Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [98]
There was a computer interlock here, just beside the turbolift door, but that would not be safe. He advanced along the gallery with the precise pace of an Imperial stormtrooper, looking for another.
The chambers beyond the large viewports came into view as he passed them. The first was large. Against the far wall were large cages or small cells, stacked three high, made of glass or transparisteel, each occupied by a single creature. Castin saw a number of Gamorreans, a large dark arthropod whose cell was festooned with some sort of organic webbing, and an Ewok. In one oversized cell mostly filled with water was a dianoga, a tentacular scavenger with a single eye-stalk; it watched him as he passed. There was one human male outside the cages, seated at a desk with a large, elaborate computer terminal on it, his feet up on the desk as he idly tapped away at a personal datapad; he looked as though he were playing a game. He took no note of Castin.
Up ahead, despite the dimness of the passageway, Castin could make out a darkened desk and computer terminal in the left corner. He couldn’t tell whether this passageway ended there or turned to the right. That terminal was what he needed, assuming he could power it up without alerting anyone.
He passed by the next section of viewports. These displayed a smaller chamber, an operating theater. There was an operation in progress, a team of four human males, gloved and masked, working on a large, white-furred creature with two large eyes and two small. Castin recognized it as a Talz, then took a closer look.
The Talz had some sort of drip tubes implanted in its head; fluids moved slowly from the bottles set up beside the operating table. The creature was strapped in place … and it was awake. As Castin watched, it opened its mouth and roared, the noise not penetrating the viewports. Its clawed hands opened and closed as it strained against its bonds and its four eyes glared redly at the doctors.
These were not roars of pain, Castin decided, but of rage. An unsettling image. The Talz were supposed to be peaceful creatures.
A few steps more, and the operating theater was behind him. He seated himself at the darkened terminal and brought out his tool kit again.
“Return to Iron Fist? I don’t think so.” Lara shook her head. “I’ll be far more valuable to Zsinj on Mon Remonda.”
“Not necessarily,” Rossik said. “We’d be getting a couple of X-wings—which you’d be able to fly for us in covert missions—and your analyses of the missions you’ve flown so far and of the thought processes of the Wraiths and Rogues. These could be as valuable as getting an accurate fix on Mon Remonda’s position.”
“I’d still prefer to return to the Wraiths.”
“Well, it’s not going to happen that way. Now, assuming that he’s looking at us, keep your wingman distracted with some animated conversation with the most unanimated Tavin while I get into position.”
Gloom settled over Lara as she realized what she had to do … as she realized that she was about to take prisoners who knew her secret, that she had to reveal that secret to Wedge Antilles. “I don’t think so. Put your hands in the air. You’re now in the custody of the New Republic.”
From underneath his tunic, Tavin brought out a small blaster and aimed it at her. Rossik glanced at Tavin, his expression openly derisive, and merely placed his own hand on the butt of his own blaster. “You don’t appear to be in a position to make such demands, Petothel. Your partner is a kilometer away and may not even be watching. I know you haven’t been broadcasting; my scanner would have told me.”
Lara looked at the blaster in Tavin’s hand and raised her arms, a gesture that was half surrender, half insolent stretch. “I’ll give you two just one chance. Throw down your weapons now.”
Rossik said, “Keep her covered and take her blaster. I’m doing what