"Michael Stackpole "I, Jedi"" - читать интересную книгу автора

“I'm not assuming, sir.” I opened my fists and stared down at mv empty hands. “She's gone. Not dead, just gone! I was sleep-ing and heard her scream my name, and then she was gone.”
Cracken's head came up. “You think this is more than a nightmare?”
“It was no nightmare.”
“Then part of your Jedi heritage?”
I stopped and thought hard. Did I maintain some sort of unconscious, untrained connection with Mirax through the Force'? I didn't know if that was possible.
“I don't know, General, I just know she is gone. I can't feel her anymore.” I looked toward Tycho. “Tell me you can feel Winter's presence, please.”
%cho smiled quickly. “I think I know what you mean, Cor-ran, and I do feel her presence when we're together, but it is not a constant thing. She's off nursemaiding Anakin Solo and I have no idea where she is or how she is doing. Knowing her, I assume all is well. I can't tell you, however, that I have the same bond with her that you share with Mirax.”
“Thanks for your honesty.” I turned back to Cracken. “Tell me where she last was.”
The general shook his head. “I cannot.”
“You must.”
“I can't and won't, Captain Horn.” Cracken's face closed. “Think about it for a minute. I have agents in place who are very vulnerable .... “
“It's Mirax's vulnerability I'm worrying about here.”
“I know that, man, don't think I don't.” An edge crept into Cracken's voice and sliced through my anger. “She's in the same position you were when we inserted you and the Rogues here, into Coruscant. If I give you that information and you head out after her, you might just cause those who are dealing with her to think they have been set up. You have to trust her and trust that she will do the right thing.”
“And if that isn't enough?” I found my hands had become fists again, so I forced them open once more. “You may not want to give me the information, General, but you can be or-dered to do so.”
“Only by the New Republic's ruling council.”
I gave him as hard a stare as I could muster. “I'm willing to petition them to get me that information. What I've done for the New Republic may have aged a bit, and nothing is as tire-some as yesterday's hero, but I'll burn whatever political capital I have to save Mirax.”
Cracken frowned at me. “But we don't even know she needs saving yet.”
“You don't know, General. I do.” I stood and offered both men a salute. “I respect you both very much, and I do not mean to be insubordinate, but my wife is in trouble and I will help her. I'd like your help, but absent that, don't try to stop me.” I knew General Cracken's rea-sons for refusing to give me the information I wanted were good and sound, and I would have resisted my request the same as he had, were I in his position. That sort of cold logic melts away, however, in the face of the sort of anger and pain I was feeling. If I had just made a decision and not tried to delay things, Mirax wouldn't be missing. I'd abrogated my responsi-bility once and I damned well wasn't going to fail her a second time.
My threat to petition the New RepubliCs ruling council xvasn't an idle one, but Cracken knew he had little to fear from it. In theory, any citizen of the New Republic could communi-cate with a senator and, if their case warranted it, might even get an audience with the Council. In my case I could go more directly to Doman Beruss, the Corellian Councilor, and seek an audience that way. I was fairly certain the Council would let me speak to it. but that still put me far from getting what I needed from General Cracken.
Even before going to the Council, I needed to enlist support of various members so I had a chance of getting my request approved. In reality I knew it would be fairly easv for my re-quest to be dismissed in the name of security, but if a couple of Council members backed me, I might win the day anyway.
'Ib enlist that sort of support, however, I needed to ask friends for favors. My first stop in that quest-at least my first stop after returning home and changing into my service uni-form-was the office of General Wedge Antilles. I did not call ahead and Wedge's executive assistant, prim and cold though she was, seemed to accept my dropping in as a matter of course.
The nature of Wedge's office revealed a lot about the man I had come to know and trust over the years. The whole of the wall behind his desk had been formed of transparisteel, provid-ing the illusion that he worked on a balcony. It gave him a great view of Coruscant and, more importantly, a lot of sky. The desk he had been given was big enough to land an X-wing on, and Wedge kept it clear enough so he could land an X-wing there. Off to the left side of the room Wedge had a couch, a low table, and some battered chairs that would have looked more at home in some squadron debriefing lounge.
“I hope I'm not disturbing you, General.”
Wedge gave me a big smile that pulsed some warmth back into me. “Corran, it's good to see you. Been too long.”
I gave him a salute, then shook his hand. “It has, General, far too long.”
He frowned and waved me to a couch off away from his desk. He came around from behind the desk and took a chair facing me, leaving the low table between us. I noticed it matched the one I'd tripped over in my bedroom and my shin throbbed sympathetically. A scattering of datacards from military histori-cal reviews and architectural publications littered the table.
