The Krytos Trap (16 page)

Ackbar waved a hand toward Ettyk. “Permission is granted to treat Lieutenant Cracken as hostile.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Ettyk smiled. “Now you’re a smart man, Lieutenant Cracken. You attended the Imperial Military Academy under a false identity your father created for you, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And the operation that took you to Coruscant involved your arriving under a false identity, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you have some understanding of what it takes to operate covertly in a hostile environment, just as any spy would, correct?”

“Yes.”

“It would be natural for a smart man like you to use what you had learned to try to check and see if you could detect any signs of a spy in your midst, correct?”

“It would seem that way.”

“It really was that way, wasn’t it, Lieutenant?” Halla Ettyk opened her hands. “You certainly found yourself evaluating people and trying to decide how much you could trust them, yes?”

Pash’s frown deepened. “Yes.”

“And Captain Celchu figured high on your list of suspect individuals, didn’t he?”

“On a scale of one to infinity he ranked about a five.”

“But that was higher than anyone else there, correct?”

“You’re making it sound wrong.”

“I move for the answer to be stricken as nonresponsive.”

“So ordered.” Ackbar again looked down at Pash. “Just answer the questions, Lieutenant.”

“The ranking you gave Captain Celchu was higher than anyone else’s ranking, wasn’t it, Lieutenant?”

Pash nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”

“Thank you. Now, on the night, two weeks ago, you were preparing to fly a mission that would aid in our conquest of Coruscant.”

“Yes.”

“What was that mission?”

“Five of us were going to fly cover for the rest of the squadron as they tried to bring the planetary shields down.”

“To do that you needed fighters, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you had them?”

“Yes.”

“Where did they come from?”

Pash took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Captain Celchu had purchased them during his time here on Coruscant.”

“And he had even flown a mission here, correct?”

“Yes, the mission where he saved us.”

Ettyk turned back to the prosecution table and studied the datapad. Iella Wessiri came around to face her. “That night you witnessed a conversation between Captain Celchu and Corran Horn, did you not?”

“I did. I wasn’t a party to the conversation, though.”

“But you did overhear it?” Ettyk turned and spitted the witness with a forthright stare.

The pilot hung his head. “Yes.”

“Did you hear Captain Celchu tell Lieutenant Horn that he had checked over the fighter Horn would be using?”

“Yes.”

“And did you hear Lieutenant Horn threaten to work to expose Captain Celchu’s treason once he returned from the mission?”

“Yes.” Fatigue dragged at the red-haired man’s reply.

The prosecutor smiled. “And what was Captain Celchu’s response to that threat?”

“He said he had nothing to fear from Corran’s investigation.”

“As if he knew there would be no investigation?”

Nawara stood quickly. “Objection! It calls for speculation and is inflammatory.”

“Sustained.”

Ettyk turned and nodded to Nawara. “Your witness.”

Nawara hesitated for a second. The evidence Halla Ettyk had laid out so far came as no surprise and was circumstantial. All she had gotten from Pash was that he had seen
Tycho and Corran exchange some harsh words. That would go to motive, and some of the comments did cover opportunity to fix Corran’s fighter, but without the Headhunter there was no evidence of tampering.

All he could accomplish on cross-examination would be to ask Pash to recount Tycho’s explanation for the meeting where Corran saw him talking to Kirtan Loor. Tycho had explained he’d been speaking to a Duros trader, Lai Nootka, not Kirtan Loor. Nawara knew Ettyk would object to Pash’s repetition of Tycho’s explanation on hearsay grounds. Without being able to call Lai Nootka—or putting Tycho on the stand—there was no way to get at that whole subject.

Unless I called Kirtan Loor and he denied ever meeting Tycho!
He put the chances of that happening at something just under the chances of the Emperor showing up and granting the Rebels one and all an Imperial pardon.

“Counselor Ven?”

Nawara looked up at Admiral Ackbar. “Sorry, sir. I have no questions of this witness at this time.” The Twi’lek resumed his seat.

“Very well. Next witness, Commander Ettyk.”

Ettyk stood once again. “The state calls Erisi Dlarit to the stand.”

