The Krytos Trap Page 3

  Cracken frowned. “Unfortunately we have developed evidence that suggests Celchu has betrayed Rogue Squadron and the New Republic. In the case of Corran Horn, Tycho Celchu had access to the command code for the Headhunter Horn was flying at the time of his death, and Celchu had gone over the fighter, without supervision, just prior to Horn’s flight. Horn confronted Celchu before they headed out; Horn threatened to uncover his treason, so Celchu had him killed. He waited until after the shields had been brought down, but we have pretty well determined Isard wanted us to take the planet and inherit the virus, so killing Horn after her goal was accomplished only makes sense.

  “The Horn case is not the only death to which we can link Captain Celchu.”

  Wedge’s jaw dropped in surprise. “What? You can’t mean Bror Jace?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “Nonsense. The Empire killed him.”

  Cracken nodded. “Agreed, but the way they got him was unusual. Previously we believed he happened to have been trapped by an Interdictor Cruiser out looking for smugglers. However, we have been forced to amend that view following the defection of the Imperial Interdictor Cruiser Black Asp. Captain Iillor indicated in her debriefing that the Black Asp was directed to go to specific coordinates to intercept Bror Jace as he headed back to Thyferra. He was a bit late in arriving, but showed up exactly where he was expected to. They tried to capture him, but his ship exploded during the fight. The arrangements for Jace’s journey home, including the plotting of his course, were made by Captain Tycho Celchu.”

  “By my order.”

  “Yes, Commander, by your order—which does not mean Isard could not have warped Celchu enough to make him betray your people.”

  “But, again, that’s circumstantial.”

  “We have more.” The Alliance Intelligence chief shrugged. “Horn told you, Commander, that he’d seen Celchu here on Coruscant talking with a known Imperial operative, Kirtan Loor. Horn had worked with Loor for years on Corellia, so the chance of a mistake in his identification are minimal. In backtracking Celchu’s time here on Coruscant—granting that you ordered him to come here, Commander—we have periods of time for which we cannot account. Moreover, we have uncovered a number of banking accounts in which large numbers of credits have been accumulated. These accounts add up to approximately fifteen million credits, which means Celchu was being paid by the Empire.”

  “What?” Wedge couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way, just no way Tycho was an agent in the pay of the Empire. “If he was one of Isard’s sleeper agents, why would she be paying him?”

  “Commander, for years I’ve been trying to fathom her mind, and I have been unable to do so. If I had to guess, however, I would say that creating those accounts was a precaution to let us uncover Tycho at some point or, as it stands now, a means to guarantee he will be tried for his crimes.”

  “But she has no interest in seeing justice done, which underscores how ludicrous all these charges against Tycho are.” Wedge brought his head up. “If Isard wants a trial, you know conducting it will be to her benefit, which is yet one more reason not to go ahead with it.”

  Borsk Fey’lya tapped a talon against the tabletop. “Or is she providing more evidence than we need to convict so we will be convinced Celchu is being framed? If we are convinced he is innocent, we could exonerate him, raise him into a position of trust, and find ourselves again fodder for her schemes.”

  Wedge winced. He hated Fey’lya’s wheels-within-wheels reasoning because it came down to a core problem with Tycho’s case: either he was innocent and being made to look guilty, or he was guilty and being made to look innocent through a clumsy frame. The evidence served both explanations well, and sorting good data from bad was a task that could easily defy completion. Everyone could agree something was not right in the whole situation, but assigning blame and assessing truth was not going to be easy.

  And no matter what happened, Tycho would end up being stigmatized, reviled, and ostracized. He would be destroyed by it all, and that was something he did not deserve.

  For Wedge it was simple to separate fact from fiction, but he knew that was because he was starting from a deep belief in Tycho’s innocence. Wedge didn’t have a Jedi’s insight through the Force—he just knew Tycho. They’d fought side by side through some of the most harrowing battles the galaxy had ever seen. They’d shared hardships that others could not have even imagined, and they shared good times that others could only envy. Wedge knew Tycho could no more betray the Rebellion than he himself could, but looking around at the Council, he realized that even his conduct might not be seen as above reproach.

