Star Wars - X-Wing 02 - Wedge's Gamble

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Isard raised an eyebrow over her blue eye. "I hardly think the evidence justifies that statement."

  Her stare sent a shiver down his spine, but Loor raised his head defiantly. "I agree, Madam Director, that the appearance of a Headhunter and a transport vehicle are disturbing, but extrapolating too much from that makes no sense. I think we will find the people who helped them escape were mercenaries or bounty hunters.

  If Rogue Squadron had on hand the resources necessary to effect that rescue they would not have engineered a plan as weak as the one we disrupted."

  "Weak?" Isard began to pace through the open ex­panse of her office. "I saw it as quite subtle."

  "True. Analysis of some memory cores does indicate they contained programs that might have been able to in­sert security codes into the central computer that would have given the Rebels system-wide programming access. That might have enabled them to bring our shields down, but for how long? Overrides and failsafes in the system could have had the shields back up within an hour."

  "Provided, Agent Loor, that they only went for the shields. You seem to think their effort would be either one employing brute strength, or one that is subtle and el­egant." Isard shook her head. "Perhaps their first stage was meant to be subtle, but the second would be singu­larly crippling and enable them to destroy the central computer itself."

  "I do not discount that, Madam Director, but I do not think you believe what you are saying." He held up a hand to postpone the angry reply her molten stare promised. "Bringing the central computer down would end all service on Imperial Center. All emergency services, all power, all water, all transportation. While that would be advantageous for them, the untold hardship it would visit upon the citizenry would work against them. Your plan to drain the Rebellion of bacta and money is predi­cated on their altruistic nature, which means you cannot believe they would be so crude."

  The heat in Isard's stare slackened, then she nodded, once, and began to smile. "You surprise me, Agent Loor, with your insight. I had missed it before because of your inability to think through other things."

  Loor cringed inwardly. "I beg your pardon, Madam

  Director?"

  "Did you think you could run Zekka Thyne as your own operative without my becoming aware of it?"

  "That was not my intention, Madam Director. He

  was but a minor player and I thought not to bother you with insignificant details."

  "You lie. He was useful in supplying you informa­tion, but you primarily wanted him to kill Corran Horn." The tall woman tapped a finger against her sharp chin. "It is just as well Thyne failed for I think I would like to meet this Corran Horn. It would be interesting to see why you fear him so."

  "I fear him because he can be relentless. He hates me because I freed the bounty hunter who murdered his fa­ther. Though not a crime, it is something for which he will not forgive me. Were he disposed toward murder, I would already be dead. Now that he has joined the Re­bellion, killing me would not be murder." Loor narrowed his eyes. "Playing with Corran Horn is playing with fire."

  "I am Iceheart, I do not burn."

  "Yes, Madam Director."

  Isard watched him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I find myself in a curious position regarding you, Agent Loor. A project under your direction, the Krytos project, has not succeeded according to my specifications. You have also, it appears, grown something of a spine and I am inclined to crush you down for having done so."

  Fear clawed his heart but—and this surprised him—it found no real purchase there. It struck him that fear had been the motivating force for his life and the tool he used most often in dealing with others. He had first entered Imperial service out of fear of disappointing his parents. Fear of failure kept him pressing forward. Fear of embar­rassment made him try to destroy Corran Horn and fear for his own life had marked his actions since Horn left CorSec.

  He realized he'd lived in fear so long that he had be­come accustomed to it. As if it were an addictive drug, he required more and greater amounts to affect him. For the past two years he had operated at a high level of fear, at first because of Horn and then later because of Isard. Ev­ery threat Isard had thrown at him involved his termina­tion for failure, and impending failure had seemed a

  constant companion for him. The pressure had not crushed him, and having lived through it, he was stronger for it.

  Isard nodded slowly. "Very soon this world will be­come a festering pit of sick and dying aliens. I expect an inordinate number of Rebels will be here soon as well— them or Warlord Zsinj's people. For these and other rea­sons I will remove myself to my Lusankya facility. I have there the seeds of the Rebellion's complete destruction and they require cultivation.

