Star Wars - X-Wing - Krytos Trap

  empty. There's no one here."

  Corran clutched his knees more tightly to prevent his

  heart from pounding its way out of his chest. "Are you sure?"

  Despair exploded in Corran. What sort of an idiot

  would trap himself in these cabinets?!

  The door slammed shut and bounced back ajar when the

  magnetic latch failed to catch. Corran caught part of a

  heated exchange between stormtroopers. He missed the ini-

  tial comment, but the sharp reply came through loud and

  clear.

  "If he's stupid enough to try to escape, he's stupid

  enough to hide in those cabinets. Finish checking those last

  two cabinets, then seal the room. This level is clear, so we

  move up."

  Corran heard the other cabinets open and close, but it

  was the thunder of a storm that had passed him by. He dared

  not relax, and bumped his head against the top of the cabinet

  when a stormtrooper reshut the door to his compartment.

  The burning in his lungs matched that in his throat, then he

  slowly exhaled and drew in a new breath. He wanted to

  jump out of the cabinet, escape its coffinlike confines, but he

  didn't know if the stormtroopers had left the room yet.

  Again he waited. He knew he had gotten lucky, but he

  was able to convince himself that it wasn't just luck that had

  saved him. In his time with the Corellian Security Force he

  had participated in countless searches for suspects. There

  came a point where he knew, in his gut, that the suspect had

  fled and his attention flagged. From what one of the storm-

  troopers had said, he concluded the library was the last room

  to be searched on that level; if so, the stormtrooper checking

  the cabinets was probably bored out of his mind.

  Because he was bored, be got sloppy. Corran smiled and

  started breathing more normally. Good thing be had his hel-

  met on, otherwise be would have been able to smell me.

  He waited a little longer, even beyond the point where

  he wanted to crawl out of his skin. He fought against the

  panic rising in his heart. If I panic, I die. Cool. Calm. You've

  been in tighter situations before. Take it easy. He concen-

  trated on breathing and waited for his pulse rate to go down,

  then slipped from the cabinet.

  He found himself alone in the library. The lights in the

  xenoscape provided him ample illumination to find his way

  around, but he still wasn't certain what he was looking for.

  He assumed it was too much to ask for any of the boxed

  datacard sets to contain plans that would allow him to es-

  cape the room. Still, he'd conducted enough searches of crim-

  inal strongholds to find it easy to imagine that one box of

  datacards might be a dummy that, when pulled out or tipped

  up on edge, would open the door to a secret hiding place or,

  better yet, the Moff's bolt-hole.

  It would have to be something obscure--something no

  one would ever choose to look at on purpose. With that as

  his search parameter, he found a lot of choices. The sheer

  variety of datacard collections impressed him. But each box

  he tried contained the appropriate datacards. At least I can

  improve my mind while trapped here. Given enough time, I

  could become the galaxy's expert in all sorts of things, in-

  cluding worlds I've never heard of, like this Corvis Minor.

  He pulled the slim box labeled The Complete History of

  Corvis Minor off the shelf and was disappointed when no

  secret door opened up. He was about to put it back when he

  noticed the weight didn't seem quite right. He opened the

  box and dumped a compact holdout blaster into his hand./f

  a blaster is considered the complete history of Coryis Minor,

  I'm thinking it's not a vacation spot.

  He put the box away and checked the blaster's power

  pack. A half-dozen shots. It probably won't get through

  stormtrooper armor, but it can make them dive for cover.

  Keeping the blaster in his hand, he continued his survey

  of the library. He found no more surprises and gave up hop-

  ing there was a history of Corvis Major that would contain

  something more substantial in terms of weaponry. Like an

  X-wing.

  Frustrated by the lack of success of his search, he turned

  his attention to the datapads. He wasn't sure the computers

  would be much more help than the library's inventory had

  been, but he assumed he could get some basic information to

  help him out. Most dedicated datapads included basic infor-

  mation about their surroundings. Something as simple as a

  map showing the evacuation route in case of fire or rebel

  invasion would point him toward exits.

  Provided I can get into the system. Had Whistler been

  with him, the droid could have sliced into the system with

  ease. While he did know a few things about codeslicing him-

  self, he'd relied on Whistler's skills so much that he could

  only perform rudimentary assaults on a system./f there's a

  password for gaining access to the system, I'm blocked right

  there.

