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“Suggesting that a quack producing a folk remedy led you to Rogue Squadron is what will get me implicated.”

“Nonsense.” Loor slapped his hands against his hips in frustration. “You know as well as I do that Ryloth is as dark a den of iniquity as exists this side of Varl. The Twi’leks have not supported the Rebellion in any great numbers, so the most prominent Twi’lek in the New Republic is Nawara Ven. The Republic has to use him as their negotiator and, lo and behold, the prosecution asks for and gets a continuance of the case. That leaves plenty of time for Rogue Squadron to make the trip to Ryloth and back. The only obvious assumption is that they’re going to make the trip.”

Loor shook his head. “I’ve known where Rogue Squadron has been stationed for a while now. This is my opportunity to hit them right at a time when the failure of their mission will severely hurt the New Republic.”

“Your reasoning is flawless, Agent Loor, but that concerns me not at all.” Vorru’s dark eyes glittered. “I even find your devotion toward the elimination of Rogue Squadron admirable. However, your taking action against Rogue Squadron does not suit me at this time; therefore you cannot launch your assault.”

“And if I choose to ignore your advice?”

Vorru twisted his head slightly sideways. “Do you really want to test me, Kirtan Loor?”

Loor hesitated, losing his chance to snap back a defiant answer. Anyone else asking that question would have filled the words with impending doom, but Vorru asked it in an easy tone, as if asking a child if she were certain she wanted to do something that was obviously dangerous. His expression, his posture, bore no obvious menace, and yet Loor found himself more fearful of Vorru than he would be of a buzzadder coiled and ready to strike in his place.

“Testing you would get neither of us anywhere.”

“I always thought you were more than reasonable.” Vorru swung his feet off the desk and swiveled the chair around so he could stand. He withdrew a datacard from inside his militia tunic and tossed it on the desk. “You and your people have been good and have done nothing of import for nearly two weeks. I have found you a new target.”

Loor exchanged places with Vorru, spun the chair around, and dropped into it. He pulled himself around to face the desk and saw Vorru’s shadowed form standing opposite him. Loor shoved the datacard into his datapad, punched up a directory, then opened the file labeled “target.die.” The architectural renderings of a building showing stress points filled the small screen.

The Intelligence agent looked up. “It’s small. I don’t see bacta storage areas or barracks facilities. What is it?”

“A school.”

“School?” Loor frowned. “You mean a training academy?”

“No, a school. For children.”

“Children of the Rebel leadership?”

“Hardly. They’ve been too busy to breed.” Vorru shook his head quickly. “This is just a normal school, with normal children—some aliens, but mostly human.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because the students are drawn from the local population.”

Loor’s frown deepened, and confusion made his voice tenuous. “No, why hit a school?”

“Come now, Agent Loor, you didn’t expect to get great results without inflicting great pain, did you?” Vorru laughed lightly. “You probably thought you could cling to some shred of honor. By hitting factories and military facilities and places where adults congregated, you could put fear into them. By hitting bacta distribution centers, you could make parents concerned about the welfare of their children, but it would be the Krytos virus that killed the children, not you. Is that it?”

“I … perhaps …”

“Perhaps nothing, that is exactly what you were thinking. And because of it, your efforts would have been for naught.” Vorru leaned forward, supporting his body on both arms. The light from above hid his eyes in black triangles. “Threaten a child and you will unite the parents against you. Kill a child and those who have lost it will retreat in