DARK FORCES

　The run to Danuta took five days. The navcomp handled most of the piloting. When not asleep, or deeply involved in some maintenance procedure, Kyle rode an emotional roller coaster, but tried to marshal his mental forces.
　There was a high as the mission began but that period was all too brief. The more he thought about the mission, the more problems he discovered, until they were like mynocks that sucked the courage from his bones.
　The obvious solution was to devise a plan that dealt with the potential problems, and thereby defeat them, in his mind if nowhere else. He spent a lot of time constructing clever scenarios, his hopes rising as they took shape, only to encounter a barrier so large, so insurmountable, that everything collapsed. Finally, after many hours of frustrating work, he was forced to confront the fact that he lacked sufficient information. The answers, assuming there were any, waited on Danuta. Air whispered through the Moldy Crow's vents, the deck vibrated, and Kyle was alone.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Jan followed the Kubazian landlord up some twisting stairs, down a filthy hall, and into apartment 4G. The "4" was missing, but the agent had memorized the landings and emergency exits. The entire building shook as a freighter lifted off. The landlord, who had been unable to let this particular set of rooms since the last tenant, a hearing-impaired Rybet, had been murdered the year before, tried to minimize the negatives. "It gets noisy at times - but the view makes up for it."
　Jan, who never turned her back on him, pulled a curtain aside. Thousands of dust motes sprang free, fell through filtered sunlight, and joined their predecessors on the floor. The window was a local product, and hadn't been washed in a long, long time. The agent thumbed the latch and pushed. Additional light poured into the room and the landlord adjusted his goggles accordingly. Exposure to the red wavelengths gave him headaches.
　Jan considered the view. The airport's security fence was only twenty meters away. Beyond that, out past a line of grounded ships, the freighter engaged its in-system drives, and blasted the length of the runway. It was fast and disappeared moments later. The terminal was a low, one-story affair, and could have passed for a warehouse except for the antenna farm, and the surface-to-air missile battery that nestled against the west end of the building. There was no sign of the Moldy Crow.
　The stench of fuel, ozone, and sewage wafted in through the window. The Kubazian wanted to slap a scent disk over the end of his trunk but thought better of it. Maybe, just maybe, the human was stupid enough to take the apartment in spite of the stench.
　Jan turned toward the Kubazian, dropped some coins into his eternally ready hand, and said "Nice ambiance. I'll take it." The bag, still loaded with ordnance, bounced as it hit the heavily stained bedspread. Rebel agents had a saying： "Home is where you lay your head."

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Danuta more than filled the ship's view screen and Kyle was celebrating his first planetfall when the proximity alarms went off. The reason was quickly apparent. Two Imperial TIE fighters, one to either side of his ship, appeared from nowhere. A comm transmission followed. There were no preliminaries - just demands.
　"Orbital patrol vessel X-Ray-two-niner-one to unidentified freighter. Report the commanding officer's name, number of passengers aboard, cargo if any, port of origin, and business on Danuta."
　The words had a sing-song quality, as if the pilot had uttered them countless times, which he probably had. Kyle felt his heart pound in his chest, reminded himself that such checks were standard, and opened his mike. The story had been rehearsed numerous times, and, thanks to the experts on the Hope, Kyle had the forgeries to back it up.
　"Moldy Crow to Imperial X-Ray-two-niner-one. Roger that... My name's Drexel, Dan Drexel, and I'm the sole person aboard. My port of origin was Drog VI in the Corporate Sector. I've got a load of highpriority spares for the Brodsport Mining Corporation. Rel Farley's the assistant manager there... tell him the first beer's on me."
　Farley was a Reb sympathizer, or so Kyle assumed, and was ready to confirm the agent's story. Silence ensued as the pilot checked with Brodsport, talked to his buddy on a different frequency, or picked his nose. Kyle had his credits on the last possibility when the clearance arrived.
　"This is X-Ray-two-niner-one. You have clearance for Trid. Approach vectors are being uploaded to your navcomp. Stay in side them. It'll be safer that way. Have a nice day."
　Kyle took note of the threat but felt a tremendous sense of relief anyway. "Roger that - Crow out."
　The TIE fighters accelerated, curved away, and were lost to sight. Kyle allowed himself to relax a little, made contact with Trid ground control, and descended through the atmosphere. It looked as if a huge brown blanket had been thrown over the planet, s surface. It was smooth at first, rounded where hills pushed from below, and wrinkled where canyons came and went.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　The badlands gradually gave way to farms where hardy colonists, men and women like his father, coaxed circles of green from the hard brown earth. Sunlight winked off metal roofe, vehicles added an occal sional touch of color, and a two-lane road led towards Trid.
