CHAPTER TWELVE
Incoming The alarm buzzer squawked wildly in the tiny sleeping cabin of the Gentleman Caller. Tendra Risant leapt up out of bed, her heart pounding. She scrambled to her feet, getting herself entangled in the sheets and nearly falling flat on her face before she got herself sorted out and headed for the control room. She didn't recognize the alarm. What in the burning suns had broken down this time? She reached the control room and checked all the displays, but saw nothing but a green board. Then she woke up the rest of the way and remembered. She had installed this alarm herself. The one that went off when the Gentleman Caller's navicom-puter detected the interdiction field going down. The interdiction field going down! Suddenly her mind was racing. One part of her was suddenly afraid. The field coming down could mean any number of things, many of them not good. But all that was beyond her control. Later she could let her imagination run wild, let herself speculate about what it all meant. Right now the field coming down meant exactly one thing. She could get moving at last. She scrambled into the pilot's seat and set to work. Tendra had had very little practice with navicom-puters before boarding the Gentleman Caller, but she certainly had plenty of time to practice with the one on the ship since then. Working as fast as she could, she set up the problem, getting a fix on her present location and a precise grid reference on her intended target point, letting the navicornputer massage the numbers and come up with the proper values for the jump in and out of hyperspace that would get her there. She knew where she was well enough-she had had plenty of time to practice finding that out too-but the question of where to go she had never quite decided. It had seemed simpler to keep the naviconiputer updated with all the potential destinations, so that she could decide at the last minute if there was a change in the situation. Except, now, it was time to make a decision, and she was far from decided. But she had to move fast. Whoever controlled the interdiction field might well be able to bring it back up again at any time. She dithered for a moment longer, and then made up her mind. Centerpoint. She would go to Centerpoint. The last she had heard from Lando, it had seemed he was heading that way. She suspected that meant very little when dealing with Lando, or in time of war, let alone both, but she had to choose someplace. She punched in the proper settings and flipped the navicornputer over to automatic operation. The display came on, showing a thirty-second countdown clock. The clock started moving, and the seconds melted away. For half a moment Tendra considered the idea of getting set to jump to hyperspace on manual if the automatics failed. That was the way the heroes always did it in the holovids, after all. But no. The holovid heroes were always seasoned pilots of the spaceways, or else they were the most naturally gifted pilots the galaxy had ever seen. Besides, they were always backed up by that most powerful of allies-cooperative scriptwriters. Life didn't work that way. She couldn't count on it all turning out right by the last scene. Besides, this was exactly the second time she had ever flown a hyperspace jump. If something went wrong with the automatics, and they decided to shut down rather than proceed, it would be prudent of her to take their word for it. Better to sit out here for another month or two, going half mad with boredom, rather than have the hyperspace motors blow up under her or kick her out into the far side of the galaxy. She checked the countdown clock. Fifteen seconds. It had been a hell of a long ride so far, and even if this worked, and she got into the Corellian system, even if her navicomputer was dead-on and she arrived right at Centerpoint's main docking collar, there were no guarantees that this ride was over quite yet. Ten seconds. And what about Lando? Was he all right? Was he anywhere remotely near Centerpoint? Would she even be able to find him? It was the middle of a war, after all. Things were not likely to be all that well organized. Five seconds. What was she doing here, anyway? Why had she climbed into an overpriced secondhand starship to go chasing after some smooth-talking ladies' man she had met exactly once? She had always thought of herself as a levelheaded sort of person. Right now the evidence was strictly to the contrary. Three seconds. This was crazy. She was about to jump into a war zone. She ought to abort the jump to light speed, reverse course, and head back home to Sacorria, where it was safe. Two seconds. No. Too late for that. If she did, she would spend the rest of her life wondering what if. One second. Instead, she was about to find out. Zero. The cockpit viewport exploded into life as the sky filled with starlines, and the Gentleman Caller made the big jump to light speed. Suddenly Tendra Risant didn't have the time to worry about anything at all. Ossilege stood up from behind his desk, turned, and paced the room thoughtfully. He paused in front of the viewport, and now gave a long, hard look at the planet Drall. He had no interest when it was just a lovely sight, thought Lando. Now that it has great military significance, though-now he wants to take a look