Last Chance: Myn and Lara - pt. 5


“CorSec X-Wing Gamma Niner, you are late” remarked the planetary controller, “Your flight group got here twenty minutes ago!”

“You know Centrepoint Station, Control,” Myn replied as casually as he could manage, giving the ill-fitting chinstrap of Corran’s old helmet another tug, “Always slow off the mark.”

New Republic Imtell had advised him to time his arrival for shortly after that of a system patrol, so that he could slip in behind the others with little hassle. It wasn't that the controllers had a record of sloppy admissions to Corellian airspace, just that there was little threat in admitting an X-Wing in top condition, painted in the Security agency's distinctive black and green colours.

“Roger that!” the control officer laughed. A landing authorisation flashed onto Myn’s heads-up, and he swung the little ship into a neat arc to align with the given vectors. If he weren’t so nervous, he’d probably be enjoying the view as Coronet City spread her skirts before him.

The capital’s spaceport was a hive of activity, craft coming and going, and people of a hundred species moving across from the port’s lounges to hangars and ships. As he’d been briefed, Myn checked in at the Security counter, logging in his temporary ID and purpose of this visit to the system’s centre.

New Republic Intelligence had issude him what they called a full suite: a complete identity, cards and codes and clothing in keeping with who he was supposed to be. Arominn Jidone was the name on his worn-looking identification, a name he wouldn’t have that much trouble answering to, as similar as it was to his own.

“Vacationing from Centrepoint, Officer Jidone?” asked the desk officer.

Myn nodded, hiding his nervousness behind his habitual sabacc face, an absence of expression that had stood him in good stead in the past. “I’m hoping to hook up with...” he paused, and then decided honesty was the best policy, “Well, she’s not really an old girlfriend,” he said, “But she was more than a friend.”

Trained security personnel too often had an ear for the half-truth or the outright lie, and while Myn had every confidence in the Intel people who had assembled his persona for him, he would rather not too much scrutiny from the law at this point, especially as the current political climate on Corellia was somewhat touchy.

“I hear you,” the fellow said with a rueful grin, “Women, hm?” Myn nodded, sharing in the commiseration, and the security officer returned his cards, waving him through. “Visiting personnel are welcome to stay at the hostel two levels down from the precinct office, just off Solo Avenue and Brimsk.”

Myn thanked him for his help, and then hefted his duffel and made his way towards the exit.

~*~

Once his few things were stowed, Myn had a look around the hostel’s amenities, and was pleased to discover a data-terminal in the common area of his floor.

The room was empty except for him, and he shrugged and took a seat at the terminal, sliding his Corellian Security codecard across the scanner. He tapped in his authorisation code and was surprised by the logo that came up when he had done so. Apparently the Intelligence branch of the New Republic military really knew their stuff: he was logged into the central mainframe for the whole of the Corellian Security forces.

As likely a place as any to find her, he thought, and proceeded to access the search protocols.

Search - - -> Input name / CCIN / address / PRN

Name - - -> Slane, Kirney / ? / ?

Slane, Kirney; Corellian Citizen Identity Number 5527038; female, human, age 24 years, hair red, eyes green, mass 54 K; pilot registration number...

Myn sighed as the sparse information scrolled across his display: no home address, no personal commlink listing, even.

It was interesting that ‘Kirney’ had records in the system dating back seven years, including a couple of what had to be completely falsified traffic citations, which Myn felt somewhat torn about. On the one hand, she’d covered her tracks pretty well, but on the other, the backdating of falsified records showed her Imperial Intelligence background still stood her in good stead.

He leaned back in his seat and pensively rubbed his eyes for a minute to consider how he was feeling about this new piece of the puzzle that was the woman he sought.

She could be trying to groom me up as some kind of an intelligence asset inside the New Republic, he thought, but then, without hesitation, he discarded the notion. The spark of mistrust had burned him, and he squelched it mercilessly. No. There is no way Commander Antilles would have let me come out here to meet her, if that were the case.

He considered the image of her face for a few seconds more before clearing the data buffers and closing the terminal down. I’ll know if she’s playing me for a fool, he thought determinedly.

I have to trust my own judgement, even if I can’t trust anything else.

~*~


part 6

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