Two assumptions I can make: first, they have comlinks and are going to be coordinating their attack. Second, they can or have called for backup, which means they win the waiting game, I have to get out of here, and the only way to do that is by going out the way they came in. He glanced over at the doorway which the lightsaber’s glow backlit. They’re moving out to surround me, so now’s the best time to go.
Corran bobbed up and down twice, using the light-saber’s light to silhouette the obstacles in his way. The path looked fairly clear. He reached into his pocket and ran his thumb over the ruined face of the Jedi medallion. You’re not the one I used for luck, but here’s hoping there was some left in the dies when you were struck.
He took off at a dead run, cutting around one statue and then a display case before heading toward the doorway. Little holograms flickered to life behind him, drawing attention first to themselves, then to him. The first few shots fired at him burned holes in his cloak, but then his assailants shifted their aim and raked the doorway with blasterfire—blasterfire that should have exploded his heart and reduced his lungs to cinders.
And it would have except that the Jedi cloak caught the corner of the display case. It yanked Corran from his feet, then the throat clasp snapped. With his momentum thus slackened but far from depleted, he flew through the doorway feet first, centimeters below the line of blasterfire. He hit hard on his right hip and cracked his right knee on the granite floor, then slid toward the middle of the room.
His right hand closed on the hilt of the lightsaber. He switched it off and scrambled back toward the doorway through which he had just flown. He hoped to find the dead man’s blaster carbine, but as he settled his back against the wall beside the doorway he saw its outline two meters away on the wrong side of the opening. Hopeless, Gotta get up, gotta run for the exit—wherever it is. Even though he knew running was the only viable plan, the stiffening sensation in his knee and hip told him a weak limp was going to be the best he could manage. And I’ll get vaped for the effort, I’m dead.
Then he felt something solid thump against the wall behind him. Even before he heard the click of a comlink, he twisted around and rose up on his left knee. Jamming the lightsaber’s cup against the wall with his right hand, he flicked it on and raked it upward. It pulled free of the wall at the top of its arc, spitting and hissing as blood evaporated from the silvery shaft of light.
The bisected man on the other side of the wall fell across the doorway just as the third man, who had been approaching the doorway from the opposite side, opened fire. The dead man caught two bolts that would have killed Corran before the man shifted aim and started tracking the light-saber’s arc. One bolt singed the hair on the back of Corran’s hand, but the rest passed by without hurting him.
Corran’s left hand came up and he snapped off two shots toward the blaster carbine’s muzzle flashes. Both hit. The third man crashed backward into a display case, then hung there at odd angles. In the footlight Corran could see his hands twitch once or twice, as if still working the trigger of the weapon that had fallen to the floor, then the man lay still.
Corran extinguished the lightsaber, then clipped it to his belt. He shifted the belt around so the weapon hung at his left hip and wouldn’t bang against the bruised one. Pocketing his holdout blaster, he crawled over to the body of the first man he’d killed, loosened the chinstrap on the helmet and pulled it off. Inside it he found a comlink in a clip. He pulled it out and listened for a moment to see if other troopers were on the way, but the comlink remained silent.
He retrieved the second man’s blaster carbine and turned on the glowrod. He played it over the dead men and frowned. Their black uniforms weren’t any sort of Imperial uniform he’d ever seen before, and the men themselves were mismatched enough that he knew they weren’t storm-troopers. I’ve never seen a stormtrooper without a helmet on, but I can’t see them looking quite this ordinary. Still, the uniforms were paramilitary, so he assumed the three dead men were members of a local constabulary force. Another time I’d have thought you were allies, but in CorSec we didn’t shoot someone just because he wasn’t the suspect we were looking for.
Corran played the glowrod over the bottom of the corn-link and adjusted the frequency. Now to find out where we are. While he had long detested the Empire, it did manage to do some things with a remarkable amount of efficiency. One of them was the establishment and maintenance of standard measures. On each world broadcast stations had been set up to provide the exact time, both local and in relation to Coruscant. By tuning into that signal he could find out where he was and what time it was. It occurs to me I’ve not seen outside for a long time.
