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“It would not matter. The base has insufficient generating capacity to bring up shields that could withstand our bombardment.”

“Even if the ion cannons are not on-line?”

That question brought a moment’s hesitation before it was answered. “It would make no difference.”

Wedge didn’t like the faint confidence in Kre’fey’s voice. The success of the operation was predicated on bringing the shields down. While Wedge didn’t want to think General Kre’fey was being stupid, his reliance on bombardment from space seemed remarkably shortsighted. The Imps had chosen to use a ground assault on Hoth to bring the shields down. While bombardment had worked elsewhere in the past, the Hoth solution seemed to work the best. And the presence of ion cannons on the ground meant the ships doing the bombarding could be disrupted, slowing their schedule and raising the specter of help coming in from another system in time to beat back the assault.

He raised his hand again.

“Yes, Commander Antilles.”

“I don’t see a breakdown of the TIEs on Blackmoon. Are they eyeballs, squints, dupes, or brights?”

The Bothan’s eyes hardened. “I beg your pardon?”

General Salm translated. “He wants to know if the fighters are TIE starfighters, Interceptors, bombers, or advanced models.”

“Ah, starfighters mostly, and some others.” Kre’fey looked around the room for other questions, but no one had any. “To maintain operational security you will not be given the actual coordinates of your destination until you head out. The simulation packages you are given will fill your needs for detailed information. Ysanne Isard has stepped up her counterintelligence efforts against us and without surprise, this mission will suffer.”

Without surprise, our people will suffer. Wedge shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

The Bothan General’s eyes narrowed to golden crescents. “Your likes and dislikes are immaterial, Commander. The Provisional Council has approved this plan, and that is enough.”

The Corellian pilot bristled at the rebuke. “They may approve of it, but they’re not going to be flying this mission, General.”

“But I will be there, Commander, in the first transport, leading the way down to take Blackmoon.” Kre’fey’s nostrils flared as if he were sniffing about for prey. “I trust you do not doubt Bothan courage.”

How could I when you Bothans take every opportunity to remind all of us that your people captured the location of and information about the second Death Star? “No, sir, I do not. I trust you do not doubt the courage of my people. They’ll do the mission, but I feel I have an obligation to them to make sure they’re going to come home from it.”

Kre’fey’s lip curled in a sneer. “An obligation you have acquitted so well in the past, Commander Antilles.”

Wedge felt a fist tighten around his heart. The faces of all the friends and comrades he had lost throughout the Rebellion flashed through his mind. It struck him that each one of them had become posthumous heroes specifically to allow idiots like Kre’fey the opportunity to make more Rebels into posthumous heroes. The ranks of the dead seemed endless, and inside a heartbeat the fire Wedge would have turned on Kre’fey was snuffed by the void that had claimed those he remembered.

Ackbar stood abruptly. “I believe, General Kre’fey, that Commander Antilles’s concerns are valid. I am surprised your normally painstaking precision in matters of intelligence gathering has been allowed to flag here. If you will, you have told us the hour the tide will be high, but some of us need to know the minute and the second. You have it within your ability to provide us this information and you will.”

The Bothan glared at the Mon Calamari. “Or?”

“Or I will see fit to cancel the operation.”

“But the Council approved it.”

Ackbar’s chin came up. “The Council is a political body that makes political decisions. Unlike a battle where the outcome cannot be reconsidered, political decisions can be recalled and revised endlessly. The Council did decide that