Isard's Revenge Page 15

  Krennel smiled. “Ah, yes, your little trap for Rogue Squadron. Perhaps this new bait will be more to their liking.”

  “Indeed, I hope so. When they are gone, of course, the New Republic will hit Corvis Minor rather hard. At that point, the third step goes into play. You will attack Liinade Three, hammering their garrison forces. We will insert insurgents who will undertake a covert war against the New Republic forces and, if we are fortunate, will inspire a popular uprising that will force them to devote more troops to holding the place than they ever intended.”

  “Their moral justification is undercut, a storied unit is dead, and I show I have steel to back the political integrity of my realm.” Krennel slowly nodded. “It could work. It must work.”

  Isard smiled very coldly. “It will work. And once you’ve shown the galaxy that it is possible to oppose the New Republic, you will be seen as the Emperor’s rightful heir. At that point we will both attain what we most desire.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Though Gavin Darklighter’s eyes burned with fatigue, the image of Delak Krennel coming in over the recreation room’s holoprojector held his attention and kept him awake. The projector rendered Krennel three-fourths his real height, but because Gavin was seated on a couch next to Asyr, he had to look up at the man’s image. Krennel had abandoned a military uniform and instead had adopted well-made civilian clothes, but stayed away from the robes long associated with the Emperor’s intimates.

  “So now I am faced with the onerous task of rebutting the charges Mon Mothma and the New Republic have made against me. To many of you it would be inconceivable that such researches were taking place on a world under my control without my knowledge of it.” Krennel’s expression remained open, his eyes guileless. “I concur, and I tell you that I had no knowledge of these researches. I would point out that the New Republic has offered no proof that I knew of them and, in fact, has offered no proof that anyone knew of these researches prior to the New Republic’s conquest of Liinade Three.”

  Gavin frowned. “What reason in the galaxy would the New Republic have for faking a lab and accusing you of doing Death Star research?”

  The other pilots in the rec center nodded in agreement with Gavin’s question.

  Hobbie laughed. “Not like we didn’t have better things to do when pacifying the planet.”

  “It wasn’t that hard, Hobbie.” Myn Donos stretched his arms and rolled his wrists around. “I mean, we did have some spare time—an hour or two—in which to plan and execute such deception.”

  Krennel’s flesh and blood hand rose innocently. “In suggesting the New Republic fabricated this evidence against me, I would be as remiss as they are if I did not offer you proof of their perfidy. Why would they want to discredit me so? By accusing me of Sate Pestage’s murder they’ve already provided themselves with as much justification as they needed to launch an invasion of my Hegemony. These charges against me serve only to unite the New Republic by making the Emperor’s ghost haunt my activities—a New Republic that apparently was not united behind the attack in the first place. In fact, there was much more division in the New Republic than anyone could have imagined, and that very division is what prompted this move.”

  Krennel’s chin came up. “In keeping with my pledge to provide land and shelter and a future to any beleaguered population within the galaxy, I have been involved in negotiations with the leadership of the Alderaanian refugee population. I was prepared to offer them Liinade Three’s southern continent—one known for its parallels to Alderaan—as a haven. By fabricating evidence implicating me in furthering the sort of researches that resulted in Alderaan’s tragic destruction, the New Republic has scuttled this effort that would have provided peace for the peoples of Alderaan, and for the peoples of the Hegemony.”

  Gavin glanced over at Tycho Celchu and watched the other pilot’s arms cross tightly over his chest. “Colonel, is what he’s saying true?”

  Tycho shook his head slowly, as if barely registering the question. “I don’t know. I don’t pay much attention to the Alderaanian refugee groups and they leave me alone for the most part. They’d see me as linked to the New Republic anyway, so if they were negotiating with Krennel, telling me about it would interfere with their plans.”

  Krennel bowed his head for a moment. “What pains me the most about the New Republic’s tactics is that Mon Mothma has accused me of perpetuating the sort of terror weapons that destroyed Alderaan. She has painted me as an inhuman monster in doing so and has suggested that those who forget the horror of Alderaan will again allow such atrocities to be committed.