He held the comlink near his ear and slowly limped over to the hole the trio had blown in the wall on the far side of the chamber. “Must be a real backwater planet if they only sent three guys to catch an escaped prisoner—even if they thought I was Derricote. I wonder if I can ever get off it?”
Over the comlink he heard a mechanical voice announce, “8 hours, 45 minutes, Coordinated Galactic Time.”
“Great, I’m on a world that’s set its clocks to Coruscant time, no matter what the local situation is.” He hefted the blaster carbine, glanced at the power level indicator, then played the light out through the hole into the next room. Unlike the one he had found himself in, the room beyond the hole was clean and orderly. Even better, there is an open doorway to the outside.
He was about to step through the wall when two irreconcilable ideas collided in his brain. It was rather clear that he was inside some sort of storehouse filled with Jedi memorabilia. The mansion from which he had escaped had obviously been an Imperial Moff’s retreat, but what Imperial Moff would risk his position by hoarding so much Jedi material? The only Moff who could do that would be a powerful one, and powerful Moffs weren’t found on backwater worlds.
Actually, there were no Moffs so powerful that they would have dared defy the Emperor and Vader by hoarding this stuff. Only the Emperor could have… Corran’s jaw dropped open. And the clock here is set to Coruscant time…
Corran slumped against the wall. It can’t be. I can’t be on Coruscant. It makes no sense. I remember traveling on a ship. Then again, I was so doped up… Maybe I am on Coruscant and Isard just wanted me to think I wasn’t on Coruscant. He chuckled. It would explain why no one ever found Lusankya—it was here all the time, which means she is, too.
He glanced back at the dead men. And she has enough pull with local authorities to have them out hunting Derricote. I may be out of her clutches, but I’m not free, yet. He glanced at the comlink and thought about tuning into the military frequencies Rogue Squadron used, but rejected that plan for two reasons. I’m not going to have the right scrambler codes to let me hear and speak with them, and even if I did, there’s the traitor to consider.
He shook his head. I need someone I can trust. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I have. He set the comlink and opened a channel. “This is Corran Horn calling. I’m not dead—I only feel like it—and I could use some help returning to the land of the living.”
Chapter Fourty-One
Wedge pulled back on the X-wing’s stick and leveled out approximately 300 meters behind and above the airspeeder. He had to trim his speed back because even though the X-wing could close fast, the airspeeder could turn faster within the close confines of the city. Part of Wedge knew racing speeder bikes through the forests of Endor was safer than doing what he was doing, but he had no choice. That bomb has to be stopped.
“Mynock, make sure you’re getting a solid tracking feed on that airspeeder.”
The astromech droid shrilled out a confirmation of that order. Wedge watched the tracking data get updated, then rolled up on the right stabilizer foil and dove. He cruised down below the speeder’s line of flight, entering a large boulevard that sped him forward toward Invisec. If I can head him off… “Mynock, plot all his routes from here to the target.”
The droid shrieked like wind h
owling off the S-foils.
Wedge wove his way through the undercity, cutting around buildings, over walkways, and through tunnels, all the while marveling at the intricate labyrinth that was Coruscant. Making his way in and out, up and over or around tested his skills as a pilot. While not much of the dawn’s light penetrated that deeply in the city, he did have enough to navigate by, but only just barely.
A shiver ran down his spine. Corran and the others were flying out here at night when we took Coruscant. I never really appreciated what they did until now.
Mynock hooted at him. Wedge glanced down at his monitor and saw various schematics flash past. “Slower, Mynock, I’m flying here, too.” Wedge marked the location of the airspeeder and compared it with the maps. As the air-speeder sank to his level and below it, something clicked in the back of his mind. That’s it. I’ve got them.
“Give me the lowest route in you can find, Mynock.” Wedge banked starboard, chopped his thrust back, and brought the repulsorlift coils online. He hovered and drifted forward, remaining just outside the corridor described by the map Mynock had brought up. As he watched he saw the airspeeder move onto the route and begin to follow it in.
