The Krytos Trap

by Michael A. Stackpole

  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 Corellia, though this is much, much nicer.

  The panel closed and the circular platform began to ascend 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. Up 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 anywhere is better than here. He hit the button and sat back in the hope he’d enjoy the ride.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  That’s it, then. Loor smiled and killed the sound accompanying the holographic images of Nawara Ven’s press conference. The Twi’lek 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 entered 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 Invisec.”

  “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. “Sir, when do we strike?”

  “Court begins early in the morning. Time the strike to occur with the first witness. That gives you approximately five hours.”

  “It’s done, sir.”

  “Very good, Helvan. You make me proud.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The SIO man turned and practically ran from the office. Loor would have laughed, but he feared that might have betrayed his true intentions. The attack he had designed would call for a strike force of thirty SI operatives—three cells’ worth. He designated a bacta facility as the target because he knew Isard would approve of it and might set aside, even for a moment, her fears about him. He chose Vorru as a target both to strike at the man’s vanity and so he could hurt the man personally before he sold him out to the Rebels. Stick the vibroblade in and modulate the oscillation rate.

  Loor prepared the plans for transmission to Isard by adding a note stating he intended to personally supervise the operation, and then sent them. He shut down his datapad, then took one last look out the window of his sanctuary at the brilliant galaxy of synthetic stars below him. There will be other towers and other chances to rise to such heights.

  On a whim he turned on all of his lights and left them burning like a beacon in the night as he abandoned his office and set out on the most dangerous mission he had ever undertaken.

  Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Iella Wessiri entered Halla Ettyk’s office. “You look as haggard as I feel.”

  Halla looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “You don’t know the half of it. Nawara Ven called me just past midnight. I’ve spent two hours meeting with him and various Provo Council members. This is all madness.”

  “Why tractor-beam me into it?”

  Halla smiled. “Because you’ve been the one who’s harbored little doubts about Tycho Celchu’s guilt. We’ve got a witness now who can confirm his innocence. We have to bring him in, and you’re going to help Nawara do the job.”

  Iella blinked her eyes. “A witness? Lai Nootka came forward?”

  “Nope.” Halla sat back and mischievous light played through her brown eyes. “Someone who demanded your presence. Said he’d only trust you to bring him in.”

  Who could that be? Iella’s eyes narrowed. “Give me a name.”

  “Can’t. This office isn’t secure enough.” Halla pointed toward the office window and the drapes drawn over it. “Someone you knew well, once upon a time.”

  Iella frowned. Drapes? Curtains? Her jaw dropped open. Kirtan Loor? “It can’t be.”

  “It is. Code name is Behemoth.”

  “Right.” He’s the biggest Intelligence agent we’ve brought in so far. “What’s the drill?”

  Halla yawned. “Sorry. Nawara just gave his little media conference so Behemoth knows the deal is set. Nawara will be coming here and will be waiting until Behemoth can get him a message about pickup. I’ve arranged for you to get an armored airspeeder. You’ll take Behemoth to a safe house, Nawara Ven will depose him, then you’ll pack him up and bring him here in time for court. We want him in and out fast—we’re counting on secrecy because he should have enough information about Imperial ops that almost anyone could want him dead.”

  Iella nodded. “You’re not afraid I’ll kill him?”

  “Not before he clears Celchu of Horn’s murder, no, I’m not. Cracken will want him after that, but my only concern is his impact on this trial.” Halla shrugged, then blew a lock of black hair from in front of her face. “I’ve already told you he cut an immunity deal, so the only justice that will be done in this case is getting Celchu off. You know how these deals work.”

  “Yeah, they stink worse than Hutt-sweat, but you give something to get something.” Iella sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him in safely.”

  “Never was worried about it.”

  Iella pointed to the hololink on the office’s other desk. “I need to speak with Diric.”

  Halla frowned. “Not a good idea.”

  “If I don’t, he’ll wait up. He always has, but he’s really not that strong anymore.”

  “No details, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Go ahead.” Halla stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. “I’m going down the hall to brew up something hot, dark, and stimulating. Can I bring you some?”

  “Please.” Iella sat down at the desk and entered her home link number. She smiled reflexively when Diric answered. “It’s me.”

  “So it is, and with a smile.” Diric stifled a yawn with his hand. “Forgive me. How are you? Is there anything you need? I can run it over.”

