Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [41]
The pilot watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good luck, sir.”
Kirtan pulled on a pair of black leather gloves and flexed his right hand. “Smooth flight back to the Aggressor.”
The Intelligence agent stood slowly, letting his legs get used to the planet’s gravity, then walked back from the cockpit and down the egress ramp. At the base of the ramp four Imperial Guards, resplendent in their scarlet uniforms, stood at attention. When he stepped into their midst, they turned as one and marched him toward the doorway at the far end of the hangar.
The few people Kirtan saw in the hangar did not look at him directly. Even when he turned his head, seeking to catch one of them from the corner of his eye, they paid him no heed. Have they seen so many people come this way and not return that it is no longer remarkable to them? Or do they think undue attention paid to me would find them being drawn along in my wake?
Being as tall as he was, he could almost see over the red dome of the guards’ helmets. As nearly as he could determine, the four guards were identical in height and other physical dimensions, but their cloaks shrouded them sufficiently well that details that might have differentiated them one from another were lost. Because of that they appeared to be identical to all the holograms he had seen of Imperial Guards, with one minor exception.
Their cloaks had been hemmed with a black ribbon. In the dim light it had not been easy to pick out and its presence almost made it appear as if the guards walked a few centimeters above the floor. The officially mandated year of mourning had ended over a year previously—except, of course, on worlds where notification of the Emperor’s death had arrived late or, worse yet, inspired open rebellion. Here on Coruscant that was not a problem, so Kirtan took the ribbon as a sign of the guards’ continued devotion to their slain master.
They passed through the doorway and into a small corridor that seemed to extend on forever. Kirtan thought he noticed a slight arch to the floor and a tremble in the structure that suggested to him they had entered one of the bridges between the tower and the Palace proper. The close passageway had no windows and any decorations on the walls had been covered with meter after meter of black satin.
Through the far end and along another corridor, the guards brought him to a doorway where two of their number stood. His escorts stopped when the other two guards turned and pulled open the doors before him. He stepped through them into a large room, the far wall of which was constructed entirely out of glass. A tall, slender woman stood in silhouette before it, though the backlight from the planet’s surface outlined her in red.
“You are Kirtan Loor.” It came not as a question, but a statement full of import.
“Reporting as ordered.” He had tried to keep his voice as even and vital as hers had been, but he failed. A nervous squeak punctuated his sentence. “I can explain my report.”
“Agent Loor, if I had wanted your report explained, I would have had your superiors go to great pains to extract that explanation from you.” She turned slowly toward him. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
Kirtan’s mouth had gone dry. “No, ma’am.”
“I am Ysanne Isard. I am Imperial Intelligence.” She opened her arms. “I rule here now and I am determined to destroy this Rebellion. I believe you can aid me in this task.”
Kirtan swallowed hard. “Me?”
“You.” Her hands returned to her sides. “I hope my belief is not unfounded. If it is, I will have gone to great expense to bring you here for nothing. Accounts will have to be balanced and I don’t believe there is any way you can pay what you owe.”
11
Wedge Antilles smiled when Admiral Ackbar nodded. “I think you’ll see, sir, that the squadron is coming along quite well.”
The Mon Calamari looked up from the datapad on his desk. “Your performance figures and exercise scores are commendable.