faction that tipped Zsinj about the shipment. Even so, we
cannot rule out the possibility that members of this govern-
ment sabotaged the effort to bring bacta to Coruscant."
"You can't be serious. That would make Mon Mothma
or others out to be monsters who had sunk to Ysanne Isard's
level or below."
"Of course I don't believe that is the case, but the prob-
lem is that others do think it possible. I am afraid that you
could become implicated in all this because of your member-
ship in Rogue Squadron." He pressed his hands flat on his
desk and leaned forward. "l want to insulate you from any
possible disaster coming down the line." "Disaster?"
"Rogue Squadron will be sent out with the task force
being used to punish Warlord Zsinj. It could very well be that
this Alderaan incident means certain superior officers in the
military see Rogue Squadron as a problem. Committing you
in an action that destroys the squadron would eliminate that
problem. I'm not saying this is what will happen, of course,
but it could and I would like to put some insurance in place
that prevents this from coming to pass."
Asyr's head came up. "What kind of insurance?"
Fey'lya gestured toward her with opened hands. "I
would like you to prepare a report that indicates the delay in
Rogue Squadron's arrival was a product of human error."
"Such a report could be used to strengthen the conspir-
acy theory."
"If I were to use it in such a capacity, yes, it could, but I
would never do that."
"Never?" Asyr raised an eyebrow. "You know the
Bothan saying--'Never means the right opportunity has not
yet arisen.'"
"Then I should amend my statement--I would never use
it except if I deemed it necessary to curb human excesses.
You know--and the Krytos virus is but one example--man-
kind's capacity for cruelty to its own is infinite. The human
members of the Alliance have not turned on us or on Rogue
Squadron, but that's not to say they will never do that."
Fey'lya tapped his desktop with a talon. "You are a Bothan.
You were born with obligations and responsibilities. Writing
this report is just one of them."
Asyr nodded. "I understand, sir."
"Good. I'll want that report within 72 hours. Don't fail
me."
"No, sir." Asyr rose from her chair and bowed her head
to him. "I understand the price of failure, sir, and I have no
intention of incurring that debt."
31
It's too easy. Though everything was going absolutely ac-
cording to his plan, Corran Horn felt some unmitigated di-
saster was lurking ahead of him. The Imps who hung out
near the mouth of the cavern hadn't bothered to make com-
ments as he and Urlor headed off down the dark corridor
toward the latrines. They walked close together, letting the
infrared images of their bodies merge into one, creating a
single image for the IR monitors at either end of the corridor.
Once inside the latrine area, Corran had doffed his tunic
and soaked it in the single sink, then pulled the clammy gar-
ment back on. He likewise soaked his head, then smiled up at
Urlor through the water running down his face. "I'm set."
Urlor raised a bushy eyebrow.
Corran nodded. Yes, I have to go. I have no choice.
Corran slapped him on the arm, then headed to the entrance.
Urlor followed, patted him on the back, then walked back
toward the billet cavern, weaving slightly from side to side to
widen his IR image. Thanks, my friend.
Corran, still sodden, turned to the left and walked on
toward the mine. He kept his pace slow and turned sideways
to present a narrow profile to the IR monitor near the gate.
He wasn't certain that this would really minimize his heat
image, but it was worth a try. His wet hair and tunic would
be more effective in that department. Urlor's efforts to pre-
sent a big target farther up the corridor might also help elimi-
nate him from notice.
Thirty paces beyond the latrines he reached the double-
gate. In the darkness he groped along the flimsy metal sur-
face for the lock and chain. His fingers gently brushed across
the number pad on the lock, but he resisted the temptation to
try random combinations. He didn't know if a failure would
set off an alarm somewhere or not, but he did know that
trying to figure out the right combination would take enough
time to make him drier than a Tusken Raider. Unless I got
lucky, and no one is that lucky.
From the lock to the opposite door Corran counted six-
teen links and winced. Seventeen links had provided him a
tight squeeze two nights previously. Corran gripped the gate-
halves, pulled them as far apart as possible, then tucked his
right shoulder through the opening. He exhaled as much as
he could, worked a leg through, then pushed and pulled him-
self the rest of the way to the other side.
He squatted on the other side of the gate and rubbed at
his chest. Just as well none of the others wanted to try to get
out. Aside from some of the older prisoners and a few of the
sick ones, no one could have fit through there. Staying low,
he worked his way forward. When he reached the entrance
to the mine corridor, he turned into it and allowed himself a
quiet sigh.
