Part 17 (1/2)

”This is learning.” He winked at the bigger man. ”Guards have their blasters selected for stun.”

Jan looked over from the end of the screen he was hold-ing. ”You'll risk your life on the flick of a thumb?”

Corran tapped himself on the chest. ”Rogue Squadron, remember.”

”Corellian, more like.” Jan shook his head. ”None of you have any respect for odds.”

”Why respect what you have to beat?” Corran gave each of them a nod.

”Trust me, I have to make this run.”

Urlor dumped a final shovel's-worth in the bucket. ”May the Force be with you.”

”Thanks.” Corran, letting the bucket dangle down be-tween his legs, started the awkward, hunched-over Rybet-walk back toward the conveyor belt. His plan was simple: he'd dump his bucket, then hop over the railing and ride the belt up to the grate. Up there, at least as viewed from the work floor, there appeared to be enough shadowed s.p.a.ce to conceal him. If he could then get down through the grate, or find a hidden pa.s.sageway out, he'd be free. ”You there.”

Cotran looked over at the guard pointing at him. ”Me?”

”Come here.” Why me? Cotran shuffled over toward the man. ”Sir?”

”Don't question me, prisoner.” The guard, clad in the lighter weight scout version of the armor, loomed over him. ”As for the reason I picked you, you're new and need a lesson.”

Without warning the guard brought the blaster carbine up and around in a one-handed backhand stroke that caught Corran over the right ear. Stars exploded before his eyes and the clank of metal on skull started a fierce ringing in his ears. A f.l.a.n.g.e on the barrel cut his ear and split his scalp, while the force of the blow spun Corran around to the left.

Pain overrode panic. As Corran whirled he held on tight to the bucket, brought it up, and let it fly when his tormentor came into view again.

The gravel-filled container smashed into the guard's faceplate. The man's head snapped back as the blow knocked him from his feet. He stumbled backward as the bucket flew on comet-like, spraying out a gravel tail.

Corran's vision cleared and seconds seemed to take hours to pa.s.s. The guard's carbine, the muzzle glistening with his blood, hung in the air.

Corran knew he could s.n.a.t.c.h it before it hit the ground and burn down the two closest guards in a heartbeat. Half the guards in the detail would have been accounted for. Getting the rest would be difficult, but the other prisoners could swarm them. They'd take the guards' weapons and . .

And die trying to clear the E-Web. Or die trying to fight our way out of the belly of this prison. All of them will die, and their deaths will be on my head, if I grab that gun.

He heard the whine of a blaster and saw something blue shoot past him.

All the prisoners dove for the floor. They shrank into a huddled carpet of dirty arms and legs, ducking their heads to avoid recognition, yet peeking out to see what would happen.

All of them went down save for one.

Jan.

Eyes filled with horror and pride, he nodded to Corran.

Cotran, understanding, nodded back.

The stun-bolt caught Corran square in the middle of his chest. It did to his nervous system what an ion-bolt did to a machine. In one instant every nerve in Corran's body fired, instantly wracking him with pain, burning him up, shak-ing, crus.h.i.+ng, and freezing him. All of his muscles con-tracted, bowing his back, grinding his teeth, and kicking him up into the air with a little hop. His limp body's impact on the ground probably hurt, but his nervous system couldn't route reports to his brain properly, so he really didn't know how he felt.

Except it's not good.

He saw Jan crouching over him. ”I'll see they get you help.”

Corran wanted to nod, wanted to blink, wanted to do something to let Jan know he heard him, but he couldn't. About half the time he'd been hit with a stun-bolt before--in training exercises and a couple of times with CorSec in the field--he'd lost consciousness. The times he hadn't, he'd wished he had, because the feeling of helplessness created by being trapped inside a body that didn't work was worse than any pain.

The medical team called for by the guards arrived rather quickly, bringing with them a repulsorlift stretcher. After they loaded their unconscious comrade on it, they reluctantly draped Corran over the man's legs, leaving Corran's head dangling and his hands and feet sc.r.a.ping along the ground as they hauled the two individuals out of the mine.

Staring down at the floor, he couldn't see much on the trip out. The medtechs wrestled the stretcher into a lift, and the one to the right of the door, at the foot of the stretcher, punched a b.u.t.ton and started the box ascending. Corran heard three tones, which he took to mean they had ascended three floors, then the lift stopped and the medtechs again struggled to get the stretcher out of the lift.

They floated Corran on through corridors that appeared much more modern and maintained, if floor tile was any indication, than the rest of the facility. Finally they brought the stretcher to a stop in a place where he caught the familiar scent of bacta, and unceremoniously dumped him to the floor. He rolled onto his left side, his cheek pressed against the cold flooring.

He caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of the conversation between the medtechs and the Emdee droid that would be caring for the guard, but the ringing in his right ear made it difficult for him to catch everything. Moreover, he wasn't certain he could trust any sensory inputs, because what he was hearing through his left ear was simply impossible.

Starting from above his head and continuing on down toward his feet, he heard the dopplered sound of storm-troopers--real, well-disciplined stormtroopers--marching along. That was not remarkable in and of itself except in that if they had been there, they'd have been marching over him, and as messed up as he was, he was fairly certain he'd have noticed that. The only other alternative was that they were in a room below him, marching on the ceiling, and what that meant was, at that time, well and truly beyond his ability to comprehend.

22.

Wedge thumbed his comlink on. ”What do you need, Mirax?”

”Coming up on the Kala'uun Starport, Wedge. I thought you might like to be up here on the bridge as we come in. It's quite the sight.”

”On my way.” He glanced around the cargo hold and nodded at his R5 unit.

”Hang on, Mynock, we're almost there. Keep a scanner on these crates for me, will you?”

The cylinder-headed droid beeped affirmatively. The R5 unit then exchanged some softer tones with the Pulsar Skate's Verpine maintenance droid.

No, they can't be talking about me. Wedge laughed at his flash of paranoia and stepped out of the hold. The doors crunched shut behind him.

Letting a hand trail along the corridor's ceiling, he made his way along the spine of the s.h.i.+p to the bridge. He thought he might have been imagining things, but heat from the atmosphere already appeared to be bleeding in through the s.h.i.+p's hull. Scant wonder there are Twi'leks that think of Tatooine as a suitable place to flee to during the hot season here.

He stepped down into the bridge and dropped into a seat behind Mirax.

”I'd forgotten how impressive this is.”

The tortured surface of Ryloth spread out before them like the shams of a shattered earthenware vase. Black basalt mountains thrust up into a dusky red sky. Centermost in their view of the planet stood a ma.s.sive mountain with a huge tunnel cored into the interior at its base. The smaller holes dotting the face of the mountain would have appeared to be natural openings except for the regularity with which they were arranged.

Because the planet rotated on its axis once per year, the same side of Ryloth always faced the sun. Kala'uun existed near the terminus line--where day and night met--making it one of the cooler sunside locations.

Because of Ryloth's ellip-tical orbit, the planet did have seasons, though most humans could not tell the difference between summer and the cool season since both were unbearably hot.

”Yeah, impressive and impressively treacherous. Liat, watch the crosswinds as we enter the tunnel.”

The Sull.u.s.tan pilot chittered angrily at her.

”I know you can't miss the rocks out there, I just want to make sure we miss the rocks.” Mirax smiled. ”No heat storm activity today, it seems, but the currents can still be tricky.”

”Right.”