"Ann Crispin "Han Solo. Rebel Dawn"" - читать интересную книгу автора

The terrified animal squawked, turned to bite, but it was too late. Chewie heaved it up, and sent it thudding hard against the bough beneath his feet. Stunned, the animal went limp, and another quick swing dispatched it altogether.
Only then did Chewbacca take a moment to pull the quills from his chest and shoulders, and spread a salve on the tiny, burning wounds. His right hand had one small puncture, which he also treated.
Then, wrapping the quillarat in the woven bag he'd brought, the Woollee began a triumphant journey back to Rwookrrorro.
It took him quite a while to find Mallatobuck. He didn't want to ask anyone where she was, since any of his friends and family would be bound to identify the scent of the quillarat in his bag. Chewie wasn't in the mood for advice or jokes.
But, finally, he located her, wandering ‘along a little-used trail. By now two of Kashyyyk's three tiny moons had risen, and moonlight silvered her fur as she wan-dered along, not at first noticing that anyone was ap-proaching her.
She had been picking kolvissh blossoms and weaving their stems into a headpiece. As Chewie watched her, she placed the flowers on her head, tucking their fragile white beauty behind her left ear.
Chewbacca halted on the trail and stood there, lost in wonder at her beauty. His stillness attracted her at-tention as his movement had not, and she stopped, looked up, and saw him.
[Chewbacca,] she said softly. [I did not see you .... ]
[Malla,] Chewie said. [I have something for you. A gift that I hope you will accept .... ]
She froze, eyes wide with either consternation or hope, as he walked toward her, bag in hand. Let it be hope she feels, Chewie thought fervently. By my honor, let it be hope ....
As he stopped before her, Chewbacca, in one fluid motion, knelt and removed the quillarat from its bag. Careful of the quills, he balanced the animal across his palms and held it up to Mallatobuck. His heart was pounding as though he'd climbed all the way from ground level.
[Mallatobuck...] Chewie tried to get the rest of it out, but his voice failed him. He was overcome with fear, as he had never been in battle. What if she refused him? What if she took his traditional propos'd-offering and tossed it off the trail, sending the dead quillarat, and his hope of happiness, plummeting into the depths?
Malla stared at him for a long moment. [Chew-bacca... you have been long away from your people. Do you remember our customs? Do you know what you are offering?]
Relief flooded Chewie, for her tone was bantering, flirtatious.
[I know,] he replied. [My memory is good. In ‘all the years I was gone, I never for a moment forgot your face, your strength, your eyes, Mallatobuck. I dreamed of the day that we could be married. Will you? Will you take me for your husband?]
She replied in the traditional manner by cautiously picking up the stiffening quillarat and taking a big bite out of its soft underbelly.
Chewie's heart was flooded with joy. She accepts me/ We are betrothed! Getting up off his knees, he followed Malla to a sheltered niche behind a screen of leaves. There they sat down close together and shared the quil-larat, nibbling delicately on its tasty entrails, savoring its liver, feeding each other choice bits of this greatest of Wookiee delicacies.
[I had proposals, you know,] Mallatobuck said. [Peo-ple told me I was foolish for waiting so long. They said you were dead, that you would never return to Kashyyyk. But I knew, somehow... I knew that was not so. I waited, and now my joy fills the world.]
Tenderly, Chewbacca licked blood and tissue off her face, washing her, as she returned the favor. Her fur was silky on his tongue.
[Malla . . . you know about the life debt I have pledged to Hah Solo?] Chewie asked, as, sated, they sat back, arms around each other.
Malla's voice quivered just a tiny bit. [I know. I cherish your honor as my own, my husband-to-be. But let us be married quickly, so we may have as much time together as possible before you and Captain Solo must depa's.] [Nothing would please me more,] Chewie said. [How quickly can you be ready? How long will it take to prepare your wedding veil?]
She chuckled, a rich, throaty sound in the darkness. [It has been ready for fifty years, Chewbacca. Ready and waiting.]
Chewbacca's heart was full of love and pride. [To-morrow, then, Malla.]
[Tomorrow, Chewbacca .... ]
Teroenza, High Priest of Ylesia, lounged back in his resting sling, watching Kibbick, Ylesia's figurehead Hutt overlord, trying to go over last month's accounts and make sense of them. The huge, four-legged t'landa Til groaned inwardly. He'd long since ceased to be amused by Kibbiek's troubles comprehending even the most rudimentary record-keeping. Kibbick was an idiot, and it was Teroenza's unfortunate task to bring him up to speed on the running of Ylesia.
As though Besadii doesn't realize that if Kibbick ac-tually managed to master the skills necessary to keep the spice factories running smoothly, I would be out of a job, the High Priest thought disgustedly. But the chances of that are vanishingly small ....
