Star Wars - X-Wing - Krytos Trap

  death, but I can't be so sure. I wish I could, really, because

  Tycho helped me save Corran at Borleias."

  "Don't forget that Tycho saved me and the rest of the

  Squadron on Coruscant."

  "I've not forgotten that, but while he wa s saving you,

  Corran and I were saving each other from the Empire and

  the traitor in Fliry Vorru's organization." She patted Wedge

  on the knee. "We've been over this a dozen times and I'm

  getting better about it, I really am. I don't cry nearly as much

  right now as I did."

  Wedge tipped her face up with his left hand and brushed

  a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Hey, being sad

  doesn't reflect badly on you at all."

  "Thanks." Mirax sniffed a little. "It's just that it seems

  so ridiculous sometimes. We'd not even dated. We didn't

  know each other that well. For his death to hurt this much

  we should have been a lot closer."

  "That's the trick of it, Mirax, you were a lot closer than

  you imagine. The two of you shared a lot of the same quali-

  ties." Wedge smiled. "Your father and Corran's father were

  mortal enemies. Why? Because they were a lot alike, too.

  Both of you had strong relationships with your fathers,

  which is reflected in how you turned out. Under different

  circumstances old Booster and Hal Horn probably could

  have been friends. You and Corran became friends because

  you met under those different circumstances."

  She frowned for a moment. "You are probably right. I

  could also help myself get over this, I think, if I could just

  finally accept the fact that Corran's dead. Listening to the

  comlink call when he went in, that was pretty nasty, but we

  never found a body. I know it's stupid to make anything of

  that, what with the building coming down on him and all,

  but my father always said that if you don't see a body, don't

  count on someone being dead. He did once--"

  "And it cost him his eye. I remember the story." Wedge

  laughed lightly. "Now I remember it. That explains a lot."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Biggs, Porkins, Corran, my parents--I never saw their

  dead bodies. Partly because of your father's story, I suspect,

  and just human stubbornness, I find myself sometimes ex-

  pecting to see them walk into my office."

  Mirax's face brightened. "Or you think you see them

  walking along in a crowd. You catch a glimpse of them." She

  glanced down. "Part of me thinks that we see them because

  we don't truly believe they're dead. Maybe the barrier that

  separates the living from the dead is permeable as long as

  there is someone who doesn't accept death. Sithspawn, listen

  to me. I'm talking like a glitbiter."

  "That's not a problem, Mirax, I understand." Wedge

  leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "And I don't

  think your theory is all that wrong. I don't imagine we can

  bring people back to life by hoping, but letting their memo-

  ries live on inside us is not a bad thing to do at all."

  The Sullustan cheebled something at Mirax, prompting

  her to spin around in her command chair. She hit several

  switches above her head, then punched a button on the con-

  sole. "Landing gear deployed, repulsorlift drives engaged.

  Kill thrust and set her down gently."

  Liat's melodic grumble accompanied the delicate thun-

  der of the Pulsar Skate's landing. Mirax slapped a button on

  the command console and Wedge immediately felt a rush of

  warm air as the ship's gangway lowered itself. Mirax nodded

  toward the aft and the opening. "After you, Commander

  Antilles."

  "Thank you, Captain Terrik."

  Mirax smiled. "By the way, I think you look slicker than

  a Hutt's slime trail in that native garb."

  "Thanks." Since the mission was diplomatic in nature,

  Rogue Squadron had been supplied with clothes like those

  their counterparts on Ryloth would wear. Because of the

  planet's oppressive heat, the natives tended to wear loose,

  bulky, hooded cloaks over their other garments. The nature

  of the clothes they wore beneath the cloaks depended upon

  their occupation. Twi'lek warriors tended to be clad in a

  loincloth, wrapped leggings to the knee, fingerless gloves,

  and a highly decorative bandoleer that did still serve a mar-

  tial function. Their cloaks also tended to be abbreviated, as if

  their whole costume was meant to show they were tough

  enough to endure even the harshest of conditions on the

  planet.

  Wedge's attire varied only slightly from that Twi'lek

  warriors wore. His brown boots came up to his knees and

  beige trousers had been tucked into them. To that he added

  an emerald green loincloth and a bandoleer of the same

  color. All of his battle ribbons and awards had been embroi-

  dered on the bandoleer, starting with two Death Star repre-

  sentations at his right shoulder and ending with a symbol

  representing Coruscant near his left hip. The crests of the

  Alliance and Rogue Squadron stood side by side over his

  heart. His cloak was a darker green than his bandoleer and

  had been lined with a shiny red fabric that formed two red

  wings when he folded the cloak back behind his shoulders.

  He descended the gangway and looked up. Kala'uun

  Starport occupied a colossal cavern which had been hol-

  lowed out of the heart of the mountain that sheltered it.