　The streets had been laid out grid-style by Brodsport engineers who saw the town for what it was - a miserable little outpost to which they were committed for no more than the duration of their contracts. The result was a community in which what few niceties there were had been tacked on later.
　The spaceport was located at the eastern end of town, the direction from which Kyle was coming. It shimmered in the afternoon heat. Beyond the landing strip, and the low-lying city to which it belonged, Kyle saw a cluster of distinctly upscale buildings, and knew what they represented. The Imperial Research Facility on Danuta, the Death Star's intellectual birthplace, and, unless he was careful, the place where he would die.
　He pushed the ship down, deployed the flaps, and fired retros. The Crow lost altitude, but way out there, on the very edge of the horizon, the agent saw an enormous black lake. It lay well with in the Imperial Military Reservation, and it didn't take a geologist to see that the surface had been heated till it was liquid, and allowed to cool. Why would such a thing exist? Unless it was the result of an experiment of some kind. Kyle imagined a superlaser powerful enough to drill holes through the planetary crust and gave an involuntary shudder.
　Then, with Trid ground control babbling in his ears and the navcomp beeping in sympathy, he killed forward motion, pulled the bow up, and lit the repulsors. Forces equalized and the ship hovered. Kyle checked the lay of the land, saw how the slots were configured, and danced the ship sideways.
　The automated ground guide had been painted once, but that was a long time ago, and most of the covering had worn away, leaving islands of orange. Kyle followed the mottled machine to space twenty-three where he plopped down between an autohopper that wore governmental markings and a Brodsport shuttle.
　The other end of the spaceport, the part that was heavily festooned with "do not enter" signs, and guarded by a squad of stormtroopers, was home to six carefully maintained TIE fighters, still gleaming from the morning wash-down. A good place to stay clear of.
　Kyle ran the shutdown procedures, checked to make sure his indicators were green, and preset the emergency start-up sequence. When he left, if he left, there was a fairly good chance he'd be in a hurry, The local customs agent used a hydrospanner to hammer on the belly hatch, Kyle slipped into his Dan Drexel persona, and hurried to lower the ramp. To bribe or not to bribe - that was the question. Not that there was much doubt.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　The noise, combined with the way the building shook, brought Jan up out of an uncertain sleep. Her boots came off the sill, the front legs of her chair hit the floor, and she fought to focus her eyes. Though not especially busy by the standards of a planet like her native Alderaan, which had multiple ports a thousand times larger than Trid's, the strip was reasonably active, and she had already monitored the comings and goings of at least fifty ships, not counting TIE fighters or atmospheric craft. So she was pleasantly surprised to see the Moldy Crow, and, after he had secured the ship, Kyle Katarn. The electrobinoculars wobbled over the tarmac, centered on the agent, and brought him closer.
　He looked tall and fit as he talked to the local customs agent, shook hands, and checked the Crow's landing skids. What did she like about him anyway? Besides the fact that he'd saved her life? Was it the determined look in his eyes? The strength in his hands? Or the laugh that came so seldom she found herself working for it? She wasn't sure.
　Kyle completed his inspection, sealed the belly hatch, and headed for the terminal. The action was sufficient to remind Jan of the mission she had accepted and the possibilities involved. What if Kyle was a spy? Sent to destroy all that she fought for? Her resolve hardened.
　Jan checked to ensure that her weapons were loaded, set the satchel's self-defense mechanism, and let herself into the hall. The target had arrived. And she had work to do.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Having already inspected the town from the air, Kyle wasn't especially surprised by Trid's lackadaisical seediness. As with most planets, the nightclubs, strip joints, and cheap eateries sat elbow to elbow with the terminal, and the outfitters, suppliers, and parts houses were just up the street.
　The local architecture could best be described as Imperial prefab with a touch of rimworld colonial. Examples could be seen in the colorful planters that hung off second-story balconies, the wrought-iron bars that protected ground-floor windows, and the trash-filled water fountain that graced the town square.
　The citizens were just as basic. They fell in six categories： contract employees, who sported caps with Brodsport logos on them； hard-eyed colonists with work - thickened hands； scholarly types, whose clothes looked badly out of place； space trash like Dan Drexel, just waiting to leave； an assortment of aliens, none of whom seemed very happy； and stormtroopers who went everywhere in pairs. Partly for the sake of security, and partly so they could watch each other.
　The troopers gave Kyle the most cause for concern, since he was wanted by now. They might or might not have seen his face during the last shift briefing. Their presence, and the fact that he couldn't see their eyes, reminded Kyle of the extent to which the Emperor ruled through fear. He remembered what it felt like to be that powerful, and came to the sickening realization that he had enjoyed it.
