one and marched him toward the doorway at the far end of the hangar.
The few people Kirtan saw in the hangar did not look at him directly. Even when
he turned his head, seeking to catch one of them from the corner of his eye,
they paid him no heed. Have they seen so many people come this way and not
return that it is no longer remarkable to them? Or do they think undue attention
paid to me would find them being drawn along in my wake?
Being as tall as he was, he could almost see over the red dome of the guards'
helmets. As nearly as he could determine, the four guards were identical in
height and other physical dimensions, but their cloaks shrouded them
sufficiently well that details that might have differentiated them one from
another were lost. Because of that they appeared to be identical to all the
holograms he had seen of Imperial Guards, with one minor exception.
Their cloaks had been hemmed with a black ribbon. In the dim light it had not
been easy to pick out and its presence almost made it appear as if the guards
walked a few centimeters above the floor. The officially mandated year of
mourning had ended over a year previouslyexcept, of course, on worlds where
notification of the Emperor's death had arrived late or, worse yet, inspired
open rebellion. Here on Coruscant that was not a problem, so Kirtan took the
ribbon as a sign of the guards' continued devotion to their slain master.
They passed through the doorway and into a small corridor that seemed to extend
on forever. Kirtan thought he noticed a slight arch to the floor and a tremble
in the structure that suggested to him they had entered one of the bridges
between the tower and the Palace proper. The close passageway had no windows and
any decorations on the walk
had been covered with meter after meter of black satin.
Through the far end and along another corridor, the guards brought him to a
doorway where two of their number stood. His escorts stopped when the other two
guards turned and pulled open the doors before him. He stepped through them into
a large room, the far wall of which was constructed entirely out of glass. A
tall, slender woman stood in silhouette before it, though the backlight from
the planet's surface outlined her in red.
"You are Kirtan Loor." It came not as a question, but a statement full of
import.
"Reporting as ordered." He had tried to keep his voice as even and vital as hers
had been, but he failed. A nervous squeak punctuated his sentence. "I can
explain my report."
"Agent Loor, if I had wanted your report explained, I would have had your
superiors go to great pains to extract that explanation from you." She turned
slowly toward him. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
Kirtan's mouth had gone dry. "No, ma'am."
"I am Ysanne Isard. I am Imperial Intelligence." She opened her arms. "I rule
here now and I am determined to destroy this Rebellion. I believe you can aid
me in this task."
Kirtan swallowed hard. "Me?"
"You." Her hands returned to her sides. "I hope my belief is not unfounded. If
it is, I will have gone to great expense to bring you here for nothing.
Accounts will have to be balanced and I don't believe there is any way you can
pay what you owe."
11
Wedge Antilles smiled when Admiral Ackbar nodded. "I think you'll see, sir,
that the squadron is coming along quite well."
The Mon Calamari looked up from the datapad on his desk. "You r performance
figures and exercise scores are commendable. Your people are better than some
operational line units."
"Thank you, sir."
"Their level of discipline is not that of line units however, Admiral."
Wedge looked over at General Salm. The irritation in his voice matched the sour
expression on the small man's face. Having come up through the ranks of Y-wing
pilots, Salm had not been pleased when the Rogues staged a training attack on a
full wing of Y-wing bombers. Though he had approved the exercise and had flown
lead in one of the squadrons, he clearly had not expected things to go so badly
for his trainees. The Rogues had lost four of their own fighters, but had
destroyed all but six of the Y-wings. Salm was one of the survivors, which Wedge
felt was a good thing and would have asked
his pilots to leave Salm alone if he had thought of it beforehand. Despite that,
the nearly eight-to-one kill ratio had been better than even Wedge had imagined
possible and had made Salm furious.
"I appreciate the General's assessment of my squadron, but these are elite
pilots. I think making allowances for their high spirits promotes high morale."
Wedge lifted his chin. "My people have a lot to live up to ..."
"Right now," Salm sniffed, "they're living down to the squadron name."
"Begging your pardon, General, I think you're judging Rogue Squadron too
harshly." And it's because we made your Guardian, Warden, and Champion
squadrons look as if they were Lame, Sick, and Dying! The fighter pilot looked
at Ackbar. "Sir, there have been no incidents, aside from the exercise in which
General Salm was a willing participant, in which Rogue Squadron has done
anything untoward."
The Mon Cal military leader set the datapad down. "I think General Salm has
legitimate concerns about modified computer code being downloaded into his
Y-wings' computers. I understand it painted your squadron crest on their primary
monitor after they were shot down by your people."