  Above his head lay level upon level of Twi'lek clan warrens,

  comprising the living quarters and work areas of over

  100,000 Twi'!eks. He could only guess at what the warrens

  looked like--according to Nawara, few were the non-

  Twi'leks who ever saw them, and those individuals were peo-

  ple a clan had acknowledged as a friend.

  The Courage of SuUust had landed off the Skate's star-

  board wing. Nawara Ven disembarked and came walking

  over toward Wedge. They wore similar clothes, though

  Nawara's loincloth, bandoleer, and cloak were all a deep

  shade of purple. His cloak had been lined with a grey that

  was slightly darker than his skin tone. "Are you ready, Com-

  mander?"

  Wedge nodded. "Lead the way."

  Nawara did, and Wedge followed a step behind him and

  one to his left. "It looks like our welcoming party. Is the

  Shak clan still the Head-clan here?"

  One of Nawara's braintails ran back along his spine.

  The tip of it jerked up and down in what Wedge had been

  told was the Twi'lek equivalent of a nod. "Koh'shak is still

  the master of the starport. It would appear, from the colors

  of the individual next to him, that someone from the Olan

  clan has chosen to greet us as well." "Cazne'olan, perhaps?"

  Nawara shrugged. "Possibly. I don't know him. The

  Olan clan and mine do not mix much--no animosity, just

  little association with each other. His presence here could be

  good or could be very bad."

  Wedge smiled, stepping up beside Nawara as they both

  stopped before their hosts. Nawara Ven bowed deeply,

  bringing both
his braintails down to dangle limp by his

  knees. Wedge aped his bow, then opened his hands and

  pressed their backs against his thighs. The gesture was

  slightly awkward but was meant to symbolize exactly what

  the limp braintails did a lack of negative feelings and

  thoughts about the people in front of him. Without braintails

  he had to rely on the universally peaceful symbolism of an

  empty, open hand to make his intent clear.

  Wedge and Nawara straightened up at the same time,

  then their hosts bowed to them. Scarlet cloth swathed the

  corpulent Koh'shak. The gold badges of his office and clan

  held his outer cloak closed at his throat, though his round

  middle poked through the central opening. Wedge got an

  eyeful of Koh'shak's red robe and a wide cloth of gold sash

  pressed into the double duty' of containing his girth and sup-

  porting a pair of Sevari flashpistols.

  Cazne'olan would have seemed thickset except by com-

  parison with Koh'shak. His black cloak covered a bright

  yellow robe and blue sash. The gold office and clan badges

  he wore were smaller than Koh'shak's, but the craftsmanship

  on them seemed more delicate and less overpowering.

  Cazne'olan held his bow for a second longer than Koh'shak,

  but straightened up with less effort.

  The heavier Twi'lek opened black-taloned hands. "In

  the name of Kala'uun's Clans, I bid you welcome,

  Nawar'aven."

  "In the name of my clan, I am pleased to be accepted at

  Kala'uun." Nawara turned to his left. "I am pleased to pre-

  sent to the Clans of Kala'uun my commanding officer .... "

  Cazne'olan stepped forward between Nawara and

  Koh'shak, extending his hand to Wedge. "Nawar'aven, you

  have no need to introduce Wedgan'tilles to us. We remember

  him from his last adventure on our world."

  Wedge smiled and shook Cazne'olan's hand. "Good to

  see you again."

  "And you." Cazne'olan took a step back and paused for

  a second before his headtails began to twitch up and down.

  "You have done much and learned much in the time since we

  have seen each other. Not the least of which is learning how

  to dress."

  Nawara glanced over at Wedge. "Commander, I did not

  realize--"

  "No reason you should have Nawar .... "Wedge

  hitched a moment. The way the Twi'leks ran Nawara's name

  together, he couldn't be certain exactly what Nawara's clan

  name was. When in doubt, go with indigenous custom.

  "... Nawar'aven. It was an adventure the squadron had

  well before you joined it. Suffice it to say it was resolved to

  the satisfaction of all interested parties."

  "It was indeed, Wedgan'tiiles." Koh'shak stretched the

  last syllable of Wedge's name into a whole sibilant phrase of

  its own. "And now you are come here seeking satisfaction of

  another kind."

  "Quite true, Koh'shak." Wedge half-turned and pointed

  back at the two Alliance ships. "We have for you some won-

  drous things drawn from the various worlds of the New

  Republic." As he turned back to face the starport's master,

  he noticed Nawara and Cazne'olan speaking to each other in

  low tones, with their braintails convulsing wildly.

  Koh'shak closed his pinkish eyes and settled interlaced

  fingers over the bulge in his middle. "I am certain what you

  have brought will be impressive. Shall we begin our negotia-

  tions?"

  His offer seemed a bit abrupt to Wedge, and the sur-

  prised look on Nawara's face indicated he also thought

  something was amiss. What's going on here?

