Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [124]
“We’re good, we’re trained, and we know we have to succeed.” Wedge smiled and brought up a visual simulation of the valley run. “With a little luck and a lot of heart, there’s nothing that can stop us from succeeding.”
“But, Captain Celchu, you must tell me where they are.” Mirax waved a datapad at him. “I think the mission has been compromised.”
Tycho shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
She jerked a thumb at the door to his quarters. “Sure, and the Security officers standing guard over you told me it was impossible for me to speak with you, but I’m here aren’t I?”
“There are degrees of impossible, I guess.” Tycho raked fingers back through brown hair. “The thing of it is that I can’t tell you where they’re off to—I don’t know.”
“How’s that?” Mirax watched him carefully. “You’re the unit’s Executive Officer. You must know.”
“Sorry.”
“Who does know?”
“Here? Emtrey.”
“Get him here.”
“Ms. Terrik, I know you’re a friend of Commander Antilles, and I know he sets great store by you, but …”
Mirax held a hand up. “Look, I wouldn’t be here except that I think their mission has been compromised and they may be walking into a trap. Get the droid here, because I think he’s part of it. I’ll explain by the time he gets here, and if you don’t like the explanation, kick me out and send him on his way. Please. I don’t want your friends and mine to die.”
“All right. Please, sit down.” Tycho fished a comlink from his pocket. “Captain Celchu to Emtrey, please report to my quarters. This is urgent.”
“On my way, Captain.”
Mirax sat in a simple canvas campaign chair and cleared a stack of datacards from the proton torpedo crate Tycho used as a low table. She set her datapad down. “Do you have a holoplate to project data?”
He shook his head and scooped another pile of datacards from the table to the foot of his bed, then sat down beside them. “I’ve got a good imagination. What have you got?”
She glanced at the datapad and organized her thoughts. “Right after they jumped out of this system, I had my pilot pull a trade list from Emtrey. It has a lot of military items and some black market stuff. There were new additions to the normal list and all of those products were native to Alderaan. They’ve become quite rare over the last five years, but all had ridiculously low sell prices.”
Tycho’s blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not like they’re being made anymore.”
“Right.” She leaned forward for emphasis. “Get this—none of them had buy prices. I’ve seen enough people price their goods over the years that this pattern tells me Emtrey has uncovered a source for these materials that means he’s getting them for little or nothing. Now since no one in Rogue Squadron has mentioned finding or recovering some lost trove of Alderaanian goods, and this list is current, I’m thinking the droid is projecting the availability of products following this mission.”
Tycho sat back and scowled. “I can see how you made that assumption, but …”
“Couple it with this: There’s been a rumor floating around about a new source for Alderaanian goods, but the prices have been prohibitively high. I assumed the Empire was releasing stockpiles to soak up credits being held by Alderaanian expatriates, denying the Rebellion a source of needed money. If there is a source, be it an Imperial storehouse or something else, I think Rogue Squadron is headed toward it. And it doesn’t take much brains to see such a place would be a prime target for the Alliance, given how many Alderaanian nomads would love another piece of their world.”
“Count me among their number. Such a storehouse would be an inviting target for a raid, and a logical site for an Imperial trap.” Tycho rubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily. “This doesn’t look good, does it?”
“I’ve arranged to take all of these items that Emtrey can provide, so the list is clear right now. No one else can get access to it. No one else knows of it, as nearly as I know, so the leak should have stopped