  At the smaller of the desks he flicked the holopad on. He

  opened some of the drawers, looking for the sort of datacard

  that might contain password information, when a word ap-

  peared suspended above the holopad

  [INQUIRY]

  Corran's smile blossomed. Whoever had last used the

  datapad had finished by turning off the holopad instead of

  logging off the computer. This deep in a secret Imperial facil-

  ity, the chances of an Alliance spy getting to that terminal

  were slender, and if the security procedure for getting access

  was laborious enough, merely shutting the holopad down

  could seem like a tempting, if unsecured, alternative to mak-

  ing the system secure. Whatever the reason, I don't mind.

  Corran called up a system catalog and shifted to the

  Lusankya database. Hundreds of names scrolled past too fast

  for him to read, so at the next prompt he called up his own

  record. It seemed fairly complete and decidedly up-to-date

  on data about him since his joining Rogue Squadron.

  Tycho's doing, no doubt. He highlighted a datalink labeled

  Lusankya and saw a brief history of his stay in the prison.

  Comparing the date given for his arrival with the dateline on

  the bottom of the holographic image, he realized he'd been in

  captivity for six standard weeks. That was longer than he'd

  been able to count, but his interrogation had been full of lost

  and warped days.

  He highlighted another datalink. Next to the legend

  "CStatus" was the code "RI." Corran chose it and got a

  quick explanation floating above the desk.

  RI Resistant in primary phase.

  Notes The subject could not be induced to fire

  upon positive icons despite being subjected to their

  hostile intent in simulation. His resistance in the

  second round of testing occurred sooner than in the

  previous round. Subject is unsuitable for conver-

  sion.

  Corran stared at the green words burning in the air br />
  above the desk. When he had thought about it, he had as-

  sumed the simulat or flights he had taken were just part of an

  interrogative technique. The technique let him fly, which

  made him feel good. If things were done correctly, that good

  feeling could be transferred to the Imps, then he'd tell them

  what they wanted to know. He could imagine it working just

  that way with any number of folks--they'd be seduced into

  giving up information without realizing what they were do-

  ing.

  Clearly that was not what Isard had been trying to do

  with him. She was trying to make me over into a monster,

  just like Tycho. She wanted me to become a tool she could

  use against the Alliance. He shivered and wished he could

  somehow open his skull and scrape the memories of what he

  endured from his brain.

  His eyes narrowed. Well, your conditioning didn't work.

  I'm not your tool. I'm your enemy, and when I get out of

  here, I'm going to hurt you.

  He got back to an inquiry prompt and called up Tycho

  Celchu's file. Finally, I'll have prooft Corran summoned up

  the Lusankya data and had highlighted the "CStatus" code

  before he really looked at the value listed there. R1. No way.

  That was my code. He called up the data and sat back,

  stunned.

  RI Resistant in primary phase.

  Notes Though the subject's initial response to

  Imperial icons was positive, this appeared to be an

  artifact of his years spent at the Imperial Academy.

  It did not last long. Subject aggressively attacked

  Imperial icons. When those icons were overlaid

  with Alliance datastreams, the contradiction caused

  the subject to become catatonic. Subject is unsuit-

  able for conversion.

  But that's not possible. Tycho's a spy. I know it! Anger

  tore through Corran and immolated his brain. He wanted to

  believe that Ysanne Isard had planted this information so

  he'd not believe Tycho was a spy, but she had no way of

  knowing he'd get where he was to see it. Besides, his having

  that knowledge would serve no purpose to her benefit. Even

  supposing Tycho were killed by the Republic and Corran

  were allowed to escape and point out that Tycho had been

  innocent that would cause strife in the New Republic, but

  how much? Was it worth the elaborate charade of letting him

  escape?

  Corran got up from the chair and began to pace around

  the room. Isard had fed his hatred of Tycho and supported

  his conviction that Tycho had been a spy. That made no

  sense. From his file she would have known that he'd have

  been far more tortured inside by being told that he'd been

  wrong, and that his mistake was the foundation for Tycho's

  treason and murder trial. His own sense of personal honor

  would have eaten him up inside when he realized an innocent

  man was going to be convicted of a crime because of his

  mistake.

  Lost in his thoughts, he stepped into the circle in the

  middle of the floor. The Emperor descended upon him and

  Corran jumped back. He snarled up at the image and

  marched on through it. "Quite the mess you created with

  your Empire, you know."

  Corran realized that lsard's actions made no sense to

  him because she was coming at things with an Imperial sense

  of ethics--ethics that frightened him. She fed his hatred of

  Tycho because it gave her a button to which she knew he

  would react. His hatred was unthinking, and she didn't want

  him thinking at all. Once she got me reacting through emo-

  tions, she could manipulate me. The problem was that my

  feelings in favor of the other members of Rogue Squadron

  overrode my hatred for Tycho. And, maybe, just maybe,

  somewhere deep down I didn't doubt him.