  "Imperial Center, on the other hand, needs slashing and burning. While I am content to let someone else take this world, I do not want their time on it to be easy. I do not want them to become complacent. I have determined, then, to leave behind a veritable web of Special Intelli­gence Operative commando and terrorist cells. I had not yet decided upon who I would sit as a spider in the center of that web, but it occurs to me that you would serve very well in that capacity. This spirit, this spine, it speaks well about your ability to act independently in my be­half."

  Part of him, the cold, calculating, and fearful part of him, screamed for the offer to be rejected. If Isard was correct and the Rebellion would soon possess the planet, there was no reason he should stay behind. It would be better to go with Isard to Lusankya and face death at her hands every day than it was to remain on Coruscant to live a life in the shadows.

  Another part of him correctly assessed the position. He would almost constantly be in danger. There would be no sanctuary, no safe haven. Even so, he would be the master of his fate—his decisions would determine ' whether he lived or died. That very prospect terrified him and yet, at the same time, it exhilarated him. Horn had left the sheltered life CorSec offered and he had thrived. This was Loor's chance to see if he, too, could stand on his own.

  He pulled himself up to his full height. "You will make me, in effect, the Grand Moff of Imperial Center?"

  "You will be the leader of the Palpatine Counterinsur­gency Front. You will annoy the Rebels on Imperial Cen­ter as they have annoyed us throughout the galaxy. If you are successful, we will let the word of your movement spread throughout the galaxy. We want them focused on you so they will not be able to look too far ahead. Hob­bling them by giving them this planet, then blinding them by making them focus on you means they will not see the snares I lay for them."

  She smiled coldly. "They stand united now, but that is because they have a common enemy. The Krytos virus, the scramble for power here, and your PCF will help frac­ture this Rebel Alliance into its constituent parts. Once that happens, once they allow themselves to be divided, sweeping them away will be nothing."

  Loor rubbed a hand over his chin. "If I succeed, what will my reward be?"

  "If you succeed, you will do so because you will have mastered skills few people today possess." Isard's smile broadened, and even though he found the prospect of her being happy frightening, her amusement gratified him somehow. "In that case, Kirtan Loor, you will be in a po­sition to tell me what your reward shall be, and to wrest it from me if I am foolish enough to deny it to you."

  Which means you will have to destroy me somewhere along the line, but that is not unexpected. Loor nodded. "I understand your offer and all it entails."

  "And?"

  "And I accept it."

  "Excellent. I have already sent two Star Destroyers and several of the ground-based TIE wings off to prepare the way for what will be a mass exodus when the oppo­sition arrives. I will disappear then." Isard pressed her hands together. "To you I give the responsibility for Impe­rial Center, the Heart of the Empire. Ward your charge well and the glory that was Palpatine's empire will once again shine forth to illuminate the galaxy."

  38

  The location Tycho had found to ser
ve as a hideaway sur­prised Wedge because it seemed quite unusual for Corus­cant. Though he did not believe the room actually was beneath the surface of Coruscant itself, it had the sort of feel that made Wedge think of it as subterranean. The ceiling climbed up into a vault that had been finished to look as if it was part of a cavern, complete with stalac­tites hanging down. However, rust stains and lime scale added details that reminded him where he really was.

  So did the moist trash midden in the heart of the room. It consisted largely of things slowly disintegrating to mush, but a few brightly colored plastic things spotted the corroded orange pile like mold. Nothing looked very useful and it all smelled rather bad, a fact that had Shiel feeling rather out of sorts. The moisture in the midden contributed to the room's microclimate, evaporating and then condensing on the ceiling to drip back down again.

  Gavin seemed to be the only person who didn't mind being dripped upon. "On Tatooine I never even saw rain, much less got rained on." For the others the dripping wa­ter seemed to make their moods more foul and none be­came quite as foul as Corran's did when he saw Tycho.