at it. "So if I understand you correctly," he said, turning to face the others, "the planetary repulsors are of far greater significance than .we-thought. If we possessed one in time to deflect the hyperspace tractor-repulsor shot from Centerpoint-then that would save all the good people of Bovo Yagen--and perhaps, just incidentally, win us the war. Do I have that about right?" "Just about right, sir," said Lieutenant Kalenda. "However, it is more than a question of possessing the repulsor. It is knowing how to use it. And I'm not entirely sure Thrackan Sal-Solo is able to control it." "But they fired it already." "Not really, sir. It was an-an uncontrolled start-up. There was a massive burst of unregulated repulsor radiation, that's all. The Selonian repuisor shot was much more controlled. And there's another reason. Remember his assault boat went into the repulsor after it was fired. We're only assuming it was his techs who fired it." "After seeing that broadcast he made, I'll tell you who I think set it off," said Lando. "And who might that be?" Ossilege said, smiling coldly, indulgently. An expression that said he had already rejected whatever Lando was about to say. "The children," Lando said. "I think they managed to turn it on by accident. The repulsor burst attracted Thrackan's attention, the same as it did yours, and he got there first." "Don't be absurd," Ossilege said, all but openly sneering. "How could children activate a planetary repulsor?" "I don't know. It's possible Chewbacca did, but I doubt he would be so careless as to allow an uncontrolled burst like that. Maybe the two Drall did it. But someone in that group is the one who pushed the button." "1 doubt it. I believe it was some of SaS-Solo's people who activated the repulsor, an advance team if you will. I believe they somehow captured the children whilst in the process of searching for the repulsor. But all this is beside the point. Sal-Solo has the repulsor now. And I have a marine assault force preparing to go in and take it from him. It is just before local dawn at the repulsor site now. The marines plan to go in just after sunset tonight-though I may push that forward if circumstances merit. They are holding tactical exercises and running simulations right now." "Why not go in now?" Lando asked. "I asked Commander Putney, the assault troops' commanding officer, that same question, some hours ago. i assure you Putney is feeling as much anxiety as you to go at once, but it's not that simple. The main problem is that, as per my orders, their assault boats were combat-loaded for a prolonged exploratory sortie onto Centerpoint, in case that proved necessary. That is a wholly different mission than a quick-strike attack against a small force in a fixed position. It simply takes time to unload the boats from one mission profile and repack for another. There are other factors. The marine commander believes that going in during darkness will be to their advantage. He has also worked out the relative time zones, and the effects of changes in local time and duration of day. He calculates that the Corellians in the repulsor will be at their most tired, their most sleep-deprived, just about at local sunset this evening. Suffice to say that although you and I are actually in agreement on this point, and wish the attack to happen sooner, there are cogent reasons for the delay. The risks are obvious-but I believe that once all the factors are weighed, our best chance for success is to wait." "And you're either right, or you're wrong, with no way to know for sure until it's too late. Then you're a ge
nius for guessing right, or a monster and a fool for guessing wrong. I don't envy you that sort of decision, Admiral. They stuck me with a generalship once, a long time ago," said Lando. "I didn't care for it. Mostly because of decisions just like this one. You have my sympathy." "Thank you, Captain Calrissian. Given our past differences, that was most generous of you to say." "Believe me, every word was sincere. But we haven't touched the main question. Do any of you believe that our friend down there, the very high and mighty Thrackan Sal-Solo, is now able to operate that repulsor? Or, if not, will he be able to soon?" "Hard to tell, really," said Kalenda. "My working theory is that the outside force running this thing sent in technical teams, intending to have their own people control the repulsors and not trusting to the locals. Sal-Solo would have been given enough techs to cover one repulsor. Has he kept those techs home, or has he brought them along? How good are they? Do they know what they are doing? What sort of shape is the repulsor in? Was it damaged by the uncontrolled startup?" Kalenda shook her head. 