When Teroenza, with the help of the Desilijic leader, Jiliac, had plotted Aruk the Hutt's murder, he'd hoped that the aging Hutt Lord's only offspring, Durga, would never be declared the head of Besadii clan. After all, Durga had that hideous birthmark, and that should, by rights, have disqualified him from any leadership position.
But Durga had proven stronger and more able than Teroenza had realized. He'd managed (some said with the help of Black Sun) to eliminate his most vocal de-tractors in a most summary fashion. There was still talk against him, but it was more of a cautious murmur these days than a protesting shout.
Teroenza had pinned his hopes on Zier the Hutt, hoping that the senior Besadii member would be strong enough and clever enough to outwit Durga and take over both the Besadii clan, and the kajidic, its criminal arm, that was part of it.
But no. Durga had emerged iat least for the mo-ment) with a shaky victory, and had promptly an-nounced that Teroenza must adhere to ‘all of Aruk's directives:
Including teaching Kibbick, Dnrgag idiot cousin, how to manage a top-level credit-making enterprise.
Here on Ylesia, religious "Pilgrims" were recruited by t'landa Til missionaries during traveling revival shows. Anyone unfortunate enough to fall prey to the addictive Exultation would follow the Ylesian mission-aries to the steaming jungle planet. There the malnour-ished, brainwashed and addicted Pilgrims became willing slaves in the Ylesian spice factories, toiling from sunup to sundown for their Ylesian masters.
Teroenzag people were distant cousins of the Hutts, though they were far smaller and more mobile. With their huge bodies balanced on trunklike legs, the t'landa Til had a broad face that rather resembled a Hutt's countenance, but with the addition of a single long horn just above their nostrils. A long, whip-like tail was carried curled over their backs. Their arms and hands were tiny and weak compared to the rest of them.
The most interesting feature of the t'landa Til males, however, was not physical. They possessed the ability to project. empathic "feel-good" emotions at most humans. These empathic projections, coupled with a soothing vi-bration produced in the males' throat sacs, was like a jolt of a powerful drug to the Pilgrims. They quickly be-came addicted to their daily "fix" and believed that the Priests were divinely gifted.
Nothing was further from the truth, however. The t'landa Til'S ability was simply an adaptation of a male mating display, evolutionarily developed to attract t'landa Til females.
"Teroenza," Kibbick said fretfully, "I don't under-stand this. It says that we spent thousands of credits for a fertility-inhibitor that's placed in the slaves' gruel. Why can't we eliminate most of that? Can't we just let them breed? It would save credits, wouldn't it?"
Teroenza rolled his bulbous eyes, but Kibbick fortu-nately wasn't looking. "Your Excellency," the High Priest said, "if the Pilgrims are allowed to breed, that cuts into the energy they have to work. Their produc-tion declines. That would mean less spice processed and ready for market."
"Perhaps," Kibbick said. "But, Teroenza, surely there must be some way to manage this without expen-sive drugs. Perhaps we could encourage them to mate, then use their larvae and eggs for foodstuffs."
"Your Excellency," Teroenza said, hanging on to his patience by a thread, "most humanoids don't lay eggs or produce larvae. They have live births. They also have a very strong abhorrence for eating their own young."
It was true that, every so often, a couple of slaves would emerge from the Exultation-induced haze enough to feel lust for each other. It was rare, but hu-man children had actually been born here on Ylesia. Teroenza had coatemplated simply killing them out of hand, but, in the end, had decided that with a modicum of care, these children could be raised to become guards and administrative assistants. So he'd ordered them to be cared for in the slave barracks.
And, nowadays, fertility-inhibiting drugs were auto-matically added to the food served the slaves. It had been at least five years since the last accidental birth.
"Oh," Kibbick said. "Live births. I understand." He went back to his records with a grimace.
Idiot, thought Teroenza. Idiot, idiot, idiot... how many years have you been here, and you never troubled to find out the most rudimentary facts about the Pilgrims... ?
"Teroenza," said Kibbick presently, "I've found something else I don't understand."
Teroenza took a deep breath, then counted to twen's.
"Yes, Your Excellency?"
"Why do we have to spend extra credits on weapons and shields on these ships? They're only carrying slaves, after all, shipping them to the spice mines and the plea-sure palaces after we have gotten the best work out of them. Who cares if raiders take them?"
Kibbick was referring to a raid a month ago by a group of human Rebels on a slave ship preparing to leave the Ylesian system. It wasn't the first such raid. Teroenza didn't know who was responsible, but he couldn't stop thinking that it had to be Bria Tharen, that wretched Corellian traitor and renegade.
Besadii had placed a sizable bounty on her head, but so far, no one had claimed it. Perhaps it's time to talk to Durgh about increasing the bounty on Bria Tharen, Teroenza thought.
Aloud he said, with exaggerated patience, "Your Ex-cellency, while it's true we don't care about the slaves once they leave here, they're still worth credits to us. And ships are expensive. Having big holes blown in them tends to render them unusable-or, at least, very expensive to repair."