　Kyle waited for a tractor-wagon combination to growl past, stepped off the curb, and crossed the square. Though careful to seem casual, Kyle had a destination in mind, and drifted in that direction. The possibility that he would look at the research facility and see a way in was more than a little remote, but he would give it a try.
　As Kyle moved west, following the afternoon sun, his surroundings started to change. The buildings assumed a residential air and seemed more prosperous. Judging from the overall cleanliness, and the children who played in the street, this particular neighborhood had been set aside for research staff and their dependents. This was something Mon Mothma had neglected to mention, which might have been used in support of a commando raid.
　A complex scheme that involved kidnapping a scientist and using his or her credentials to gain entry presented itself and was eliminated. Simplicity was the key, along with a healthy dose of luck.
　Kyle felt something press against his back. It felt like - what? Someone watching him? But that was nonsense - wasn't it?
　A seedy cafe spilled out onto a patch of carefully swept sidewalk and presented a chance to rest, have something to drink, and check his back-trail. Kyle smiled at the hostess - she looked to be no more than twelve - and followed her to a plastic-covered table. She cleared the previous occupant's dishes away and promised to return. Kyle sat, turned toward the east, and scanned the street.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Kyle frowned. There had been something familiar about the distantly glimpsed figure, but he wasn't sure what. A person from town? Probably, but he resolved to keep a sharp lookout just in case. He touched his blaster for reassurance. It was new, but not too new, and secured in a cross-draw holster. Fast, but uncomfortable when you sat. Side arms, and even heavier weapons for that matter, were common on planets like Danuta.
　Kyle finished his drink, left some coins on the sticky tabletop, and resumed his reconnaissance.
　The residential area was relatively small and quickly gave way to a carefully maintained security buffer, complete with pole-mounted surveillance cameras, recon droids, weapons emplacements, and a four-meter high razor-wire-topped chain-link fence. The buildings were low, sturdy affairs, at least half underground, and hardened against attack. He remembered Mon Mothma's holo and marveled at someone's bravery. Which raised an interesting question - what happened to that agent anyway? And why hadn't he or she been asked to retrieve the plans? The answer seemed obvious.
　Kyle paralleled the security perimeter for a while, walking briskly as if for the exercise, and knew he wasn't dressed for it. The main gate was a massive affeir, complete with a guard station, at least a dozen stormtroopers, an AT-ST, and a brace of armored ground cars. Not the sort of defenses he cared to test.
　Careful lest he draw attention to himself, Kyle turned toward the east, chose what seemed like a quiet street, and followed it towards town. The reconnaissance had confirmed his worst fears. The Research Complex was essentially impregnable. The only way an unauthorized person could get in was if someone allowed them to enter.
　The fact that Kyle knew someone stationed in the secured area had plagued him ever since he'd seen Meck Odom's face on Mon Mothma's holo. To force a choice between friendship and duty, to place Odom in terrible danger, went against everything Kyle believed in. After all, what could be lower than that? Yet what of the millions, the billions put at risk by the Death Star? What would they think of his moral dilemma? He knew the answer.
　His feet seemed to be on automatic for the rest of the journey, as he made his way back through Trid. The Moldy Crow's security system indicated that there had been no less than three attempts to enter the ship while he was gone, none of them successful. Kyle scanned the video secured by the rivet-sized lens, dismissed the would-be burglars as common thieves, and reset the system.
　Once sealed, the hull was more than adequate protection against the spaceport's noise and stench. In fact, if it hadn't been for the vibration generated by the ships that used the strip, he would have been unaware of their comings and goings. His dinner, purchased from a street vendor and carried back to the ship, was delicious. Especially after five days of dehydrated food. He wolfed it down, drank a quart of local spring water, and hit the rack. Sleep came fast - as did the dreams.
　He had switched places with a Rebel back on the asteroid. The hatch made a natural point of defense. There were so many stormtroopers that it was impossible to miss. Bodies were piled on bodies until they blocked the corridor. That's when the fighting stopped, medics removed their helmets, and Kyle started to scream. Every single corpse had Meck Odom's face.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Given the fact that Kyle had spent the night aboard the Moldy Crow, and she had spent it within the confines of her miserable apartment, Jan assumed that he had slept better than she had. That's why she felt resentful when he opted for an early start and forced her to do likewise. She double-timed around the west end of the runway just in time to see him emerge from an eatery. Her breakfast, which consisted of a cup of tea purchased on the run, left her hungry.
　Still, it was interesting to see him on the move, especially after the somewhat inconclusive meanderings carried out the day before. What was he up to anyway? Assuming that an agent with no real training - and no experience - had a plan.
