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“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good, Captain.” Isard strolled over to where the other woman stood, her voice dropping to the level of a growled whisper. “Understand this: The Lusankya is more valuable than you or your ship. Its preservation is vital for our continued success here at Thyferra. You will do whatever you must to see to it that the ship returns here. Captain Drysso may consider your presence to be that of an observer, but I consider you a shield between the Lusankya and disaster.”

Isard spun away from her and addressed all three of the individuals in the room. “If Antilles knows we are coming, he will have something prepared to oppose us. Even if he has not anticipated us, I do not think he will be helpless. He will be desperate, and desperation can inspire people to great feats of heroism. In desperation there is danger for our forces, so you must be careful. If your victory costs us too much, we could be in jeopardy.”

Drysso’s face became a resolute mask. “Victory will be mine, Madam Director.”

“Those are famous last words, Captain Drysso.” Isard snorted derisively. “Do your best to see you do not join the teeming mass of failures for whom those were the last words.”

Iella Wessiri snapped the trigger assembly for her blaster carbine back into place and tightened the bolt to secure it. She picked up a power pack to slam it home, but stopped when Elscol Loro crouched and squeezed through the opening to the Vratix den they shared. “News?”

The smaller woman nodded. “All leaves have been canceled for crew from the Lusankya and the Virulence. Within six hours or so they should be under way.”

“No convoy is forming up?”

“Nope, this is clearly a strike mission.”

Iella frowned. “You mean the strike mission.”

“Isard does appear to be dancing to the tune Wedge has called.” Elscol shrugged. “I just hope Wedge can pay the synthesizer jockey when the bill comes due.”

“He took Coruscant. Freeing this rock isn’t going to be that much tougher.”

“Yes, but Isard wanted the New Republic to have Coruscant. She’s being a bit more possessive about Thyferra.”

“True.” Iella set her carbine down, then hit several buttons on her chronometer. “Well, this news puts us on the clock, then, I guess. Forty-eight hours after the Lusankya leaves Thyferra, Wedge and the others will be here. You’ve already told Sixtus we’re on?”

“He and his taskforce are already heading to their staging points and expect to be in position to liberate the detention center when they get our signal.”

Iella caught a funny note in Elscol’s voice. “And you’d still like that signal to be a lift-truck bomb being flown into the Xucphra administrative headquarters to blow it up, right?”

“Call me silly, but I don’t see why risking injury in an assault so you can capture Isard is preferable to scattering her constituent atoms all over the place with a bomb. And don’t give me the justice line again.”

Iella shook her head. “Look, I know how evil Isard is—she turned my husband into a mockery of himself. I’d like nothing better than to shove a blaster up her nose and melt her brain. I wouldn’t consider it murder—”

“Nor would anyone else.”

“—But her death isn’t the point. Stopping her is. Even more important than that is to let her be tried in a court of law for her crimes. It’s vital to let people know that the laws have purpose and that evil people will be held accountable for what they do.”

Elscol frowned. “And a bomb doesn’t do that?”

“A bomb is just more anarchy. Killing her that way will allow people to say she had to be kept quiet or important people would have been revealed to be collaborators. Blowing her up allows people to say she really escaped the blast. The lack of a trial, because she won’t be held accountable for all of her crimes, means people can begin to think she wasn’t so bad. Twenty years from now, thirty or fifty, there could be a neo-Imperial movement that holds her up as an example to be emulated. Blowing her up will make her a martyr, but a trial will show her up as a monster, warts and all.”

Elscol