14

Corran Horn felt as clumsy as the Trandoshan dragging him through the interrogation center’s corridor. The injection an Emdee droid had given him back in his isolation cell had already begun to take hold. He had it in his mind that at least part of the concoction used was
skirtopanol
and that was not good. The one time he’d been under its influence, back during an exercise at the Corellian Security Force Academy, he confessed to all sorts of minor transgressions from his childhood. That would have been merely comical, but one of his father’s cronies was overseeing the interrogation seminar and supplied his father with the text of his confession.

I don’t think Iceheart will
 … When he started he’d had a full thought there, but the very image of Ysanne Isard that sprang into his mind killed things. Corran knew enough to know the drugs were working the way they were supposed to. He started to moan from fear and frustration, which earned him a backhanded cuff from his guard.

The blow and the dry-rot scent of the Trandoshan combined with his fear to bring memories rushing full-blown and terrible back into his mind. He saw little holographic images hovering in the air before him. Three figures, two men and a female Quarren, sat at a table in the darkened corner of a
tapcaf. The two men—one of them his father—were deep in conversation. His father showed his agitation in the way he poked a finger at the smaller man and the color rising in his face.

Into the picture walked a Trandoshan bounty hunter wearing a bulky dust-cloak thrown over his shoulders. The lizard-man strode past the table and on up toward Corran until his green, scaly face eclipsed sight of Corran’s father. The Trandoshan, Bossk, stepped back, slapping a power pack into the blaster carbine he’d produced from beneath the cloak. He spun slowly and sprayed red blaster bolts back and forth over the trio at the table.

The Quarren all but exploded into a black mist. Corran’s father caught two shots high in the chest, slamming him against the back of the booth. As he slid from sight, the little man to whom he had been speaking tried to dive for cover. Unfortunately for him, the Trandoshan’s fire blasted the table into flaming splinters and half-melted metal and still hit him. The little man took three bolts in the torso and a fourth that blew the back of his head off.

Corran saw himself in the scene. He saw no transition, no arrival. He just was there, kneeling in the blood, surrounded by burning bits of table. He held his father’s body in his arms. He wiped the Quarren ichor from his father’s face with a borrowed rag, all the while willing his father to open his eyes and announce he would be fine.

The two blackened holes in his father’s chest stared up at him. At first they reminded him of a viper’s fang marks, then they blinked. One became an icy blue and the other a volcanic red. The world blurred for a moment, then all the colors flowed together and became solid white, as they did when he was in hyperspace.

Then he reverted and found himself standing before Ysanne Isard in a predominately white room.

She frowned. “It fascinates me how all of our interrogation sessions with you end up coming back to your father’s death. There are countless psychiatric advocates who would find your preoccupation with your father’s death to be grand
justification for adherence to disciplines as useless as Jedi training. I do not.”

Corran blinked his eyes. He couldn’t recall going from the corridor to the interrogation chamber, nor being bound to the man-form that held him upright. The straps at his shoulders, and across his chest, waist, wrists, and ankles all pinched and chafed in such a way that he knew he’d been in restraints for quite some time. He couldn’t remember anything but seeing his father die again, yet his throat felt raw enough that he knew he had to have been speaking or shouting
or screaming
.

Isard turned, presenting him her profile, and nodded to unseen minions beyond a mirrored wall. “What I have learned so far is a great deal of gossip that might be suitable for embarrassing the Corellian Diktat, but
that
sort of information is hardly in short supply. You have not ensconced yourself highly enough in the councils of the Rebellion to be of use to me—at least, I do not believe you have. It is entirely possible you have managed to resist interrogation in certain areas.”

Corran shook his head. “You got the wrong guy.”

“Then I will just have to make you into the right guy, won’t I?” Her eyes narrowed with irritation as she faced him again. “Had Gil Bastra not sent you to the outlier worlds, you would have become part and parcel of the Rebellion. You would have found yourself in General Cracken’s confidence and I would have found you very useful in that regard. Then again, it
is
possible that he set you in Rogue Squadron so you could watch Tycho Celchu and uncover his ties to me.”

