"Brian Daley "Han Solo at Stars' End"" - читать интересную книгу автора

The bogus barge carrying the Falcon settled to its appointed berth among hundreds of others on the field. They touched down, and the computers stopped their chatter. Han Solo and Chewbacca locked down the console and left the cockpit. As they entered the for-ward compartment, Bollux looked up. "Do we disem-bark now, sirs?"
"Nope," Hah answered. "Jessa said these people we're going to pick up will find us."
The Wooldee went to the main lock and activated it. The hatch rolled up, and the ramp eased down, but didn't admit light or air from Orron III's atmosphere; the camouflaging hull design covered most of the Fal-con's super-structure, and a makeshift outer hatch had been installed just beyond the ramp's end.
The ramp had barely lowered when there was a clanging on the outer skin there. The Wookiee snorted warily, and Hall's hand dipped and came up with his blaster. Chewbacca, seeing his parmer was ready, hit the switch to open the outer hatch.
Standing just beyond was a man of incongruities. He wore the drab green coverails of a port worker and had a tool belt slung at his waist. Yet he radiated a different aura, nothing like that of a contract tech. He was native to a sun-plentiful world, that much was ap-parent, for his skin was so dark that its black ap-proached indigo. He was half a head taller than Hah, with broad shoulders that strained the seams of his issue coverails, and a body that spoke of waiting, abun-dant power. His tightly curled black hair and sweep-ing beard were shot through with streaks of gray and white. For all the size and weight of dignity of him, he had a lively glint of humor in his black eyes.
"I'm Rekkon," he declared at once. He had a direct gaze, and although his tone was moderate, it resonated in the air, its quality deep and full. He replaced at his belt the heavy spanner he'd used to rap on the hatch. "Is Captain Solo here?"
Chewbacca gestured to his partner, who had just come further down the ramp. The Wookiee hooted in his own language. Rekkon laughed and-to their as-tonishmentmroared back a polite response in Wook-fee. Few enough humans even understood the giant humanoids' tongue; fewer still had the range and force of voice to speak it. Chewbacca boomed his delight in an earsplitting yowl and patted Rekkon's shoulder, beaming down at him.
"Now that you're all through with the community sing," Hah interrupted, stripping off his flying gloves, "I'm Han Solo. When's liftoff?"
Rekkon appraised him frankly, but there was still that jovial light to his face. "I'd like it to be as soon as possible, as I'm sure you would, Captain Solo. But we must make one brief trip to the Center, to cull the data I need and pick up the other members of my group."
Han looked back to the head of the ramp, where Bollux waited, and gestured to him. "Let's go, Rusty. You're back in business."
Bollux, his chest plates closed once again, clanked down the ramp, his stride as stiff as ever. He'd ex-plained during the trip that his odd manner of walking came from the fact that he'd been fitted with a heavy-duty suspension system at one point in his long career.
Rekkon was holding out two cards for Han and Chewbacca, bright red squares with white identifica-tion codes stamped on them. "Temporary IDs," he ex-plained. "If anyone asks, you're on short-term labor contracts as tech assistants fifth class."
"Us?" Hah sputtered. "We're not going anywhere, pal. You take the 'droid, get your gang and whatever else, and you come back. We'll keep the home fires burning."
Rekkon's grin was dazzling. "But what will you two do when the decontamination crew arrives? They'll be irradiating the entire barge, and your ship with it, to make sure no parasites feed on the shipment. Of course, you could switch on your deflector shields, but that would surely be noticed by port sensors." The two partners glanced at each other dubiously. It was true that a decentam-treatment would be normal proce-dure, and that a man and a Weekice hanging around the landing area while the team did its work would make somebody curious.
"And there is another matter," Rekkon continued. "The Waiver status for your ship, and its doctored identification codes; I shall be taking care of those, too. Since you and your first mate have a vested interest in that, I had thought you might wish to accompany me."
Han's mouth began watering at the thought of the Waiver, but he always got the sweats in the halls of power, and that Authority Data Center was precisely that. His inbuilt caution came forward. "Why do you want us on this side trip? What is it you're not telling?" "You're right, there are other reasons," Rekkon an-swered, "but I do think it best, for you as well as for me, if you come. I would be much in your debt."
