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Probably not flashy enough for her, but if my X-wings were marked up to be Rogue Squadron ships—and the news-nets have been full of examples that making last-minute changes to match the paint jobs will be easy enough—I can sow more discord and distrust between the people and the Rebel government. Iceheart would like that.

The problem with doing just that, however, was that the operation did not help him eliminate Vorru as a threat. If, instead of destroying the convoy, he hijacked it to another system, he would have control of a very large shipment of a vital commodity. While Vorru had a solid lock on the bacta black market on Imperial Center, there were other worlds clamoring for the medicine. If he used his supply correctly he could enrich himself. He would betray Vorru to the Rebels—not to the government on Imperial Center, but to the constituent governments on the various Rebel homeworlds, thereby increasing distrust between them and the rulers on Imperial Center.

Or I can enrich myself, buy a world all my own, and put Boba Fett on retainer to slay my enemies. That thought brought a smile to Loor’s face. The list would not be long, but it would not be an easy one to complete. A fitting challenge for a man with his skills.

Loor closed his eyes and gently massaged them beneath his eyelids. As satisfying as enriching himself would be, he realized he had to be very careful. Killing Vorru and Isard would provide him short-term pleasure, but he had to be looking at his long-term position. His first step was to guarantee his survival, his second to maximize his potential for power. Hijacking the bacta worked just as well to hurt the Rebellion as did destroying it, but it left him vulnerable to accusations by Isard that he wasn’t devoting himself to his duty of destroying the Rebellion. She could easily see the hijacking as a move to make him independent of her, and she would not like that.

I can always argue that I wanted to get out from under Vorru’s influence and nothing more. He doubted that such an argument would insulate him from her anger and retribution when she found out what he had done. And he knew she would find out—it was a question how much time he had until she did. If he could keep her in the dark for a month, either he would have gained enough power that he did not need to fear her, or she will have had me killed.

He realized once again that only by escaping her could he possibly survive. This gives me no choice.

He carefully began to compose a message. He told her of his intent to use the duplicate Rogue Squadron to “eliminate” the convoy. He would later argue that he would have said “destroy” if that’s what he had meant to do. Time being of the essence, I can’t give her the whole plan, I can merely let her know I am dealing with the problem.

He scanned his message, then prepared it for sending. He almost sent it immediately, then hesitated. No, if I send it now, she could possibly countermand my orders. I’ll give her a day’s warning. By the time she considers what will happen, it will all be done.

And Kirtan Loor would be one giant step closer to being free.

29

Four minutes to reversion to reakpace. Nawara Ven began a quick systems check on his X-wing. Lasers were powered up and linked for offside firing in pairs. He had six proton torpedoes, and had configured that weapon system to shoot them one at a time. Fuel was good; acceleration compensator was set .05 off full, giving him a feel for his position in space, and his life-support systems checked out—including the heated stockings into which he fit his lekku to protect them if he got blasted out of his cockpit.

He shivered. He’d been shot out of an X-wing during the first battle of Borleias. The concussion of ejecting had stunned him. He’d floated in space, helpless, in the midst of a roiling dogfight. Cold nibbled away at his fingers, toes, and lek-tips, while a little Chronographic indicator flashing on the inside of his helmet’s evac-visor counted down