'There are too many variables." "Hmmph. Someday, an intelligence officer will answer a question with an answer, instead of a new collection of questions. The Selonian repulsor is up and running. The Drall repulsor is a question mark. What about the Corellian one, or the units on Talus and Tra-lus?" Kalenda shook her head. "We have no indication that they are functional. But that doesn't mean a thing. That they haven't been used might mean they haven't been found yet, or that the technicians have their finger on the button, just waiting for their big moment." "Murk and muddle," Ossilege said. "All of it murk and muddle. Nothing clear, nothing absolute, no one clear enemy you can point your finger at and say it's him! Attack! What do you make of it, Madame Prime Minister? You have sat there, quite silent, for a while now." Gaeriel leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms thoughtfully. "You have pointed your finger square at the chief difficulty. There are too many enemies, and they are too vague, too uncertain, too diffuse. I think that is part of a deliberate tactic. It is meant to confuse us, distract us, get us looking in all the wrong directions. And, I am afraid, it has worked. We have heard so many conflicting stories, dealt with so many contradictory claims, that we no longer know what is real. All I know for sure is that we have not met the real enemy yet. I no longer believe the rebellions have any reality. The rebel groups are essentially fakes, all of them. Some are wholly artificial, and some are tiny little splinter groups, fringe organizations that the real outside force has pumped up with money and support. The partial exception is the Human League. It was a real organization- but it got financed by the same outsiders as the rest of the rebels. And 1 feel quite confident that the Human League is now as much in rebellion against its paymasters as it is against us. The outsiders, the external enemy, set all this in motion in order to grab the Corellian Sector and damage the New Republic. But the Human League and Thrackan Sal-Solo have decided to grab Corellia for themselves. "We haven't seen the real enemy yet. We've only seen their frontmen, their stooges, their stand-ins. But I think that the end of the communications blackout means that we are going to meet the real enemy, and very soon." There was a discreet bleep from the intercom set on the desk. Ossilege turned and walked back to the desk. "Yes, what is it?" he asked. "Sir," said a voice on the comm unit, "we've just detected the interdiction field coming down. It is fading away very rapidly, and is already below the threshold to permit hyperspace travel." "Is it indeed? Then I think we can assume someone or other is about to do some hyperspace travel. All stations on all ships to standby alert. I want the detection officers sharp." "Yes, sir. Sir, there is another matter. The moment the field came down, we received another communication from Source A. He is on the- "One moment." Ossilege stabbed a button down on the comm, cutting off the speaker. He picked up the comm's handset. Rare to see a handset, thought Lando. Even rarer to see one used. Most people were glad to talk to the empty air with their hands free, rather than holding a hunk of plastic to the side of their head and talking into it. But handsets had the great advantage of keeping those nearby from hearing the conversation. And Ossilege had clearly never been one for letting anyone know anything unless they needed to know it. "All right, go ahead." Ossilege listened. "Is he indeed? By all means, put him through. No, no, voice only is fine. But one moment please." Ossilege put his hand over the handset's speaker. "My apologies to you all. If I had not promised otherwise, I would gladly include you all in this. But I gave my word to keep discussions with-ah-this source-private." Gaeriel stood up, and Lando and Kalcnda took their cue from her. "Of course, Admiral. We understand. Your word must be your bond." "Thank you for your understanding, Madame Prime Minister. Lieutenant Kalenda, Captain Calrissian. We will continue this discussion later." "I wish I could head up to the bridge and watch the show," said Lando as the three of them stepped out into the corridor. "Why can't you? In fact, I think I'll go myself," said Gaeriel. "Well, uh, yeah, but you're an ex-Prime Minister and the plenipotentiary and all that," said Lando, a bit hurriedly. "You're a very official person. I'm just some guy who's along for the ride." "Lieutenant Kalenda?" Gaeriel asked. "Arc you coming?" "No, ma'am. Not just now." "I see," said Gaeriel, though it was clear she did not. "I seem to be missing something. I should think you'd both be most eager to get up there and see what's going on." "Well, yes, we are," Lando admitted. "But the last thing a bridge crew needs during a crisis is off-duty personnel playing tourist," or uninvited high-ranking guests breathing down their necks and jiggling their elbows, he thought, though he never would dare say such a thing to her out loud. "I see," said Gaeriel. "I expect that military etiquette would preclude my going as well, wouldn't it?" The woman was sharp. You had to give her that much. "Ah, well, yes, ma'am." "In that case, to hell with military etiquette. I will go to the flag deck, which is designed with the purpose of letting those in it observe without interfering. I will not bother anyone. I will not get it into my head to start issuing freelance orders. But I am going up there to see what is going on." "My, my apologies, Gaeriel-ma'am, Madame Prime Minister. I meant no offense," Lando said. At least not so much that you need to bite my head off. Gaeriel Captison sighed wearily. "And none taken," she said. "My apologies to you. That was uncalled for on my part. But, by all that's sacred, this is my mission. I'm the reason this