His box was situated atop a stack of cargo containers the size of refresher stalls. One stack over, another box was opening identically, and Ben, similarly suited and helmeted, was struggling upright.
It had taken some careful bribery of cargo porters to make sure that these two boxes were situated at the tops of their respective cargo stacks. If they hadn’t been, of course, it would have been harder to exit. The Jedi could have done so, by igniting their lightsabers and cutting their way out, but the damaged cargo boxes would then have been noticed, potentially endangering the mission. Fortunately, the porters had stayed bribed.
And the enviro-suit … Jacen encouraged himself to be patient, refrained from cursing the suits even as he stepped out of his cargo box and pushed the lid down into place. The suit was the heaviest, most awkward thing he’d ever worn.
All its radiation shielding lay in physical materials, none from electronic screens or energy fields. The atmosphere supply came from bottles opened and closed by hand. There were no electronic sensors, no servomotors designed to assist in movement and case the burden of the suit’s weight. The helmet had no comm gear, no visual enhancers.
There were, in fact, no electronics whatsoever installed in the suit. The only electronic items within were the lightsabers, datapads, data cards, and comlinks the two Jedi carried-and for the time being, those items were switched completely off, their power supplies physically disconnected.
Slowly, clumsily, Jacen finished climbing down from his cargo stack and observed that Ben was beginning his own descent.
The advantage to the crudeness of the suits was that they were essentially immune to the varieties of security scanning performed by Corellian Security customs units at Centerpoint Station. With no detectable electronics, the suits would simply not register on CorSec scanners. Of course, life scanners would pick them up … but CorSec customs chiefs, in a cost-saving effort, had decided long ago that it was sufficient to scan for electronics. What life-form could move around on the station’s exterior without electronic support? Only mynocks and other unintelligent space parasites.
So Jacen and Ben would be mynocks this day, and that’s why their portion of the operation’s forces had been code-named Team Mynock
He helped Ben down to the floor, and together they moved to the aft air lock. There, on the hull beside the control panel, almost invisible in the dim cargo-hold lighting, there was an X-shaped mark scratched into the paint, a sign that someone else had remained bribed-that the security sensors on this air lock had been disabled. Jacen pulled open the air lock door; he and Ben crowded into the tiny chamber beyond, and Jacen awkwardly punched the buttons to cycle the air lock.
A minute later, the cycle finished, and Ben impatiently pushed the exterior door. It opened onto a starfield of dizzying beauty; Jacen could sec stars, distant nebulae, even a comet whose tail was just beginning to be illuminated by the star Corell.
Jacen poked his head out and turned toward the shuttle’s bow. In the distance ahead, he could see Centerpoint Station, now close enough for its moon-like immensity to be evident and its convoluted surface to be obvious.
CORONET, CORELLIA
The conveyance, a ten-meter-long airspeeder that seemed to be mostly windows and standing room, deposited Jaina and half her team on the street outside the Prime Minister’s official residence. It drifted away, carrying with it the remaining heavy load of commuting workers, tourists, and people on errands.
Jaina took a deep breath and looked around, wary for signs of too much attention being directed their way. There shouldn’t be any. After having made planetfall hours ago, she and her team had had time to check into a hostel, clean themselves up, sleep, and eliminate disguise elements that would cause them to stand out. Jaina now wore a cumbersome Commenorian traveler’s robe; her hair was back to its natural dark color; her false tattoo was gone.
“I miss the tattoo,” Zekk said. He was now dressed in Corellian common citizens’ garments-dark pants and open jacket, a lighter, long-sleeved shirt, knee-high boots in black. His long black hair hung in a braid.
A passerby, a young woman with orange hair and a green, filmy dress, flashed Zekk a smile as she passed. Jaina felt a stab of irritation, pushed it from her mind.
Zekk grinned at Jaina. “What was that I felt?”
She scowled at him. “We’re on duty. Concentrate on your mission.”
“Yes, Commander.” The grin didn’t leave his face, but he turned his attention back to the ministerial residence.
A few years earlier, Jaina and Zekk had bonded, a union of mind and personality that went beyond even a Force-bond. It was something that had resulted from their interaction with the Killiks, a hive-mind species. Eventually the intensity of that union had largely faded, but Jaina’s and Zekk’s thoughts and feelings remained intertwined to a degree unusual even for Jedi. Sometimes it was comforting, even exhilarating. Other times, like now, it was uncomfortable and distracting.