Han stared at the tall black man, thinking about the Waiver and the inevitable decentam-team. "Chexvie, get me a tool bag." He unfastened his blaster belt, knowing he couldn't be seen armed in an area of tight security. Chewbacca returned with the bag and his bowcaster. Both dropped their weapons into the tool bag, and the Weekice slung it over his shoulder.
With Bollux traiYmg after, they walked through the outer hatch, locked it closed, and followed Rekkon across the maintenance gantry. The barge's hull stretched far below and to either side. A utility skim-mer with a work platform and enclosed cab was hov-ering on the other side of the gantry. The living beings climbed into the cab, Rekkon getting behind the con-trols and Han crowding next to him, while Chewbacca filled the rear seat. Bollux settled himself on the work platform, securing himself with his servo-grip. The skimmer swung away from the barge. "How'd you find us so fast?" Han wanted to know. "I received word of what markings your craft would have, and its estimated time of arrival. I came as soon as the data systems registered your approach. I've been waiting here for some time, with forged field-access authorization. I presume this 'droid is my computer-probe?"
"Sort of," Han answered as Rekkon upped the skim-mer's speed to the legal limit, guiding it between rows of berthed barges. "There's another unit bu'dt into his chest; that's your baby."
The port was surrounded on every side by ripening grain, showing the ripples of the gentle winds of Orton HI. While he glanced about, Hah asked, "What're you looking for in Authority computers, Rekkon?"
The man studied him for a moment, then turned back to the controls as he pulled onto a service road. Except for the immediate area of the barges, Hah knew the skimmer would have to adhere to authorized routes, and would be intercepted if it fiew too high, too fast, or cross-country. Off in the distance, gargantuan robot agricultural machines moved through the crops, capable of planting, cultivating, or harvesting vast tracts of land in a single day.
Rekkon adjusted the polarization of the skimmers windshield and windows. He didn't make it reflective, or opaque to outside observation, which might have been conspicuous, but darkened it against the sun. The cab's interior dimmed, and Han felt as if he were in one of Sabodor's pet environment globes. As they sped along the service road, cutting between seas of bending grain, Rekkon asked, "Do you know what my mission here has been?"
"$essa said it was up to you whether or not to tell us. I nearly passed up the bargain because of that, but I figured there must be a fair piece of cash involved for this kind of risk."
Rekkon shook his head. "Wrong, Captain Solo. It's a search for missing persons. The group I organized is made up of individuals who've lost friends or rela-tives under unexplained circumstances. Same thing's begun to happen with suspicious regularity within the Corporate Sector. I found that a number of others were abroad, as I was, seeking their lost ones. I'd detected a pattern, and so I gathered about me a small group of companions. We infiltrated the Data Cen-ter in order to carry out our search, with Jessa's help."
Han tapped his finger on the window, thinking. This explained Jessa's commitment to Rekkon and his group, her determination to see that he got all the re-quired assistance. Doc's daughter obviously hoped that Rekkon and his bunch, in locating their own lost ones, would turn up her father.
"We've been here for nearly one Standard month," Rekkon continued, "and it's taken me most of that time to find windows of access into their systems, even though I'm rated as a contract computer tech super-visor first class. Their security is diligent, but not ter-ribly imaginative."
Han shifted around on his seat to look at the other.
"So what's the secret?"
"I won't say just yet; I'd rather be sure and have ab-solute proof. There is a final correlation of data for which I need a probe; the terminals to which I have access at the Center have governors and security limit-ers built into them. I lack the resources and parts and time to Construct my own device. But I knew Jessa's excellent techs could provide what I needed and there-by decrease the risk of detection."
"Which reminds me, Rekkon. You haven't told us that other very good reason why we should come with you to the Center."
Rekkon looked pained. "You're persistent, Captain.
I selected my companions carefully; each of them was
close to a lost one, yet-"
Han sat up. "But you've got a traitor in there some-where." Rekkon stared hard at the pilot. "It wasn't just a guess. Jessa's operation got hit while I was there; an Authority corvette dropped a spread of fighters on us. The chances of them just stumbling onto us, out of all the star systems in the Corporate Sector, are so small they're not even worth talking about. That left a spy, but not one who was there at the time, or the Espos wouldn't have been scouting, they'd have come in force. They must've been checking out a number of solar systems." He leaned back, serf-satisfied. He was proud of his chain of logic.