  “No, no, I’m fine, really.” She forced her smile to broaden. “I just called to let you know I’m not going to be coming back home this morning.”

  “Anything wrong?” Irritation washed over Diric’s face. “No, can’t be if you’re smiling. Something good, then?”

  “Work, work I can’t tell you about. You’ll find it fascinating when I can.”

  “I can’t wait. Sounds as if you have a big day ahead of you.” He glanced off to the side for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll get some fruit and put it together with your lunch so you can snack on
it if there is a break. Will that work?”

  “That’ll be perfect, darling.” Iella touched the hololink’s screen and caressed her husband’s face. “It really is going to be a big day tomorrow. You’ll see why I can’t say anything.”

  “I understand. Thank you for letting me know you’re safe. I can try to get back to sleep now.”

  “Please do, Diric. Get all the sleep you can—enough for both of us.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He smiled at her. “Be careful. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Iella hit a button and broke the connection. She sat back and sighed deeply. It’s very strange to find myself having to safeguard a hated enemy so he can exonerate a man in the murder of a good friend. I’m not sure Corran would appreciate the irony of the situation, but I do know he wouldn’t want an innocent man imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. I think that’s as close to peace of mind as I’m going to get out of this. I just hope it’s enough when all is said and done.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Never, in all the time he had secretly worked for Ysanne Isard, had he gotten a message that revealed her to being close to panic. The messages she had sent concerning the remnants of Rogue Squadron and the need for their elimination had been more controlled and confident. Even after the Alliance took Coruscant and she disappeared, her messages had revealed a core of confidence that her activities would bring about the destruction of the New Republic.

  He had to admit that she had not been far wrong in her beliefs in that regard. The Krytos virus had created such a demand for bacta that the New Republic had all but bankrupted itself trying to meet the minimum demand for the lifesaving liquid. They had been desperate enough to strike a deal for ryll with the Twi’leks, a gamble that could have caused angry Thyferrans to cut off the bacta supply completely.

  Confidence in the government had begun to erode because of the bacta crisis. Warlord Zsinj’s predations on a bacta convoy had dealt the public’s belief in the government a serious blow from which they would attempt to recover by sending a task force under Han Solo’s leadership to kill Zsinj. In fact, however, the more insidious damage to the government had been done by the government itself with the Celchu trial. Originally Tycho Celchu had been held up as an example of the evil perpetrated by the Empire, but Nawara Ven’s spirited defense had pointed out that the evidence against Celchu was circumstantial and probably manufactured. The obvious displeasure expressed by Rogue Squadron’s cherished heroes at Celchu’s trial helped underscore the weak foundation for the government’s case.

  He neither knew nor cared if Celchu was innocent. Isard was very capable of arranging it so an innocent man appeared to be guilty or vice versa. He did know she was using the trial to hurt the government, and her efforts clearly were succeeding—which is why the tenor of the note surprised him.

  In addition to summoning him to a meeting place, the note directed him to dispatch teams of his people to various sites in the Imperial Palace and Senate Hill areas. They were to go armed and shoot on sight the individual whose file she’d appended to the message. Many of the locations would be all but impossible to get to at this hour: a forty-third floor foyer in the Imperial Palace, an unused area of the Galactic Museum, an old Imperial Senate subcommittee room. Moreover, it struck him that the only place she wasn’t asking him to send his men was the Imperial Courthouse. Since she wanted everyone in place before court could open, and since the target apparently possessed information she didn’t want revealed, he assumed she had the Courthouse covered herself.

  Fliry Vorru frowned. She should have gotten Loor to send people out to these other sites, too, not just the Courthouse. He flicked on his datapad and called up the reports from the people he had monitoring the activities of Loor and his operatives. Of Loor there was no report within the last hour, when he left his tower. Loor had gotten much better at eluding surveillance over the past several weeks, but he always showed up again in places that made re-acquiring him painfully easy.

  The reports on some of Loor’s operatives, on the other hand, sparked Vorru’s interest. Three teams, a full thirty individuals, had congregated at the warehouse facility Loor used to store his heavy weaponry. That makes for a big operation, and I’ve given Loor no targets for such an operation.

  Fliry Vorru realized that one of his facilities was going to be the target of that operation. Isard’s orders were scattering his troops so he couldn’t defend against the assault. It has to be coming against the bacta storage facility—that’s the only target I control which she would see as valuable. She wants to take it down to hurt the Republic, but hitting any of the others would make as much sense. The only thing this gives her is a terrorist strike against me, which strengthens my cover and distances me from association with her.

