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.
Star Wars - X-Wing - Krytos Trap Page 32
