But shooting him down in sim wasn't that tough. Wedge suppressed a smile.
Colonel Lorrir nodded in his direction. "You are to be congratulated, Colonel, for how well your troops are trained. You are very formidable in combat." He looked around at the others gathered at the table. "If you can believe it, Colonel Roat even shot me down."
The other dinner guests gasped in astonishment, and then looked at Wedge. "How ever did you manage that?" asked one officer's plump wife.
"Colonel Lorrir is too kind. He made shooting him down very difficult." Wedge nodded to his host. His reliance on sideslipping to evade a following ship made me sure he was luring me into a trap. I was far too cautious because he's just not that great a pilot. "Colonel, you clearly have superior flying skills. You have many combat kills under your belt, I imagine."
Lorrir's baldhead glowed golden in the restaurant's muted light. "Yes, well, before I was transferred to the Prince-Admiral's ship Reckoning, I spent some time in the One Eighty-first Imperial Fighter Group. That was back when Baron Pel was in command. I was a mere Lieutenant, but a Lieutenant in that unit was the equal of a Major in any other."
Wedge tuned the man out as a waiter came over with two bottles of wine. "Since I am having the braised nerf, I'll have the green, if you don't mind."
The waiter hesitated and Wedge quickly caught the curling of Lorrir's lip into a sneer.
"Of course, I meant I would prefer the emerald." Wedge shook his head. "Back where I came from the wait-beasts were hardly discerning enough to understand the proper terms for wine. They would even opt for a ruby when consuming fish, if you can imagine it."
The voice modulator erased the slightly mocking tone in Wedge's words, though he had serious doubts that the two Hegemony officers or their wives would have caught them. Krennel's staff seemed to be largely filled with courtiers whose ability to please the Prince-Admiral outshone their ability to fight or properly administer a unit. He had no doubt that they followed orders to the letter, which made them perfect for Krennel's purposes, but dulled the sort of initiative that would have made them a threat to the Rogue operation.
Lorrir's wife, Kandise, patted Wedge's left hand. "Now don't you be worried about that sort of thing anymore, Colonel Roat. The Hegemony is a bastion of Imperial culture, so you are safe here."
"You are too kind, Madam Lorrir." Wedge gave her a quick smile, and then focused on her husband. "You were telling of your time with the One Eighty-first. You were with them at Brentaal?"
"I was." Lorrir sniffed mightily, and then sipped some of the dark red wine the waiter had poured for him. "We would have held the world against the Rebels save for one man's betrayal."
"Admiral Lon Isoto."
Wedge's comment blanketed the table in silence. Lorrir set his wine glass down carefully and clasped his hands together. Kandise laid her left hand on his right forearm, but he shook it off irritably. Lorrir's dark eyes narrowed and the man clearly struggled to keep from exploding.
"Colonel Roat, I shall assume that because you have long been involved in researches and developments that have kept you outside the mainstream of the Empire that you have said what you said. Your ignorance of the true facts will shield you at this time from my wrath, but understand that I will not allow you to slander the name of one of the finest military minds the Empire ever had."
Wedge went cold. Rogue Squadron had been part of the Rebel operation that took Brentaal IV from the Empire. Admiral Lon Isoto had been given command of the world and failed utterly to do anything that would protect it. He allowed the Rebels to take the moon and, from there, stage and land on Brentaal. The only serious opposition had come from Pel's 181st.
"I apologize, Colonel, for angering you. I assumed...but that assumption was wrong. Who was it that betrayed us on Brentaal?"
"Baron Pel."
"What?" Wedge made no attempt to cover his surprise. "I find that hard to believe. Not to question your integrity, but I understood that Pel had fought hard at Brentaal."
"Oh, he did, fought hard enough to lure us into a trap." Lorrir's voice dripped with contempt. "You probably are unaware that after we lost Brentaal Four, Pel went over to the Rebellion. He joined Rogue Squadron. Clearly Brentaal Four was the price he paid for clemency in their eyes."
Wedge nodded. "Ah, I see." After Pel's defection, the Empire had begun a disinformation campaign that clearly vilified Pel and elevated Isoto to the level of a hero. By doing that they shielded others from facing the dilemma Pel had, and prevented them from making the same choice he did. He saw the Empire was evil and rejected it, but these others, they remain willfully blind.
He sipped some of his emerald wine and relished the hints of berry flavor in the vintage. "I also understood Rogue Squadron was there at Brentaal Four."
"Yes, the squadron that cannot die." Lorrir laughed and his companions joined him. "Rogue Squadron is the biggest fraud perpetrated by the Rebels on their sick adherents. That squadron is constantly being rebuilt because they die so easily. We killed eight or nine at Brentaal, and would have gotten the rest of them had they not run off. We shredded the Y-wings they should have been protecting, destroying an entire wing of them. That engagement alone, around Oradin, would have made me an ace had I not already been one, of course."
"Fascinating." Wedge frowned for a moment. "I did think, however, that some Rogue Squadron members had been around for a while."