　Kyle stopped to get directions from a street vendor, turned down a side street, and found what he thought was the correct address. He turned, saw nothing suspicious about the woman staring into a shop window, the man emptying slops, or the droid that whirred down the sidewalk. Then, having checked once more to make sure he was in the right place, the agent climbed a short flight of stairs and disappeared within.
　There was a carving over the dilapidated door and Jan strained to see what it was. It looked like a wheel, with complicated spokes radiating out from the center. Jan had the sense that she'd seen it before, but she couldn't place it.
　One good thing about the situation was the fact that it allowed her to buy a sweet roll in a nearby shop. She was licking frosting off her fingers when Kyle emerged. He scanned the general vicinity, failed to see her through the plate glass window, and headed for the business district.
　That left Jan in a dilemma： She could follow Kyle, and see where he went, or investigate the building and figure out why he'd gone there. She chose the second alternative, waited till he was out of sight, and mounted the stairs. The door opened on well-oiled hinges, bells jingled, and the odor of incense filled her nostrils. The Ortolan monk had a long snout, floppy ears, and two disk-shaped eyes. His bright blue fur clashed with the saffron robe he wore. "May I be of assistance?" His voice was soft but audible over the distant chant.
　A wheel of life, a monk, and the sound of chanting. Everything came together. A temple had been established in the building. There were thousands of religions within the Empire, and while Palpatine disapproved of many, most were tolerated so long as they remained apolitical. Jan smiled. "No, thank you. I chose the wrong door."
　The monk bowed. "There are many doors - and many paths beyond them. Go in peace."
　Jan bowed, knew she wouldn't find much peace, not for a while anyway, and returned to the street. She looked back over her shoulder. What did a temple have to do with Kyle? Or the Imperial Death Star for that matter? She could have asked, but what if the monk tipped Kyle off? He would recognize her description in a second. No, better to wait and see.
　Jan took three steps and stopped. What if she'd been suckered? What if Kyle was a lot better trained than she thought he was, knew she was following him, and was determined to lose her? It seemed unlikely, but anything was possible. Especially for a double agent.
　Jan broke into a run. It carried her down the street, around a corner, and on to the main drag. She stopped and looked both ways. Where had he gone? What was he doing? The answer, once she had it, was anticlimactic. Kyle, apparently at ease, was strolling toward his ship.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　A lot of people had filtered into the Blue Moon during the last hour or so. Spacers mostly, with a leavening of colonists, and aliens with nowhere else to go.
　A mirror ran the entire length of the room, its insect-specked surface barely visible between the bottles, jugs, gourds, decanters, and squeeze bulbs racked in front of it. The club's proprietor wore a dingy apron, and polished the same section of bar over and over again, as if doing so would bring him luck.
　Up toward the front, where she could be seen through the window, a dancer bumped and ground her way through a two-hour shift, her face empty of all expression, her eyes far away.
　Further back, seated around a too-small table, a group of farm boys, their empties ranked before them, ogled the dancer, and bragged of exploits they'd never had.
　Kyle, who occupied one of about ten booths that lined the wall opposite the bar, split his attention between the dancer and the entryway. Not because the dancer was especially attractive, but because she was a legitimate place to look. The last thing he needed was a run-in with a "Who are you looking at?" drunk.
　The afternoon and early evening had passed slowly, very slowly, and Kyle was nervous. So nervous he held the blaster cradled in his lap. Once he had made the decision to place his friend at risk, the rest had been easy. Comm calls were almost sure to be monitored, as was E-mail, which left word of mouth. The fact that Odom was a spiritualist, almost certain to visit the local temple, offered a path for communications.
　Now, having set events in motion, Kyle worried lest something go wrong. What if Odom hadn't gone to the temple today? Or didn't go this week? How many days could he wait? Or even worse, what if Odom had been to the temple and came through the door now backed by a half dozen stormtroopers? People change. Odom could have. The Blue Moon had a rear exit, he'd made sure of that, but it would be covered.
　The better part of an hour passed, Kyle bought round after round of nonalcoholic drinks, and refused two offers of female companionship.
　Finally, at the point where he was ready to give up, Odom arrived. He wore civilian attire and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
　Kyle forced himself to wait, saw nothing suspicious, and released the grip on his blaster. Odom scanned the crowd and Kyle waved. Visibly relieved, the officer nodded, said something to the hostess, and made his way toward the back. His face registered concern as he slid into the booth. "Kyle! It's you! I nearly didn't come. The security types lay traps sometimes."
　Kyle nodded soberly. "You took a big chance. I'm sorry to put you at risk."
