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

You're probably right, but we're not going to go on a social call just to find
out."
Mirax gave him a sweet smile. "I was thinking of sending a gift."
Corran returned the smile. "Ah, but how does one gift wrap a bomb?"
"Bomb?" Mirax shook her head. "Nope, too quick. I want her to linger."
"Remind me never to make you angry."
She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. "You'll never do that, love ...
at least not more than once."
Corran and Mirax slid from the seats and followed the rest of the passengers out
of the shuttle. It brought in crews from a half-dozen tankers parked in orbit
around the planet, most of which were returning from runs they completed after
the Rogues had hijacked their convoy. Of main concern for most of the crews was
whether or not they'd be docked pay by their employers for making unauthorized
runs. The major-ity opinion seemed to be that they would be because the
Thyferrans never lost sight of the bottom line and were will-ing to cut costs
anywhere and everywhere.
The five infiltrators did not appear to be that different from the rest of the
crews going dirtdown. While Thyferrans owned and ran the shipping companies,
they hired laborers from throughout the galaxy to actually do the work. On
Thyferra these foreign workers were restricted to certain ar-eas around the
spaceport, but none of them seemed to find these restrictions that tough to
bear. Most of the crews found the Thyferrans arrogant-the word Imperial was used
to punctuate this point several times on the trip down-and pre-ferred to keep
with other spacers.
Once outside the shuttle, Corran picked up his luggage
satchel. He opened it and pulled out the heavy tool belt and looped it over his
left shoulder. A big hydrospanner hung at his left hip. He picked the bag up
with his left hand, leaving his right hand free to deal with his identity card.
Or the lightsaber. To disguise the weapon, he'd grafted the working end of a
hydrospanner onto the butt of the light-saber. One quick, smooth draw and he had
a working weapon in hand. Elscol had pronounced his work useless and suggested
he would do better being able to produce a blaster in a pinch. He'd replied that
a blaster and hydrospanner don't look a lot alike.
A tall, slender Thyferran man with blond hair looked down his long, skinny nose
at Corran. "State your name and the nature of your business."
Corran hesitated for a second and immediately felt heat flush up from within his
jumpsuit. "Eamon Yzalli. I am here to wait for my ship to be refilled and head
out again."
The Thyferran snatched the identity card from Corran's hand and ran it through a
datapad's card slot. "Ship's me-chanic?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you always bring your tools with you when you come to a planet?"
"Well, sir, not always, sir, but I have a friend who might get me a berth on
another ship so . . ."
The Customs official's eyes darkened. "You would not think of overstaying your
welcome here and trying to go into business for yourself doing repairs, would
you?"
Unless it's fixing your attitude, nope. "No, sir, never my intention, sir."
"Very well." He hit two buttons on the datapad, then swiped the card back
through the slot. "Your provisional visa is good for a week. Remain longer than