Corellian background of his cover identity likely did trip the Xakrean
profiling system. Their tendency toward being overly thorough will only slow
us down, which is why I want no official contact with them.
"No matter. They're bringing our landspeeder around. You are confident
you can navigate?"
Trabler nodded once. "I studied the local maps and always have my datapad
to back things up."
"Good." She led the way to the spaceport exit and found a man standing
next to a rental landspeeder.
He bore a sign that read "Glasc," her assumed surname. She and Trabler
made their way over to him, identified themselves, and took possession of the
vehicle. As Trabler slipped into the driver's seat, she took her place in the
back.
Isard powered up her datapad. "I have the files on Xakrea's fringe
population and am getting comlinked updates as the locals flag files. Since
the Rebel will undoubtedly be taking refuge among the scum here, we will hunt
there as well. Our quarry will want to alter his identity, and there are only
a few places that offer such services here. We will begin by checking them."
"As you wish. Special Agent Isard."
"There is one address on East Ryloth Street and another on Palpatine
Parkway. Which is closer?"
"Ryloth Street should be." Trabler glanced at her in the mirror. "That
would be your preference, then?"
"Indeed." She smiled coldly at the reflection of his eyes. "Anyone who
would sell him a new identity will sell him to us. Let's go, we have a lot of
shopping to do today."
Hal thanked the hovercab driver and Upped him half again the fare he'd
been charged. "Really, this is it; 24335 East Ryloth Street, right where I
want to be."
The Devaronian looked around at the seedy neighborhood and back at Hal
again. "West Ryloth is more your kind of place, my friend."
Hal shook his head and jerked a thumb at the curio shop. "Arky is an old
friend." He gave the cabbie a conspiratorial wink. "You never saw me, hey?"
"Got it, pal. Never saw you."
The Corellian exited the cab and slammed the door shut. He watched the
cab pull away, then stepped over a midden of litter and made his way straight
for the shop's transparisteel door. The lettering painted on the door
proclaimed the shop to be Arky's Emporium of Forgotten Treasures; Hal figured
most of them were forgotten because they had to be excavated from beneath
layers of dust. All the items on display in the viewports were sun faded and
cracked, hardly inviting the casual passerby to venture inside.
Not that they get many casual passersby down here, Hal thought. He opened
the door and quickly scanned the place. The only other customer glanced
quickly in his direction when the door buzzed as Hal opened it, then turned
and seemed very interested in not letting Hal get a look at his face. That
behavior would have struck Hal as odd, but the customer was likely taking his
cue from the way Arky had paled when he recognized Hal.
"Seb Arkos, what a surprise." The Corellian Security Force officer kept
his voice light. "Last I recall, you'd won an all-expenses-paid trip to
Kessel."
Seb Arkos snorted. He stood as tall as Hal, but had a skeletally thin
build that matched the rheumy grumble that underscored his words. "Yeah, well,
glitmining isn't my kind of thing. Out of your range, aren't you, CorSec?"
"I'm hurt, Arky. Here I come all this way to see you, and all I get is
hostility." Hal strolled through the store, seeing only a collection of junk.
He almost remarked about that fact, but he remembered that his wife had a
knack for walking into sch a place and rescuing treasures from it. "Dealing in
antiques is your sort of thing now, or are those delicate hands still forging
the best transport and identification documents in the galaxy?"
Arky's smile betrayed him for a second, then he scowled. "I keep my nose
clean."
Hal raised opened hands. "Hey, the local snoopers are no friends of mine.
"
"But you are looking for a friend?"
"Someone I feel about the same way I feel about you, Arky." Hal slipped a
static holograph ofMoranda Savich from his pocket and flashed it for the
forger. "Moranda Savich. Seen her?"
"Moranda Savich?" The slender man tapped a bony finger against his chin.
"Moranda Savich?"
Hal jerked a thumb at the store's other customer. "You want me to start
asking your clientele?"
Arky's eyes widened, the pale blue communicating a jolt of fear. "No, no
need to do that. I seen her around, you know, places."
"She retaining your services?"
The forger shook his head. "Nope, she hasn't asked me to dummy anything
up for her."
Hal caught a hint of deceit from the shopkeeper. "Let's not try to slice
the truth too thin here. She's talked to you about smuggling her off this
rock, right? And you figured you'd nail her for clean datadocs in the process?
"
The cadaverous man's eyes narrowed, and a lank of white hair drifted down
over his forehead. "Okay, straight bytes, no bits flipped. We talked. She
wants to be gone, and you're the reason. She's getting very insistent."
"And you're going to let me know when you're meeting with her next?"