  “I still do not believe the evidence General Cracken’s people have gathered is anything more than circumstantial.” Wedge studied the members of the Council. “For any trial to go forward, especially as quickly as this trial is being pushed, is reckless and negligent. I know we all want swift justice if Tycho is guilty, but trying him on these charges right now can only hurt him and, ultimately, the New Republic.”

  Doman Beruss, her light eyes glinting coldly in the dimness, opened her hands. “Your opinion, Commander Antilles, is respected but not universally held. The evidence is sufficient in any jurisdiction of the galaxy to call for a trial.”

  Wedge’s eyes narrowed as he sensed a transparisteel barrier descending between his argument and the Council’s willingness to act. He knew he had to do something to get them to open their eyes, so he decided to take a chance. “This evidence may demand a trial, but at least delay it until there is time to scrape things down another layer or two and find out what’s really going on. I think it is the minimum courtesy you owe someone like Tycho Celchu, and that’s an opinion I do not need to keep private.”

  Borsk Fey’lya’s head came up and his fur rippled like a storm-wracked ocean. “Are you threatening to use your status as hero to oppose us?”

  Ackbar answered for Wedge. “He was doing nothing of the kind. Because Captain Celchu is facing a court martial, the trial and everything surrounding it is a military matter, and Commander Antilles knows unauthorized discussions of same violate regulations and oaths he took when he became an officer.”

  “Begging the Admiral’s pardon,” Wedge growled, “I was threatening to go public with my feelings about the trial. I still am. And if expressing my opinion about an injustice is not allowed in the Alliance military, I can always resign my commission.”

  That bombshell certainly had an effect, but not entirely the one he expected. While Ackbar looked disappointed, Borsk Fey’lya smiled victoriously. The other councilors reacted with horror or a grim acknowledgment of his bold stroke. If they had thought his speaking out against Tycho’s treatment would attract attention, his resignation because of it would undoubtedly be an action with a much higher profile.

  Leia leaned forward. “Chief Councilor, I suggest we recess for an hour. I would like a chance to speak with Commander Antilles, if I might.”

  “Please.” Mon Mothma stood and gave Wedge a look that combined pride with frustration, anger with sympathy. Wedge felt not exactly pitied, but as if there was more going on than he had access to. He knew that was true, of course—he was just the leader of a fighter squadron, and these were the leaders of a new nation. But he hated to think their perspective could somehow justify what they were going to do to Tycho.

  General Cracken left the room last and closed the doors behind himself, leaving Wedge alone with Princess Leia. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never looked so saddened. “If you want to convince me to save my career, I appreciate the effort, but I’ll stand by what I said just now. You can’t talk me out of it.”

  She remained seated and slowly shook her head. “I know that, so I’m not going to try. It’s important to me that you know I think Tycho is innocent, too. I’ve known Winter for as long as I can remember, and she’s terribly fond of Tycho. If she can remember nothing that’s the least bit ambiguous about him, then I can’t imagine there’s any
thing sinister to uncover. You and I both know that the trial will be rough on Tycho, and unfair.”

  “Then help me convince them to stop it or delay it.”

  “I would if I could, but I can’t.” A deep frown creased her brow as she plucked at the fabric of her pale green gown. “The reason I asked for the recess is so I can tell you what’s going to happen after someone here decides that we have been suitably courteous in listening to you and that we need to move on to new business.”

  Leia chewed on her lower lip for a second. “Mon Mothma will thank you for coming to us, but she will point out that Tycho is being tried in a military court. The Provisional Council has no authority to interfere with the way the military deals with violations of the code of military justice. Until there is a conviction, and punishment is decided upon, there is nothing the Council can do, and even at that point it is an open question whether or not we can interfere.”

