ser905057: переводы

→Ax didn't respond. It wasn't a question, but it demanded an answer, and she was careful to keep it to herself. The hexes were streaming downward to tear the flooded habitat to pieces. When they were done, they would break into the geothermal shafts and keep drilling until raw magma flooded in from below. What the real lava sea didn't burn, the heat of the core would melt and turn to slag.

→"Good fortune in battle, " Nebula toasted. "May all your eggspawn hatch as soldiers. "

→"But white is hard to find, right?" She put her prosthetic hand on his shoulder. "You're a warrior now. Eventually you only see in two colors: black and red. Best get used to that, if you're going to stay on the front line. "

→"So you learn that lesson, which means you'll probably become a proper Jedi Knight now, but in the process you come to the shocking realization that nothing will ever be black and white again. It's all gray. "

→The mass of hexes that had overwhelmed Darth Chratis retreated into the lake, leaving just the young Sith behind. She turned to face the lake, raised her arms above her head, and spoke to them. The hexes responded, forming new agglomerations, turning their collective mind to new tasks. Some descended back into the lake; others swarmed toward several different places on the crater wall and combined their pulses into powerful cutting lasers. Vibrations reached him even through the walls and floor of the shuttle. He saw Larin and the others shift on their feet, as though the ground was kicking beneath them, too.

→The dome was unfolding, sliding finger-like segments of roof into deep recesses at its edge and releasing a vast upwelling of warmer air. Tendrils of fog sprang into being, mixing with the smoke and creating strange shapes all around her. She looked down, and saw something huge and indistinct stirring. Whatever it was, the hexes must have been building it nonstop, using all the prodigious resources of the metal- and energy-rich world.

→Over the noise of the hexes, Master Satele replied, "I think our young friend has discovered who she really wants to be. "

→She raised her eyes to stare at the sun and wished the man who called himself "Jet Nebula" good fortune in battle.

→War was coming. The certainty of it warmed her warrior's soul.

→She downed the liquor and shouldered her way out of the Wing and Wanderer, into the dry glare of Tatooine. With her helmet back in place, she was just another Mandalorian, one among many on the gladiatorial world. She would search every spaceport in the city as a matter of course, even though she suspected the Auriga Fire would slip through her fingers once more. Then she would report to the Mandalore. If required to do so, she would hunt her enemy to the ends of the galaxy, and she would be ready for him when they met again. If not, she would go back to studying the Empire and the Republic, safe in the knowledge that there would soon be glory enough for everyone.

→They might never be on the same side again, Stryver thought, but at least from now on they would be playing the same game.

→Her enemy understood. It was important to her that he did. She had traced his history backward from captain to first officer of a very different vessel, where the trail had ended. But the captain of that ship, Jeke Kerron, had had a reputation for being entirely too smart for his own good. He had made enemies among several cartels and ultimately disappeared. It was a simple leap to wonder if one had taken the place of the other.

→Dao Stryver had come a long way from her pit fighting days, when a young Gektl's life was cheap and expected to last not even a single week. She had accrued considerable glory since then, and considered herself the living embodiment of the Mandalorian creed. War was fought by individuals, not by Emperors and politicians. Battles were decided by people whose names might never be recorded in history. But the point wasn't history, or even who won. Anyone who strove hard enough could become a hero. That was the point.

→Two: it was good to have a worthy adversary.

→One: she was still alive.

→Stryver laughed on the inside, profoundly pleased on two points.

→The crowd studiously avoided her challenging stare.

→"He asked...?" She snapped her mouth shut as her brain caught up. He had been coming here for days. That was how she had found him. She had thought him wasting money on fellow gamblers and lowlifes, when in actual fact he had been preparing a trap. For her.

→"Better drink up, " the bartender cluttered, indicating the glass still sitting before her. "He asked us not to kick you out immediately, but there's a limit to my generosity. "

→Then she recovered, and the crowded cantina was exactly as it had been-except that the smuggler and his droid were gone.