Star Wars - X-Wing - Krytos Trap

by Michael A. Stackpole

  incident and the filing of the report."

  "Now, in your experience as Corran Horn's partner,

  would you say he was usually prompt in filing his reports?"

  "Yes." Iella glared at Whistler. "But sometimes there

  were delays, and the two weeks you mention were fairly

  busy."

  "Is that the only reason, being busy, that you believe

  Lieutenant Horn delayed filing his report?" "Objection, calls for speculation."

  "Counselor Ven is asking the witness what she believes,

  not what she thinks the victim thought. I'll allow it. Over-

  ruled."

  "Because we believed Captain Celchu was dead on No-

  quivzor, there seemed no way the report could be true, so

  there would have been no reason to file it." Iella leaned for-

  ward in her seat. "However, the minute Corran learned Cap-

  tain Celchu was alive, he made that report."

  "I understand that." The Twi'lek flashed her a smile full

  of pointy teeth. "In your time as his partner, had you ever

  known Corran Horn to make a mistake?"

  "He was only human."

  Ven's expression darkened. "Perhaps you can expand on

  that answer for those of us who are not human."

  Iella blushed and glanced down at the floor. What a

  thing to say, especially here and now! "I mean, yes, he did

  make mistakes."

  "Thank you. Now, you alluded to something in the re-

  port that left a question in your mind about the veracity of

  Lieutenant Horn's identification of Kirtan Loor. What was

  that?"

  Her stomach folded in on itself. "Corran describes Loor

  as wearing a hooded cloak and following Captain Celchu out

  the back of the cantina as Corran entered it. Corran recog-

  nized Loor from his height and his gait, but he never actually

  saw his face."

  "And as good as Corran was, you think that his making

  an identification without seeing the individual's face leaves

  room for him to be mistaken?" "Yes."

  The Twi'lek nodded. "Thank you for your candor.

  Nothing further."

  Ackbar looked at the prosecutor. "Redirect?"

  "No, Admiral."

  The Mon Calamari nodded down at Iella. "You are ex-

  cused, Agent Wessiri. I am going to recess the court at this

  time. The Provisional Council is meeting to discuss a number

  of problems and I must be there. I may, in fact, recess the

  trial for a week. I assume, from the question you asked ear-

  lier, Counselor Ven, you would not mind having the extra

  time for investigation of the case?"

  Iella, returning to her place at the prosecution bench,

  watched Nawara's grey profile as he nodded. "l welcome the

  time to continue to prepare my defense."

  "Commander Ettyk, you have no objections to a delay?"

  "No, sir."

  "Very good, court stands adjourned for one week."

  leila entered Halla Ettyk's office. "Diric's in the outer office,

  lying down. I hope you don't mind. The crush of people

  leaving the court was a bit much, but the bailiffs didn't seem

  to want to let him catch his breath. In fact, they weren't too

  interested in letting me bring him along with me here to the

  office."

  The black-haired prosecutor shook her head. "Not a

  problem, but get him a special visitor's identification badge."

  Iella frowned as she slipped into a nerfhide chair in front

  of Halla's transparisteel desk. "What's going on?"

  Halla set a comlink down on her desk. "I just heard

  from Admiral Ackbar's aide, Commander Sirlul. The reason

  for the abrupt adjournment was more than a routine meeting

  of the Provisional Council. It appears, in the wake of the PCF

  assault on that bacta storage site, we've had a bomb threat

  here. They aren't sure who made the threat or how real it is,

  but they want a week to reinforce the courthouse complex."

  "I see."

  Halla nodded solemnly. "Just as well--it gives me a

  week to shore up my case."

  Iella winced. "I'm sorry for what I said in there. I don't

  want to have Corran's killer get off, but--"

  "Not your fault. Admiral Ackbar was right--I asked one

  more question than I should have. I tried to make sure there

  was no question that Corran had been right, and I was too

  smart for my own good." She shrugged. "At least nothing

  got said about the Duros that Captain Celchu says he was

  meeting with that night. Right now the Tribunal just knows

  that Corran might have been mistaken about his identifica-

  tion. If the Duros is brought in, they'll be free to wonder how

  much Kirtan Loor in a cloak looks like a Duros in a cloak."

  Iella's eyes narrowed. "We all knew Celchu claimed he

  met a Duros that night."

  "So it seems, but all those stories get traced back to

  Celchu himself, so anyone else bringing it up gets it stricken

  because of the hearsay rule. The only way that comes in is if

  Tycho takes the stand."

  "What if the Duros testifies?"

  "What's the likelihood of that happening? There's no

  evidence Lai Nootka ever was on Coruscant, as nearly as we

  can tell. Moreover, there was some history between Corran

  and Nootka--Corran got him out of an Imperial prison on

  Garqi, wherever that is. Why would Nootka run from the

  man who saved his life?"

  Iella opened her hands. "Maybe he was just following

  Tycho."