  Before Wedge could venture a reply, Nawara gently

  grabbed Wedge's right forearm. "While the Commander ap-

  plauds your alacrity in seeing to his needs, we have been

  traveling for days to get here. He chooses to invoke

  twi'janii."

  Koh'shak's eyes popped open with the speed Wedge

  would have expected if the starport master had felt a gun

  being jammed against a spine. "! welcome Wedgan'tilles and

  would have granted him twi'janii without reservation if I felt

  he did not find our climate oppressive."

  "Open your eyes yet wider, Koh'shak." Cazne'olan ges-

  tured toward Wedge. "He is a warrior in truth as well as

  dress. Even in the hot season he would not be discomfitted."

  "Your courtesy in reminding me of that is appreciated,

  Cazne'olan." Koh'shak's words came out light and even, but

  the violent twitching of his braintails seemed to belie the

  benign tone of the reply. "Wedgan'rilles, you and your peo-

  ple are to consider yourselves our guests. We will see to your

  pleasure, then to our business."

  "You are most kind," Wedge said, believing Koh'shak to

  be anything but. I don't know what he has in mind as our

  pleasure, but I'm certain his will be business, and I don't

  anticipate that being much fun at all.

  23

  Elbows planted on either side of the dataterminal's key-

  board, leila leaned forward and rubbed her hands over her

  face. The jolt of excitement she had expected had come, but

  it faded far too quickly. Fatigue and an unfocused fear

  flooded through her in its wake. She could feel herself begin-

  ning to slow down, but she refused to surrender.

  No, no giving up now. I won this one. She pressed her

  fingers against her eyelids. I think.

  She had begun her quest to locate the Duros captain, Lai

  Nootka, in a most organized and methodical way. She pulled

  as much as she could about him from Imperial and Alliance

  sources and compiled a profile of him based on that informa-

  tion. The most complete Imperial record came from a planet

  named Garqi where Nootka and his crew had been impris-

  oned for several months on charges of smuggling for the

  Alliance. Nootka's presence on the planet had been well doc-

  umented, and the Prefect Barris, Nootka's Imperial adver-

  sary, had paid dearly for his brush with the Alliance.

  Garqi was where Corran met Nootka.

  Alliance files were far more generous in the amount of

  information they provided. Nootka had indeed moved ship-

  ments for the Alliance, but he acted on their behalf only

  when it suited him. He didn't appear to have firm ties to the

  Alliance--not even as firm as those Mirax Terrik had.

  Nootka's distance from the Alliance, yet willingness to work

  with it, certainly put him in a grey area that might have been

  why Tycho chose to trade with him.

  Iella's inquiries then went off in several directions at the

  same time. She started a search for any records pertaining to

  any of the aliases and various ship identification codes she

  could find for the Star's Delight. She was less interested in

  the Alliance material than she was the Imperial records, but

  she did note that Nootka had not been off on missions for

  the Alliance at the time Tycho said he met with him on Co-

  ruscant.

  She also dug deeper into the person who was Lai

  Nootka himself. The Duros were a race of tall, slender,
blue-

  skinned beings whose facial expressions seemed, to most hu-

  mans, to be entirely dour. They remained aloof, and it was

  often said that they lacked noses because they were disin-

  clined to stick their noses into business that did not concern

  them. Most Duros remained neutral concerning the Rebel-

  lion, but a few brave individuals like Lai Nootka dared trade

  with the Rebels. Only in this did Lai Nootka appear to be

  different from the majority of his people, which made re-

  searching him much easier.

  Iella's greatest triumph was in locating the series of

  young-adult Duros novels from which Nootka drew inspira-

  tion for his various aliases and the new names of his ship. He

  had mixed and matched first and family names of characters

  to create aliases for himself, and then for each alias, gave his

  ship a name that was not associated with the corresponding

  characters in the books; but everything had indeed come

  from that pool of names. When none of the aliases she al-

  ready had for him turned up an Imperial record, she tried

  inventing additional aliases, using the process she imagined

  Nootka himself had used to create his new identities. She

  started pumping these possible aliases through the Imperial

  computer and hoping for the best.

  The computer had reported back a lot of misses, but

  finally she got a hit. Just four days before Tycho's meeting

  with Lai Nootka, a modified CorelliSpace Gymsnor-3

  freighter named Novachild entered the Coruscant system. A

  Duros named Hes Glillto had been listed as the captain of

  record. No departure for that ship or captain had been re-

  corded, but this didn't surprise leila. The one record provid-

  ing the information about his arrival was in a duty log filed

  by Lieutenant Virar Needa of Orbital Solar Energy Transfer

  Satellite 1127 after Coruscant had fallen to the Alliance and

  after Tycho Celchu had been taken into custody.

  Though officially part of their duty, OSF;FS officers sel-

  dom maintained or filed such logs, but from what she could

  see Needa had been obsessive about it. The log had data

  concerning incoming and outgoing ships that traveled in-

  system during Needa's watches on the station. The lack of a