Rekkon's face was a mask cut from jet. "Jessa gave us a contingency list of places where we might be able to contact her ff our lines of communication were broken. Plainly, that solar system was one of them."
That surprised Han. Jessa would never ordinarily have trusted anyone with that sort of information. She must be investing aH hope of finding her father with Reidcon. "Okay, so you've got somebody who's on two payrolls. Any idea who?"
"None, except that it cannot be either of the two members of my group who have already perished. I believe they discovered who the traitor was. There were indications in the final comlink conversation I had with one of them before she died. And so, of course, I've told no one of your arrival, and came to meet you myself. I wanted your help, to make sure none of them can give the alarm before we depart. I have called each of them to my office, without telling them the others would be there."
Han disliked the idea of going to the Center even more now, but saw it was vital that Rekkon have help, vital to the survival of Han Solo. If the traitor man-aged to turn in an alarm, chances were that the Falcon would never raise ship again. He made a mental note to bill Jessa and whoever else he could for additional services rendered. He angled around in his seat again. "Who're the other people you recruited for Amateur Night?"
Driving with only part of his attention, Rekkon re-sponded, "My second-in-command is Term, whose cover role is contract laborer. His family controlled large ranges on Kail, independent landowners under the Authority. There was some sort of dispute over land-use rights and stock prices. Several family members vanished when they wouldn't yield to pressure."
"Who else?"
"Atuarre. She is a female of the Trianii, a feline
race. The Trianii had settled a planet on the fringes of Authority space generations before the Corporate Sec-tor was chartered. When the Authority finally annexed the Trianii colony world recently, they met with re-sistance. Atuarre's mate disappeared and her cub was taken from her and placed in Authority custody. They must have used some sort of interrogation procedure on the cub, Pakka, for when Atuarre finally managed to rescue him, he could no longer speak. The Author-ity is no respecter of ages or conventions, you see. Atuarre and Pakka eventually made contact with me; her cover here on erron III is that of apprentice agronomist."
The service road, winding through the fields, had met a main artery leading toward the Center. The place was a small city unto itself, handling record keeping, computations, and data flow and retrieval for much of the Corporate Sector. It radiated from an operations complex that rose like a glittering confec-tion from the rolling farmland.
Rekkon, lips pursed in thought, wasn't finished. "The last member of our group is Engret, who is scarcely more than a boy, but has a good heart and a kindly temperament. His sister was an outspoken legal scholar, and she too dropped from sight." He was si-lent for a moment. "There are others abroad searching for their lost ones, and many more, I'm certain, who've been frightened into silence. But perhaps we shall be able to help them, too."
Han half snickered. "No way, Rekkon. I'm just here as part of a trade-off. Save the old school fight songs until I'm clear, got it?"
Rekkon's face was sculpted in amusement. "You only do this sort of thing so that you can become a wealthy man?" He eyed Hah up and down and went back to his driving, but added, "A callous exterior isn't an uncommon way of protecting ideals, Captain; it hides the idealists from the derision of fools and cowards. But it also iramobilizes them, so that, in try-ing to preserve their ideals, one risks losing them."
What this big, bluff, amiable man had just said car-ried so much of hit and of miss, insult and compliment, that Han didn't take time to unravel it. 'Tin a guy with a hot ship and places to go, Rekkon, so don't let yourself get carried away with the philosophy."
They entered the Center, maneuvering along wide streets between rearing buildings housing the various offices and storage banks, personnel dormitories and recreational areas, shops and commissaries. The traffic was thickwrobo-hacks, ground-effect cargo lifters, skimmers, Espo cruisers, and innumerable mechani-cals.
Making a final turn, Rekkon entered a subterranean garage and descended more than ten levels. Nosing the skimmer into a vacant spot, he cut the engine and stepped out. Hah and Chewbacca followed as Bollux clambered down. The Weekice and his partner affixed their badges to their chests and vests, respectively.
Rekkon slipped out of his coverails and tool belt and