• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Iella frowned as she stood. “Oh, once the New Republic is through with you, the Thyferrans will have their chance.”

“I hope you’re right, Iella, because I know the Thyferran people have a strong sense of justice.” Vorru’s hands slipped down to the level of his shoulders. “Of course, since I know which of the New Republic officials have been hoarding bacta and I know the backdoor deals made by member states to get bacta, well, I suspect this is information they won’t want to have come to light.”

Iella laughed. “You think you’re not going to pay for your crimes because you’ll make some political deal?”

“Alas, Iella, that is the reality of the situation.”

Iella sharpened her laugh and her expression. “You’re assuming, of course, that I don’t have my own brand of justice in mind. I wanted Isard because she killed my husband. If I can’t have her, you’ll do.” She raised her carbine and pointed it at his head. “One shot and a lot of crime files are closed.”

Vorru brought his hands together and applauded her. “Nice bluff, but I’ve read the Imperial and Corellian files on you, my dear. You could never shoot me.”

“True.” Iella lowered her blaster. “But she can.”

Elscol’s single shot caught Vorru in the throat. It pitched him against the doorjamb, from which he rebounded and fell on top of his blaster.

“Nice shooting.”

Elscol looked down at her blaster. “I don’t remember setting this weapon on stun.”

Iella smiled. “I do, when I stopped you from shooting him the first time.”

Elscol frowned. “Why only stun him? Why the charade?”

“Vorru always likes being in control. He was expecting you to burn him down—it would have been his victory because you would have killed a man who had surrendered, and that would make you as much of a murderer as he is. Once he realized I was out here, he decided to play another game. He was in control until the last second, when I let you shoot him.”

The other woman nodded, then snapped her carbine’s selector lever off stun. “What he said, though, about paying for his crimes is probably true. The New Republic will make a deal with him.”

“Sure, if they get a chance.” Elscol smiled. “The Rogues pulled him off Kessel. We can always dump him back there. No deals, only justice.”

Elscol laughed aloud. “You know, you keep this up and you might convince me there’s more to do with unreconstructed Imperials than kill them.”

“Let’s work on it, Elscol, but only after Thyferra is free.”

39

Captain Sair Yonka picked himself up off the Freedom’s bridge deck and staggered to his feet. He swiped a hand at his forehead—it came away bloody so he tore a strip of cloth from the tail of his tunic and jammed it against the wound. Antilles, you paid me a lot, but it wasn’t enough.

“Someone give me a report on what’s going on out there. Lieutenant Carsa?”

“Carsa’s dead, sir. His monitor blew up in his face.”

“Are we blind then, Ensign …?”

“Issen, sir. No, sir, not blind. The Lusankya has been hit again by torps and missiles, but it’s beginning to shoot at the freighters. We’re being left alone.”

“Then it’s not all bad news.” Yonka leaned against a bulkhead. “Helm, can we maneuver?”

A pained voice called to him from the depths of the bridge. “We’ve lost fifty percent of our maneuverability, Captain. We can roll, but speed and turns are going to be tough. I can muster enough to get us out of here, though, sir.”

“Weapons, what’s our status?”

“We’ve still got most of our port weapons, sir, but starboard weaponry is shot. No realistic judgment about repairs.”

“What’s the status of our shields?”

A bald man punched a button on a console, then clapped his hands. “Shields are coming back up. I’ve got seventy percent of power. They’ll hold while we run away.”

Sair Yonka shook his head. “We’re going nowhere. Lieutenant Phelly, roll us so we can bring our starboard weapons to bear.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re not being paid enough to die here.”

“Then let’s make sure we don’t die.