Last Chance: Myn and Lara - pt. 10


The military schedule he’d kept to for so much of his life did not allow Myn Donos to sleep in, not even while on leave. As he lay on the bed, looking up at the dim ceiling above him, the ersatz CorSec officer considered how to spend the next three hours before he could reasonably be expected to show up for breakfast.

Several questions floated on the surface of his mind: he’d taken on the challenge of investigating the allegations that Rij and others had hinted at, about corruption at many levels of the Corellian Security Agency, but to be honest, he had only the vaguest idea of how to proceed.

He had flown with a man who exemplified many of the qualities of CorSec’s best, but Corran Horn was a naturally prickly personality, and not someone Myn had gotten to know very well in the few weeks since he’d transferred to the Rogues. Being that he was in the squadron’s chain of command, he had to know Myn’s full history, so the younger man was not surprised at the distance Corran had maintained. It was that coldness, that distance that he found himself copying in the role he played now, but actually performing an investigation of this nature would require a little more intense effort. If he wanted to succeed in his self-assigned task, he’d have to try and think like Corran Horn, getting into his head, to some extent.

And exactly how do I do that? How do I get inside Corran Horn’s head? he asked himself as he rolled out of bed and dressed in a simple singlet and shorts, to take advantage of the extensive exercise facilities the hostel boasted. The answer came, his inner voice speaking with such a familiar caustic tone, that Myn had to smile wryly.

“Think like a paranoid Corellian.”

Myn felt a tightening of distant sorrow at the comment, so characteristic of the slain Wraith Ton Phanan, and had to shake off the chill that slid down his spine and raised the hair on his arms. He didn’t even know if Ton and Corran had ever met, but the advice was solid.

For all that he was Corellian, Myn had always been a more-open-minded sort than many from his isolationist system. This was likely due to his father’s very forthright raising of him, and his mother’s habit of answering every question he’d asked fully and carefully, ensuring the young Donos understood all aspects. Not only were there no stupid questions, his mother had believed that if a child was old enough to ask the question, he was old enough to hear the truth in answer. Willful ignorance was not tolerated in the Donos household.

As well as gaining a great deal of knowledge as a direct result of this policy, the fact that his parents were diametrically opposed in their political beliefs meant that he heard both sides of every issue. Myn had grown up with an innate awareness that there was always more than one side to every story.

So, he pondered as he made his way down to the gymnasium, I need to think about this from all angles. I need to know motivations and methods, of communicating the threat, and acting upon it. Methods of collection, and how they keep it hidden from the upper echelons. IF they keep it hidden... He sucked in a breath as this new thought occurred to him: How far up does the corruption go?

He slid his false identification codecard through the slot and entered the extensive gym complex that formed the shared foundation of both the hostel and the main CorSec precinct office across the street. He took over one of the inset treadmills and set a programme for a forty-five minute run, with a decent warm-up and cool-down period, as Corellia’s gravity was measurably higher than the ship-board standards under which he was used to exercising. He stretched thoroughly before setting bare feet on the treads and beginning his programmed aerobic exercise.

As he settled into the work, his mind was freed by the repetitive movement to ponder other matters, and his eyes wandered over the others partaking of an early morning workout. There were a few other runners on the bank of treads, and a small group performing one of the more meditative dance-like martial arts in a training room to his right, clearly visible through the transparisteel walls. In another, an older man and a younger woman were playing a cut-throat round of smashball, the sound completely obliterated by the walls.

It occurred to Myn that he was ideally placed to investigate the matter of corruption and coercion within the ranks of the Corellian Security Agency, but he was compelled to remain mindful of the need for circumspection: the last thing he needed was to come under the close scrutiny of the Agency’s own Internal Affairs Department.

~*~


part 11

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