[Legacy Of The Force] - 01(40)

“Leader, Seven,” Lysa said. “Sir, doesn’t their just being here constitute aggressive action?”

“They’re probably asking the same thing about us, Seven. And the answer to both questions is yes.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lysa’s leg began twitching again. This time she didn’t bother to try to control it.





Chapter Ten


CENTERPOINT STATION, CORELLIAN SYSTEM

JACEN BRUSHED ASIDE THE CLOTH OVER HIS HEAD AND PEERED out-out, up, back.

The conveyance he lay upon was one open-topped car of a repulsor train. The cars, connected end-to-end, floated along a containment track laid years earlier along Centerpoint Station’s long axis. Jacen could tell from the way the ceiling was no longer kilometers away but only hundreds of meters above, and getting closer, that they were heading out of the vast open central area known as Hollowtown and into a narrowing choke point toward the station’s “top”-the region where the greatest number of significant control chambers had been found, the region where the majority of the investigating scientists’ new installations of equipment and computer gear had been made.

Far overhead, Jacen saw a cluster of buildings, blocky apartment residences in subdued brown and green tones that seemed very out of place in this ancient technological artifact. Despite the urgency of his mission, he grinned. He was staring up at the apartments’ roofs, which were upside down to him. It had to be disconcerting to emerge every morning from sleep and stare up at a distant floor, one across which turbolifts and repulsor trains were always moving.

He lay alone in the midst of a mound of supplies for the station residents-bolts of cloth, preserved foods, crates full of entertainment data cards, deactivated worker droids. Ben was also aboard the repulsor train, several cars back, maintaining his own hiding place. Jacen had settled on this method of operation as the mission planning entered its final stages. “You’ll trail me at a distance of not less than fifty meters,” he had said. “Practice stealth techniques and make no effort to contact me unless your life is in danger. If I’m disabled, defeated, sucked through a malfunctioning atmosphere containment shield, or otherwise distracted from my goal, you set out on your own to accomplish it.” And Ben had nodded solemnly, perhaps finally being convinced that things were serious by the prospect of performing a mission alone.

The ceiling continued to get closer, until it was a mere thirty meters overhead, and then Jacen lurched as the repulsor train took a sharp turn and a plunging descent into a tunnel. The tunnel was three times the width necessary for the repulsor train and lit by pastel green glow rods at intervals; protruding from the walls every hundred meters or so were box-like metal extrusions. Jacen decided that the tunnel had not been intended by the station’s creators for the purpose to which it was now put-the station’s new masters had simply discovered it and decided that it would be a convenient way to keep the homely repulsor train out of sight as it entered the station’s more sensitive areas.

Someone had marked the metal extrusions with huge painted numbers. Dr. Seyah had explained their meaning-they corresponded to hatches providing access to specific sets of chambers and accessways above and below. Often that access was suitable only for workers or athletes-it was common for it to be no more than a crudely installed, open-sided winch turbolift, the sort found on building construction sites all over Coruscant.

At the box extrusion marked 103, Jacen swung aside the cloth concealing him, took a careful look around to make sure there were no observers present, and leapt free of his car. He landed beside the box extrusion and moved toward the nearest wall hatch-an access helpfully, if inelegantly, emphasized by splashes of orange paint.

It was a depression in the wall, nearly oval but with more squared-off corners, about two-thirds the height of a human male. The hardened durasteel door plugging it was of modern manufacture, as was the computer control panel mounted on the wall beside it.

Jacen tugged at the bar that indicated the hatch was dogged closed. Only the handle portion of the bar was accessible through an arc-shaped slot in the doorway, and pulling it from the left to the right position should have opened the hatch.

The bar didn’t budge. The hatch was locked.

He gave the control panel a look. He knew the combination required to open the door-Dr. Seyah had given it to him. But if CorSec’s Intelligence Section mandated different access numbers for different personnel and then tracked their use, using that number would compromise Dr. Seyah.

He ignited his lightsaber and drove it into the hatch toward the base. This was slower going than many obstacles he cut through; the hatch metal was thick and treated against heat. Slowly he pushed it through, and even more slowly he pulled it laterally.