Arky's head came up. "Look, Horn, you know I don't play that way. You set
me up to join Booster and the others on Kessel, but I didn't Vader them out,
did I? I was loyal to my mates."
Hal shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. I can wait here
forever. We'll be business partners, you and I. I'll be your silent partner,
checking everyone out, at least until you decide not to be silent."
Arky glowered at him, then swiped a hand under his nose. "Okay, maybe she
was going to be around. Soon, maybe."
The CorSec inspector nodded. "Good enough. I can wait."
"Outside, hey?"
Hal glanced from Arky to the other man in the store, then saw a woman
approaching the door. "Sure. Looks like it will be crowded in here soon
anyway. I'll wait outside. She won't see me and will never know it was you."
Across the street, hidden in the shadows of an alley, Moranda Savich
smacked an open hand against the wall. Seb Arkos had been the only shadow
broker who had been willing to talk with her. The Imperial interdiction had
scared everyone else. Of course, you don't have to be a genius to know a
Corellian expatriate wouldn't be smart enough to be afraid of the Imps. The
local authorities were ruled and regged up so badly they had to fill out
Kbytes of dataforms before they could even draw a blaster. Not so the Imps-
rumor has it they get bonus pay for saving the state the cost of a trial.
She wanted to get off Xakrea as fast as possible, and meeting Seb Arkos
the previous evening had seemed a fine stroke of luck-luck which has soured.
As she headed toward his store to make her arrangements, who should pop out of
a hovercab but Hal Horn, as big as life and too damned close for her comfort.
Closest he's gotten so far. A minute later and he would have caught me in
that shop. She allowed herself a half smile. W
ell, not all my luck is bad.
It hadn't taken Moranda long to put together a few puzzle pieces as
events unfolded on Xakrea. She'd used her datapad to take a look at the cards
she'd lifted, but they were encrypted. While she was no ace slicer, she knew a
few tricks and was able to determine that the files had been coded with some
heavy-duty Imperial encryption routines. Given the eight cards in the set, she
figured they had to be some fairly extensive military files-military files
being the only thing that matched up with the courier's demeanor. The only
folks who would want Imp military files would be the Empire's enemies, which
meant the Rebellion. The Imperial interdict on the spaceport had a search for
Rebels linked to it, confirming her suspicions.
This gave her a brand-new problem, and one that made Hal Horn a decided
side issue. Moranda had heard rumors about the Rebellion, passed some on, and
marveled at others, but by and large she kept away from being involved. In her
line of work the face on the coin really didn't matter much, just the fact
that the coin was there and could be lifted. Any government would take a dim
view of how she made her living, be it Imperial, local, or whatever these
Rebels would put into place. Those folks worry about laws, where I worry about
evading them.
Having a datapack chock full of Imperial military secrets could easily be
construed by local and Imperial forces as a sign that she was a Rebel. She had
no idea if the rumors of what the Imps did with captured Rebels were true or
not, but she'd prefer an extended stay on Kessel to what she'd heard about.
Keeping the datapack was not a good idea, and she knew it. And, she kept
telling herself, she was going to ditch it at the earliest opportunity.
And yet there its weight was, in her jacket pocket, slapping against her
hip as she crouched down. Someone, she knew, would pay good money for the
cards, and that money would take her places Hal Horn couldn't even begin to
dream about finding her. She didn't see hanging on to the datacards as a
gamble as much as she did a balance. Right now the risk wasn't too great, but
when things got unbalanced, she could ditch the datacards.
Right, that's what I'm going to do.
Her self-mocking smile died as a woman got out of a landspeeder farther
up the block. The front registration plate had a rental code on it and looked
far too new to be in this part ofXakrea unless it was driven by a booster
looking to piece it out for parts. The woman spoke to the driver, then set off
down the street, heading for Arky's store.
Though the woman wore civilian clothes, Moranda knew she was Imperial,
straight from Imperial Center, and that meant she was most probably Imperial
Intelligence. The cut of her clothes marked her point of origin, and the
haughty way her chin lifted as she navigated past a derelict glitbiter lying
up against a building marked her as Imperial. And she's going straight for
Arky, which means Intel, and that means I'm in very deep.
Ysanne Isard wrinkled her nose at the store's thick scent. She ran a
finger across a feline statue carved from Ithorian toal wood, then gently
brushed her hands against each other to rid her finger of dust. As she did so,
she took quick stock of the store and the three men in it. Seb Arkos she
recognized from a file on her datapad. The other two men seemed unremarkable
until the larger one speaking with Arkos glanced at her.