ship is here. Luke Skywalker came to me and asked me for help, and I got it for him. And my government named me as plenipotentiary, empowered to make all decisions in its name. I am entitled, I am honor-bound, to see everything, know everything, before I make those decisions. But they all coddle me here, insulate rne, keep all the awkward facts and unimportant details away from me. It was a relief to go to Centerpoint and nearly die of smoke inhalation. At least I was doing something. And now Centerpoint is going to incinerate another star in three days time, and the interdiction field has just dropped, and the devils of dark space alone know what that means, and I'm supposed to just go to my cabin and sit quietly in polite ignorance because going to the flag deck isn't the done thing?" "You've got a point," said Lando. "And you two should see it all too, but you're not going to, because it would be rude?" "Yes, ma'am. It sounds ridiculous, but- "It sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous," Gaeriel said. She looked from Lando to Kalenda and back again. "I order you to accompany me to the flag deck, right now." Lando glanced at Kalenda. He was just about certain that Gaeriel Captison had no legal authority under any interpretation of space law at all, to issue him an order, and he was only slightly less sure that she had no right to issue orders to Kalenda, either. But who was going to tell that to an ex-Prime Minister and plenipotentiary? "Very well, Madame Prime Minister," he said. "If you insist." Gaeriel grinned. "Oh, I do, I do," she said. "So let's get going," she said, and led the way. Kalenda and Lando followed, and they let her get a few steps ahead, and then a few steps more. Once she was safely out of earshot, Lando leaned over toward Kalenda and spoke in a low voice. "Well, I put my foot in it that time," he said. "That you did," Kalenda said, her voice just as low. "But on the bright side, at least we get to see what in blaz
es is going on out there." "Sounds good to me." "On another subject," Kalenda whispered, "do you have any idea what that Source A business is about?" What indeed, Lando thought. There was something about the idea of a casual question from an intelligence officer that didn't quite ring true with Lando. She was not the sort of person who ever asked questions without a reason. Was it a trick question? Was she trying to see if he knew more than he should? Or did she just see him as a good analyst, a good guesser, a good source for informed speculation? Or was she just making conversation while he was getting paranoid? Not that it mattered what she was or was not after- Lando had no information. He had a guess or two, but that didn't count. The second he had heard the words "Source A," he had immediately thought of the brilliantly original idea of calling Tendra Risant Source T. That brought an immediate idea to mind as to who Source A might be. But he knew better than to stick his neck out. "You're the intell officer," he said, "your guess is as good as mine. Probably better." "Oh, come on. You can do better than that." "Okay, okay, I do have a guess or two, I admit it. I just think I'd like to keep them to myself. Even I don't quite believe them." Kalenda laughed. "Fair enough," she said. "But I've got a feeling I have the same idea you do. Come on, let's hurry and catch her up, before she has us thrown in the brig for disobeying a direct order." Tendra Risant figured she had to be the first one in. She had to be. It didn't take much of a guess to figure that whoever had dropped the field had done it to jump their own ships in, or that the ships would be at the ready. But even so, she would get there first. The Gentleman Caller was old and slow, to be sure, but how many other inbound ships were there likely to be inside the interdiction field? It was not until after the automatics activated the hyperspace drive that it dawned on her that being first might not be the best idea when jumping into a war zone. After all, she knew for a fact that there were warships waiting in-system, at least some of them in the vicinity of Centerpoint-the spot she was headed for. The crews of those ships would be able to detect the interdiction field going down every bit as well as Tendra could-better, in fact. And they would know that meant ships-warships, enemy warships-coming in. So the incoming ships would be on alert, because the Bakuran ships would be on alert, with their weapons at the ready-in short, a fearful muddle of everyone on alert. And she would get there first. All of a sudden, that didn't feel like anything to be quite so pleased about. For fleeting seconds Tendra considered aborting the run and bailing out of hyperspace early. But if she knew two things for sure, one was that she was not a particularly skilled or practiced pilot, and the second was that, lacking skill or practice, the odds on surviving an uncalculated jump out of hyperspace were near zero. Besides, she didn't have much more than fleeting seconds to think about it. The hop she was making was not long at all. In fact, the navicomputer was already counting down the final few seconds before the drop back into real space. There was little Tendra could do besides check her seat restraint and instrument display, and hang on for the