Star Wars - X-Wing - Krytos Trap

by Michael A. Stackpole

  smaller man but clearly did not have quite the intimidating

  effect on him that Loor wanted. "I invited you here to inform

  you of my plan as a courtesy, not to allow you to veto it."

  Fliry Vorru shrugged. "Ah, but I have vetoed it."

  No! "No! I cannot allow this." Loor's hands balled into

  fists. "My agreement with you was to let you select domestic

  targets that help weaken the New Republic's government. I

  have abided by your decisions in any case where the target

  was of that sort. This is not one of those cases."

  Loor stalked around his darkened office, flitting like a

  moth around the circle of light that anointed Fliry Vorru and

  made his white hair shine brilliantly. "The destruction of

  Rogue Squadron has been a priority with me since well be-

  fore they took Imperial Center, and now, now they are

  within my grasp. I have a squadron of X-wings here on Im-

  perial Center that I will use to attack Rogue Squadron's base

  and destroy them on the ground. It will be perfect and will

  allow me to finish a mission that has taken far too long to

  complete."

  Vorru leaned back in Loor's tall chair and put his booted

  feet up on the surface of the desk, scattering a stack of data-

  cards. "What were once your priorities do not matter to me.

  I deem this attack too risky. Cracken will suspect I leaked

  information about Rogue Squadron's impending mission to

  you."

  "No, no he won't." Loor's fingers itched to be punching

  data up on his datapad--or to be strangling you, Vorru. "I

  uncovered evidence of a run to Ryloth based on fluctuations

  in the secondary ryll-derivatives black market. I traced it

  back to a woman in the medical corps who's been making

  extra money producing her own brand of patent medicine.

  It's mostly lure, with ryll and a drop or two of bacta in it--

  useless, of course, but she's begun to raise the price. It's as-

  sumed that when Rogue Squadron brings the rytl back to

  Coruscant, its effectiveness against the virus will be touted

  and her medicine will be in high demand. I can give her to

  you and you can point her out as the leak."

  "Suggesting that a quack producing a folk remedy led

  you to Rogue Squadron is what will get me implicated."

  "Nonsense." Loor slapped his hands against his hips in

  frustration. "You know as well as I do that Ryloth is as dark

  a den of iniquity as exists this side of Varl. The Twi'leks have

  not supported the Rebellion in any great numbers, so the

  most prominent Twi'lek in the New Republic is Nawara Ven.

  The Republic has to use him as their negotiator and, lo and

  behold, the prosecution asks for and gets a continuance of

  the case. That leaves plenty of time for Rogue Squadron to

  make the trip to Ryloth and back. The only obvious assump-

  tion is that they're going to make the trip."

  Loor shook his head. "I've known where Rogue Squad-

  ron has been stationed for a while now. This is my opportu-

  nity to hit them right at a time when the failure of their

  mission will severely hurt the New Republic."

  "Your reasoning is flawless, Agent Loor, but that con-

  cerns me not at all." Vorru's dark eyes glittered. "I even find

  your devotion toward the elimination of Rogue Squadron

  admirable. However, your taking action against Rogue

  Squadron does not suit me at this time; therefore you cannot

  launch your assault."

  "And if I choose to ignore your advice?"

  Vorru twisted his head slightly sideways. "Do you really

  want to test me, Kirtan Loor?"

  Loor hesitated, losing his chance to snap back a defiant

  answer. Anyone else asking that question would have filled

  the words with impending doom, but Vorru asked it in an

  easy tone, as if asking a child if she were certain she wanted

  to do something that was obviously dangerous. His expres-

  sion, his posture, bore no obvious menace, and yet Loor

  found himself more fearful of Vorru than he would be of a

  buzzadder coiled and ready to strike in his place.

  "Testing you would get neither of us anywhere."

  "I always thought you were more than reasonable."

  Vorru swung his feet off the desk and swiveled the chair

  around so he could stand. He withdrew a datacard from

  inside his militia tunic and tossed it on the desk. "You and

  your people have been good and have done nothing of im-

  port for nearly two weeks. I have found you a new target."

  Loor exchanged places with Vorru, spun the chair

  around, and dropped into it. He pulled himself around to

  face the desk and saw Vorru's shadowed form standing op-

  posite him. Loor shoved the datacard into his datapad,

  punched up a directory, then opened the file labeled "tar-

  get.die." The architectural renderings of a building showing

  stress points filled the small screen.

  The Intelligence agent looked up. "It's small. I don't see

  bacta storage areas or barracks facilities. What is it?" "A school."

  "School?" Loor frowned. "You mean a training acad-

  emy?"

  "No, a school. For children."

  "Children of the Rebel leadership?"

  "Hardly. They've been too busy to breed." Vorru shook

  his head quickly. "This is just a normal school, with normal

  children--some aliens, but mostly human." "Why?"

