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

"So... where are you going first in your new ship?"
Lando asked.
"I'm gonna keep a promise I made to Chewie almost three years ago and take him to see his family on Kashyyyk," Hah said. "With the Falcon I ought to be able to slip past those Imp patrols, no sweat." "How long has it been since he was on Kashyyyk?" "Ahnost fifty-three years," Hah said. "A lot could have happened in that time. He left a father, some cousins, and a lovely young Wookiee female behind. ‘Bout time he went home and checked up on ‘em."
"Fifty years?" Lando shook his head. "I can't think of any human woman that would wait fifty years for me ....
"I know," Han said. "And apparently Chexvie never did have an understanding with Mallatobuck. I warned him he'd better expect to find her married and a grandmother."
Lando nodded, and, when the drinks arrived, raised his in a toast. Han lifted his glass of Alderaanian ale. "To the Millennium Falcon," Lando said. "The fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy. You take care of her, now."
"To the Falcon," Han echoed. "My ship. May she fly fast and free, and outrun every Imp vessel in existence."
Solemnly, they clinked their glasses, then together, they drank.
It was a sultry day on Nal Hutta, but, then, almost every day was sultry there. Sultry, rainy, damp and pol-luted... that was Nal Hutta. But the Hutts liked it that way; they loved their adopted homeworld. "Nal Hutta" meant "Glorious Jewel" in Huttese.
But one Hutt was too intent on his holo-cast unit to even notice the weather. Durga, the new leader of the Besadii clan since his parent Aruk's untimely death six months ago, had eyes and attention only for the full-sized holo-image projected into his office.
Two months ‘after Aruk% death, Durga had hired a team of the best forensic examiners in the Empire to journey to Nal Hutta and conduct a rigorous autopsy on his parent's bloated corpse. He'd had Aruk frozen, then placed in a stasis field, because Durga was convinced that his parent had not died from natural causes.
When the examiners had arrived, they'd spent sev-eral weeks taking samples of every kind of tissue to be found in the Hutt leader's massive corpse, and running tests on them. Their early results had turned up noth-ing, but Durga insisted that they keep on looking-and he was the one paying, so the forensic specialists did as ordered.
Now Durga stared at the coalescing holo-image of the leader of the team of forensic specialists, Myk Bid-lor. He was human, a light-skinned, slightly built male with Pale hair. He wore a lab coat over his rumpled clothing. As Bidlor saw Durga's image forming before him, he bowed slightly to the Hutt Lord. "Your Excel-lency. We have received the results from the latest round of tests on the tissue samples we brought back to Cornscant... I mean, to Imperial Center."
Durga waved a small, impatient hand at Bidlor, and addressed the man in Basic. "You are late. I was expect-ing your report two days ago. What have you learned?"
"I regret, your Excellency, that the test results were somewhat delayed," Bidlor apologized. "However, this time, unlike our other rounds of tests, we have discov-ered something I believe you will find very interesting. Unexpected, and unprecedented. We had to contact specialists on Wyveral and they are currently checking to see if they can discover where it was manufactured.
The morbidity factor has been difficult to test, since we
have no pure quantities, but we are persisting, and
when we tested the PSA count of the specimenS-"
Durga slammed his small hand down on a nearby ta-ble, sending it crashing over. "Get to the point, Bidlor! Was my parent murdered?"
The scientist drew a deep breath. "I cannot say for certain, Your Excellency. What I can tell you is that we have discovered a very rare substance concentrated in the tissues of Lord Aruk's brain. The substance is not natural. None of my team has ever encountered it be-fore. We are running tests even now to discover its properties."
Durga's birthmarked face grew even uglier as his scowl deepened. "I knew it," he said.
Myk Bidlor raised a cautioning hand. "Lord Durga, please... allow us to finish our tests. We will continue our work, and we will report back as soon as we have something definitive to report."
Durga waved a dismissive hand at the forensics ex-pert. "Very well. See that you report to me instantly when you discover what we are dealing with here."
The man bowed. "You have my assurance, Lord Durga."
With a muttered curse, the Hutt Lord broke the connection.
Durga was not the only unhappy Hutt on Nal Hutta. Jabba Desilijic Tiure, second-in-command of the pow-erful Desilijic clan, was both depressed and displeased.
Jabba had spent the entire morning with his aunt, jili-ac, the leader of Desilijic, trying to finish the final re-port on the losses to Desilijic that had resulted from the Imperial attempt to raze Nar Shaddaa and subjugate Nal Hutta. The Empire's attack had failed, mostly due to Jabba and Jiliac's successful bribe of the Imperial Ad-miral, but it would be a long time before business on Nar Shaddaa was back to normal.