Salm's eyes blazed and Wedge fought to keep a smile off his face. Gavin
Darklighter had created the crest and with Zraii's help had linked a digitized
image of it into the start-up and communications packages in the squadron. The
crest, which featured a twelve-pointed red star with the Alliance crest in blue
at the center, had an X-wing at each point of the star. Though the image was not
sanctioned by the Alliance, astrotechs had started painting it on the squadron's
X-wings and Emtrey had requisitioned unit patches that featured the design.
Wedge had been unable to determine if it was Corran, Nawara, Shiel, Rhysati, or
some combination thereof who had talked the Verpine chief tech into adding the
image to the Target-Aggressor Attack Resolution Software package, but he did
know that Horn's R2 unit had done some of the code-slicing. When the TAARS
package informed the downed Y-wing pilots of their status in the exercise, as
Ackbar noted, the Rogue crest showed up to annoy the bomber jocks.
"I undertook an investigation into that situation, sir, and have restricted the
unit's recreation time until I find out who did what in this whole thing."
Salm scoffed at that explanation. "You have arranged for your squadron to use
the recreation facilities exclusively. They get more time in the gymnasium now
than they ever did before, and the squadron briefing room has more recreational
equipment than the Officers' Lounge here. Lujayne Forge spends more time as a
social secretary for your brood than she does training."
"General, I'm building a squadron that will be given difficult missions, which
means I need them to trust each other. If that means they have to be cli
quish,
then so be it."
Ackbar rose from his chair and walked over to where a blue globe of water hung
suspended in a repulsorlift cage. The apparatus negated gravity, allowing the
water to form a perfect globe. Within it a school of small fish with neon blue
and gold stripes flashed this way and that. The Mon Cal studied it for a moment,
then inclined his head toward Salm.
"It does not strike me, General, that your earlier complaints about the TAARS
tampering involved how Rogue Squadron spends its recreational time."
"No, sir, but all of this is indicative of the difficulties the Rogues are
creating. I have three squadrons of bombers training here as well as two other
fighter squadrons. The morale of my troops suffers as the Rogues get rewarded
for ignoring operational rules."
Ackbar gave Salm a wall-eyed stare. "Ybur specific complaint about TAARS?"
Salm's brown eyes smoldered. "Rogue Squadron's ability to alter Top Secret and
proprietary software packages has serious security ramifications, especially
with Tycho Celchu serving as the Executive Officer of that unit."
Wedge's jaw dropped. "Admiral, Tycho had nothing to do with the incident, in the
first place, and second, Tycho has done nothing to show himself to be a risk."
Ackbar clasped his hands together at his back. "I agree to both of your points,
but you would acknowledge that General Salm's concerns are valid?"
The Rogue Squadron's leader hesitated, never voicing the hot denial he had
prepared as he heard the question. While he did not doubt Tycho's loyalty, he
could see that taking chances was not wise. "Yes, sir."
"Good, because I am going to make an extraordinary request of you."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm making Rogue Squadron operational within the week."
"What?" Wedge felt as if he'd been snared by a Stokhli stun-net. "It's only been
a month since the roster was finalized, sir. Advanced training takes six months
normallyfour if it's rushed. We're not ready."
Ackbar returned to his desk and tapped the datapad. "That is not what your
numbers suggest."
"Admiral, you know there is more than just numbers to a unit. My people are good
pilots, but they're still green. I need more time."
Salm folded his arms. "Rogue Squadron has gone into battle before with less
training."
"Yes, and I lost a lot of good men and women because of it." He opened his arms
and appealed to Ackbar. "Admiral, I've not even run any hyperjump exercises with
these pilots."
"Ah, but I thought all the pilots were pre-screened for being astronav capable."
"They are, but ..." Wedge was going to protest that Gavin Darklighter needed
more work with astronavigation, but Lujayne had been tutoring him and reported
Gavin was a natural. Just like his cousin. Dammit, I don't like this. "I would
still prefer having time to take them through more drills."
"We would all like that luxury, Commander, but we don't have it." Salm frowned.
"I'm taking my Y-wingsthe wing you so neatly chewed up operational in two
weeks."
Wedge fell silent. My people are far closer to battle-ready than Salm's. As
always, the needs of the Rebellion outweigh the needs of its peoplebut this we
knew going in. "Admiral, can I at least run some astronav exercises to get my
people working together when they come out of hyperspace?"
"By all means, Commander. In fact, I have the perfect assignment for you to use
in that regard." Ackbar touched his datapad screen in two or three locations and
the lights in his office dimmed. As they did so, a swirling disk of stars
appeared suspended between ceiling and floor. It tipped up on edge and a green
circle slowly zoomed in on Commenor, locating it just outside the dense
Galactic Core. "I will be moving Rogue Squadron from here to Talasea in the
Morobe system."