Wedge regarded me carefully as he sat. “You needn't be so formal, Corran.”
“Sorry, Wedge.” I forced a smile onto my face. “In the squadron we understood command moving you into fleet ops while the reborn Emperor threatened the New Republic, and even during the last four months you've been flying around pulling debris out of low orbits so it wouldn't crash down and kill more folks here. Then when you took this ground assign-ment instead of coming back, well, some of us wondered if you hadn't gotten used to the sound of General Antilles.”
He smiled in that easy, open way he had about him, with his brown eyes bright. “Nothing I'd like better than to be back with the squadron, but, you know, I've spent the last eleven years of my life blowing things apart. When I returned to Coruscant and I saw all that had been destroyed here, and all the folks left homeless-like you and Mirax-I don't know, something in me wanted a change.”
Wedge leaned forward in his chair and one lock of brown hair swung down onto his forehead. He picked up one of the architectural journal datacards. “Way back when, when I lived on the Gus Treta station with my parents, I used to dream about having a home on the ground and building incredible buildings. The Rebellion and all intervened and I'd pretty much forgotten that dream, but flying over the destruction here re-kindled it. I don't know if I'll stick with it, but for now it's something I want to do.”
Part of me wanted to protest and convince him to rejoin the squadron, but he just sounded so happy that I couldn't be-grudge him his change of jobs. “You know we'll be happy to have you with us again.”
“Thanks.” Wedge nodded and sat back in his chair. “So, what brings you here? Just visiting?”
I swallowed hard. “Not exactly. I need a favor. A big favor.” His reply came a bit more gravely than before. “What is it, Corran?”
“Mirax is missing and I need to find her. General Cracken knows where she was last reported to be-she was doing a job for him at the time-and he won't tell me where that was.”
Wedge frowned. “He doesn't want you running off and jeop-ardizing her life and his operation.”
“I know, but she's in trouble and I need to help her. I want to know if you would be willing to speak to Councilor Organa Solo and see if she would help me petition the Council to order Cracken to give me that information.” I tried to make my re-quest sound reasonable, but even as I heard the words, I knew it was insane. Even if Wedge helped, the Council could never give me what I wanted. I was way out of bounds and I knew it, but I had no other choice.
Before Wedge could answer, a bright-eyed man swung in through the office doorway. He was looking back at Wedge's assistant and said, “It will just take a second, and then I'll be out again.” He looked over at Wedge, with a rakehell grin as wide as a Hutt and full of trouble on his face. “Wedge, want to make a run with me to Kessel?”
“Kessel? That's the last place I'd think you'd want to go.” Wedge blinked away his surprise. “Thanks for the invitation, Han, but I've got duties here.”
“What duties? Construction droids run themselves. You can head out with me and check on folks you left there, like that Fliry Vorru.” Han Solo looked past Wedge and acknowledged me with a quick nod. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Wedge looked from him back to me, then smiled. “Have you two not met?”
I shook my head. “I know General Solo by reputation, cer-tainly.”
Han Solo's smile remained in place. “No longer a general, just a civilian, thanks.”
Wedge smiled slyly. “I don't think that's the whole of the reputation he means, Han. This is Corran Horn. He used to be with CorSec.”
Hah extended a hand to me. “Then I know you by reputa-tion, too. And your father.” “My father?”
Corellia's most notorious smuggler nodded. “He was on my trail once. Had to take an appointment to the Imperial Naval Academy to escape him.”
Hah Solo had a hint of smugness in his voice that I'd long associated with smugglers and criminals boasting of their nar-row escapes, and I wanted to hate him for it. I knew he'd traf-ficked in spice for a Hutt and that, too, was cause for me to think him the dregs of the universe. Even the fact that Corel-lians were often seen as flashy scofflaws in the rest of the gal-axy, largely because of the fame of his exploits, was more than enough to have earned him my enmity forever.
But there was something in his eyes and the firmness of his grip that hinted at the honorable spirit at his core. It would have been easy to deride him as nothing more than a merce-nary who had found his fortune in Princess Leia, but that de-nie~t the sheer pain he'd suffered and the effort he'd put into fighting against the Empire. Something in the man struggled against taking the easy way out, against abandoning friends and abandoning hopeless causes. Perhaps it was a will to succeed or a fear of failure, both or even more, but it caused me to realize that a catalog of his crimes and deeds could not sum this man tip.
“I am pleased to meet you, sir.”
ъ 'You were CorSec, I'm supposed to call you sir.” He shrugged. “But formality has never been my strong suit.”
Wedge waved Han to a chair, but the man remained stand-ing. “Corran was just asking me to speak to your wife on a very important matter. Do you remember Booster Terrik?”