  “The plain fact of the matter is that I have not forgotten the lessons of Alderaan. Captain Wynt Kepporra was from Alderaan and went to the Imperial Academy at Prefsbelt Four at the same time I did. We were friends, good and close friends. He had returned to Alderaan to see his family and was there when Grand Moff Tarkin…”

  Krennel’s voice failed him and he brushed away a tear with his left hand. He set his face again, then nodded and continued. “Wynt was on Alderaan when it was destroyed. I’ve been to Alderaan. I’ve been to the Graveyard and I’ve left my offerings to him and his memory. It was in his name that I chose to negotiate with the Alderaanian refugees. It was in his memory that I sought a suitable world to give them. Now, to be accused of such cruel duplicity as to be negotiating with them on one hand and scheming to create a Death Star on the other, well, the Emperor was never so vicious in dealing with his enemies.”

  “Besmirch their reputations, no.” Asyr snarled. “Blow up their planet, sure. I’m not certain I like Krennel’s definition of vicious.”

  Gavin draped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “You’re reading my mind again.”

  The Prince-Admiral raised his chin. “It is a sad fact that brutality often begets brutality. The New Republic, which in its infancy desired freedom from oppression for all, now has grown into a monster that oppresses those who oppose it, just as the Empire tried to do to them. To the New Republic there is no place for neutrality, there is no chance for others to find their own path to freedom. This has always been my desire.

  “We have been through a savage civil war in this galaxy, with its horrors all fresh in our memories. There is not one of us who has not looked back and in perfect hindsight suggested that if I had acted here or there, perhaps, just perhaps, the pain and suffering of billions could have been averted. The brave act of standing up to tyranny could have smothered it at its birth instead of requiring its execution at the height of its power.”

  The holocam closed in on Krennel’s face. “The New Republic’s tyranny is in its infancy. Oppose it now and we need not shed the blood of billions. The people of the Hegemony will fight to preserve our freedom. We invite all those who pledge themselves to liberty to make a stand and join with us, so the sacrifices made in overthrowing the Empire will not be tarnished by the rapacious predation of the New Republic.”

  The image slowly faded and Gavin found his flesh puckering. He shook his head, then frowned. “Anyone else get the feeling, even for a second, that we’re on the wrong end of this war?”

  “Sure,” offered Inyri Forge, “for about as long as it took me to remember the locals trying to shoot my X-wing down.”

  The round-faced Myn Donos raked his fingers through his black hair. “I think Krennel would argue that they were just trying to defend their planet against our attack. We were the aggressors.”

  “And well we should have been.” Inyri gestured toward where Krennel had been standing. “If we had not come here and someone hadn’t tried to kill Corran, we would not have found that lab. A year from now, or two, Krennel could show up over Coruscant with his Death Star and cause a lot of trouble.”

  Myn held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not saying Krennel is right, but I do think there will be plenty of folks who will be given cause to wonder.”

  Asyr shifted from beneath Gavin’s arm and sat forward on the couch. “Humans, you mean, M
yn.”

  “Not necessarily. Take the Bothans, for example.” Myn nodded in her direction. “You’re a sophisticated people who have sacrificed much to help the Rebellion. You’re politically astute, have colony worlds and a thriving economy. What if an indigenous people of one of those colony worlds decides it wants the Bothans gone and the New Republic decides to back this independence movement—largely because of a vote organized among species who don’t care for Bothan politics? You Bothans would immediately be put into the same situation some humans might be feeling squeezed by right now.

  “And there are humans who saw the blacker depths of the Emperor’s heart, too. One of the Wraiths came from Toprawa. The Imps reduced them to puling animals. Folks might wonder why we’re not liberating them instead of fighting over worlds that haven’t asked for our help. I mean, I have no more love for Krennel than the rest of you, and I do think he has to go down, but using the idea of Pestage’s murder as justification is rather thin.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Myn, if I hear you right, you’re suggesting that because the New Republic says one thing, and Krennel says the exact opposite, most people will wonder if the truth isn’t really somewhere in the middle?”