“No.”

“No? Cracken must have done that. You
were
his agent, yes?”

Corran shook his head adamantly. “No. I wasn’t a spy for Cracken.”

“Were I inclined to believe anything, I might be inclined to believe you in this case. Unfortunately I need proof.” She stepped aside as the Trandoshan wheeled in a device that bristled with probes and danced with the colorful illumination
of an ever-changing light array. The probes had been fitted on a concave surface that could easily close over him and the rack to which he was bound. Corran caught the stink of ozone as the Trandoshan brought the device closer. He didn’t like the fact that he heard a click down at his feet when the lizard-man finally nudged the device into place.

Isard smiled in a manner that made Corran want to shrivel up and die. “This is a variant on a design Darth Vader created to torture, among others, Han Solo at Bespin. As you know, humans have a number of different types of neural receptors. This device is designed to stimulate three of them—the original only worked on the pain receptors. I have found that adding stimulation for the heat and cold receptors is most effective in getting what I want out of those I interrogate.”

Corran wanted to snap off some quip, but fatigue and anxiety prevented him from mustering the required concentration.

“So, now we begin, Lieutenant Horn. Just tell me what I want to know.…”

“… and I won’t have to ask the court to let me treat you like a hostile witness.”

Iella Wessiri almost felt sorry for Erisi Dlarit as Halla Ettyk tried to coax cooperation out of her. In going over the depositions before the trial opened, Iella and Halla had agreed that members of Rogue Squadron would be hostile and resistant to anything that made them speak against Tycho Celchu. Halla had decided, therefore, to bring them up first and get them out of the way before she brought in the investigators and other witnesses who could attest to Tycho’s involvement with the Empire. Halla had pointed out that Nawara Ven would probably end up calling all the Rogues back to the stand, but by the time he did that, their positive affirmations about Tycho would sound hollow and unsupported to the Tribunal.

“Flight Officer Dlarit, how did you come to be on Coruscant two weeks ago?”

Erisi brought her chin up and her blue eyes flashed defiantly. “Corran Horn and I were inserted into Coruscant under the guise of being a Kuati
telbun
and his mistress. For the entire journey to Coruscant and the subsequent week, we were together almost constantly. We were good friends and talked a great deal.”

Halla Ettyk nodded. “So you were confidants?”

“We shared confidences, yes.” The black-haired woman smiled politely. “It is difficult to keep secrets when you are living in such close proximity with someone.”

“And Corran Horn felt free to discuss things with you?”

“Objection: relevance.”

Iella glanced over at Nawara Ven. The twitching of his braintails betrayed some nervousness, but the Twi’lek was objecting at all the places Halla had predicted he would.
She said he had talent. She didn’t think he could win the case, and his decision not to cross-examine Cracken wasn’t what Halla had anticipated
.

Halla looked up at Admiral Ackbar. “This is foundational, Admiral. She was living with Corran Horn for a considerable portion of the last part of his life. I would suggest this would qualify her to give opinions on his demeanor.”

“Overruled.”

Erisi frowned briefly. “We discussed many things rather openly and frankly.”

“How would you characterize the conditions under which you spent time with Lieutenant Horn?”

The Thyferran pilot shrugged. “I saw him in combat, during which he was calm and a leader. A hero. I saw him in regular circumstances as well. He could be funny and compassionate and, well, attractive. I saw him in all different ways and situations.”

“On the night Coruscant fell, how would you characterize him?”

“Anxious and agitated.”

“And what was the source of his irritation?”

Erisi chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Corran said …”

“Objection.” Nawara Ven stood. “This is hearsay.”

Halla Ettyk took a step forward. “I would ask for an excited outburst exception, your honor. She has already testified that Horn was anxious and agitated.”

The Twi’lek stepped up beside Halla. “My learned colleague certainly understands that being agitated and saying something in no way makes it subject to the excited outburst exception.”

“Sustained.”

Nawara smiled slightly as he returned to his bench, but Halla’s expression just darkened. “Very well. Flight Officer Dlarit, did you speak with Lieutenant Horn before you took off on the mission that evening?”