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He had sabotaged Admiral Ackbar’s expanded B-wing fighter so that it crashed on Vortex, destroying the precious Cathedral of Winds and disgracing Ackbar. Terpfen had planted a tracer on another B-wing, which had allowed him to obtain the location of the secret planet Anoth, where baby Anakin Solo lived in isolation, protected from prying eyes and minds. Terpfen had passed that crucial information to a greedy Ambassador Furgan—even now the Caridans must be mounting an attack to kidnap the third Jedi child.

Terpfen stood before the aquarium window in his dim quarters, watching the glurpfish sluggishly go about its business. An aquatic predator swooped toward it, flailing spear-tipped fins and jagged jaws. The predator would fall upon the glurpfish … just as the Imperial forces would fall upon the helpless child and his lone protector, Winter, who had once been Leia’s close companion and confidant.

“No!” Terpfen smashed his flipper hands against the thick glass. The vibrations startled the fanged predator, and it shot away in search of other prey. The protoplasmic glurpfish, unaware of what had just happened, continued on its way, sifting the water for microscopic food.

Perhaps his Caridan masters had only been distracted temporarily by other things … but if Terpfen hoped to accomplish anything, he had to make his move now. He swore that it didn’t matter what damage it did to his own brain.

Ackbar himself remained in self-imposed exile on Calamari, working with his people to repair the floating cities that had been devastated in Admiral Daala’s recent attack. Ackbar claimed to have no further interest in New Republic politics.

Since an assault was to be launched against young Anakin, Terpfen would go directly to Leia Organa Solo. She could mobilize New Republic forces and thwart the Imperials. But she and Han Solo had just departed for the jungle moon of Yavin.…

Terpfen would have to go there, commandeer a ship, and meet her face-to-face. He would confess everything and put himself at her mercy. She might execute him on the spot, as would be her right. But even that would be a just punishment for the damage he had already done.

His mind made up—at least for as long as it remained his mind—Terpfen took a last look around his quarters. Turning from the aquarium windows that reminded him of the homeworld he had left behind, he took a last glance at the faceted skyline with its kilometer-high skyscrapers, winking landing lights, gleaming shuttles rising toward the aurora that blanketed the night.

Terpfen doubted he would ever see Coruscant again.

He didn’t have time for a ruse.

Using his own security access codes, Terpfen entered the starfighter servicing bay and walked briskly, confidently. His body odor was laced with tension, but if he moved fast enough, no one would notice until it was too late.

The large launch doors had been sealed for the night. Two Calamarian starship mechanics stood around one of the B-wing fighters. A group of chattering Ugnaughts worked under the hyperdrive motors of a pair of X-wing fighters that had been jacked together to exchange navicomputer information.

Terpfen walked toward the B-wing. One of the Calamarians saluted him as he approached. The other lowered herself out of the pilot compartment, slinging down a webbed sack of tools. From his own terminal Terpfen had already checked the status of this fighter, knew it was ready to launch. He didn’t have to ask the question, but it distracted them.

“Repairs completed as planned?”

“Yes, sir,” the male Calamarian said. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Just attending to some personal business,” he said, and reached into a pocket of his flightsuit. He whipped out a blaster pistol set to STUN. He fired in a sweeping arc, catching both Calamarians with blue ripples. The male slumped to the ground without a sound. The female dangled on the rung, unconscious as she thumped against the side of the B-wing; finally her elbow went slack,