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Corran turned on the comlink clipped to his helmet and tapped it twice with a gloved finger. A single click came back, confirming Wedge’s reception of Corran’s warning about the limo’s approach. Corran watched for any more vehicles following. Their briefing suggested Yonka wouldn’t be bringing his own security detail, and that the Moff’s wife regularly eluded hers; but the chance that her husband had others watching her or Yonka had to be covered.

He waited for one minute, then slowly started working his way back to the rendezvous point. Like the other Rogues on the mission—save Ooryl and the other Gand accompanying them—he wore some of the stormtrooper armor they’d gotten from Huff Darklighter. The dark blue color Darklighter had stained it so it matched his personal security force’s uniforms blended perfectly into the night. He carried a blaster carbine, wore a blaster pistol on his right hip, and had spare power packs for both on his belt. He clipped his lightsaber to the back of his belt, so it dangled down like a stubby tail, out of the way but accessible if he needed it.

Of course, on this mission, if I need it, we’re in deep Huttdrool. In theory, it was a quick hit and run. Though Yonka didn’t know it, Kina Margath had long been a Rebel agent on Elshandruu Pica. Poe, the droid serving as Yonka’s valet, had once been part of Rogue Squadron’s staff. Once Wedge put out feelers to learn more about the soldiers in Isard’s employ, a complete rundown on Yonka’s affairs came back, providing the basic information for the mission.

If any more than one or two shots get triggered, we’ve done something very wrong. So far it had gone completely as expected, and Corran didn’t like that. On such missions—the same sort he’d performed dozens of times when with the Corellian Security Force—nothing ever seemed to go as planned. In going after Yonka, the most likely glitch would arrive in the form of the Moff’s own squad of stormtroopers, and that was a serious complication. Exfiltration under fire is not going to be fun.

Even though he knew that outcome was a distinct possibility, Corran didn’t have a bad feeling about the mission. Prior to his learning he was the grandson of a Jedi Master, he would have put the lack of dread down to his rather foolish and rash belief in good luck. He’d always trusted his feelings about things, but he’d never questioned the mechanism that generated those feelings. To him they just existed, and he had learned to abide by them or deal with the consequences.

Now he knew that his feelings were really based on sensations he was getting of and through the Force. Before they were intangible and even though he gave them weight, others did not. Now, because of Luke Skywalker, the Force had gained credence. Others would accept what he felt as if it were a true measure of what was happening.

That frightened Corran—especially after the disaster on Thyferra. I don’t know enough about the Force and what it means to rely on it. I certainly can’t let others use what I feel as a crutch. If I’m wrong, they’ll pay for my mistake. I won’t have that happen.

He reached the rendezvous point in a little ravine slightly northeast of the cottage. Corran crouched between Ooryl and Rhysati, across the way from Gavin, Wedge, and the tall Gand named Vviir Wiamdi. The other two members of the team waited in Picavil’s spaceport with two X-wings, ready to cover their escape if things got messy. Bror Jace and Inyri Forge will be able to down anything the Moff can put in the air, but if we need them I’m sure the Avarice will scramble fighters, and then we’re stuck.

Wedge looked up at Corran and nodded. He tapped Corran and Rhysati on the knee and pointed off toward the right. Ooryl and Vviir were directed left, leaving Wedge and Gavin to go straight in at the open garden doors and into the back of the cottage. Wedge tapped his chronometer, then held up two fingers.

Two minutes to get into position, then we go. Corran nodded and followed Rhysati. He still felt