I can't believe how stupid they've been. Corran realized
his criticism of the guards was not fair, primarily because
their lack of security seemed deficient only in light of his
theory about the orientation of the prison itself. No prisoner
in his right mind would attempt to escape and head deeper
into the bowels of the planet. The laxity in securing the path
to the mines served as a strong clue that the mines did not
offer a way out--if they did, they would be more secure.
Security is predicated on two things the odd orientation
of the prison and the fact that even if someone gets out of the
prison, getting off whatever world we're on is by no means
assured. Corran shivered. If we're in the depths of Hoth, or
in the desert of Tatooine or on the back side of Kessel, this
escape attempt will end quickly enough.
Despite those inauspicious thoughts, which sparked new
feelings of unease in him, Corran pushed on. He reached the
hatchway leading into the caverns and found it open. Well,
perhaps I am lucky, just a bit. He would have felt luckier if
he had a light of his own, but the prisoners had no access to
anything more technologically sophisticated than a shovel.
To navigate through the darkness all he had to guide him was
the faint glow from the amber ready-lights at the base of the
floodlights they used when working in the mine. Corran had
mentally mapped them the way an astronomer mapped con-
stellations, and he knew exactly where to head to get to the
gravel loader. Having oriented himself toward his goal, he
stood straight and started to make his way down the slope.
Pain exploded across the middle of his back, numbing
his legs. He pitched forward and tried to tuck into a ball, but
his legs ignored him. He knew from the pain in his back and
knees, as they alternately struck the stone slope in his tum-
ble, that his spine hadn't been severed. While this was good
news, it paled within the larger context of his having been
attacked in the mines.
He hit bottom and skidded to a halt on his back. He
could feel the burning tingle of sensation returning to his
legs, but they felt like lead and had no strength in them. The
poor footing provided by the gravel combined with the
weakness in his legs to keep him down, which he saw as a
distinct problem as a massive, bulky shadow eclipsed several
of the amber lights. The orange glow, though very weak,
clearly illuminated the edge of the upraised shovel the man
held.
"Nothing personal, Horn, but you're my way out of
here."
Derricote? "How did you get past the gate? You
couldn't have squeezed through."
The shovel remained at the top of the arc for an over-
head blow. "I have money hidden away, in numbered ac-
counts. I bribed a guard for the combination to the gate lock,
same as I bribe them for ingredients for my nectar."
Appeal to his vanity. Buy yourself time to be able to
"And too clever to let you recover. Good-bye . . ."
The shovel began to fall. Corran rolled to the left and
felt the shovel bounce off his right shoulder. He expected
another blow, but instead heard Derricote gurgle and the
shovel clatter to the ground. Gravel hissed as the Imp's bulk
twisted around into Corran's line of sight. He heard someone
grunt, then the sound of a falling body, but Derricote's sil-
houette remained upright.
Reaching back with his right hand, Corran grabbed the
shovel's shaft, twisted his grip, and whipped the metal end
around. He caught the Imp in the back of his legs, upending
him. Gravel sprayed Corran as Derricote hit the ground.
Rolling up onto his knees, Corran smashed the shovel down
on the man's stomach, and when Derricote's hands dropped
to cover his belly, Corran caught him with a blow to the
head.
Derricote went limp.
"Is he dead?"
Corran looked over to where the voice had come from.
"Jan?"
'Yes."
"How?"
The older man came close enough that Corran could
hear the wet rustle of his tunic. "I noticed Derricote wasn't
around--he's too big not to see. Urlor told me you were off. I
assumed he was informing on you, so I came to stop you.
When I saw him standing over you, I had to do something."
Corran reached out to check Derricote for a carotid
pulse and found the braided cord Jan used to tie his hair back
wrapped around the man's neck. He handed it back to .Jan,
then checked Derricote's pulse. "Weak and thready. ! must
have broken his skull."
"Leave him. They'll think he fell trying to escape. We
can get back before they notice."
Corran shook his head. "Can't do it. If they find him
here, they'll know we know Lusankya's secret. We'll never
get out." He grabbed the upper part of Jan's right arm.
"Come with me. We can drag the body off and deposit it
somewhere. They'll never find it until we're long gone."
The older man laughed lightly. "Oh, they will notice my
departure more quickly than anyone else's. I can't go for that
reason."
"And because they'll kill the others."
"Yes."
"I'm going to come back for you, you know. Whenever I
get clear, I'm going to have Wedge bring the squadron in and
we'll get you out."