"Indeed, and you can expect them back again. Antilles, Janson, Celchu-they will show up as a nucleus for the unit."
"But they're dead. Didn't you destroy them at Distna?"
"The Rebels claim they never found bodies. Part of the ploy to bring them back again." Lorrir lowered his voice. "Clones."
"Oh my." Wedge shivered. "I never would have thought they would do something like that."
"No, nor does anyone else. That's the pity of it, really, so many people being misled by such a dishonest group." Lorrir shook his head, and then raised his glass. "A toast: to a time when such lies will die the death they deserve, and the truth will shine forth."
"I'll drink to that." Wedge touched his glass to the others. "And may that day come sooner than we might dare to hope."
32
Colonel Vessery entered the dimly lit briefing room with his helmet under his left arm. He started to sketch a salute, but neither Major Telik nor Ysanne Isard looked up at him. Instead they intently studied the small holograph of a man's head and shoulders.
The holographic figure spoke in hushed tones. "Ack-bar's fleet left here ten standard minutes ago on an outbound course that will bring him to Ciutric. Ship list appended."
Telik stood back and smiled. "The message was sent two hours ago, which means Ackbar has eight hours to hit his target. We only need six to get to ours."
Isard nodded solemnly, and then turned toward Vessery. "Colonel, I know you developed some affection for the Rogues while you trained them."
The cold tone of her voice sent a chill through Vessery, but he met her gaze openly. "I did. They are fine pilots. I have little doubt they will acquit their portions of the operation admirably. My feelings and respect for them aside, Madam Director, my pilots and I stand ready to execute our orders as well."
"I had no doubt of that, Colonel." Isard pursed her lips for a second. "I have allowed a message to reach Krennel that indicated another attempt to reinforce Liinade Three is being made in two days. That will keep Krennel at Ciutric in preparation for another ambush. He may even call in additional troops and ships, which would translate into a surprise for Ackbar. It will be a glorious battle over Ciutric, I believe."
Telik shrugged. "We would not have time to watch much of it anyway."
"No, indeed you wouldn't, so it's just as well you won't be there." She laughed, but Vessery heard no mirth in it at all. "In rushing out to destroy Krennel, Ackbar has stripped the defenses from the greatest prize of all. Come with me, men, and in six hours we will be in a position of power that will make the New Republic
tremble itself to pieces."
Prince-Admiral Krennel smiled predatorily as he listened to Isard's report. "Another convoy? How rich. How can they afford to be sending so many freighters on these very dangerous missions?"
Isard stalked the shadows at the fringes of his office. "I am not certain they can continue to do so, Prince-Admiral." Krennel looked up from his desk. "Explain." She stopped pacing and faced him. "The primary problem with a free society of the sort the New Republic represents itself to be is that a great deal of information is available on any and all subjects, save those they wish to keep secret. The fact remains, however, that a great deal of the publicly available information does touch on the secret. For example, in the past, when freighters have been diverted from their normal commercial duties to haul supplies, commodity prices on worlds that are experiencing a delay in shipping tend to rise and fall depending upon their import and export status. Factories that produce the sorts of materials a convoy like that will carry have to hire new workers, or offer overtime pay, all of which is data that is noted in stock advisories. These and dozens of other indicators like them can be correlated to a military operation. The plain fact is that I've not seen such indicators rise in the pattern set by the previous convoys."
"No movement at all?"
"I didn't say that." Isard frowned. "There are movements, but they hint more at another planetary invasion. It has been a quiet buildup and would have been unnoticed save for downward fluctuations in entertainment sectors of the economy that are tied to military bases from which the troops are drawn. As well an inordinate number of ships are being reported as being 'on maneuvers,' which usually presages action."
"And this information about a convoy, it was leaked to you through a previously reliable source?"
"Yes, though no report goes unverified." She pressed her hands together and rested her chin on her fingertips. "This is why I have noted the problems to you."
"I gathered that, thank you. I suspect, if we check the course of that convoy, there is really only one good spot for an ambush, and we would have been hit there ourselves. Two days, is it, when they expected to hit us?"
"Two days, yes."
"Good." Krennel stood and punched a button on his desktop comm unit. "Captain, have my shuttle standing by, I will be heading up to the Reckoning. Issue recall orders for all crew on leave. That recall applies to Binder as well. Have Captain Phulik meet me on Reckoning. Krennel out."
Isard nodded her head at him. "You'll be striking somewhere in the New Republic."
"I will. Once on Reckoning I will call for Emperor's Wisdom and Decisive to join me here to stage our raid. They should get here in four hours or so. From here we will be ready to launch the boldest raid yet, one that will show the New Republic as the sham it truly is. Eighteen short hours after we leave here, they will learn the folly of attacking me."
Isard's eyes glistened. "Eighteen hours. You'll strike at Coruscant?"
"Yes. It's a lesson the New Republic has never learned."