　"What? And miss my chance to talk to the most infamous member of the class? No way!"
　Kyle glanced around. If anyone was watching they hid it well. "Infamous? How infamous?"
　"This infamous," Odom replied, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here, take a look."
　The paper was folded. Kyle opened the document, flattened it on the tabletop, and was shocked when his own face looked back at him. The Empire had used the holo from the Academy's yearbook. The crimes he stood accused of included desertion, treason, and murder. He felt vulnerable and resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder. "I didn't kill anyone. Not intentionally, anyway."
　Odom grinned. "And the rest?"
　"Guilty as charged."
　"Which brings us to the present."
　"Yes."
　"I know I'll regret this question. But where do I come in?"
　Kyle explained.

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112

　Jan waited outside the Blue Moon, saw Odom enter, and felt sick inside. Mon Mothma was right. Kyle was about to meet with the officer he'd lied about knowing. Why? What were they up to? It was her job to find out.
　Jan moved along the side of the building toward the back door. A drunk lurched out of the darkness and she shoved him out of the way. He backpedaled and fell into some poorly tended shrubbery. She ignored his pleas for assistance, turned the corner, stepped over a pool of vomit, and made her way up the back stairs. Hinges screeched as she pulled the door open and stepped inside. The rest rooms smelled of urine and the agent made a face. There was halfhearted applause as the dancer bent to collect her tips and a four-piece band started to play.
　The agent spotted Odom, saw Kyle's back, and made for the adjoining booth. The hostess saw her, registered alarm, and rushed to intervene. At least two customers to a booth after 8：00 p.m., the owner was strict about that, and so was she. A half-dozen bracelets jangled as she made her way across the floor.
　Jan allowed herself to be intercepted, smiled innocently, and showed five fingers. "We're a party of six. The rest will be here shortly."
　Relieved, and optimistic about the evening's take, the hostess returned to her station. Jan struggled to hear. It was difficult, especially after the band swung into a rendition of "Rimmer's Delight," and the customers started to clap. She heard snatches though, including Kyle's promise to keep Odom's identity secret, and "the need to build a believable story."
　The meeting ended after about thirty minutes. Odom left via the front door, and Kyle headed for the back. Jan paid for her drink, loosened her blaster, and followed. Her heart was beating like a trip-hammer. She'd killed people, more than she cared to remember, but never like this. Never someone she knew, and never in cold blood.
　The door closed behind Kyle and Jan pushed it open. Drives roared as a ship lowered itself onto the tarmac a quarter klick away. She looked around. The area appeared clear, and the ship would cover the noise she made. The possibility that Kyle might have body armor under his clothes suggested a head shot. Jan raised her weapon, adopted a two-handed stance, and took careful aim.
　The old Kyle would have felt the pressure against the back of his head and dismissed it. This one drew his weapon in one smooth motion, turned, and started to squeeze the trigger. But he saw his would-be assassin's face, and stopped. Jan saw his hesitation, knew she should have fired, and cursed her weakness.
　Kyle, unable to trust his own eyes, held the weapon where it was, but closed the gap between them. She'd been prepared to kill him, that much was clear, but why? The Empire, yes, but the Alliance was supposed to be above such things. Kyle knew he should shoot her, should burn a hole through her brain, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
　He remembered the first time he'd seen those eyes, calm even in the face of death, centered on something he couldn't see. His arm sank and the blaster with it. Hers did likewise. Jan spoke first. "You deserve to die, Katarn. But someone else will have to do it."
　The roar of repulsors stopped suddenly as the pilot shut them down. The relative silence made his words seem louder. Kyle shook his head. "You have it wrong, Jan."
　"What about Odom? You told Mon Mothma you didn't know him."
　Kyle shrugged. "I wanted to protect him, to leave him out of it."
　"And now?"
　"I pulled him in. There's no other way."
　Jan allowed her blaster to slip into its holster. A pair of drunks wobbled around the corner, stumbled, and laughed hilariously as they helped each other up the stairs. She searched his face. "Why? Why would he help our cause?"
　Kyle looked away and back again. "I don't know for sure. Friendship, his religious beliefe, it's hard to say."
　"But you believe he will?"
　"I'm willing to bet my life on it."
　There was momentary silence. Jan thought about what she'd been prepared to do and shivered. If she had killed him, would it have been an act of fanaticism or patriotism? How did one tell the difference? The answer, if one existed, refused to come. She forced a smile. "Come on. Let's have dinner. Assuming we can find a restaurant dark enough to hide your face. And it's on me."

デヌータ
Danuta

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P. 99 L. 27 - P. 112