  "Fine. Let's assume that meeting was as innocent as

  Tycho has tried to make it out to be. It doesn't make the least

  little bit of difference. The bribe data alone is enough to

  show he was working for the Empire. Corran believed Tycho

  had met with Kirtan Loor; his threat to dig into Tycho's

  background because of that belief is our motive for the mur-

  der."

  "But why kill Corran when you can show he's wrong

  about the meeting just by producing Lai Nootka?" leila

  frowned. "Tycho always seemed confident of his innocence,

  which meant he either had Nootka where he could deliver

  him, blowing apart the foundation of Corran's threatened

  investigation, or---"

  "Or he could be innocent?" Halla shook her head.

  "Don't plot a course into that black hole."

  "But that black hole might be the truth."

  "Sure, but we're not the triers of fact in this case, the

  Tribunal members are. We just have to present to them the

  best case we can muster, and the defense has to knock it

  apart." Halla's brown eyes narrowed. "You're not going to

  start in on me about wanting to make sure your partner's

  killer really is caught, because HI tell you we've got him

  beyond a reasonable doubt."

  Iella shrugged. "And if I don't want to be reasonable?"

  Halla winced, then sat back in her white high-backed

  chair. "Idealists should not be in this business, you know."

  "And your point is?"

  "The Duros thing has bothered me, too. I can grant that

  Tycho might have pulled that name from Corran's file just to

  annoy him, but that would be very risky for him to do. The

  trail Tycho has left has shown him to
be very careful, so I

  don't see him throwing out that sort of taunt. Therefore I can

  imagine that he really did meet with Lai Nootka. And if

  that's true, I have to wonder about our inability to find

  Nootka or any record of his presence here on Coruscant."

  "So even though you believe Tycho was working for the

  Empire, you think Nootka's disappearance may be evidence

  of someone making sure Tycho's perfidy is obvious?" Iella

  frowned. "Who? Why?"

  "Good, obstruction-of-justice questions to answer."

  Halla sighed. "You want to find Nootka, right?" "If you don't mind."

  Halla sat forward and fingered a small black wafer of

  silicon. "Do it. And take this--it's a code chip that will let

  you bring your airspeeder into the upper-level security ga-

  rage. You can take the turbolift down to the court from

  there. It'll save Diric from having to go in and out with the

  courtroom crowds from now on."

  Iella accepted it from her and smiled. "Things are just

  going to continue getting crazier, aren't they?"

  "I'm afraid so." Halla visibly shivered. "I'm very much

  afraid so."

  17

  Aided by the Trandoshan's healthy shove, Corran flew

  through the darkened doorway. Unable to see anything, he

  curled himself into a ball and hoped he didn't land on his

  head. He smashed his shins into something hard, then

  bounced down onto his right shoulder before continuing his

  roll. He hit more things, most of which cried out, and all of

  which gave way, then came to an abrupt stop against some-

  thing very solid.

  Corran opened his eyes and in the dim light made out

  the smiling, bearded face of a positively huge man. He'd

  come to rest against the man's shin and thigh--clearly the

  man had dropped to one knee to stop Corran's tumble

  through the room. Back along his flight path Corran heard

  the muttered curses of people he'd knocked down.

  The bearded man stood and dragged Corran to his feet.

  "Quite the entrance."

  "I had help in making it." Corran plucked at the shoul-

  ders of his tan canvas tunic and tried to settle it in place. The

  bulky garment extended all the way to his knees. The sleeves

  ran to mid-forearm, but that was because the shoulder seam

  started well below the curve of his deltoids. Naked beneath

  it, Corran felt a little uncomfortable. He knew that was part

  of the psychological war waged by Isard on him and the

  other prisoners--deny them human clothing and you deny

  them a little piece of their humanity.

  The big man nodded. "The Trandoshan doesn't like any-

  one. I'm Urlor Sette." He offered Corran his hand. Sette was

  missing the last two fingers of his right hand but didn't seem

  bashful or embarrassed about it.

  Corran met the man's firm grip with a solid one of his

  own. "Corran Horn."

  "Glad to make your acquaintance." Sette pointed off to

  the left. "Come on, I'll take you to the Old Man." The big

  man's voice carried with it equal measures of respect and

  affection, reminding Cotran of how he'd often called Gil

  Bastra "the Old Man."

  Must be the nominal leader among the prisoners here.

  Corran realized that his being thrust into the general

  Lusankya population could have been another ploy by Isard

  to get him to reveal information he'd not given up during

  interrogation. Because he did not have a clear memory of

  what he had actually said while being chemically debriefed,

  he didn't know what she might be looking to confirm or

  uncover. For all I know, this is an elaborate charade. I will

  have to be on my guard.

  Urlor led Corran out of the area near the doorway and

  deeper into the cell complex. It appeared to have been

  ground and drilled out of solid rock. Thick dust coated the

  floor and hung in Urlor's wake like ground-covering fog. The

  irregular rock walls and ceiling had pockets of luminous

  lichen clinging to them. Their lime-green light gave the dust

  an eerie glow, and greyed out the flesh of those standing

  about.