  “But there has to be a chance to appeal a conviction…” Wedge hesitated, then nodded. “Councilor Beruss’s comment about a lack of a Judiciary… that was meant to forestall this argument, yes?”

  Leia nodded. “In simple terms, yes, but we haven’t yet had time to make decisions concerning the structure of such a body, much less its jurisdiction and duties. For example, would an appeal go to the New Republic courts first, or would it be sent to the courts on the defendant’s homeworld, or the victim’s homeworld? Putting together a government is not easy, and the process is not pretty or without pain. There are casualties all over the place.”

  “And Tycho will be one of them.”

  “Unfortunately, yes, he may be.” Leia’s shoulders slumped with fatigue. “You may not realize how fragile the New Republic is right now. With her Krytos virus Ysanne Isard has succeeded in driving a wedge between the human and non-human members of the New Republic. There have been accusations that some of us knew the virus was here and encouraged people to return to their native worlds specifically to spread the disease and kill off whole planetary populations. There are others who accuse us of not doing enough to get bacta to those who need it. If we do try to get as much as possible here to save as many people as possible, we drain the military of their supply. If Isard hits back, or Warlord Zsinj decides to strike at us, we can be devastated. Trying to buy up supplies of bacta has driven the price higher than ever before, and to make matters worse, the Ashern rebels on Thyferra have managed to damage production, limiting the supply at a time when the demand couldn’t be higher.”

  She looked up at him. “It’s a good thing we don’t have a Treasury Ministry in place, because they’d tell us we’re bankrupt.”

  When Wedge realized his mouth was hanging open he clicked it shut. “I had no idea…”

  “Of course not. Nor does anyone else outside the Council. Things are so dire that I’ll be heading off to try to open relations with Hapes and ask them for help—and that’s something that’s so secret I’ll deny even knowing you if it gets out.”

  Wedge nodded. “Already forgotten.”

  Leia mustered a weak smile. “Frankly speaking, there is a remote possibility that we can secure enough bacta to save many of the people who are afflicted by Krytos, but not all. Even if we cure 95 percent of the cases, those we don’t cure will amount to millions of fatalities—non-human fatalities. The resentment against the government will rise until the Alliance falls apart. When that happens, someone like Warlord Zsinj or Ysanne Isard or who knows who else is lurking out there can come in and sweep up the pieces.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “That shouldn’t have anything to do with Tycho, but it does because Tycho is a human, accused of a heinous crime against a fellow Rebel and a man who is now a hero. If we do not bring him to trial quickly and let the trial take its course, we will be accused of favoring a human. People will suggest that were Tycho a Gotal or Quarren, we’d have tried, convicted, and executed him inside of a day. That charge is baseless, but it’s critical we avoid any appearance of favoritism.”

  “So Tycho gets offered up as a sacrifice to keep the Alliance together?”

  “I would have preferred being able to put Ysanne Isard on trial for having the Krytos virus created and spread, but she got away—how, I don’t know, but she did. We probably could scoop up a double-handful of Imperial bureaucrats and put them on trial for past activities, but then the entire Imperial bureaucracy would go into hiding and any chance we had of trying to govern the galaxy would go away.”

  That comment brought Wedge up short. The notion of using the enemy to administer the territories of the new government struck him as wrong, but then he realized the Alliance military had always welcomed defectors from the other side into its ranks. Experience was enough to forgive past sins, especially when things were so critical. “You’re right, creating a government isn’t easy or pretty.”

  “But it’s what we have to do.”

  The logic of her argument was inescapable, but Wedge bristled at it and didn’t want to back down. “Perhaps resigning is something I have to do.”

  Leia shook her head. “No, no it’s not. You’re not going to resign, Wedge.”

