Tal’dira’s delivered the altered pronunciation of the starport master’s name harshly, filling it with scorn. Wedge had no idea of what it meant, but he was glad Tal’dira’s anger wasn’t directed at him.
Tal’dira released Koh’shak and turned the vibroblade off. He resheathed it, then turned toward Wedge. “The blade you possess is my gift to you, Wedgan’tilles. This kor you want will be delivered to you, a gift between warriors. It is happily given in the hopes it can heal those who have been touched by treachery and cowardly action. All I ask in return is your forgiveness for this breach of etiquette.”
Wedge turned his vibroblade off and tucked it into the top of his right boot. “A warrior does not hold another warrior responsible for the actions of a merchant.” He turned and pointed to the Alliance ships with his left hand. “On those ships I have gifts from my warriors to yours, offered in spirit shared by warriors.”
Tal’dira clapped Wedge on both shoulders. “There is much honor in you, Wedgan’tilles, and in your Rogue Squadron. I will be most pleased if, while the merchants scurry about unloading and loading our ships, you will continue to join me in Twi’janii.” Looping a lekku over Wedge’s shoulders, Tal’dira pointed at the musicians. “Play for our guests, play the best you ever have. You are playing for the pleasure of warriors now, and nothing less than the best will do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Corran’s mouth felt like a desert, and it wasn’t just because of the dust created by working the grater. He’d been planning his little experiment so he could test his theory about the prison’s orientation for the last two days, and was fairly certain that what he had in mind would work perfectly. Despite his confidence, he’d hesitated, telling himself he’d wait for the rock that would work the best.
He’d found the rock on the grate. It had something of a clamshell shape—momentarily reminding him of Emtrey’s head. It fit easily in his palm and would fly well. It had enough mass to it to make his throw possible, and yet had a narrow enough cross-section and dark enough color that it wouldn’t easily be seen in the cavern.
His mouth was dry because the fear coiling in his belly was sucking all the moisture out of him. He couldn’t think of what he had to be afraid of. His life couldn’t get any worse. He was locked in the highest security prison the Empire had ever known. Most people had never even heard of Lusankya, and most of those who had thought it was a rumor. Even during his time on the Corellian Security Force he’d only heard passing references to it. Beyond believing that it existed and was not a good place, he’d known nothing about it.
Corran caught other prisoners in his work group looking at him, and in their expectant glances he found the source of his fear. I’m afraid of being wrong and disappointing them. Only Jan and Urlor knew what he intended to do, but a number of other prisoners had been recruited to stage the distraction that would allow him to act. They had figured out he was going to be doing something related to escape, but they had no clue what it was, nor did they expect to be told. Despite their ignorance, they were all enthused with the idea of helping him out. Hopes they had long since abandoned were being revived by his escape attempt.
Corran closed his fist around the stone. This had better work.
He looked over at Urlor who, in turn, nodded to two men working with the smaller sledgehammers. One of them brought his sledgehammer down on the ground hard, then loosened his grip so the tool cartwheeled away. The handle grazed another man, who screamed, clutched at his shin, and started hopping around madly, all the while swearing he was going to kill the clumsy oaf who let go of the hammer. The workers backed away from the careening hammer and the two men, then started shouting encouragement to them in hopes of goading them into a fight.
Corran retreated along with the others, then stopped when Urlor and a knot of three prisoners screened him from the guards. He looked at the rock, gave it a kiss, then hauled back and hurled it up toward the apex of the ceiling, thirty meters away. Come on, come on!
Corran’s theory had been simple. If the prison was oriented upside-down, then gravity generators would be operating beneath his feet to keep him in place. The generators were clearly strong enough at this surface to hold him to it, but the farther he got from them, the weaker their grasp would be. If, in fact, the cavern’s ceiling was actually closer to the core of the planet than where he stood, the planet’s natural gravity would be strong there.
If that were true, if his theory was correct, the rock would hit and hold.
Down on his level the guards began shooting into the crowd. Stunned prisoners began to collapse in waves.
Up above, the stone clipped a stalactite. Deflected, it continued to travel upward, but now at an angle. As Corran watched, the stone seemed to slow and begin to stall.
All around him blue stun-bolts dropped prisoners. Two of the men screening him went down. Then Urlor twitched and fell to the ground. Down to the ground.
The stone fell up!
The stone rattled up in between two stalactites and nestled there safely. As it settled into place, two tiny points on it twinkled, and Corran imagined it was Emtrey’s head and he’d just gotten confirmation of his theory from the droid. I was right! There is a way to escape!
The stun-bolt’s blue agony played over Corran. Once again every nerve in his body fired, every muscle tightened, and every joint creaked. Wracked by pain, he collapsed with the others and rolled onto his back. The world swam in and out of focus and he knew, this time, he was going to black out. That should have filled him with dread, but when he could see clearly, Emtrey looked at him from afar.
And looking at the stone, he knew he was looking down, which meant things for him were definitely looking up.