Even before another green circle could appear and pinpoint the new system,
Wedge's eyes narrowed. "That's Coreward of here."
Ackbar nodded. "There has been much debate in the Provisional Council about how
we should proceed in the war against the Empire. Much of what we have discussed
has been paralleled in the conversations held by the vast majority of citizens,
Rebel and Imperial alike."
"We're going after Coruscant? Imperial Center?"
Ackbar's chin fringe twitched. "We are given little choice, really, if we wish
to overthrow the last remnants of the Empirethat goal being an exercise that
may well take generations to complete, mind you. Many of the Moffs are adopting
a wait-and-see attitude about the New Republic. Others, like Zsinj, have
proclaimed themselves warlords and are doing what they can to consolidate their
holdings with those of weaker neighbors. Any of these warlords could decide to
turn his forces toward Coruscant and, by taking it, proclaim himself heir to
Palpatine's throne."
"So we have to get there first."
"Or at least appear to be bent upon that goal, discouraging others from usurping
our place in the galaxy." Salm tried to keep his voice even, but his desire to
see the Rebels in power hurried his words. "These pretenders will learn that we
have not labored so long just to give them an opportunity to rape and pillage
whole systems."
Wedge agreed with the General's sentiment, but he knew breaking Coruscant open
and taking the world would be far from simple. "It almost seems to me that an
expedient alternative is to let some Moffs push themselves forward and have
Iceheart deal with them."
"Your opinion was also heard in our councils. It was decided that leaving anyone
to her tender mercies was a crime of grand proportion."
Ysanne Isard had risen to fill the power vacuum left by the Emperor's death. The
daughter of Palpatine's last Internal Security Director, she came of age in the
Emperor's court. Wedge had heard rumors that she had been the Emperor's lover
for a time, but he had no way of verifying that story. What he did know was that
she had betrayed her father to the Emperor, claiming he was going to defect to
the Alliance. Her father was put to death immediately and it was said she
triggered the blaster shot that killed him. The Emperor elevated her to repla ce
her father and in his absence she did a remarkable job in holding the core of
the Empire together.
The Mon Calamari warrior pointed to the galactic display. "From Talasea, Rogue
Squadron will provide escort to ships pushing even deeper, setting up safe
worlds and supply depots. You will be but one unit of many probing the central
Imperial defenses."
"You want to see how hard Iceheart will hit back. Gauge strength based on speed
and the nature of response?"
"Yes, as well as determining supply routes for possible disruption."
That made perfect sense to Wedge. Though space provided a limitless number of
ways to get from one point to another, some simple basic rules governed how and
where ships traveled. A ship attained speed and direction before jumping to
light speed, and then maintained velocity in hyperspace. A ship moving fast
enough could skirt phenomena like black holes, cutting parsecs off a more
conser
vative and safer route.
Because objects with massstars, black holes.
planets, and Imperial Interdictor-class cruisers exerted influence over
hyperspace, they had to be navigated around. Their presence could abort a
hyperspace flight and, in the case of a black hole or a star, could spell
disaster for any ship that traveled too close to them. Making a trip through
hyperspace required precise calculations that took advantage of a ship's speed
and mass to get it safely to its destination.
Because hazards to navigation diminish the number of calculable routes between
places, trade tended to move through predictable corridors. Since traveling
between stars was not inexpensive, merchants chose routes that allowed them to
visit the most profitable systems along the way. These routes, including systems
where ships leave hyperspace to change their travel vectors, were well known and
piracy was not uncommon.
Disrupting Imperial supply routes would have a double effect for the Rebellion.
Not only would it deprive Imperial garrisons of needed materiel for making war,
but it would provide those same materiels to the Rebellion. While the New
Republic and the Empire used different starfighters and capital ships, supplies
like blasters, rations, and bacta could easily be employed by either side.
Wedge ran a hand along the edge of his unshaven jaw. "I understand the mission,
and I appreciate the urgency for it. I do have a question, though."
Ackbar nodded. "Please, Commander."
"Rogue Squadron will do the job, but I was wondering if we were advanced for it
because we're the unit that can do the job, or if we're being used as a symbol."
"Frankly asked." The Mon Cal's coloration brightened to a salmon-pink on the
dome of his
head. "I argued against employing you this soon, but others aptly pointed out
that if you were not put in place now, our operations might not have time to
succeed. Rogue Squadron is a symbol in the Alliance and by positioning you to
drive against the Empire we show we have made a commitment to liberating
everyone in the Empire."
Wedge's mouth became dry. "But the only way our use can function as a symbol is
if our use is well publicized. And that publicity must get out to the warlords
you expect to be frightened off by our presence."
Ackbar's shoulders slumped every so slightly. "Your words are ripples of my