Krennel gave Isard a thin-lipped smile. "To kill an enemy, the quickest method is always to strike at the head."
Corran Horn had actually gotten to like some of the pilots in Krennel's employ. The nicest were the guys drawn from the Hegemony itself. They seemed interested in defending their homes from encroachment by the New Republic, and Corran had to respect that. Still, their motivation wasn't the main reason Corran liked them.
He looked down at his sabacc hand and stifled a smile. These guys from the Hegemony must be the worst sabacc players I've ever met. The stack of credit chits in front of him dwarfed the piles before the other three men playing. Better yet, he had the ace of flasks down on the table, in the interference field, and the flux had shifted the two cards in his hand into the ace of coins and the court card endurance, which was worth negative 8. Since each ace was worth 15, this left his hand with a total of 22, which was only one shy of the 23 total to win.
A grizzled older pilot looked at him. "Your bet, Klick."
Corran slid his other two cards facedown on top of the ace of flasks. "I'm locked. I'll bet two hundred credits."
Two of the pilots tossed their hands in, but the older man squinted at his cards, and then tossed two gold credit chits onto the hand pot pile. "I call."
"Twenty-two." Corran slowly flipped his cards over so the others could read them. "Can you beat it?"
"No." The older man snarled. "Emperor's Black Bones, you are the luckiest cardplayer I've ever met."
"Not luck, skill." Corran glanced at the sabacc table's data readout. It indicated the pot contained 2,500 credits, 250 of which he skimmed off and fed into the sabacc pot, which currently stood at 15,000 credits. A two-card 23- which was known as a pure sabacc-or another three-card combination of 0, 2, and 3-the idiot's array-would win that pot and end the game. "My deal, I believe."
Corran gathered the cards and reached up to feed them into the LeisureMech RH7 Cardshark dealer-droid. The dealer-droid, which hung down from the ceiling shuffled the cards, and then extended its body so its manipulator arms could drop a card before each player. It swiveled around noiselessly and the twin stun pikes, which most players called "cheater prods" remained retracted. After a second circuit, the cylindrical body withdrew into its base. Its withdrawal triggered the flux, shifting the value of the cards.
Corran reached for his cards, but before he could get them off the table, a siren began to rise and fall in tone and volume. Yellow lights began burning over every doorway. The other players immediately looked up, scooped up their winnings, and then turned away from the table.
"What's going on?"
The old man shrugged. "Report to your ship." He gestured at a holographic imaging station at the far end of the hangar. "If it's like before, the Prince-Admiral will tell us what's going on."
"What about the pot?"
"We give sabacc pots to the Survivor's Fund. You have a problem with that?"
"Not me." Corran stuffed his winnings into the pockets of his flight suit. "Get going; I'm right behind you."
They ran from the ready room and Corran split off to the right where the whole Defender squadron had been assembled in the back of the hangar. He found the rest of the Rogues already there, with Hobbie and Myn rubbing sleep-sand from their eyes, and Tycho rubbing his wet hair dry with a towel from a refresher station. The only person he couldn't find was Wedge.
The imaging station at the other end of the hangar filled with bright light that resolved itself down into the face of Prince-Admiral Krennel. "Greetings loyal warriors of the Hegemony. I would apologize for summoning you so abruptly, but this is a call to war and one I imagine you will relish. Our enemies have made a mistake and have provided us an opportunity that is quite rare. With one blow we can end the tyranny of the New Republic and send their shattered forces scurrying home."
Corran glanced over at Tycho, and then tapped the chronometer on his left wrist. By my count, we've got a couple of hours yet before hard's people and the New Republic get here. "Any guesses?"
Tycho shook his head. "Too soon for guesses." Krennel smiled magnificently. "All squadrons will be getting their assignments. You will be on board your appointed ships as fast as possible, and then we will depart to fulfill our destiny."
33
"Colonel Roat!" Lorrir's voice echoed through the nearly empty hangar. "Why aren't your people in the air yet?"
Wedge spun on his heel and hooked his thumbs through the blaster belt he wore outside his flight suit. "I believe, Colonel Lorrir, we had an understanding about that. My Defenders are equipped with hyperdrive; we don't need to be loaded on the Reckoning or any other ship to reach our destination. If we are to be loaded in the launching racks, it makes sense for us to be the last in and the first to be launched because of our capabilities and, you noted yourself, that the loadmasters on the capital ships are still reviewing procedures for our ships to be loaded."
Lorrir's face tightened into a scowl. "That is no excuse for you to
still be here in the hangar."
"But, Colonel, your Interceptor is still here." Wedge held a hand up. "Perhaps we should be discussing this in an office, away from the troops?"
The Hegemony officer nodded. With his helmet under his arm, he led Wedge off to a small office with a single, rectangular window as tall as the door built into the wall side it. The legend on the door proclaimed it to be the operations room.
Once inside, Lorrir perched himself on the desk and shook his head. "This cannot be tolerated, Colonel Roat."