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“Go ahead, we’re all friends here.”

“An urgent message came through for you while I was waiting.” Tycho’s voice grew somber. “We’ve got forty-eight hours to bring Coruscant’s shields down.”

37

Kirtan Loor bowed before Ysanne Isard. “Rogue Squadron is a threat no more.”

Isard nodded as if she had only half heard him. “They are not dead, however.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Loor smothered the frown that struggled to make itself manifest. Her order to him had been to prevent Rogue Squadron from doing whatever it was they had planned to do. Killing them was an option, and he certainly could have had a squadron of TIE bombers fly in and level the Palar factory. Had he done so he had no doubt he would have been criticized for the overkill. “Their escape is regrettable, but our forces have seized their weapon and equipment caches. They are helpless.”

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