"Michael Stackpole "Rogue Squadron"" - читать интересную книгу автора

medical."
"I know, I've seen the report." Kirtan glanced at the hatchway leading to the
detention cells. "He has been told nothing about the results?"
The soldier's face darkened. "I've been told nothing about the results. If he
has a disease, I want him out before he infects the ..."
The Intelligence operative held a hand up. "Calm yourself, you'll bounce your
rank cylinder out of your pocket in a moment."
The Lieutenant raised a hand to check his rank badges and when he found them in
place he blushed. "Play your little games with Rebel scum, not me. I have
serious work to do."
"Of course you do, Lieutenant." Kirtan flashed a smile that was more predator
than comrade, then turned toward the detention cells. "Which one?"
"Holding cell Three. Wait here while I get you an escort."
"I wont need one."
"You may not think so, but he's listed as rating
a four on the Hostility Index. That rating requires two officers to accompany an
interrogator."
Kirtan shook his head slowly. "I know, I gave him that rating. I can handle
him."
"Remember that when you're in a bacta bath washing away his fingerprints."
"That I shall, Lieutenant." Kirtan grasped his hands at the small of his back
and started off through the hexagonal companionway. His black boots made a solid
clanking sound on the metal grating and he measured his steps carefully to keep
the sound rhythmic and daunting.
The hatch to cell Three opened with a hiss of pressurized gas. Yellow light
spilled out into the cor-ridor and Kirtan folded himself halfway to double to
fit through the opening. He paused inside the cell and stood tall. He narrowed
his eyes, then immedi-ately thought better of it. He always said it looked as if
I were wincing in pain.
The older, heavyset man swung his legs around off the cot and levered himself up
into a sitting po-sition. "Kirtan Loor, I thought it would be you."
"Did you?" Kirtan injected sarcasm into his voice to cover his own surprise.
"How could that be?"
The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I rather counted on it."
What? The Intelligence officer snorted. "You mean you thought no one but me
would be able to puzzle out your whereabouts."
"No, I mean that I thought even you could fig-ure out how to find me."
Kirtan rocked back slightly from the venom in the prisoner's voice, bumping the
back of his head on the top of the hatchway. This is not the way this is
supposed to be going. Narrowing his eyes, he stared down at the old man. "You,
Gil Bastra. are going to die."
"I figured that the moment your TIEs started shooting at me."
Kirtan slowly crossed his arms. "No, you don't understand how desperate is your
situation here. You thought you outsmarted me and the Empire. You were cautious,
but not insurmountably so. You are dying even now."
Bastra's bushy grey eyebrows met in a frown. "What are you talking about?"
"When we took the Starwind I ordered a medi-cal evaluation for you. You may have
forgotten that I always remember what I have seen and heard, and in doing so you
have forgotten how you ridiculed me for using skirtopanol to interrogate a
smuggler working for the Rebellion. You told me then that he died during