The Krytos Trap (10 page)

He pulled the respiration mask from his face and let it dangle against his chest. “This is Nemesis One. The game is over. I won’t betray my people.”

The star field on the screen in front of Corran vanished. In its place he saw Ysanne Isard’s head and shoulders. Her mismatched eyes, the left one a fiery red and the right one an ice blue, added venom to the woman’s steely expression. Her sharp, slender features might have made her seem beautiful to some, but the fear her anger stabbed into his heart made her more than ugly to Corran. Her long black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, yet she had let her white temple-locks remain unbound as if that girlish affectation would somehow soften her image.

“You are under the impression, Corran Horn, that this little victory is significant and hampers my efforts in some way. It does not.” An eyebrow arched over her arctic eye. “You worked with the Corellian Security Force, so you can understand how powerful certain interrogation techniques can be. What you have endured so far is little more than testing.”

“And I passed.”

“From your perspective that might seem true.” Her eyes sharpened. “From mine it merely means you have reclassified yourself. You will require more time than others I have worked with in the past, but here at Lusankya, time is abundant.”

Corran shrugged. “Good, then I’ll have abundant time to plan my escape.”

“I doubt it.” She sighed as if what she was about to say hurt her in some way. “Were you easy to train, you would find your stay here pleasant. As you are difficult, the next step is for me to determine if you know anything I consider valuable. Unfortunately this means sifting through a lot of things I don’t want to know. I hope your life has been interesting, because my technicians have been known to resort to cruelty when they are bored.”

“They’ll learn nothing from me.”

Isard frowned. “Please, Horn, skip the bluster. We will start with a level four narco-interrogation and work our way down to level one if we must. You know you’ll tell us whatever we want to know.”

Sheer terror froze the lump in Corran’s stomach solid. With a level four interrogation session he’d be remembering things his
mother
had forgotten while she was carrying him in her womb.
I will have no secrets
. Hundreds of images flitted through his mind as he sorted valuable memories from the casual ones.

This process, while agonizing, also brought a smile to his face. Gil Bastra, the man who had created a series of identities for Corran to use after he fled from Corellia, had made sure the identities took Corran out into the outlier worlds.
From Loor they know everything about my days with CorSec. Thanks to Gil there’s very little valuable information I can give her. I was out of circulation until I joined Rogue Squadron, and I don’t know enough about the Rebellion to hurt it
.

“I see your smile, Horn. You may feel bold enough to smile now, but things will change.” Isard herself smiled, and Corran found it a most forbidding thing. “When we are finished with you, smiles will be but a memory, and a painful one at that.”

9

Wedge laughed aloud, telling himself he was laughing at the irony of feeling nervous, not because of
being
nervous. Here he was, a celebrated hero and the sole survivor of both Death Star runs, conqueror of Coruscant and leader of the most feared fighter squadron in the galaxy, and at Iella Wessiri’s door he felt nervous. Enough ice water ran in his veins, so the rumors went, to replenish Coruscant’s polar caps, yet he found himself clearing his voice and hesitating before he pushed the buzzer button at her door.

On the way over from squadron headquarters he had convinced himself he wasn’t going to be asking her out on a date, really. He’d spent the previous hour being harangued by Erisi Dlarit concerning the Vratix terrorist and his whereabouts after the raid on Warlord Zsinj’s bacta store. He’d done his best, over and over again, to explain to her that he had no reports about the Thyferran native, but promised to pass notice of her interest up to General Cracken. That really was all he could do, but Erisi took a lot of convincing on that point.

The experience had been draining. There had been moments when he considered just cutting her off and ordering her out of his office, but he could tell her concern about the
Vratix was based on her conviction that the insectoid creature was a terrorist and a potential hazard to anyone who came in contact with it. He thought Erisi’s reaction might have been born from her frustration at not having been able to do anything to prevent Corran’s death. By making the terrorist her responsibility, she might prevent another tragedy, thereby atoning for her lack of action in Corran’s case. Wedge found her motive noble, but her insistence exhausting. Corran’s death and the misery of millions on Coruscant had everyone in the squadron worn thin, and being dismissive of Erisi’s concerns would not help the situation.

