Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [55]
Gavin unfastened his restraining belts and followed her down the ramp and out into the building. The musty air filled his nose and dried it out. It reminded Gavin of how the air smelled just before a Tatooine dust storm hit with its full fury. He found the scent familiar enough to be reassuring.
Mirax preceded him down the ramp and crossed over to one of the trash middens. Dropping to one knee, she waved him over. “Grab this end of the crate and pull.”
Gavin grabbed one of the handles on the duraplast box and slid it from beneath the trash. Mirax got the handle on the other end of the two-meter-long case and between them they lugged the heavy rectangular box over to a spot beneath one of the Skate’s lights. The rest of the Rogues descended the ramp and joined them.
Nawara Ven’s black cape pooled around him as he knelt at the lockpad on the box. He studied it for a moment, then looked up at Mirax. “This looks to be what we were told to find here. It should have gear and identification cards in it. Should you be here when we open it?”
She shrugged. “You’re probably right, I shouldn’t be, but I’ve got two standard hours before the clearances for my exit identity become live.”
Gavin frowned at Nawara. “We can trust her, you know.”
The Twi’lek held a hand up. “I do not doubt her honesty, Gavin—but the less she knows, the better for her. In the same way, our not knowing the particulars of her escape vector and identity means we cannot reveal it if we run into complications.”
Mirax patted Gavin on the shoulder. “Not to worry, Gavin. I’ve got navigational calculations to do. May the Force be with you all.” She retreated up the ramp, then it ascended after her.
Nawara punched a combination into the lockpad. The lock clicked and the Twi’lek slid the cover off. The gear inside had been packed into numbered boxes that Nawara pulled from the case and handed to the appropriate individuals. Gavin accepted box one and wandered away from the others to open it.
Inside he found a folded change of clothes, a small satchel in which they could be carried, a hundred credits in various forms, a small hold-out blaster, and a packet filled with identification cards. He tore the packet open and poured its contents into his hand. He had a drawcard in his alias so he could pull money from a transaction account as needed, a basic medical record card containing a medical history that would allow doctors to treat him without knowing who he really was, and his new identification card.
His cover identity was that of Vin Leiger, a young man from a Rimworld who had gotten into trouble. He’d hooked up with a Shistavanen—conveniently played by Riv Shiel—and had left home. The two of them had scraped by on a number of worlds by using Vin’s apparent innocence to trick locals into trying to take him for all he was worth. Shiel—who would go by the name Shaalir Resh—would rob the con men targeting Vin, then they would move on.
A chill ran down Gavin’s spine as he ran through all the details of his new identity. Vin Leiger, he realized, had a more complete history than he did himself. It struck Gavin that it was utterly absurd for him to be trying to pass as an outlaw from another world. It was even more absurd for him to be a member of an elite Rebel squadron on a spy mission to the Imperial homeworld. How can I be here?
He remembered standing on the edge of the pit where his family lived, looking out at the wastes of Tatooine, wondering if Luke Skywalker had ever stood where he stood and had seen what he’d seen. It was quite a contrast to the scene below where his mother and siblings cleared away the debris from his sixteenth birthday celebration. Security, warmth, love, all existed down in the hole, while everything outside it was hostile, inhospitable, and unforgiving.
His father had come up and had stood there with him. “You’ve got the Darklighter look on your face, and at your age, too.” His father sighed. “I knew