Evir Derricote, slaving with the other Imperial prisoners at the far end of the cavern, turned to look at the commotion the Rebels were causing, but he did not hurry to do so. It would have been beneath him to let them think their squabbles were of interest to him. Affecting an air of nonchalance, he turned and watched them disinterestedly.
Then he saw Corran Horn.
The diminutive Rebel had irked him the first time they had met, then had compounded his error by gloating over his part in taking Borleias. As the Rebel reared back to throw something, Derricote almost called out a warning to the guards, but something forestalled him. He watched Corran make his throw and saw a small missile shoot up toward the ceiling.
Derricote lost it in the shadows above and began to wonder what Horn was up to. The rock he had thrown clearly was insufficient to dislodge a stalactite or trigger a collapse of the ceiling. As unwise and annoying as Horn had appeared to be, Derricote never would have classed him as suicidal, yet if he was successful in an effort to dislodge a big piece of rock, it would drop straight down on him and the carpet of stunned prisoners covering the cavern floor.
The Imperial General saw Horn go down. The little fool will likely be hit by the rock he threw. Serves him right. Derricote almost turned away, but stopped to see if his prediction would come true.
It did not.
He did not see the stone fall back to the earth.
This started General Derricote thinking. He prided himself on being intelligent. He had, after all, created the Krytos virus. It was not his fault that Ysanne Isard’s expectations for it were unrealistic. He had done his best, but that was not good enough for her, so he ended up in her private prison, subject to her whims. The whims that imprisoned me can also free me.
Derricote could think of dozens of explanations for why the stone did not fall back to the cavern floor. The simplest explanation was that it had become lodged between stalactites. However, for that to happen, Horn would have to be incredibly lucky. He doubted the prisoners would have staged the sort of charade that shielded Horn’s effort just so he could test his luck in a place that, ultimately, housed those who were utterly without luck.
One by one Derricote examined and discarded explanations for the rock remaining on the ceiling and, at last
, hit upon the only one that seemed to make sense. Iceheart has us standing on our heads. Any fool who tries to escape to the surface will just go deeper and deeper into her prison. Horn discovered this fact, tested his hypothesis, and has his result. And, just as obviously, he means to use it to escape.
The general slowly smiled. He could easily let the guards know Horn was planning to escape, but doing that would make him nothing more than an informant. Informing was weak and would not be rewarded by Ysanne Isard. She wanted action. She wanted him to do something to atone for his failure. To please her he would have to act, because taking action was strong.
This Horn will bear watching. When he moves, I will be ready. Derricote tugged at the abbreviated sleeves of his tunic. He will become the source of my redemption and I will once again know the glory of service to the Empire!
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Thank you, Admiral, I do have questions for Tsillin Wel.” Nawara Ven sorted through his set of datacards, then fed one into his datapad. On the long journey to and from Ryloth he’d read Wei’s depositions and had formulated a series of questions to ask her. There really was little to dispute in what she had to say, but he needed to make certain the Tribunal understood the limitations of what she had testified to.
In direct testimony the Quarren had seemed a bit testy, and Admiral Ackbar had admonished her to be cooperative. If needed, Nawara knew he could exacerbate that natural Mon Calamari-Quarren enmity and completely discredit her testimony in Ackbar’s eyes. Generals Salm and Madine, on the other hand, might react negatively if he provoked her.
Combat piloting is often much easier than this.
Nawara looped a lekku over his shoulder. “Agent Wei, according to your earlier testimony, you’ve been auditing Imperial expenditures for years, is that correct?”
The Quarren’s facial tentacles quivered. “I have said this, yes.”
“And the purpose for studying these expenditures was to estimate how much money the Empire was pouring into anti-Rebel activities, correct?”
“Yes.”
“This means you were looking for evidence of expenses that were hidden—black projects, so to speak, that did not appear on any official Imperial budget.”
The Quarren nodded. “Budgets for such things are regularly hidden within other programs. A terra-forming budget might, for example, have miscellaneous expenses linked to it that cover the cost of military development projects. Prior to our taking of Coruscant I would compare known expenses with the budget expenditures and create a picture of what the Empire was spending.”
“I see.” Nawara glanced down at his datapad. “Now, you have told the court that my client, Captain Celchu, was paid approximately fifteen million credits over the past two years. This would be the amount of time that has passed since his escape from Imperial custody. Is that a fair summarization of your testimony?”
The Quarren’s turquoise eyes glinted wetly. “I indicated that fifteen million credits is all we have been able to uncover. The money is located in six different accounts. There could be more.”
“But you are uncertain of that?”
“Counselor Ven, since the occupation of Coruscant I have been working night and day analyzing Intelligence accounts. There are literally millions of accounts. I feel fortunate to have uncovered the six we have found so far.”
Nawara pressed his hands together. “But these six accounts are not the only accounts you have looked at, correa?”
“No, I have reviewed thousands of accounts myself, and my staff has reviewed nearly a million.”
“So the accounts you have linked with my client are not remarkable?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Allow me to rephrase it.” Nawara smiled. “How many Imperial agents have you found that have funds in numerous accounts?”
A translucent membrane nictitated up over Tsillin Wei’s eyes. “A few.”