  Wedge had spotted Corran's anger rising up through his surprise. He pulled the younger man aside and away from the others. "Do you want me to apologize for de­ceiving you, Corran?"

  Corran's green eyes flared. "You're my commanding officer. You don't need to explain yourself to me, sir." The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, but so was the implacability in his eyes. "I'm glad to see Captain Celchu was not killed at Noquivzor."

  "Corran, I chose to keep Tycho's presence here a se­cret to safeguard him and to give us a weapon the other side knew nothing about."

  "Wedge, I saw him talking with Kirtan Loor at the Headquarters."

  "Tycho said he was there meeting with a Duros gun­runner named Lai Nootka. He didn't see you, but he wasn't meeting any Imp agent, that's for certain. Had he seen you and the trouble you were in, he would have helped."

  "I bet."

  Wedge grabbed Corran by the shoulders. "Look, he had instructions to contact you if something happened to me. You were going to be told, but only when it was nec­essary. It wasn't necessary until now."

  Corran's head came up. "When Zekka Thyne was dying he said Kirtan Loor knew we were on Coruscant before he pressed Thyne into his service. There's a lying snake among us."

  "And you believe what he said?"

  "Shouldn't I?"

  "Should you?" Wedge's brown eyes narrowed. "Why do you think Thyne said that to you?"

  Corran hesitated. "He wanted to hurt me, sure, but that doesn't mean he was lying."

  "No, but it also doesn't mean he was telling the truth, either. He reported what Loor told him." Wedge frowned. "We've not seen Aril Nunb since the warehouse. It is entirely possible she was interrogated before Loor

  confronted Thyne. Loor bluffed and Thyne believed him."

  Corran slowly shook his head. "I worked with Loor for years and the one thing I never saw him do was bluff. The man's got a memory retention rate that rivals Win­ter's. Instead of letting a suspect guess at what he did or didn't know, Loor just started reeling facts off. He'd over­whelm a suspect with detail, proving how smart he was, so it would seem obvious to the suspect that sooner rather than later the truth would be found out. No, if Loor told Thyne he knew we were here, he did. And, re­member, at the point she was taken, Aril didn't know anyone outside her group was here."

  He has a point there, but he's still inferring a great deal from a dying man's last statement. "You think Tycho is the Imperial agent?"

  "You know his history. What do you think?"

  "I do know his history, but the whole of it." Wedge pointed over to where Tycho and Winter sat in close con­versation. "I've watched him go through countless mis­sions against the enemy. He has a facility for being in the right place at the right time."

  "A bonus for a spy."

  "Or for a hero. He's saved my life and he saved yours, as I recall, on numerous occasions for the both of us. I trust him absolutely. If there is a spy—and I don't find a spiteful tale told by Zekka Thyne very reliable—I'd sooner believe it was any one of us than I would believe it is Tycho. More importantly, though, I need Tycho and everyone else if we're going to bring the shields down to­morrow night."

  Corran folded his arms across his chest. "So you're telling me to leave it alone even though his presence might jeopardize whatever we do?"

  Wedge opened his hands. "Look, Corran, I respect your instincts, I really do, but I've been down here for fif­teen hours more than you have. Our other caches have been hit by Imps. This is the only safe place for us. If Tycho had betrayed us, this place would have been hit,

  too. And, yes, the Imps could be holding off for some other reason, but I can't think of one aside from their not knowing where we are. That may not seem like much to you, but it's enough for me to hope we have a shot at ac­complishing our mission here."

  The younger man frowned heavily. "It isn't much, but right now it's more solid than anything I have. I'll try to keep an open mind here, but if the least little thing gets screwed up, I'm going to find out who did what and there will be hell to pay."

  "I'll back you all the way."

  "I guess that's as good as it gets, given the circum­stances."