Wedge smiled. It struck sparks in the warehouse and dropped like a rock outside. It’s still going down because it’s carrying too much weight. The speeder-ferry that was going down when I first flew in must have been meant to haul this bomb to a point where it could head down in at the bacta store. Now they have to go low because they don’t have enough power to go high.
He switched his fire control over to lasers and linked all four to give him a quad burst. As he did so, the airspeeder cruised through the thoroughfare. Wedge picked his speed up and dropped straight in behind it. Someone in the speeder spotted him and started shooting at him with a blaster rifle, but the bolts harmlessly impacted on Wedge’s forward shield. The pilot tried to make the airspeeder juke, but every sideslip and turn just brought the vehicle lower and lower.
And into Wedge’s sights.
He hit the trigger and sent a quartet of scarlet laser-bolts to converge on the blocky vehicle. The lasers vaporized the roof and filled the passenger compartment with fire. The speeder began to fall faster, with the aft end sagging downward. Something exploded up front, starting the speeder into a backward somersault. Two more quad bursts from the X-wing reduced the large chunks of vehicle into mist and metal hail.
The vapor cloud—made up mostly of gaseous explosives—ignited in a flash, momentarily blinding Wedge and prompting a scream from Mynock. Wedge kept a light but steady hand on the stick and rode out the shockwave. The X-wing’s shields held, saving the fighter from damage. As his vision cleared and he flew through the smoke, he saw no trace of the airspeeder.
He smiled. “See that, Mynock? That mission wasn’t so tough.”
The droid brayed in what Wedge took to be a vaguely triumphant manner.
“Rogue Leader here. The bomb is gone. Report.”
“Three here, Lead. We are over the Manarai Mountain district and have big anomalies out to the southwest. I have TIEs coming in, at least one wing.”
“I copy, Three. On my way.” Wedge hauled back on the stick and jammed his throttle full forward. The X-wing rocketed straight up. “Confirm thirty-six TIEs, Three.”
“Confirm thirty-six, Lead, eyeballs and squints. They’re coming this way and there’s something else out there.” Rhysati sounded shaken. “My sensors aren’t picking it up at all well.”
“Standby, Three.” Wedge punched his comm unit over to another opchannel. “Antilles here. What’s down there to the southwest?”
“Palace district control here, Rogue Leader. We’re not sure. Civilian side is reporting groundquakes and massive destruction. We’re just turning a satellite in that direction. Data coming up—I’ll give you the raw feed.”
“I copy, control.” Wedge looked at the scan splaying itself across his sensor monitor and felt his spirits sinking as low as Mynock’s mournful whistle. “That can’t be. It just can’t be.”
“You’re getting what we’re getting, Rogue Leader.”
Wedge flicked the comm unit back to the squadron’s tactical frequency. “Three and Four, get back here. Now.”
“What’s out there, Lead?”
Wedge shivered. “It’s something that shouldn’t be there, Three. IFF beacons report it’s a Super Star Destroyer that goes by the name Lusankya.”
Chapter Fourty-Two
Admiral Ackbar took his seat at the high bench, with Generals Madine and Salm below and to the left and right respectively. He waited for the defendant and prosecutor to be seated, then he looked out over the sparsely populated courtroom. “Today’s session will be abbreviated. Even the most simple voyage can be ended by an unanticipated wave, and the wave affecting us here was titanic in proportions.”
He glanced down at Tycho Celchu and the two droids at the defense table. “Captain Celchu, your lawyer is not here because approximately an hour ago he was shot and seriously wounded in the parking facility on the upper floors of this building. The assassin has been killed, but we have sealed the building for security reasons nonetheless. Nawara Ven was shot while in the process of bringing to court a witness who had recently surfaced to provide proof of your innocence. The witness offered his testimony on your behalf in return for a new identity and repatriation to another world. He provided a datacard filled with encrypted information that backed his claims concerning you as well as claims concerning the Imperial espionage net here on Coruscant.