Corran’s death had likewise affected Iella deeply. She had been Corran’s partner in the Corellian Security Force and had fled Corellia at the same time he had. Her flight had brought her to Coruscant, where she joined up with the Rebel underground. Her reunion with Corran had been a joyous occasion. It had been easy for Wedge to see how they complemented each other and must have worked well as a team.

Those qualities that made her well-suited to working with Corran were qualities Wedge found attractive. She was thoughtful and stable, yet possessed of a good sense of humor and a fierce loyalty to her friends and to justice. Unfortunately, her loyalty made her most zealous in helping the prosecution find evidence against Tycho Celchu, but she approached the search so openly that Wedge couldn’t find fault with her in doing her duty as she saw it.

He pressed the door buzzer, then tugged at the cuffs of his jacket sleeves.
I’m
not
asking her out. I’m just here as a friend visiting a friend
. Wedge shook his head. For the past ten years, since the death of his parents and through his association with the Rebellion, he’d really given little thought to romance and relationships. He’d certainly found companionship with a number of Rebel women, but he’d not found a single companion, a partner, the way Han Solo or Tycho Celchu had. He couldn’t explain why not, nor did he let it bother him—the nature of the Rebellion and his assignments meant planning for anything long-term was silly, and
avoiding relationships meant the chances of getting hurt when the unspeakable happened were much less.

He’d seen Leia over the time Han Solo had been encased in carbonite. She had been driven almost to the point of recklessness in her attempts to free her beloved. He laughed.
Entering Jabba’s palace meant she was driven
beyond
recklessness
. While he envied Han Solo the passion with which he was loved, he dreaded the idea of being plagued by the pain Leia had known.

The door to the apartment slid open and Wedge’s nervousness slackened when Iella smiled. “Wedge. This is a surprise.”

“A pleasant one, I hope.” He glanced down at his hands for a moment, then back up into her brown eyes. “I should have called before heading over, but I was going to get something to eat and I thought, well, I hate eating alone and …”

The brown-haired woman’s smile widened for a moment and carried on up into her eyes, then shrank as if the corners of her mouth had slammed into walls and were rebounding. “I think you’d better come in.” She turned away from the door, and he followed the lithe woman down a short corridor to a modest-sized parlor. The door closed automatically behind him, cutting off the brightest source of light and sinking the room into a grey gloom.

The man sitting in the corner chair looked every bit as if he were constructed from shadow-threads and slivers of grey. The sharpness of his features accentuated the gauntness of his frame. His shoulders and knees poked like knobs against the grey fabric of the jumpsuit he wore. A few strands of black hair wove through the white and grey combed over his largely bald head but did nothing to disguise the shape of the skull beneath it. In fact, were it not for the spark of life burning in the man’s brown eyes, Wedge would have believed him to be a mummified worker resurrected from some tomb in the bowels of Coruscant.

Iella folded her arms across her chest. “Commander Wedge Antilles, this is Diric Wessiri. He is my husband.”

Husband!
Wedge covered his surprise by taking a step
forward and extended his right hand toward Diric. “My pleasure, sir.”

Diric inclined his head forward and shook Wedge’s hand with a long-fingered grip that was firm and even strong, though the strength faded quickly. “The honor is mine, Commander. Your exploits bring glory to your world and fellow Corellians.”

“Glory wasn’t our goal, sir.”

“Nonetheless …” The man smiled, then let his hand drop back toward his lap. “Forgive me, Commander. At another point I would engage you in a lively discussion, but now I am somewhat fatigued.”

“I understand.”

Iella walked to her husband’s side and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “The Imps caught Diric up in a sweep about a year ago. They interrogated him, broke his identity, then imprisoned him. Six months ago or so they set up a bio-research project and made Diric part of the slave-labor force. They only used humans because the lab produced what we know to be the Krytos virus.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “General Cracken’s people had Diric in quarantine, then debriefed him. I only learned he was alive when they brought him here four hours ago.”

