Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [117]
He crawled over some small boxes and into the narrow space, then pulled the door closed. The cabinet had been compartmentalized—he found himself in a cubicle barely a meter high and wide, though it did extend back nearly two meters from the door. A thick metal crossbeam framework supported the weight of the transparisteel xenoscape above him and the water it contained. Fiberplast panels lined the compartment on all sides and felt as solid as rock as far as his buttocks and spine were concerned. He pulled himself through the crossbeams and into the compartment’s back half. He arranged the boxes and canisters in the front of the cabinet to shield him, but he knew even a cursory look would reveal his presence.
I hope they have a nice place in the shrine down there for my head. Stomach acid burbled up into his throat, but he choked it back down and endured the burning. Probably doesn’t hurt as much as blaster-bolts will. He tried to recall the pain from the times he’d gotten shot—at Talasea, and in the mines—but sensation seemed distant, and unrelated to what he knew he would be feeling in short order.
He heard muffled voices from the other side of the cabinet door. Clicks and hisses accompanied them. What can they be discussing? Despite the ache in his spine and the burning in his throat, Corran smiled. Maybe one of them decided searching these cabinets is stupid because there’s no way Derricote could be hiding in here.
Then, through the soles of his feet, he felt a slight vibration shake the cabinet framing. If searching the cabinets was what they were arguing about, my team lost, which means I’ve lost. Another cabinet door closed, this one closer if judged by the strength of the vibration. Then he felt the quiver of a cabinet being opened, followed by a strong tremor when it was shut.
That’s it. He’s getting frustrated. No one is in the cabinets. No one can be in the cabinets. They’re too small to hide anyone, much too small. Corran pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his hands around his knees. He actually heard the cabinet next to his open. A comlink clicked. He thought he heard the word, “Clear.”
Then he definitely felt the cabinet slam shut.
Corran pressed himself back into the corner. There’s no one in here. There’s nothing to see here. No one is hiding in here. It’s all clear.
The door opened.
There’s no one here. This cabinet is empty.
A light flashed in. It started at the far end.
Empty, empty, empty. All clear.
The light swept across toward him.
What a waste of time searching this cabinet. It’s empty. There’s no one here.
The light snapped off before it hit his face. The stormtrooper helmet, which had taken on the proportions and ugliness of a Hutt’s ghost in Corran’s sight, pulled back. “It’s empty. There’s no one here.”
Corran clutched his knees more tightly to prevent his heart from pounding its way out of his chest.
“Are you sure?”
Despair exploded in Corran. What sort of an idiot would trap himself in these cabinets?!
The door slammed shut and bounced back ajar when the magnetic latch failed to catch. Corran caught part of a heated exchange between stormtroopers. He missed the initial comment, but the sharp reply came through loud and clear.
“If he’s stupid enough to try to escape, he’s stupid enough to hide in those cabinets. Finish checking those last two cabinets, then seal the room. This level is clear, so we move up.”
Corran heard the other cabinets open and close, but it was the thunder of a storm that had passed him by. He dared not relax, and bumped his head against the top of the cabinet when a stormtrooper reshut the door to his compartment. The burning in his lungs matched that in his throat, then he slowly exhaled and drew in a new breath. He wanted to jump out of the cabinet, escape its coffinlike