Nar Shaddaa was a large moon that orbited Nal Hutta. The other name for Nar Shaddaa was "the Smuggler's Moon," and it was apt, for most of its deni-zens lived there because they were connected with the illegal trade that moved through Nar Shaddaa every day. Running spice, running guns, fencing stolen trea-sures and antiquities . . . Nar Shaddaa saw all of that and more.
"Shipping is down forty-four percent, aunt," Jabba said, his comparatively small, delicate fingers touching the data-pad expertly. "We lost so many ships, so many cap-tains and crews when that thrice-cursed Sam Shild mounted that attack. Our spice 'sustomers have been com-plaining that we can't move our product the way we used to. Even Han Solo lost his ship, and he's our best pilot."
Jiliac glanced at her nephew. "He has been flying our ships ever since the attack, Nephew."
"I know, but most of our ships are older models, aunt. Slower. And, in our business, time equals credits." Jabba did another calculation, then made an exasper-ated sound. "Aunt, our profits this year will be the low-est we've experienced in ten years."
Jiliac replied with a mighty belch. Jabba looked up and saw that she was eating again, some high-sustenance goop she smeared on the backs of her swamp-wrigglers before stuffing them into her enormous mouth. Ever since becoming pregnant last year, Jiliac had been under-going one of the typical Hutt growth spurts most adult Hutts experienced several times in their adult lives.
In the space of a year, Jiliac was nearly a third again the size she had been before her pregnancy.
"You'd better be careful," Jabba warned. "Those wrigglers gave you terrible indigestion the other day. Remember?"
Jiliac belched again. "You're right. I should cut back... but the baby needs the nourishment."
Jabba sighed. Jiliac's infant was still spending much ъ of its time inside its motherb pouch. Baby Hutts de-pended upon their mothers for all their nourishment for the first year of their lives.
"Here is a message from Ephant Mort," Jabba said, seeing that his "message" indicator was blinking on his comlink. Quickly the Hutt Lord scanned the commu-nique. Vile says I should return to Tatooine. He is run-ning my business interests as ably as he can, I am sure, but the Lady Valarian is taking full advantage of my pro-longed absence to try and move in on my territory."
Jiliac turned her bulbous eyes on her nephew. "If you must go, Nephew, go. But see that it is a quick trip. I will need you to handle the conference with the Desili-jic representatives from the Core Worlds in ten days." "But, Aunt, it would do you good to handle it your-self. You have gotten rather out of touch with those reps," Jabba pointed out.
Jiliae burped delicately, then yawned. "Oh, I shall plan to attend, Nephew. But the baby is so demanding .... I will need you to be there and handle things when I must rest."
Jabba started to protest, then forced back the words. What good would it do? Jiliac simply wasn't interested in the affairs of Desilijic the way she had been before motherhood. It was probably hormonal ....
For months now, Jabba had been working to recoup the losses the Desilijic kajidic suffered in the Battle of Nar Shaddaa. He was getting tired of shouldering- speaking figuratively, of course, for Hutts did not really have shoulders-the burden of running Desilijic.
"Here is a note that should interest you, Aunt," Jabba said, examining another message. "Repairs to your yacht have been completed. The Dragon Pearl is fully opera-tional again."
In the old days, Jiliac's first question would have been "how much?" but she did not ask it. The bottom line was no longer her primary interest in life ....
Jiliac's yacht had been hijacked by some of the de-fenders of Nar Shaddaa, and had suffered considerable damage in the battle. For a long time Jabba and his aunt had thought the ship lost ‘altogether, then a Hurt smuggler had spotted the vessel drifting among the abandoned hulks that were scattered in orbit surround-ing the Smuggler's Moon.
Jabba had ordered the Pearl towed into spacedock, and had spent a goodly sum in bribes, but he'd never been able to discover which of the smugglers had hi-jacked the vessel and used it in the battle.
In the old days, Jabba reflected sadly, news of her precious ship would have been of major concern to his aunt. But the Dragon Pearl had been damaged because Jiliac had forgotten to have the ship brought safely to Nal Hutta before the battle. "The stress of mother-hood," as she'd put it.
Well, the "stress of motherhood" had cost Desilijic well over fifty thousand credits in repairs. Just because Jiliac had been careless.
Jabba sighed, and absently reached for a wriggler from his aunt's snackquarium. He heard a snort, then a buzzing nasal rumble, and turned to see that Jiliac's massive eyes were closed, and her mouth was half-open as she snored.
Jabba sighed again, and went back to work ....
That same night, Durga the Hutt was eating his eve-ning repast with his cousin, Zier. Durga did not like Zier, and he knew that the other Hutt lord was his chief rival for the leadership of Besadii, but he tolerated him because Zier knew better than to oppose Durga in any overt fashion. Remembering Aruk's advice to "keep your friends close . . . and your enemies even closer," Durga had informally made Zier his lieutenant, entrust-ing him with matters pertaining to the administration of Besadii clan's vast Nal Hutta enterprises.