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Vorru nodded slowly. There is no denying it, she is excellent at analyzing and utilizing the psychology of a subject people against themselves. Still, when there is someone she can’t break down, like Horn or Antilles, she has no way to defend against what they might do. He looked up at her. “And what are your thoughts on this rylca Mon Mothma pronounced a cure for your Krytos virus?”

“Propaganda, clearly, meant to calm the masses. The fact is that its existence and efficacy against the virus are immaterial. If Derricote had been successful in creating the virus I asked him to create or if Loor had delayed the conquest of Imperial Center, the New Republic would have been broken beyond repair. As it is now, they are hard put to deal with the demands their populace is making on them. As we restrict bacta flow to the New Republic and its worlds, we will alienate member states.”

“You mean we will be playing the same game we did on Imperial Center but on a larger scale here?”

“Exactly.” Isard glanced up, looking well above his head. “My goal has always been to destroy the Rebellion, then move to rebuild the Empire. In effect, by letting them take Imperial Center, we have destroyed the Rebellion. They are no longer an elusive force that can strike at will. They now have to take responsibility and deliver on the promises they have made. When they fail to do that, the people will look for the sort of stability they had before. If we play things carefully, we will not have to reconquer Imperial Center, we will be invited back to resume our rightful place at the head of the Empire.”

“Interesting analysis, and accurate, I think, except in one thing.”

“And that is?”

Vorru’s dark eyes shrank to bare slits. “Antilles, Horn, and the others. They have the freedom the Rebels once had. They are a problem we will have to deal with and deal with swiftly.”

“Or else?”

“I was in a position to see them render Imperial Center defenseless.” Vorru’s voice hardened. “If we don’t deal with them I fear they will become a problem with which we cannot deal.”

4

It didn’t surprise Corran Horn to find Iella Wessiri in the Corellian Sanctuary, but the expression on her face threatened to crush his heart in his chest. Her light brown hair had been pulled back into a single braid and her broad shoulders were hunched forward. She sat on the front bench in the small chamber, leaning over and balanced precariously enough that he expected her to fall at any second. The way her grief pulled at her face, arching the corners of her mouth downward, made it seem as if gravity would, in fact, tug her to the floor.

Corran hesitated in the doorway of the small domed building. Because of the hostile relationship between the New Republic and the Corellian Diktat, repatriating Corellians who died away from the planet of their birth had become impossible. The Sanctuary had been created by exiled Corellians to give their dead a resting place. Unlike Alderaanians, who often sealed their dead in capsules and shot them into orbit within the Graveyard, allowing them to float forever amid the debris that marked where their planet had once been; Corellians cremated their dead exiles and used industrial-grade gravity generators to compress the carbon residue into raw synthetic diamonds. This imparted a physical immortality to the dead. The diamonds were then brought to the Sanctuary and imbedded in the black walls and ceiling to create a glittering series of constellations as seen from Corellia.

The sheer number of diamonds glinting in the ceiling sent a shiver through Corran. We’ve given a lot to the Rebellion, though other worlds have given as much or more. As beautiful as this display is, it is also horrible. The Imperials who wished to make the galaxy over in their own image have, in fact, created here a small galaxy that is entirely given over to mourning.

Corran walked forward and slid onto the bench next to Iella. She didn’t look over at him, but melted against his shoulder and chest as he put an arm around her. “It’s going to be okay, Iella, really.”