  Ordering him to be in a meeting place at a specific time was meant to get him out of the bacta storage area so he’d not be killed. If she confided in him the reason she wanted him out, he’d refuse to do what she wanted, choosing instead to protect his bacta and the profits he could reap by selling the “wastage” that occurred with each shipment. As well as the other loot I have stored there.

  Despite the fact that her summons was meant to save his life, he took little joy in it. If things went as they had previously, she would appear in hologram and berate him for what he had or had not done for her cause. She used the fact that she could betray him to the Rebels as a bludgeon, and he cringed suitably when she did so, which seemed to satisfy her need to see him under her control. As nervous as her message suggested she was, he expected quite a beating.

  What she does not understand, what she has never understood, is that I don’t fear her at all. The Emperor considered me a rival. She is nothing compared to him. I work for her because her goals and mine coincide. I can play her off against the Republic and benefit in the meantime.

  Fliry Vorru smiled. He prepared orders dispatching militia teams to the sites she wanted, though he reduced her request for a dozen people at each location to three. The rest he ordered summoned to his bacta storage facility. He planned to have them moving as much bacta and other loot as possible to the various storage facilities he had scattered all over Imperial Center.

  When she wants to know why I evacuated my facility, I’ll tell her the Alliance tipped me to a strike. And to make that seem true…

  Vorru switched his comlink to a secure frequency and initiated a call. He allowed the sleepy individual on the opposite end of the link to awaken enough to understand Basic, then he spoke slowly and carefully. “Forgive the hour of this call, Councilor Fey’lya, but I knew not where else to turn. I have learned of an impending PCF strike at a bacta storage facility. If we act quickly, a great tragedy can be averted.”

  All Wedge could see of Emtrey in the darkness was the droid’s glowing gold eyes. “What is it, Emtrey?”

  “Forgive the intrusion, Commander, but we have just gotten an urgent message from Admiral Ackbar. There are terrorists about and we have to stop them.”

  Wedge shook his head to clear it. “Terrorists here, in our area?”

  “No, sir. They’re going to hit a bacta storage site. You’re to fly cover for our troops opposing them.”

  The bedsheet slid down around Wedge’s waist as he pulled himself up and pressed his back against the headboard. “Call in the squadron.”

  “I have, sir. They’re all coming in except for Master Ven. He’s not answering his comlink.”

  “Keep trying. When you get him, I want to speak with him. Get to Zraii and start pre-flight on our X-wings. Tell him I want no fueling delays this time.”

  “Done, sir.” Emtrey pointed at the datapad on the desk in Wedge’s room. “The primary briefing document has already been downloaded for your review.”

  Wedge smiled. “Thanks.” He threw back the covers and stepped out of bed. “Caf, lots of it, for me and for the ready room. I have a feeling this mission is not one we can fly in our sleep.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six
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  A tone brought Corran awake. A jolt of fear ran through him when he couldn’t recognize his surroundings. He knew he wasn’t in Lusankya anymore, or at least he hoped that was the case, but the thought that his whole escape might have been some elaborate charade staged by Isard to break him down gnawed at his spirit.

  He hauled himself off the very comfortable bantha-hide divan. He’d not intended to fall asleep, but the tunnel-shuttle’s appointments were plush and seductive, especially in comparison with what he had endured in Lusankya. This is more impressive than the Hotel Imperial. The shuttle had a small refresher station which had allowed Corran to take his first shower since his capture. The Lusankya diet had not been very high in protein content, so his hair, beard, and fingernails had not grown much during his captivity; still, he could have used a shave. Then again, in this tunic, I’m hardly presentable. He laughed. If it were really that luxurious, there would have been a closet with a full wardrobe on board.

  Holdout blaster in hand, Corran walked over to the egress hatch and opened it. Waiting for him was what looked like a private lift. The box, paneled with dark greel wood, was otherwise featureless. This made Corran a little apprehensive; without controls, he had to assume it was programmed to go to a specific place. I don’t know if I want to be there, but I suspect it will be better for me than here. He entered the lift and the doors closed behind him.

  The car ascended quickly and quietly. Corran shook the lees of sleep from his head. He squeezed himself into the corner of the car just left of the doors, out of direct line with the opening. Blaster in his right hand, he was ready to pivot on his left foot, duck low, and come out shooting if he had to.