“I should be going, then, and leave you two alone.”

“No.” The old man raised his right hand and gently patted Iella’s hand. “I have long been among Imperials and other slaves. It is good to have normal people here to ease me back.”

Wedge coughed lightly into his hand. “I don’t think you’ll find my life normal at all.”

Iella laughed politely. “Nor mine.”

“How fortunate. Normal can be quite boring.” Diric’s head came up and he fixed Wedge with a steady stare. “And I want you to know, Commander, if anything has happened between you and my wife, I bear neither of you malice. I have been dead for a year. While I dreamed of being alive again, I do not bear a grudge against those who lived while I was dead.”

Wedge held a hand up. “First, no titles.”

“Where they kept me, we joked that titles were for when we were once again people. I use it to remind me I am again a man. And I use it out of profound respect for what you have done.”

“Don’t. I’m just Wedge. Nothing I’ve done is the equal of your enduring Imperial captivity, so titles don’t apply here. Second, Iella is intelligent, a wonder to work with, a joy to be around, and above all else, loyal to her friends. In fact, save one thing, she’s just the sort of woman I could see myself growing old with. That one thing is this: she’s married to you. Her loyalty to you, her fidelity, has never been in question. You are undoubtedly one of the luckiest men on this planet.”

As he spoke, his mind raced on through thoughts and dreams of what he might have had with Iella had Diric not reappeared. It seemed as if the life they would never share was flashing before his eyes even as his words killed it. The romantic in him just wanted to hold onto how wonderful it would have been, but the pragmatist knew from just looking at Diric that things would have fallen apart in the end. Iella had chosen Diric because he was a sanctuary. No matter what her life held in store for her, he was someone who would always be there to share her joys and ease her disappointments. Wedge realized that he could not have given her what Diric provided. It might have taken a long time for their relationship to destroy itself, and they might have overcome the difficulties, but Wedge knew he could never have been as perfect a match for her as Diric was.

Someday I’ll find someone
. Wedge smiled.
When I’m ready to settle down
.

Diric mirrored Wedge’s smile and let his head sink back contentedly against the chair’s padding. “I am glad Iella found friends as generous and honorable as you are, Wedge. I do feel quite fortunate.”

“And I bet you’re happy to be free.”

“Happy? Yes, though captivity wasn’t as brutal as imagined. They can only control your body, not your mind.” Diric shrugged slowly as if the effort were all but beyond his ability. “I knew I would be free someday.”

“That’s what Tycho says.”

“Who?”

Iella looked down at her husband. “The man who killed Corran.”

“The man who is
on trial
for killing Corran,” Wedge corrected her. “Your wife is working with the prosecution team.”

“Working to find the truth, mind you.” Iella gave Wedge a frank glare. “There’s ample evidence to bind him over for trial and to convict him.”

“And blasted little uncovered, so far, to acquit him.” Wedge held his hands up. “However, discussing that case was not my purpose for coming over here.”

Diric’s bushy brows met over the bridge of his hooked nose. “You think this Tycho is innocent?”

“I know it. Tycho Celchu is as much a victim of the Empire as you were.”

Iella gave Diric’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Tycho was once captured by the Imps. He’s been working for them since his supposed escape, though Wedge would tell you he’s been neatly framed.”

Diric looked up at her. “And you know Wedge is wrong?”

Her immediate response died in a moment of open-mouthed hesitation. Iella’s gaze flicked up at Wedge, then back down again. “We have found a lot to indicate Captain Celchu was an Imperial agent of extreme resourcefulness.”

“But there are gaps in the evidence.” Wedge smiled slowly. “Everything that condemns Tycho is available, but those things that would acquit him have vanished. Given the timing, the only force that could provide with one hand and take away with the other is the Empire.”

Diric disengaged his hand from Iella’s and pressed it, fingertip to fingertip, against the other hand. “This Tycho must be something to earn such loyalty from you.”

“I feel about Tycho what Iella feels about Corran.”