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Daala recalled her iron-willed mentor Tarkin, who had taught her everything about tactics, strength of character, and love for the Empire. Tarkin had died while attacking the Rebel base on Yavin 4—and she thought it would be a fitting target in her new campaign.

“Excuse me, Admiral?” Pellaeon said, startling her out of her thoughts.

She glanced at him and realized he had just said something. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I suggested that we diversify our strike. Allow Colonel Cronus to take his Victory fleet and strike at dozens of minor targets, so that the Rebels believe they’re under attack at all points. This will cause damage far beyond the risk incurred, and it will add to the turmoil and confusion surrounding our own surprise attack.”

Daala smiled. “Excellent idea, Vice Admiral. Colonel Cronus will launch his strikes. You will take a fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers directly to begin the obliteration of the small jungle moon. And I will follow in the Night Hammer to ensure that we retain possession of this worthless system.”

She gulped down the last of her cold stim tea, and it felt like a thick rivulet of ice crawling down her throat and spreading through her body.

“We’ll begin at once,” Daala said.

CHAPTER 36

Kyp Durron hunched forward in front of the control panel. His dark eyes narrowed as he scanned the enemy forces arrayed around them.

Dorsk 81 piloted their stolen Imperial ship into the massed battle fleet. His slender, olive-green hands danced nervously on the controls; his yellow eyes widened in astonishment, as if he were still unable to believe what Kyp had talked him into doing.

“I’ll bet this is the biggest gathering of the fleet since the battle of Endor,” Kyp said, “or at least since Thrawn’s last attack.”

Dorsk 81 licked his thin lips and nodded, keeping his eyes on the frenzy of ship activity, like flotsam tossed about in a hurricane. “There certainly are a lot of ships,” he said. “We’ll be blown out of space the moment they suspect us.”

Kyp waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward to squint out the front viewport. “They won’t suspect anything. This ship has all the right markings. Don’t let it get to you,” he said, then turned his attention to running a full analysis of forces on the computer.

Over the past few days Kyp and Dorsk 81 had penetrated deeper and deeper into the Core Systems. Kyp had watched with growing horror as he realized just how far along the Empire’s plans had already progressed. They had seen weapons depots, giant factories that spewed out TIE fighters by the hundreds, construction yards with skeletal frames of Imperial Star Destroyers in progress. They had witnessed a massive migration of people, soldiers gearing up for a deadly conflict, and dozens of overloaded supply trains hauling resources deeper into the Core.

Kyp had convinced Dorsk 81 to tag along just at the fringe of sensor range behind one of the convoys. When they arrived at the massing point of the new Imperial fleet, though, Dorsk 81 had been terrified.

“I still think we should get out of here,” the clone Jedi said. “We need to bring this information back to the New Republic. They don’t even know about the Imperial buildup.”

Kyp shook his head. “We’ve got to find out more, see exactly what they’re up to. We won’t get a second chance like this.”

“But if they capture us, then everything—” Dorsk 81 began.

Kyp held up his hand and watched Dorsk 81 stop and swallow hard. In the past, the cloned alien had struggled with a lack of self-confidence, and he had overcome it. Kyp did not see him as a coward—only as someone who did not push his bravery to its limits.

Kyp pointed at him, wearing a serious expression. “You are a Jedi Knight, Dorsk 81,” he said. “A Jedi does not take the easiest choice. We will do what we have to.” Dorsk 81 slowly nodded in firm acceptance.

The comm system crackled, startling both Kyp and Dorsk 81.

“Shuttle pilot,” a stern voice snapped—a female voice, which in itself was unusual since most Imperial