Horn, from Corellia. CorSec, if the file flashed to me was accurate. It
struck her as odd that a man newly arrived on
Xakrea would come so quickly to a known Rebel contact point. Unless, like
Bel Iblis, he's a Rebel, too. She frowned. Nothing in Horn's file indicated
any Rebel sympathies, and Isard dimly recalled his father being a highly
placed member of CorSec, one who had been lauded for his diligence in hunting
Jedi.
She turned to examine a filthy Weequay chin-harp, knowing full well it
could never function without the matching chord hammer, and raised her comlink
to her mouth. In a whisper she commanded Trabler to bring the landspeeder up
to the store's door. Through the window she caught a hint of movement as he
complied with her order, so she pocketed the comlink and walked smartly over
to Hal Horn.
"Inspector Horn? I am Katya Glasc of Darkknell Special Security."
A grin blossomed on Arkos's face. "In trouble, Inspector?"
Horn shook his head. "I shouldn't be. Am I, Agent Glasc?"
Though slightly shorter than Trabler, Horn had a powerful build and a
metric ton more intelligence in his hazel eyes than Trabler could ever hope
for. He wore his brown hair cut conservatively short, and that revealed the
gray hairs growing in at his temples. She guessed he was a half-dozen years
older than she was, and someone who saw himself as a good man. Which means he
can be useful or very dangerous.
"That depends. Your identification, please."
Horn carefully drew a datacard from within his jacket, which Isard
slipped into her datapad. She glanced at his information and took in the
warrants, then nodded and returned the card to him. "I wanted to make certain.
Please, forgive the caution. Your investigation, we may have a break in it..."
Her head came up, then she frowned. "Perhaps this is not the place to
discuss this sort of thing. If you don't mind, I have a speeder waiting
outside..."
Horn watched her carefully. "You've found Savich?"
"We've found evidence of her presence. I would feel more at ease
explaining outside." She hooked a hand through his left elbow, letting it rest
lightly enough there to be construed as an invitation, not an order.
The Corellian nodded slowly. "Your world, your rules." He turned back and
pointed a finger at the shopkeeper. "Don't let me down, Arky."
"Right, Horn." The thin man scoffed loudly. "I'll have her wait right
here for you. You bet."
Garm Bel Ibis suppressed a shudder as Isard led Hal Horn out of the shop.
Bel Iblis had been so careful in reaching Arkos's store that when Horn walked
in, he felt certain he'd been trapped. Arkos had recognized the inspector
right off and had muttered, "Emperor's black bones, CorSec, here," under his
breath. Bel Iblis had braced himself not to jump when Horn grabbed him, but
the man had just passed him by without so much as a glance.
As Horn started in on Arkos, Bel Iblis had begun to relax. He still had
no evidence that anyone was looking for him, or that anyone thought he still
lived. The anonymity of death gave him a chance to operate without
surveillance, but how long it would last he had no idea. He hoped Arkos would
provide him with a good set of documents to allow him to continue his search
for the thief on Darkknell and, possibly, even act as a broker for any
exchange.
It struck Bel Iblis as possible that Horn could be a Rebel operative sent
to Darkknell by Bail Organa and Mon Mothma to recover the datapack, since
neither of them knew he was alive and out to get it himself. He had no idea if
Horn was a Rebel; Bel Iblis admired the efficient cell system that had been
> set up to deny all but those who needed to know that sort of information. He
hesitated, almost prepared to make his identity known to Horn, but the
direction of the CorSec agent's questioning of Arkos made him hold back.
The Senator found himself secretly smiling as Horn worked on Arkos. One
of the most galling things about being a senator from Corellia was dealing
with the reputation his system had for its smugglers. Bel Iblis and the
majority of the other Corellians were good people, but they were judged by
association with others. While Bel Iblis didn't know Hal Horn, he knew plenty
of folks like him, who worked hard to make Corellia a better place. His
admiration for Horn's dedication to duty spawned his smile.
The arrival of Ysanne Isard killed that smile again. Bel Iblis had only
ever met her once, at an Imperial reception. She had been on her father's arm.
Bel Iblis detested Armand Isard. A little man with iron eyes and a wiry speed
that made Bel Iblis feel clumsy, Armand Isard had ruthlessly ferreted out and
destroyed Rebel cells, both real and imagined. His daughter, with her
mismatched eyes of fire and ice, had inherited her father's singleness of
purpose and, worse yet, had developed a personal devotion to the Emperor. For
her to be on Darkknell meant the original theft had been discovered and that
Armand Isard was sparing no effort in getting the datapack back in Imperial
hands.
A cold chill sank into the Senator's bones as he realized Armand Isard
Tales From the New Republic Page 4
