"Michael Stackpole "The Bacta War"" - читать интересную книгу автора

having as much trouble as he was sitting still. Either one of us could pilot
this Lambda-class cargo shuttle through this storm front without this much
bumping around.
Mirax placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "We'll get down."
"I figure. Crashing and dying wouldn't be nearly as inter-esting as the rest of
this run." Corran closed his eyes and concentrated on regulating his breathing.
He tried to con-vince himself he was doing that just to settle his stomach- and
that he'd done such things countless times before for exactly the same reason.
It was true, but he also knew his choosing to do it now was a result of
reviewing the datacards Luke Skywalker had sent to him.
Corran admired Skywalker's ability to read him. Very little of the material sent
had been dry, boring, procedural stuff-examples of the breathing exercises were
pretty much the only things that fell into that class. By and large Luke had
provided him with stories of Jedi Knights that pointed to their long tradition
of law enforcement and their dedication to vir-tue and justice and not a little
to the bold, heroic tales that had made the Jedi legendary throughout the
galaxy.
The selection is perfectly focused to inspire me to join him. The problem with
it was that Corran found it rather daunting. It also caused him to start
second-guessing himself, which was something he seldom did and hated whenever he
did do it. Before reading the Jedi material, Corran would have put the dread
coiling his belly down to a reaction to the bumpy ride. Now he wondered if he
wasn't anticipating some disaster through the Force, which in turn made him
wonder if he was leading his friends into an ambush.
/ know just enough about the Force to be dangerous- more so to myself than my
enemies. He had really appreci-ated Skywalker including information about
lightsaber main-tenance and fighting styles. He'd gotten a chance to practice
with the weapon in the Cloudrider's galley and began to feel comfortable with
it. He was notoriously bad when fighting against a remote-recalling his failure
at picking off its sting-ing bolts made him shift uncomfortably in his seat-but
four days of practice had made him feel confident enough with the lightsaber
that he sincerely doubted he'd lop off any of his own limbs using it in a fight.
In my hands it's more of a lightbludgeon, but it will do in a close fight.
The shuttle's wings creaked as the pilot began to retract them. The viewscreens
on the interior of the shuttle's cabin showed a heavily forested landscape up
through which occa-sionally thrust very inorganic stone and transparisteel
towers. The buildings didn't look so much inappropriate for the set-ting as they
did alien to it. Corran knew instinctively these were the human dwellings on
Thyferra, because no Vratix could live in one.
Mirax indicated one particularly blobby building with a nod of her head. "I bet
she lives there."
Corran hesitated for a second, wondering which she Mirax meant, but the cold
anger in her eyes took the choices from two to one. Anyone else might have been
pointing out where Ysanne Isard lived; but Mirax had no use for Erisi
Dlarit, so Corran knew it was Erisi to whom Mirax referred. While Corran had not
been at all pleased to become a guest of Ysanne Isard's through Erisi's efforts,
Erisi had engineered the destruction of a whole convoy of freighters
specifically to kill Mirax.
Corran turned his right hand over and held Mirax's left tightly as the ship
settled down on the landing pad. "Might want to throttle back there just a hair.