Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [84]
Meetra followed him, her long legs allowing her to quickly catch up to and keep pace with the droid. The brisk walk made her feel more normal; physical activity seemed to help keep Nathema’s oppressive emptiness at bay.
The droid led her to the entrance of what appeared to be some kind of official government building. On the outside were characters she couldn’t read. In the Republic all government business was conducted in Basic. And while it was likely the inhabitants of Nathema had been familiar with Basic—the lingua franca of interstellar trade was known to virtually every spacefaring species in the galaxy—they had obviously marked their building in a native tongue.
The building was three stories high, with only a handful of windows looking out to the street and a pair of uninviting doors that seemed to be the common fashion of bureaucratic strongholds across every culture of the galaxy.
The doors were locked, but she carved through the security bolt with her lightsaber, trying to ignore the dim and washed-out appearance of the glowing blade.
Focus on the task at hand, she reminded herself. Just find the information you’re looking for as quickly as possible and you can get off this blasted world.
She stepped through, T3 following at her heel. It was dark inside; whatever source had once powered the building had long since fallen into disrepair. Meetra pulled a glow rod from one of the many pockets sewn into the wide fabric belt on her waist and ignited it, illuminating their surroundings with its eerie green glow.
The first things she noticed were the piles of clothes scattered haphazardly about. She realized they must have fallen to the ground when the wearers vanished. It took all her mental discipline to keep her mind from speculating on what kind of event could have caused the bizarre phenomenon.
Exploring the ground floor revealed it to be some type of reception area or lobby. There was a large desk set up to face the door, perfectly positioned for the person behind it to greet visitors. Apart from several uncomfortable-looking chairs arranged in what was probably a central waiting room, there didn’t seem to be much else of interest on the lower level.
There was a lift in the corner leading to the upper floors, but with no power it was of little use. Fortunately, a quick search located a staircase behind an unmarked door near the back of the building.
“Let’s check out the upper floors,” she said, and T3 beeped in agreement.
For some astromech droids stairs could be a problem, but T3 was remarkably versatile. By locking his wheels to keep from rolling backward, he was able to use his front legs to lever himself up the steps one at a time. It took him a little longer to reach the top of the flight than his human companion, but at least Meetra didn’t have to try to carry him.
The second floor was filled with data terminals and cubicles—workstations for the government drones who had once wandered the offices and halls. Unfortunately, without power the computer network had ceased to function, rendering the terminals useless.
“Let’s see if we can find the main data bank on the next floor up,” Meetra suggested.
A few minutes later they were on the third floor. Like the level below, it seemed to consist primarily of offices, cubicles, and workstations. Near the back of the building they found a single durasteel door. On the wall beside it was what appeared to be a security keypad.
“Show me what you’ve got,” Meetra said, pointing to the pad.
T3 rolled up to the wall. A panel on his body slid open to reveal a long, thin electrical probe, which he extended so that it pierced the security pad. There was a brief pause, then the unmistakable zap of a powerful electrical discharge. The keypad lit up and the door slid open.
As Meetra had hoped, the room beyond housed the primary computer data banks.
“Grab anything that looks useful so we can get out of here,” she said.
T3 hustled