  “Right. They have cause to wonder who’s right.”

  Tycho stood. “It’s called the gray fallacy. One person says white, another says black, and outside observers assume gray is the truth. The assumption of gray is sloppy, lazy thinking. The fact that one person takes a position that is diametrically opposed to the truth does not then skew reality so the truth is no longer the truth. The truth is still the truth.”

  He nodded slowly. “The truth in this case is simple: Krennel is an unreconstructed Imperial who has been shown in the past to have a penchant for cruelty and murder. We’ve found a lab that indicates he might be trying to build a new Death Star-type station, and maybe that’s as far as it’s gone. The fact that we don’t know means we have to keep checking, keep pursuing. Even if Krennel’s right, he didn’t have anything to do with this lab, I don’t doubt for an Imperial minute that he’d use such a station.”

  Inyri raised an eyebrow. “Even after what he said about his friend from Alderaan?”

  Tycho snorted lightly. “I attended the Academy at Prefsbelt Four well after the two of them. Krennel’s name appeared on a few trophies for unarmed combat. Kepporra was supposed to have been some engineering whiz. I don’t see them being the best of friends, but even assuming they were, it would take more than a tear to make me believe Kepporra’s death had that much effect on Krennel.”

  Inyri folded her arms across her chest. “Do you really think you can judge what went on in Krennel’s heart based on one holocast?”

  “Nope, just going by what I know of him in the past. He strafed a crowd at Axxila and murdered Pestage on Ciutric.” Tycho’s eyes narrowed. “More telling, though, is the fact that he didn’t leave the Imperial service until four and a half years after the death of his friend. Alderaan’s destruction caused me to defect immediately, but you’d expect that because I’m from Alderaan. Others took longer to come over, a month, a year, a couple of years, but eventually they did. Krennel remained with the Empire even after the second Death Star’s destruction and only left when he was able to usurp Pestage’s Hegemony. Someone with that track record only cares for himself.”

  Gavin let Tycho’s words sink in and in them found a truth. In the whole of his three and a half years with Rogue Squadron, the emphasis had always been on helping others. It didn’t matter how difficult the mission was, they went out and did it because they were making life better for someone, somewhere. Sacrificing our futures so a bunch of other folks had their own futures secured always seemed like a solid bargain. Krennel and people like him never would see it that way because they saw themselves as more important than anyone else.

  Which is why we have to stop him.

  Gavin ran his hand down over the fur on Asyr’s spine. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but it seems to me that Mon Mothma’s announcement and Krennel’s answer means that having evidence of this station’s existence is going to be very important. I figure we’ve got a bunch of snoop-and-scoot missions in our future.”

  He stood and stretched. “It’s about time for me to run some brush-ups on piloting a T-Six-Five-R, so I’m heading down to the simcenter. Anyone else wants to join me, I’d love the company.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Iella Wessiri shifted the toolbelt on her waist so the hydrospanner banged along her right thigh instead of against the back of her leg. The toolbelt, duraplast helmet, and gray-and-blue striped coveralls completed a disguise that started with her dyeing her hair jet black and putting in bright blue contact lenses. Everything worked together perfectly to make it appear as if she were a worker for Commenor Holocom, which was a common enough sight to let her pass unnoticed.

  Mirax, on the other hand, had colored her hair a bright red and had donned a red business suit with black blouse beneath it, which attracted a lot of stares. She carried a datapad in her left hand and used a stylus in her right to point Iella this way and that, giving anyone watching the impression that she was Iella’s supervisor making a quality-assurance run with her. The situation clearly pleased neither of them, as was evidenced by muttering on the part of both parties.

  Various and sundry sapient characters on the street gave both of them a wide berth.