  "Why? Because the students are drawn from the local

  population."

  Loor's frown deepened, and confusion made his voice

  tenuous. "No, why hit a school?"

  "Come now, Agent Loor, you didn't expect to get great

  results without inflicting great pain, did you?" Vorru laughed

  lightly. "You probably thought you could cling to some

  shred of honor. By hitting factories and military facilities and

  places where adults congregated, you could put fear into

  them. By hitting bacta distribution centers, you could make

  parents concerned about the welfare of their children, but it

  would be the Krytos virus that killed the children, not you. Is

  that it?"

  "I . . . perhaps ..."

  "Perhaps nothing, that is exactly what you were think-

  ing. And because of it, your efforts would have been for

  naught." Vorru leaned forward, supporting his body on both

  arms. The light from above hid his eyes in black triangles.

  "Threaten a child and you will unite the parents against you.

  Kill a child and those who have lost it will retreat in mourn-

  ing. Those around them will feel their pain and likewise look

  to their own families. They will keep their children close and

  out of schools. This will shatter the Rebellion's ability to

  indoctrinate the young. It also makes the Rebellion look un-

  forgivably weak. People will demand things be done and it

  will be left to me to do them."

  And one of the things you shall do is use me as a scape-

  goat for your evil. The illusion of control over his own situa-

  tion evaporated in a heartbeat. To Loor his future was clear

  He would carry out more and more heinous missions for

  Colonel Vorru; th
en, eventually, Vorru would betray him. He

  would remain alive and free until Vorru had no further use

  for him, then he would be broken and displayed as proof of

  Vorru's virtue.

  It struck Loor as almost comical that he could see

  Vorru's desire to strike at a school as evil, yet his desire to hit

  Rogue Squadron was nothing more than duty. The differ-

  ence, ultimately, was that the strike at Rogue Squadron

  would advance the cause of the Empire, while the strike at

  the school would only strengthen Vorru's position. We are

  not as far apart as ! would like to think, but neither are we as

  close as Vorru sees us.

  Nor am I as stupid as he thinks I am. Loor hit a button

  on the datapad and read the list of materials needed to un-

  dertake the operation. "When?"

  "A week. There will have been no news of the trial in

  that time, so this will really attract attention."

  Loor's head came up. "Will you need me to sacrifice

  some of my men to your militia?"

  "Not immediately." A shadowed smile spread across the

  small man's face. "I have several troublesome individuals

  who need to die in an airspeeder explosion. The chemical

  composition of the explosives will match those in the school

  bombing. That will send Cracken's people off in a direction I

  want and leave you free to operate."

  "Will you be selecting another target for us?"

  Vorru straightened up, retreating into shadow. "No.

  Just go ahead and pick out a half-dozen targets you want to

  hit and I'll pick one or two from your list. I'll use them as

  tests for my subordinates to see if they can figure out how we

  can profit from these things. Competition will keep them

  sharp."

  "I would imagine."

  "I'm certain you would, Agent Loor." Vorru sketched a

  mock salute. "I look forward to the results of your handi-

  work."

  Wedge looked around the lab set deep in the bowels of the

  Imperial Palace complex. "So this is where the Krytos virus

  was developed?"

  General Cracken nodded. "You noticed, when you came

  in, that the place is kept under negative pressure. If the seals

  are breached, air flows in, not out. It precludes the possibility

  of pathogens getting out."

  Wedge frowned. "But I thought the Krytos virus could

  not be spread by air, only by fluid contact--in drinking wa-

  ter or when someone came in contact with bodily fluid from

  an infected person."

  "That's absolutely true, but in this lab they were manu-

  facturing a virus that had never existed before. They wanted

  something that would mutate relatively quickly so it could

  spread between species. With that sort of thing the chance of

  a spontaneous mutation that would let it become airborne

  and still remain infectious is one that must be guarded

  against." Cracken led him on through a throng of white-

  coated lab assistants to a back room where Qlaern was using

  its hands to enter information into a datapad. A number of

  droids worked in and around the room, apparently orches-

  trated by a Verpine droid that looked much like a metal

  avatar of the Vratix.

  Qlaern drew its hands back to its thorax as Wedge en-

  tered the room. "Commander Antilles, we are pleased to see

  you." The Vratix's right hand came out and gently brushed

  Wedge's cheek.

  Wedge stroked the Vratix's arm in return. "The honor is

  mine. You know, I expect, that my squadron will be leading

  the expedition to Ryloth."

  "Yes, of this we are aware. We also know that Mirax

  will be traveling with you."