end of the ride. The navicomputer counted down to zero, and suddenly the viewport was a blaze of light once again, the starlmes flaring down into the all-but-unchanged stars of the Corellian system. The stars were the same, but not the rest of the sky. There, dead ahead, was the heart-stoppingly lovely sight of the Double Worlds, two blue, white, and green globes seen in quarter phase, their cloud tops and oceans and continents bright and clear and beautiful. And there, directly and exactly between them, the strange shape of Centerpoint, a white-gray sphere with a fat cylinder stuck on each end. Her destination was in sight. Tendra all but sobbed in relief. She had made it. She had made it. After all the endless days and weeks, time that seemed as long as months or years, she was no longer alone, cut off from the outside universe. She was here. And soon she would be able to get off this damned ship, stretch her legs a bit on something besides one little bit of ship corridor, eat something besides- "Unidentified ship! This is the Bakuran destroyer Sentinel Respond at once or be fired upon!" Tendra would have jumped right through the viewport if her seat restraints hadn't held her down. It had been so long since the com system had been of any use that she almost forgot how to use it. But that "almost" had best not come true if she wanted to live through the situation. She concentrated for a moment, remembered what button to push, and spoke. "Ah, um, hello, Sentinel This is, ah, Tendra Risant aboard the Gentleman Caller!" "Stand by, Gentleman Caller. Please activate your standard identity code transponder." "What? Oh!" Tendra reached over and flipped the appropriate switch. The transponder would transmit the Gentleman's identity whenever queried by a standard traffic control system. "I forgot that thing was off. Hasn't been much use for a while." "True enough, Gentleman Caller. You are cleared to proceed, but are cautioned not to approach within one hundred thousand kilometers of Centerpoint Station. There will be no warnings if you approach closer. Sentinel out." That sounded ominous, and it definitely put a crimp in her travel plans. But it didn't take much thought to realize there was not much point in arguing with a destroyer. Nor did it seem the moment to call them back and ask if they knew where Lando was. But then how was she going to find Lando? And where should she go, if not to Centerpoinl? But, at that moment, the Gentleman Caller's, detection system chimed for her attention. Tendra paged her main display to the appropriate screen to see what was up. And suddenly where to go was the least of her problems. Getting away from where she was, in any direction at all, had just become a top priority. All of a sudden she had company out here. Lots of it. The view from the Hag bridge was certainly informative. There was no doubt about that, but what he could see from there did not exactly make Lando happy. The main screen was showing the tactical schematic display from the Sentinel, relayed back to the Intruder. It showed the Sentinel, the Defender, the relative positions of Talus, Tralus, and Centerpoint-and at least fifty unidentified ships, with more appearing at every moment. "The Sacorrian fleet," Lando said to Kalenda. "The Triad fleet that Tendra warned us about." "But what are they doing here?" Kalenda demanded. "Whose side arc they on?" "I think a better question might be, 'Who is on their side?' " said Admiral Ossilege, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere al all. "I expect they will change their minds in a hurry, but right at the moment, that fleet is in search of the people who have caused them the most trouble in this system-and I'm afraid our little squadron does not meet that qualification." "But who's caused them more trouble than we have?" Gaeriel demanded. "The Human League," Kalenda answered. "The Human League hijacked their whole operation-or at least tried to." "Exactly," said Ossilege. "The Sacorrians, or at least the Triad who rule that world, they were the ones behind it all." "The Triad?" Gaeriel asked. "That is the name given to the oligarchy, or joint dictatorship, that rules Sacorria, so-called because there are three of them. One human, one Drall, one Selonian. No one knows anything about the three dictators-not even their names. "In any event, they discovered the secret of Centerpoint, and the existence of the repulsors. I expect it was the Drall who found it, buried in records in some ancient archive. The Dral! keep excellent records. But that is not important. They recruited malcontents on the various worlds to front revolutions for them, with the intent of creating chaos and confusion -something they could hide behind while digging up the repulsors. They timed the revolts to coincide with the trade summit on Corellia, with the hopes of catching as many big fish as possible in-systcm. That part of the plan certainly worked. I expect the other revolts were set to go off at the first report of trouble on Corellia." "How do you know all this?" Kalenda asked. "I know almost none of it," Ossilege said, "if you require a person to have proof, evidence, witnesses, documents before they know a thing. I am guessing. But if my guesses are wrong, I, frankly, would be astonished." "But you're saying that something went wrong with the plan,'1 said Lando. "Has there ever been a plan more complicated than crossing the street where something didn't go wrong?" Ossilege asked. "But yes, something did go wrong. And the something was named Thrackan Sal-Solo. Somehow or another, he inveigled his way into the inner reaches of the star