  Corran followed Urlor into a side chamber with an en-

  trance low enough that even he had to duck his head. Beyond

  the threshold the big man straightened up and moved aside.

  On the opposite side of the circular room, barely six meters

  from the entrance, an older, white-haired and bearded man

  sat up and hung his legs over the edge of a hammock braided

  together from darkened strips of tunic canvas. Corran imme-

  diately had a vague sense that he'd seen the man before, or a

  holograph of him, but if so, it was a long time ago, and he

  couldn't place him.

  "Sir, this is Corran Horn. They just delivered him to

  US."

  The older man stood and straightened his tunic, then

  peered closely at Corran. He felt as if under the scrutiny of

  his first drill instructor at the Corellian Security Force Acad-

  emy. The effect was not wholly unpleasant in that it rein-

  forced the leadership role into which the old man had been

  cast. "Come here, son, let me see you close up."

  Corran closed the gap between them and felt Urlor drop

  in behind him, ready to prevent him from doing any harm to

  the old man. "I'm with Rogue Squadron, a lieutenant."

  "You have the look of a pilot about you--size, anyway.

  You've got a good leader in Antilles--assuming Skywalker's

  not back in charge there."

  "No sir, he isn't. Wedge Antilles is still in charge, and is

  a commander now."

  The older man nodded, then squinted at Corran's face.

  "You're from CoreIlia?" "Yes, sir."

  "Did I know your grandfather?"

  Corran shrugged. "His name is Rostek Horn. He was

  with CorSec."

  The old man shook his head and straightened up again.

  "No, I was thinking of someone else, from the Clone Wars. I

  don't recall Rostek Horn, though I might have met him once

  or twice. It's possible."

  Though the man qualified his statement, Corran felt he

  was being polite instead of indecisive. Although his age had

  given him white hair and wrinkled skin, clearly the man's

  mental faculties were not suffering from the ravages of age.

  The old man knew exactly who it was he thought Corran

  looked like, and he also knew that he'd never met Corran's

  grandfather. That clarity of mind impressed Corran, as did

  the mannerly qualification of his firmly voiced denial.

  The old man extended his hand to Corran. "My name's

  Jan." His dark eyes flicked up toward Urlor. "Despite what

  he will tell you, there's no rank here. That was for when we

  were people. Now we're just here."

  "Pleased to meet you, sir." Corran shook the man's

  hand and found his grip firm even though his hands were a

  bit bony.

  Jan sat back in the hammock. "You say Antilles has

  finally accepted a promotion?" "Yes, sir."

  "He always seemed level-headed. Good officer material.

  And who's commanding the fleet?"

  Corran h
esitated. "I'm not sure how much of that you

  want me to discuss, sir."

  A smile spread across Jan's face. "Very good, my boy. If

  you're in here it's because Isard has sucked you dry like the

  spider she is, but caution is good." He glanced down. "It's

  just that some of us have been in here since Yavin and, well,

  we wonder about how the war is going. We've had others

  through here who have told us a lot. We know, for example,

  that the Emperor is dead and with him another Death Star.

  And we know about the Ssi-ruuk. But news has been pretty

  spare in the last year and a half--you're the first military

  man who's not an Imp who has ended up here for about that

  long. The few civilians who've been here have been interest

  ing, but their knowledge of how the Rebellion is going has

  been filtered through lmp news sources."

  Urlor landed a hand heavily on Corrans right shoulder.

  "Imps would have us believe Rogue Squadron is dead and

  gone. Died at a place called Borleias."

  "Sure, in some Imp's lum dream." Corran turned, slip-

  ping from beneath Urlor's grip, so he could see both men at

  the same time. "Rogue Squadron did get hit hard at Borleias,

  but that was more the product of bad intel going in than it

  was anything the Imps actually did to us. The fact is, though,

  that inside a month after we got bloodied, we were back and

  took Borleias away from the Imps. And, from there, we

  staged for the invasion of Coruscant."

  His smile grew broad as pride swelled inside him.

  "Rogue Squadron went into Coruscant and managed to

  bring the shields down. I don't remember much, but I know

  our fleet arrived and I was evacuated by Isard as she fled the

  planet, so I have to figure the New Republic now rules Co-

  rnscant. It's ours."

  "It is yours because we gave it to you."

  Corran looked to his right, toward the doorway, and

  saw an obese man squeezing his way through it. The tunic,

  which was black like the man's thinning hair, could barely

  contain the man's bulk. Anger filled the man's brown eyes

  for a second, then melted away as he straightened up and

  tugged at the hem of his sleeves. "You inherited a sick world,

  a dying world."

  Jan bowed his head in the heavy man's direction. "This

  is General Evir Derricote, late of Imperial service. He is the