would it work?
The agent forced himself to concentrate, to step outside his fear and feel the blaster in his hand. Suddenly it was there, butt-first, ready for use. He brought the weapon up out of the water and wondered if it would fire.
The Aqualish carried a light-mounted blast rifle and stomped out into the open as if he owned the place.
Kyle aimed just above the light, shot the bounty hunter in the chest, and watched the bolt bounce away. Body armor! A head shot, then . . .
The Trandoshan sat up. It was a poor decision. The Aqualish fired first the human second. The Trandoshan took both bolts. Water boiled around the still-functioning vibro-axe.
The Aqualish was not only surprised but momentarily taken aback and paid the price. Kyle shot him in the head, paused to make sure of the kill, and took a moment to pry the disk out of 88's still-clenched fist.
Then, with the shouts of even more reinforcements ringing in his ears, Kyle decided to run. He knew the glow rod could betray his position. But he was forced to use it. It was either that or injure himself on unseen obstacles.
Kyle splashed through an ancient cemetery, wove between the rainsmoothed tombstones, and aimed for a dimly visible arch.
The noise was barely noticeable at first but grew in volume until it shook the ground under Kyle's feet. Thump. Thump! THUMP! It sounded like a heartbeat, as if the moon was alive and Kyle had discovered its pulse.
The source of the sound was a mystery at first but gradually revealed itself to be an upward spiraling ramp, outlined by widely spaced lights. It quickly became apparent that the conveyor belt emerged from deep within the planetoid's crust, followed the ramp upward, and delivered ore to the loading docks high above. Kyle had heard of the mines and knew they played an important part in Nar Shaddaa's history but had no idea that they were still operational.
While the Rebel didn't care about the mines or the ore they produced, the conveyor belt had definite possibilities.
He passed under the arch and climbed over piles of quietly rusting parts which, like the bones of some extinct monster, lay strewn where a machine had fallen fifty years before. Once free of their brooding
presence, he headed straight for the point where the conveyor belt emerged from underground. A carefully sealed metal housing prevented access.
The agent located a ladder. It vibrated in sympathy with the machinery above. Kyle climbed quickly, arrived on a maintenance platform, and paused to check his back trail. Lights, it seemed like two or three, bobbed as they passed through the cemetery. Kyle swore and turned toward the belt.
The ore was reddish-orange in color and was moving at two or three kilometers an hour. Jumping onto the belt would be relatively easy. But then how to escape? He glanced over his shoulder. The lights were closer now the first had cleared the cemetery.
Kyle secured his blaster and jumped.

The TIE fighters attacked the Crow within minutes after J; cleared the tower. There were two of them, and, like the TIE bomb she had destroyed minutes before, they showed an amazing disregard for the safety of Nar Shaddaa's citizens. More of the same old arrogance - or desperation born of recent defeats? It was an interesting question but one best saved for later.
Jan put the Crow into a right-hand turn, placed the bulk of a large tower between the fighters and herself, and applied more power. Lights blurred meters away, and her back blast shattered a row of windows.