buster plot, and he betrayed it. I expect the Triad sent him technicians, and he either bribed or tortured them, or perhaps both, until they agreed to work for him. Those technicians were able to put him in control of Centerpoint's jamming capabilities, and the interdiction system, but not its starbuster mode." Lando thought for a moment and nodded. "That makes sense. The starbuster seems to be running on automatic pilot right now, anyway. Somebody-this Triad, I guess-worked out a whole detailed program for it, with stars to shoot at and the times to do it, and so on. Then they just set it running, and it hasn't stopped yet. There must be some way to transmit a stop code, once they got what they wanted. I don't suppose you've figured out how that is transmitted, have you?" Ossilege smiled coldly. "Not as yet," he said. "But, in any event, getting back to Sal-Solo. In the first public message regarding the starbuster, he declared that he, not the Triad, controlled the device. He laid claim to th e Corellian system-indeed, the Corellian Sector-in his own name, not in the name of the Triad, and made impossible demands for no better reason than to throw everyone into confusion. Then he activated the interdiction field and the communication jamming." "But what was the point of it all?" Lando asked. "He had to know that sooner or later all those ships out there would show up, one way or the other." "I'm starting to pile guesses on guesses here, but my hunch is that he understood the real power of the planetary repulsors, something none of the other rebel leaders did. Controlling one gives him tremendous bargaining power with the Triad. He can shut down their whole starbuster operation any time he wants to. I think he was planning to be in control of one before he let in the Sacorrian ships. And, in point of fact, he is in control of one." "But where did all those ships come from?" Kalenda demanded. "Sacorria's a pretty small planet to be able to throw that big a fleet around." "Quite right," said Ossilege, "but I expect you'd be able to answer your own question, if you gave it a bit more thought." Kalenda frowned, and then her eyes widened. "From here," she said. "They come from here. That's why none of the Corellian rebels were able to throw anything but LAFs and PPBs at us. The Sacorrians had the rest of their ships." "But how did the Sacorrians get hold of them?" Lando asked. "And how were they able to find crews for that many ships?" "My guess is that the plain old-fashioned answer is that this is the Corellian Sector," said Ossilege. "Practically everything is for sale-or for rent-in these parts. Probably the Sacorrians bought or leased ships, and hired crews, from the rebel groups they created, the rebel groups having stolen them from wherever they could. Easy for them to arrange, when you recall that the Sacorrian Triad owns the rebellions." "But probably the majority of the ships and crews out there are ex-Corellian Defense Forces sold out to the highest bidder," Kalenda said. "The spaceside CDF betrayed Governor-General Micamberlecto wholesale, the first chance they got-after they shot up my ship and threw a scare into Han Solo. And most of the CDF ships used to be Imperial ships. Probably a fair fraction of the crew too. They're older ships, but that doesn't mean they aren't good." "And what are you going to do about them?" Gaer-iel asked Ossilege. "They've been continuing to arrive while we've been talking here. There must be seventy-five of them out there. Shouldn't we be getting back to Centerpoint to help out Defender and Sentinel^" "No," said Ossilege. "We will do no such thing." "What?" Gaeriel said. "What do you mean?" "The Intruder must complete her mission here before rejoining the other ships. The assault on the repulsor is still our top priority." "But Defender and Sentinel are outnumbered seventy-five to two!" "And no one is shooting. Yet. Moving this ship toward the fleet could be seen as an aggressive act. And if it comes down to a shooting war, I doubt that seventy-five to three gives us much better odds. Frankly, seventy-five ships is a lower number than I expected. Either our friend Tendra Risant miscounted, or the Sacorrians have left a substantial reserve of ships back home." "But if those ships move on Centerpoint- "Two ships, or three, it will be impossible to stop them. Please try to understand. If we lose all our ships, and control a repulsor, we win. But if we completely wipe out the enemy fleet, and Thrackan Sal-Solo still controls this repulsor, we have lost. And then the eight million people, or tweive million people, of Bovo Yagen, on their one planet or two, depending on what report you believe, will all die." Gaeriel seemed about to protest further, but she said nothing. Lando understood how she felt. It seemed as if there should have been some way to answer Ossilege. Unfortunately, of course, there wasn't.
Star Wars - Correlian trilogy 3 - Showdown at Centerpoint Page 14