  "Right." The trip to Ryloth from Imperial Center would

  take five days, and that was a bit long to be trapped in the

  cockpit of an X-wing. Ten of the squadron's X-wings would

  be loaded aboard a modified Rebel Transport, the Courage

  of Sullust. Wedge would travel with Mirax in the Pulsar

  Skate, with his X-wing ensconced in the cargo bay that

  would, if things went as planned, be filled with ryll for the

  return trip. The X-wings would fly escort out of Ryloth; then

  they would be loaded aboard another transport after the first

  leg of the journey, for the rest of the trip to Coruscant.

  Airen Cracken patted the Vratix on the shoulder. "As

  you asked, I have brought Commander Antilles. You have

  something to tell him?"

  "Yes, of course." Qlaern rested both hands on Wedge's

  shoulders. "We have analyzed the virus and various medici-

  nal preparations. Ryll will have some effect against the virus.

  Its efficacy varies widely. We have been pursuing the reason

  for this. We have been advised that ryll is classified in a

  number of different grades by the Twi'leks. Most of the ryll

  available off Ryloth is of the lowest grade."

  "They don't export the best, I can understand that."

  "Good. The rarest grade of ryll is known as ryll kor. It

  makes up approximately three percent of all ryll. The com-

  pound contains in it trace elements that appear to work

  against the virus, but exactly how and why we are not cer-

  tain. We need as much ryll kor as we can get."

  Wedge nodded and patted the backs of the Vratix's

  hands. "How will I know it?"

  "The ryll kor tastes . . ." Qlaern stopped. "You would

  not be able to differentiate the taste, we think."

  "Probably not."

  "Kor absorbs light except in the ultraviolet range."

  Wedge gla nced at Cracken. "Meaning?"

  "It looks black, like charcoal, except to someone who

  can see in the UV range." Cracken smiled. "I have some gear

  that will be able to sort kor from ryll that's dyed black. You

  might check, though, perhaps your Gand can see in the ultra-

  violet range."

  Wouldn't surprise me. He doesn't breathe or sleep and

  can regenerate severed limbs. "I'll ask Ooryl if he can help

  me in that capacity." He looked back at Qlaern. "HI get you

  your kor."

  "Do that, Wedge Antilles, and we shall cure the dis-

  ease."

  And then I'll be bound by my promise to represent you

  to the Provisional Council. Wedge smiled and brought

  Qlaern's right hand up to feel his face. "We'll be back before

  you know it, I promise. And you know I keep my promises."

  21

  Corran Horn shuffled along in line with the other prisoners.

  He affected the dull-eyed, hopeless stare most of them dis-

  played for their guards. He moved when told to move and

  stopped when told to stop. In no way should any of the

  guards in stormtrooper armor conducting them to the mines

  have noticed anything out of the ordinary about him. To

  them he should have appeared to be just like all the other

  prisoners being herded to the mines.

  He hoped against hope the facade he put forward fooled

  them, because as dull and soporific as he might seem on the

  outside, he was seething and anxious on the inside. After

  only a week in the general population he had decided to

  make his first stab at es
cape. He had briefly discussed his

  plan with Jan and found the man's insights useful, but he had

  ignored Jan's entreaties to put off his attempt.

  The prospect of being killed in his first try did daunt

  Corran, but not as much as he thought it should have. He

  had a hunch that he wouldn't be killed if he was captured.

  He knew that was foolish, and that he had no factual basis

  for making that judgment, but it felt right. During his career

  with CorSec, and as a pilot with Rogue Squadron, he'd gone

  with gut feelings before, and won more times than he'd lost.

  Although he did not have any facts to support his feel-

  ings about escape, he did have some circumstantial evidence

  that made him optimistic. First and foremost was the fact

  that he wasn't dead yet. He couldn't imagine Ysanne Isard

  keeping him or anyone else around unless they were useful.

  As long as he did not prove to be more of a bother than he

  was worth to Iceheart and her plans, he'd be kept alive.

  Second, and it was a rather bizarre fact, was the method

  of return for the unsuccessful escapees. Most of them came

  back as fire-blackened skeletons, or parts thereof. The only

  way to match them up with the people who had escaped

  would be through genetic testing. Since that was unavailable

  to the prisoners, they had to assume the bodies were, in fact,

  those of the escapees. However, since confirmation was im-

  possible, Isard could have simply picked a prisoner out of the

  less secure prison levels, and had him burned beyond recog-

  nition and dumped in the high security area. As long as she

  could identify who had escaped, returning a close match

  would be pretty easy, and the high-security prisoners would

  be left imagining escape was impossible.

  Third and finally, Corran saw that Jan really did care for

  the men under his control. His fear for Corran's safety was

  genuine, and not based in any fear of retribution against

  himself. As the leader of the Rebel contingent, Jan felt re-

  sponsible for the other Alliance prisoners. He'd seen enough

  people die in the fight against the Empire that he wanted to

  prevent people from throwing their lives away needlessly. He

  clearly believed that some day, that day being sooner rather

  than later, the Alliance would find them and free them, and