Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [57]
He also knew that his efforts would not reestablish the Empire. That was not the goal Ysanne Isard had in mind when she set him up on Imperial Center as the leader of a pro-Palpatine movement. What he was doing would weaken the Rebellion and allow other forces to tear it apart. Whether those other forces included a warlord like Zsinj blasting his way into Imperial Center and taking it over, or the product of some other scheme Iceheart was undoubtedly planning, did not matter. Isard wanted to destroy the Rebellion, and that was the goal he intended to help her reach.
He smiled. He had been given a great responsibility, and his success would create a power vacuum at the heart of the Empire. Isard maintained her goal was not the resurrection of the Empire, but the destruction of the Rebellion; still, it seemed obvious to him that the recreation of the Empire was a natural consequence of eliminating the Rebellion. When the Rebellion collapsed, if he did things well, he would be in position to help restore the Empire. While he knew better than to make himself a direct rival to Iceheart, he also knew she wouldn’t live forever.
Nor will I, but if I live longer than she does, the Emperor’s throne might well be open to me. Loor smiled and sniffed proudly, but the scent of the city’s lower reaches tarnished his fantasy. He glanced down at his feet and saw a glistening fungoid residue that seemed to shift colors as he watched it. Immediately desirous of returning to his eyrie and washing away the stink of Imperial Center’s darker reaches, he fished a comlink out of his pocket and called for one of his guards to meet him with his airspeeder.
Loor did his best to scrape the goo off his shoes against the side of a building, but it clung tenaciously. He chuckled to himself, thinking of it as true Rebel scum. He made no headway in his battle with it and wondered if a lightsaber would be able to damage it. He’d concluded it would not by the time his airspeeder slid up to the curb and the rear gull’s-wing door swung up.
Loor started into the passenger compartment, then caught himself. Inside, nestled in the corner, a smallish, white-haired man pointed a blaster pistol at him. “Sorry, wrong speeder. My mistake.”
“No mistake. Get in.” The man sighed. “Get in or my other people will shove you in.”
Given no choice, Loor entered the vehicle and folded himself into one of the jumpseats. The door closed behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the speeder’s darkened interior. Loor raised his hands and clutched the safety straps. “Is there any purpose in my putting these on, Moff Vorru?”
Fliry Vorru nodded his head graciously. “Very good, Agent Loor. Yes, by all means, strap yourself in. I do not anticipate this being a rough ride, but things can get turbulent here on Imperial Center.”
“So I have noticed.”
“I’m certain you have.” Vorru set the blaster pistol on the seat beside him, then tugged at the grey cuffs on his midnight-blue jacket. “And I’m no longer a moff, merely a colonel in the Imperial Center People’s Militia.”
“Natty uniform. I’m sure it will show you off at your best when you hold a news conference and announce my capture.” Loor tried to force a smile on his face, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. “Quite the coup for you.”
“Indeed, it could be.” Vorru yawned in an exaggerated fashion. “The question remains as to whether or not that is necessary.”
“Excuse me?”
“You present me with a problem, Agent Loor. Your Palpatine Counter-insurgency Front is one of the reasons my militia was created. As long as you are a threat, the Provisional