Star Wars - 207 - X-Wing - Wedges Gamble by Wedges Gamble

Author:Wedges Gamble
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-04-01T18:36:57+00:00

Epilogue

If there was a part of him that didn't hurt, Corran Horn couldn't name it. His chief complaint came from his shoulders. He could feel the binders holding his arms at the small of his back constantly exerting pressure to pull his elbows closer together. They sheathed his arms in metal from fingertips to elbows and were the kind of restraints that had been outlawed for CorSec's use.

He found himself tying on his stomach in the dark on a thin cot of some sort. He was naked, save for the binders, and the room was slightly chilled.

A weak, barely noticeable vibration ran through the cot, producing a low hum that depending on how he turned his head, he could occasionally hear. He strained his eyes to determine if there was anything to see, but the utter absence of light foiled him.

Corran found his thoughts wandering, which made him think that he'd been drugged. That sensation, along with the binders, his nakedness, and the darkness, led him to the inescapable conclusion that he'd been captured by the Empire. The darkness and drugs kept him disoriented. His nakedness made him defensive-or was supposed to. He recalled a CorSec training seminar about methods used by kidnappers to keep their victims off balance and was able to pinpoint himself as the subject of such treatment.

The chill in the air and the vibration suggested he was on a starship heading out through hyperspace to some destination or other. He knew the Imps would be fleeing Coruscant, but for a moment he had no idea why.

Then he remembered the Alliance fleet having arrived at Coruscant. If they are running, we won. He frowned. But if we won, why am I their captive?

He tried to remember what he could of his last moments on Coruscant.

He'd lost control of his Headhunter and the manual override didn't work.

Then a light had flashed on the console indicating the acceleration compensation unit had gone out. The ship flipped itself into a high g-force turn and he remembered nothing more. Without acceleration compensation, I felt the full effect of the turn. Blood drained from my brain and I went out.

Corran rolled onto his left side, then drew his knees up to his chest. He rocked himself a little bit and managed to get up onto his knees. The world immediately spun, which was a sensation that was made worse because the utter darkness gave him nothing to look at, nothing to occupy his attention. He brought his head down and rested it on the cot, but refused to let himself flop down again. It didn't matter that he felt terrible, he'd gotten to his knees and refused to retreat to his belly again.

Lights flashed on brilliantly in an instant, stabbing forked pain into his brain.

He heard a door whoosh open and the careful, deliberate clank-clack of shoes on metal lattice steps, but he made no attempt to look in the direction of the sound. He refused to look, part of him knowing the individual had desired to make an entrance, and he congratulated himself for his restraint.

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