“A few what? Dozen? Hundred? Thousand?”
“Dozen.”
“And how many of those individuals have six accounts?”
The Quarren shifted slightly in the witness chair. “So far, none, but we have a great deal of work to do yet.”
Nawara nodded. “Now, discovering the links between these files and an agent is not easy work, is it?”
“No.”
“Is one of the difficulties that Imperial Intelligence took pains to make it difficult to locate the identities of their agents?”
“Yes.”
“Do they encrypt data?”
“Yes.”
“Do the encryption routines vary in difficulty depending upon the value of the agent?”
“Objection.” Halla Ettyk stood. “Calls for speculation on the part of the witness.”
“Admiral, Agent Wel is overseeing an Intelligence division that has been at war with Imperial Intelligence for years. Clearly she would be familiar with the degree of security the Empire used to protect its assets and hide information.”
“Overruled. You may answer the question as best you are able.”
Wei’s facial tentacles rolled up and slowly unfurled. “Encryption does become more difficult the more valuable the asset. The methods used to hide Captain Celchu’s identity show him to be of middling importance to the Empire.”
Nawara smiled. “So you have uncovered other agents on the same level of importance as him?”
“Dozens. Hundreds.”
“And each of them had fifteen million credits paid out?”
The Quarren hesitated. “No.”
“No? How much were they paid?”
“Thousands.”
“So you’re saying that while Captain Celchu was protected like an agent of little value, he was paid out of all proportion with his apparent worth to Imperial Intelligence?”
“That is one conclusion that could be drawn from the accounts.”
“Is the other perhaps that he was set up to look like a valuable agent as part of a frame-up?”
“Objection. Speculation.”
“Withdrawn.” Nawara nodded to Commander Ettyk. “Agent Wei, how much money has Captain Celchu taken from his accounts?”
Wei’s tentacles writhed. “None.”
“To your knowledge, is there any evidence that Tycho Celchu knew the accounts existed?”
“No.”
Perfect. “So these accounts could have been set up and made to look as if Captain Celchu was an Imperial agent without his knowledge, specifically to discredit him in a trial like this?”
“Yes.”
Nawara let his smile blossom fully. “And in your experience, has Imperial Intelligence ever set up such accounts to attempt to make the Alliance think someone is an agent in their employ?”
The Quarren glanced down at her hands. “Yes. At least once.”
“And who was that?”
Tsillin Wei glanced up at the bearded man sitting at Admiral Ackbar’s left. “General Crix Madine. I found the accounts and also proved they were false.”
“And you have diligently applied yourself to proving the accounts you have linked to Captain Celchu are false as well, correct?”
The Quarren shook her head. “That is not part of my job.”
“So you just manufacture evidence for the state. Truth means nothing.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.” Admiral Ackbar looked down at Nawara. “You have made your point, Counselor Ven. There is nothing more you can gain on this line.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Nawara returned to the defense bench. “No further questions.”
In the holding cell, Nawara rubbed some warmth back into the tip of his right lekku. “No, you’re right, Captain, we did score points today. I think General Madine will question whether or not you’re being paid off.”
Tycho smiled over at him. “That’s good, yes?”
“In a way, yes.”
“What do you mean?”
Nawara shrugged. “The idea that you’re an agent who wa
s being paid by the Empire isn’t supposed to impress the Tribunal—it’s meant to impress the public. It’s only one of three motives that would explain your actions. It does provide the prosecution with an embarrassment of riches. Greed is the easiest thing for most folks to understand, especially when you’re talking that much in the way of credits.”
Tycho’s binders clicked against the edge of the table as he slid his hands from it and held them against his chest. “Corran’s threatening to expose me is another motive. What’s the last one?”
“Lusankya.” Nawara opened his hands. “The Tribunal, at this point, has a choice. If they assume you betrayed the squadron because you were being paid or because you feared what Corran would uncover, they can convict you of murder and treason without any problem. Everyone will understand what happened and there won’t be any messy details to deal with. If they decide, on the other hand, that you did what you did because of Imperial brainwashing at Lusankya, then they would be bound to find you innocent by reason of diminished sapience. In that case you’d be placed into a hospital and treated for your affliction, to be released whenever you are cured.”
Tycho stared down at his hands. “Which could be never.”
“That’s your nightmare. Their nightmare is that some Emdee-oh droid with a Cognitive Matrix analysis package will unscramble your brain and declare you cured in a week or two. They’d have to let you go free, which would make the justice system seem impotent.”
Tycho’s head came up and the bright blue of his eyes surprised Nawara with its intensity. “What you’re saying is that the sabacc cards have been programmed against me.”
“It’s worse than you know.” Nawara jerked a thumb toward the exterior wall. “The day we got back from Ryloth, the Palpatine Counter-insurgency Front blew up a school. It’s been thirty-six hours and they’ve still not found all the bodies. Some were vaporized in the explosion, unrecoverable—just like Corran’s. Both humans and non died in the blast. Someone claiming responsibility said that such acts of terror would continue until the state’s sham trial of you, an obviously innocent man, was ended and you were set free.”