  Wedge brushed a droplet of water off his shoulder. "That's not saying much here." He led Corran over to an area with a table and chairs set up under an overhang. "If I could have everyone over here, we need to figure out what we're going to be doing. Any and all suggestions are welcome."

  The others gathered around the table. Aside from the members of Rogue Squadron the group included Iella, Winter, Mirax, Inyri, Portha, and Asyr. The Trandoshan and Shiel both remained on cots and did not join the meeting. Wedge could see both were sleeping, albeit fit­fully in Shiel's case, so he decided not to waken them. Better they rest now and are able to fight later.

  Wedge leaned forward on the table. "Our basic prob­lem is the same as it's always been: The shields on this rock have to come down. We took one shot at getting a computer override established, but that didn't work. What do we do now?"

  Winter raised a hand. "Things are not exactly the same as they have always been. The loss of the memory cores means the central computer has begun to delegate jobs to the subsidiary systems to conserve memory media. The disks they're using now are in sad shape—a lot more errors are creeping into things. They've got a construction droid building a new manufacturing plant as an adjunct to the computer center to bring the memory-core manu-

  facture under Imperial control, but it won't be able to turn out product for another two days."

  Wedge shivered. He'd seen construction droids work before and found their efficiency as impressive as he did their potential for destruction. Vast, huge machines, they combined the whole of the manufacturing cycle in one highly mobile package. The front end used lasers and other tools to dissect a structure. Little ancillary droids— some as big as a gravtruck—sorted through the debris and fed the appropriate bits of material into the construc­tor's gullet. There metal was resmelted, stone ground down to dust and reconstituted, then extruded in girders, blocks, sheets, and trim. The aft end of the construction droid then took the building blocks and, in accord with preprogrammed plans, created a new structure where the old one had been. Specialized subsidiary construction droids equipped with repulsorlift coils built the walkways that linked structures and worked on the delicate upper reaches of the highest towers on Coruscant.

  "It's hard to believe that a factory can be built and running in three days, but that's progress."

  Asyr growled. "I hope they evicted the tenants of the building they destroyed to make the factory. They keep forgetting to do that when they have one of those mon­sters take a slice out of Invisec."

  Corran frowned. "If I remember correctly, the subsid­iary computer facilities are not as well guarded as the central computer. This makes them vulnerable to an at­tack, right?"

  "True, but using
one of the computers to bring down the shields means we're only going to get a small portion of the shields down." Wedge shook his head. "This forces us to concentrate our assault teams in one place and al­lows the Empire to do the same with their defenses. This world is too well defended for the Alliance to take it by

  storm."

  Gavin shot from his chair and clapped his hands to­gether. "That's it! We take the world by storm."

  Only the dripping sound of water violated the silence

  that greeted Gavin's remark. Everyone stared at him and Gavin blushed.

  Wedge nodded slowly. "What are you talking about, Gavin?"

  "I'm talking about the storms we've seen here before. A cloud comes up and a lightning storm hits."

  Corran shook his head. "Conjuring a storm up isn't that easy, Gavin."

  "No, Corran, it is." Gavin raked his fingers back through wet hair. "My uncle on Tatooine is a food mag­nate who has a virtual monopoly on water rights and moisture farms. He wants all the water he can get. Hun­dreds of people have come to him with schemes to bring rain to Tatooine, and probably ten times that number have come up with schemes they intend to use to break Uncle Huff's control of the water market. Most he ig­nores, but occasionally he pays someone off. One of the guys he paid off was someone who had a plan to seed the atmosphere with chemical crystals around which water would condense. The water would form clouds and the clouds would produce rain."

  Wedge straightened up. "Doesn't that presuppose there is sufficient water vapor already in the air? Aside from this place, Coruscant seems rather lacking in humid­ity."

  "And when there is some, a storm forms almost in­stantly." Pash nodded at Iella. "We saw one of those fast-forming storms when we were at the museum."

  Corran smiled. "Perhaps we could get everyone in the Black Sun and Alien Combine to put a pot on to boil at the same time."