  “Why not? The war’s over. There have to be a half-dozen fueling depots I could buy and operate here on Coruscant or back on Corellia.” He knew he was letting himself be a bit petulant, but to acquiesce seemed like abandoning Tycho. I won’t do that without sufficient reason.

  “You won’t resign, dear heart, because of the same sense of responsibility that makes you threaten to resign.” Leia smiled at him. “Cracken’s people have been doing more than looking into Tycho’s activities. Turns out that Warlord Zsinj hit a Thyferran bacta convoy and stole a fairly big shipment. An Ashern rebel was on the convoy and got word out to us about the location of the space platform where Zsinj has the convoy docked. The bacta will save a lot of people, but getting our operatives in and back out means someone very good is going to have to be flying cover for our strike. Rogue Squadron will be leading the way.”

  Wedge nodded. “Resign and doom millions, or stay and watch a friend be destroyed. Not much of a choice.”

  “Not so, my friend, it is indeed quite a choice. Not an easy one.”

  “Oh, the choice is easy, Leia, but living with the result will not be.” Wedge swallowed past the lump choking him. “You’ll let the Council know I’ve reconsidered my resignation.”

  “I’ll tell them that you meant the suggestion as a way to underscore your concern for Captain Celchu.” Leia nodded solemnly. “According to Cracken you’ll be briefed inside a week and then head out. May the Force be with you.”

  “I’ll save the Force for Tycho.” Wedge’s eyes became slits. “No matter what sort of reception Zsinj has for us, what Tycho’s going to face will be a million times worse.”

  Chapter Four

  The prison uniform Tycho Celchu had been given looked enough like a flightsuit that Wedge Antilles could almost imagine his friend being free again. The black jumpsuit had red sleeves and leggings that started at elbow and knee respectively. They also ended well shy of wrist and ankle so the fabric would not interfere with the operation of the binders Tycho wore.

  Wedge shuddered with anger and embarrassment. I will see you free again, my friend.

  Tycho looked up and smiled. A bit taller than Wedge, but with the same lithe build, Tycho was a handsome man whose blue eyes appeared brighter than Wedge would have thought possible. Tycho held his hands up in greeting to Wedge and Nawara Ven, and almost made it seem as if the binders were not hampering him. He waited patiently as a guard in a control room opened the transparisteel barrier separating him from the visitation center, then shuffled in past his escort.

  Wedge rose and started across the sparsely furnished white room, but Tycho’s guard brandished a Stokhli Spray Stick. “Keep away from the prisoner, Commander.”

  Wedge felt a hand on his left elbow and turned back to face the Twi’lek who had accompanied him to the detention center. “Commander, we’re not allowed phy
sical contact with Tycho—no one is allowed to touch prisoners. It’s security.”

  Wedge frowned. “Right.”

  Nawara Ven skewered the guard with a pink-eyed stare. “You’ve done your duty here, now I require you to leave us alone with my client and my droid here.”

  The heavyset guard’s eyes narrowed, then he tapped the Stokhli Spray Stick against the palm of his other hand. “I’m going to be right out there. Anything funny happens, and you’ll be spending a lot of time with this traitor.” He turned and headed back out to the far side of the transparisteel barrier.

  Wedge dropped into one of the four chairs around the table in the middle of the room. “How are you doing? Is that guard causing you trouble? Because if he is, I’ll do something about it.”

  Tycho sat across from him and shrugged. “Voleyy isn’t so bad, he just doesn’t like things to get odd on his watch. Other guards are worse, and if I weren’t in solitary confinement, I think the general population would have already tried and executed me.”

  “What?” Tycho’s comment caught Wedge by surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I thought it was rather self-explanatory.” Tycho shook his head, then smiled up at his friends. “You have to remember, I’ve been charged with murder and treason. There are guards here who are just waiting for an excuse to show the New Republic how deep their patriotism runs. Some of the prisoners think they could win a pardon by saving the Republic the cost of a trial. I shouldn’t think that would come as a surprise to you, Wedge.”