“Unfortunately the assassin who wounded Counselor Ven succeeded in killing this witness.” Ackbar looked over toward where Airen Cracken sat on the prosecution side of the court. “General Cracken has assured me he has people working on the datacard to see if they can slice the information out, but there is no telling if or when they will succeed.”
Tycho frowned. “Where does this leave me?”
Halla Ettyk stood. “Admiral, the prosecution would be amenable to a continuance until Counselor Ven has recovered.”
“Granted.” Admiral Ackbar raised a gavel. “If there is nothing more we will stand in recess until Counselor Ven is able to continue.”
Tycho held a hand up. “Wait, please, isn’t there something I can do? Isn’t it possible for me to represent myself in his absence?”
“That has always been your right, Captain Celchu.”
Halla looked over at Tycho. “The admiral is correct, but really there is nothing you can do.”
“I can call and question a witness.”
The prosecutor shook her head and pointed at her datapad. “Not really. I have before me the list of witnesses Counselor Ven said you were going to call. None of the members of Rogue Squadron are here and available. The Duros Lai Nootka is not here and, unfortunately, is probably dead. You have no witnesses.”
Whistler tooted.
Emtrey’s clamshell head came up. “Whistler says we do have a witness.”
Halla frowned. “Who?”
Tycho stood. “I can testify on my own behalf.”
“It would be a mistake to do so, Captain. I would rip you apart on cross.”
The R2 unit blatted rudely.
Tycho patted Whistler on the dome. “I agree.”
Emtrey canted his head to the side. “Ah, sir, Whistler was agreeing with Commander Ettyk. You’re not his witness. Your testimony won’t put this whole business to rest.”
Halla shook her head. “The only witness who could do that is dead.”
Whistler trumpeted loudly, whirling his head full around in a circle. The droid bounced excitedly and his tone became a piercing shriek.
Ackbar’s gavel cracked once, sharply, jerking Emtrey to attention. “Tell Whistler to calm down or I’ll have a restraining bolt put on him.”
The little droid stopped and hummed mournfully.
“Now what was he talking about, Emtrey?”
Whistler answered.
Emtrey glanced sharply down at him and
gave him a good clout on the dome. “Make sense, Whistler. They’re waiting.”
Whistler repeated his previous answer.
The 3PO unit raised its arms and looked up at Ackbar. “I am sorry, sir, but he makes no sense. The stress—circuits must have become polarized. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
Ackbar sighed. “Answer my question. Who is he saying this witness is?”
Before Emtrey could answer, a man spoke from the court’s open doorway. “Begging your pardon, Admiral, I think Whistler intends for me to be called as a witness.”
Ackbar’s barbels twitched. From the black depths all manner of beasts can swim. “This is impossible.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Corran Horn smiled, “but as for impossible, Admiral, you know impossible is what Rogue Squadron does best of all.”
Chapter Fourty-Three
Wedge snaprolled up on the port S-foil, then pulled the stick back to the box over his breastbone. He rolled the X-wing into a dive, then came up and around to starboard in a horizontal loop that brought him back head-to-head with the pair of eyeballs that had been bucking his exhaust. He spitted one on his crosshairs and hit the trigger, filling it with coherent light. The cockpit instantly combusted, and, trailing thick black smoke, the TIE fighter corkscrewed down to slam into a ferrocrete tower.
The TIE’s wingman tried to avenge his partner, but Wedge never gave him a chance. He hit the left rudder pedal, pulling the aft end of the X-wing off to the right. The maneuver skidded the fighter out of the TIE’s line of flight and fire. The TIE pilot tried to match the stunt, but as he did so he brought his fighter’s hexagonal solar panel perpendicular to the ship’s flight-line. In the vacuum of space that move would have given him a good shot at Wedge, but in atmosphere, it made the TIE jump and begin to roll.
The Krytos Trap Page 31
