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Loor sat back on his heel. “There is no indication of impending operations according to our spy in Rogue Squadron.”

“I know that, but I also know their leadership. They mean to wipe us from the galaxy and they cannot do that if they end up chasing after every Moff who decides he should be the next Emperor. Imperial Center is the key to power in the galaxy. They know that and they know the sooner they sit Mon Mothma on the Imperial throne, the easier their crusade will be.”

The audacity of launching a strike at Imperial Center surprised Loor, but he knew the leaders of the Rebellion often saw the impossible as necessary and their successes against the Death Stars had made them think they could succeed at anything. Isard had purposely left Imperial Center vulnerable, but only so the Krytos virus could cause the Rebel Alliance to collapse. If it were not ready, her plan would fail and the Alliance would be stronger than ever.

“I will monitor the situation, Madam Director.”

“Oh, yes, you will.” She stabbed a holographic finger at him. “The Rogues can plan all they want, but nothing can actually be done for two weeks. I am going to deploy this version of the Krytos virus so it can be introduced to the planetary water supply starting now. We will see if Derricote’s predictions on its speed and lethality are correct, and assuming they are, we will save ourselves two weeks of waiting. If the Rogues strike too soon, all will be lost. Two weeks minimum—a month would be better. Develop the resources you need, do whatever you must, but see to it that the Rogues do nothing substantive before I want them to.”

“It will be done, Madam Director.” Loor bowed his head, but when he looked up again her image had vanished. He stood, slowly, and a smile spread across his features. “Develop resources and do what I must. By your order.”

He walked from his dark, cramped office down a short corridor to another room. The door whisked up into the ceiling, revealing a dark room with a figure bound to a chair and flanked by two stormtroopers. Loor walked in and took the man sitting there by the chin, eliciting a snarl from him.

Loor laughed, releasing the chin, then backhanded the man across the face. “Displays of spirit can be painful.”

“Nothing you can do will hurt me, Loor.”

“Ah, you do remember me. I should be flattered, Patches.” Loor looked down at Zekka Thyne and hit him again. The man’s head rocked back, but the red eyes stared up at him, full of defiance. Striking Thyne had a cathartic effect on him, but Loor refused to indulge himself. “Fortunately for you, I remember you as well.”

“You’ll get nothing from me, Loor.”

“But you have nothing I want, Patches.” Loor tapped fingers against his own breastbone. “I have something to offer you, however. Rogue Squadron brought you and other Black Sun scum to Imperial Center, then they followed you. There is only one implication for this, which is to suppose you and they are preparing for an assault on Imperial Center.”

“I know nothing about that.”

Loor grabbed an ear and twisted it cruelly. “You’re listening now, not speaking.”

Thyne stared vibroblades at him but remained silent.

“Good.” Loor released him. “You will be my eyes and ears within the Alliance community here. I want to know their plans. I want timetables, suppliers, personnel rosters, anything and everything. If you give me what I want, I let you live.”

“If I walk out of here, you will never be able to get me again so your threat means nothing.”

“Oh, I won’t be the one to kill you. Not firsthand, anyway. What I will do is allow Black Sun slicers to obtain files that even go back to my CorSec days noting how you were working for me. They will implicate you in the downfall of Black Sun here on Imperial Center. Your fate will be decided by your brethren, not me.”

That threat damped some of the defiance in Thyne’s eyes. “Do not be disheartened, though, Patches, I would not surrender you unless forced to. These stormtroopers will conduct you to a place to which you will say you escaped after