  Iella had wanted to head out to Commenor within three weeks of her conversation with Mirax, but Corran’s discovery on Liinade III had given New Republic Intelligence a brand-new focus. She’d spent the better part of a month pouring over data on Krennel’s Hegemony worlds, looking for a possible shipyard for the Pulsar Station. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint one, and sincerely doubted one existed, but the lack of data on some of Krennel’s worlds disturbed her.

  The world’s pacification gave her a bit of a break, so she and Mirax headed out for their mission to Commenor. Their first stop had been the Errant Venture, the Imperial Star Destroyer Mirax’s father had won from the New Republic for his role in the liberation of Thyferra. There Mirax had talked Booster Terrik into using the ship’s facilities to manufacture fraudulent documents to get them into Commenor, and Booster had even managed to find them passage to the world with another ship. Iella had reluctantly agreed with Booster that the Pulsar Skate was too well known a ship to get them onto Commenor unnoticed.

  They entered the lobby of a large office building and paused at the holodirectory. With the air of a bored executive, Mirax punched up the data for the offices of Wooter, Rimki, and Vass, Attorneys at Law. The directory noted the offices were on the eighteenth floor and closed for the weekend, but Mirax punched a button to summon a turbolift to carry them upward.

  “The offices are closed, Supervisor. They’re not working on the weekend, as we shouldn’t be.”

  Mirax spitted Iella with a hard stare and poked her in the shoulder with the stylus. “If you had not cross-melded two lines, we wouldn’t be working on the weekend and they could be.”

  One member of the janitorial staff, a Trandoshan, winced, while two insectoid Verpines just waggled antennae at each other. Iella trailed after Mirax rather dejectedly, keeping her eyes cast down at the ground. Wordlessly she entered the turbolift and the doors closed behind her.

  Mirax ran her hand over the wooden wall paneling. “Genuine, not some fiberplast substitute. Very stylish and very expensive.”

  “Easy to do when you’re on an Imperial expense account.” Iella slowly shook her head. “If Mem Wooter hadn’t decided to get greedy, he could have been in the clear.”

  Mirax smiled and curled a scarlet lock of hair behind her left ear. “I thought you were the one telling my father that snatching Wooter and sweating facts out of him couldn’t be done because we weren’t sure he was involved. I thought you were reserving judgment.”

  “Well, I was.” Iella shrugged uneasily. “Fact is I’m as bad as Corran in resisting suggestions your father makes.”


  “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay, maybe I’m not that bad.” She laughed lightly. “After spending years hearing horror stories about him, though, I’m not comfortable doing what he suggests. This is especially true when it comes to the realm of crimes against a person.”

  “And what we’re going to be doing is different?”

  “Crimes against property, big difference.” Iella hooked her thumbs through her toolbelt as the lift stopped and the doors parted. “I tell you, Supervisor, they made unauthorized repairs to their own line that caused the problem.”

  “The problem was unauthorized lum consumption, Splicist.” Mirax led Iella down the hallway to the double doors with the firm’s name emblazoned on them in gold Aurebesh lettering. She knocked firmly on the door, then waited. Under her breath she commented, “Looks like a Kambis Ninety-Four-Hundred lock. Not bad.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Iella fished a square packet from a toolbelt pouch. The device fit neatly in the palm of her hand. With a flick of her thumb she turned it on and a slender tab the thickness of a keycard snapped out on one of the long sides. She flashed it down through the keycard slot once quickly, then twice more. On the third try the door clicked open.

  Mirax blinked. “How did you…?”

  Iella shrugged. “Whistler could have opened this door.”

  “So could I, but folks would have heard the blaster whine.”

  Iella ushered Mirax into the office foyer and closed the door behind them. “Intel has some interesting toys. Set it for the lock type, flash through once to blank the current code, a second time to set a new one, and a third to open the door.”

  Mirax smiled. “Know where Cracken gets those things?”

  “I doubt he’d want you having one.”

  “Hmmm, then I guess a brisk trade in them would be out, too.” Mirax looked into the office. “Then again, if this office is any indication, working for the Imps might be far more lucrative.”