  However, there is evidence of a spy being connected

  with Rogue Squadron. He returned to the datapad and

  punched in the names of all the personnel in the unit or

  support staff. They all came up blank. Feeling a bit frus-

  trated, he called up Tycho's file again and read over the parts

  concerning his time at Lusankya. The details were pretty

  much in keeping with what Tycho had told him he didn't

  remember much of his time there, then he was transferred to

  Akrit'tar. The Lusankya file made reference to his escape

  from that facility and included a couple of notes about

  Tycho's life since then, but didn't include much detail until

  data started flowing from the Rogue Squadron source.

  Pacing again, Corran began to work things out in his

  mind. If Tycho was not an Imperial spy, then he wouldn't

  have been meeting with Kirtan Loor. As much as Corran was

  certain he had seen Loor that night, he admitted that having

  seen the man earlier in the day at the Imperial Palace had

  rattled him, and could easily have made him misidentify a

  Duros in a hooded cloak as Loor.

  Bits and pieces of things began to drop into place for

  him. By a simple process of elimination he narrowed down

  the list of possible spies, and one name rose quickly to the

  top of the list. No doubt about it--but then, that's what I

  thought about Tycho. I have to get clear of here and check

  some things out. I can't afford to be wrong this time.

  He looked up as the Emperor towered above him. Cor-

  ran stepped back. "You know, the sheer ego it takes to plant

  your image in your own facility is unbelievable. This display

  does nothing but take up space." It struck him as another

  useless bit of Imperial ostentation. Then it occurred to him

  that just as the cabinets hid the structure that supported the

  xenoscape, the hoiograph did do more than one thing. It stops people from standing on this spot.

  Corran stepped forward and oriented himself to face in

  the same direction as the Emperor. The world hazed out

  slightly as the hologram settled down over him, but out of

  the corner of his left eye he caught the momentary red spark

  of a low-grade spotting laser being shot at him. It flickered

  on and off a few more times, then the Emperor's hologram

  collapsed around him. As it did so, the circle shifted and

  began to descend beneath the level of the floor.

  The cylindrical hole closed over the top of him, then a

  man-sized panel slid open in front of him. Through it he saw

  the entry portal to a luxurious private tunnel-shuttle. Similar

  to what we used to move prisoners from the detention center

  to court on CoreIlia, though this is much, much nicer.

  The panel closed and the circular platform began to as-

  cend again. Corran found himself once more in the library

  and smiled. He went to the datapad, got back to the prompt

  he'd found initially, then shut the holopad off. Picking up the

  holdout blaster, he inserted himself again into the Emperor's

  image. The lift again took him down and he entered the

  tunnel-shuttle.

  In the forward compartment he found a keypad and

  controls, but he had no idea how to program destinations.

  U
p at the top he saw a red button marked "Return" and

  poised his hand above it. I don't know where this will take

  me, or how long it will take for me to get there, but any-

  where is better than here. He hit the button and sat back in

  the hope he'd enjoy the ride.

  34

  That's it, then. Loor smiled and killed the sound accompany-

  ing the holographic images of Nawara Ven's press confer-

  ence. The Twi'!ek had said the phrase. The New Republic

  would become Loor's new home. It's just as well Corran

  Horn is dead--our being on the same side would have killed

  him anyway.

  Loor folded up a small transportable datapad and

  slipped it into his pocket. Once he left his office he would use

  a public access site to plug in and send the directions for his

  pickup to Nawara Ven. Sending it from his office would have

  been easier, but would have increased the probability that a

  copy of the message would fall into Isard's hands. Though he

  planned to be hidden well away by the Rebels by the time she

  discovered he was missing, he wanted as much time for his

  disappearance to take place as possible.

  At his desk he copied files from his desktop datapad to a

  datacard. "Helvan, come here."

  One of his Special Intelligence operative cell leaders en-

  tered his office. "Sir."

  Loor held the datacard out to him. "There has just been

  an announcement concerning the Celchu trial that leads me

  to believe there will be a fair amount of attention centered on

  the proceedings today. We shall take advantage of that.

  These are the plans and authorization for a strike at the

  largest of the Republic's bacta storage areas, the one in In-

  visec."

  "The one guarded by Vorru's militia?"

  "Is there a problem with that?"

  "No, sir, the target is no more secure than any other

  Rebel facility. It is just that we have refrained from hitting

  targets he is guarding so far .... "

  "Indeed." Loor shrugged. "An oversight on my part.

  Vorru thought himself immune to our wrath. He learns now

  he was wrong."

  A smile tried to squirm its way into the SIO man's face,

  but failed to do more than tug at the corners of his mouth.