"I know that, son. I'm counting on it." Jan clapped him
on the shoulders. "I might never have known your grandfa-
ther, but I'm certain he'd be proud of you. I am. May the
Force be with you." "And you, sir."
'TU clear away signs of the struggle. If you drag Der-
ricote with you, I'll give you a head start and then I'll report
he's missing. They'll be searching for him, but they'll not be
looking in the places where you could hide. We'll cover for
you as long as possible, but anything more than twelve hours
is optimistic."
"I copy, Jan." Corran got up and began to drag Der-
ricote's body by one arm toward the gravel loader. Jan
grabbed the Imp's other arm and helped. Together they
hefted him up on the safety railing. Corran checked Der-
ricote's neck for a pulse. "Nothing. He's gone."
"Someday, perhaps, no one else will need to die in ser-
vice to the Empire."
"Agreed." They upended the man and let him fall.
Though Corran couldn't see Derricote hit, he did hear a
crunch.
"Again, Corran, may the Force be with you."
"Thanks. Until we meet again." Corran shook Jan's
hand, then climbed the railing and slowly lowered himself
into the darkness. He stepped on Derricote's body, then
crouched and scuttled under the conveyor belt. Beneath the
belt itself, where it fed back into the drive-engine compart-
steel lining the pit. He'd first seen it a week earlier when
shoveling gravel out of the pit, and knew it was what he
wanted in the way of an escape tunnel.
Now, if only Derricote will fit. Corran wrestled the fat
man's body over to the 60-centimeter-wide hole and stuffed
him through. He heard another muffled impact, then slipped
into the hole himself. This has got to work.
Corran had previously noticed that there was no access
panel for the drive-engine compartment. If the engine broke
down, it had to be accessed from another point entirely,
which meant there was another way into the compartment.
Down inside it Corran found himself on a steel-grate cat-
walk. He crawled around, reconnoitering by touch. Finally,
off to the left side of the compartment near an access batch,
he found a light switch and punched it on. One dim panel
provided the illumination for the chamber. Corran quickly
dragged Derricote over to the closed hatchway, then he
turned the light off again.
He listened at the metal hatch but heard nothing. His
mouth dry, his nostrils filled with gravel dust, Corran took
hold of the hatch's internal handle and eased it back. The
latch system squeaked just a bit and rasped some, too, all of
which sounded to Corran like the sounds issuing from an
Imperial torture chamber. Certain he had alerted all Imperial
forces in the facility to his presence, Corran carefully opened
the access hatch.
The rectangular room on the other side of the opening
was empty. Corran let out his breath--not realizing until
that point he had been holding it. Just to be on the safe side,
before he entered the room himself, he dragged Derricote's
body over and
shoved it through the hatchway. So far he's
been a good point man.
Derricote fell to the floor of the room, and Corran slid
easily through the hatch after him. He closed the hatch be-
hind him and dragged Derricote's body to the doorway. Be-
yond it lay a cylindrical corridor roughly three meters in
diameter. A red stripe of tiles spiraled down through it, start-
ing at the center of Corran's side and ending up on the ceiling
fifteen feet away. Decorations! And who says the Imps are
all gloomy?
Corran started off into the corridor and found himself
stumbling to his left. To make matters worse, Derricote's
body slid in the same direction. Waves of dizziness slammed
through Corran as he tried to walk the corridor straight
through. He finally lost his balance and fell, ending up with
his spine pressed to the red line about a meter into the corri-
dor.
Oddly enough, lying there felt normal, even though he
could see he was lying firmly against one of the tunnel's side
walls. He shook his head as if that would clear up the prob-
lem, then he let his head slip back and rest on the red tiles.
Of course! This has to be a transitional corridor. Gravity is
directly oriented on the red strip. It takes you from upside-
down to rightside-up.
With reason thus injected back into his world, Corran
scrambled to his feet and started hauling Derricote along.
His shoulders ached from the exertion, but he had no inten-
tion of leaving the man behind. Finding a place where Der-
ricote's body could be hidden, or allowed to fall from a
height before being discovered, would provide the Imp
searchers with what they wanted and buy Corran time to
complete his escape. As long as they're looking for a fat man,
they won't be looking for me.
At the far end of the tunnel Corran straightened up. The
room he found himself in, though dimly lit, appeared to be a
utility room. He saw panels dealing with climate control as
well as electrical power and other conveniences he had so
recently lived without. From the number of different zones
on the climate control panel, he knew the facility beyond the
door was fairly large. He listened at the fiberplast door, but
heard nothing from beyond it.