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“Realize, yes. Accept, no. Tolerate, no way.” Corran narrowed his green eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You know, if you keep hanging around with me, you’re going to get into a lot of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Mirax batted her brown eyes. “Whatever do you mean, Lieutenant Horn?”

“Well, I precipitated the mass resignation of the New Republic’s most celebrated fighter squadron and vowed that we’d liberate Thyferra from Ysanne Isard’s clutches. So far, toward that end, we have a squadron’s worth of pilots, my X-wing, and if you’re really in this with us, your freighter.”

Mirax smiled. “Versus three Imperial Star Destroyers and a Super Star Destroyer, not to mention any sort of Thyferran military forces that might oppose us.”

Corran nodded. “Right.”

Mirax’s grin broadened. “Okay, so get to the trouble part.”

“Mirax, be serious.”

“I am. You forget, dear heart, that it was an X-wing and a freighter that lit up the first Death Star.”

“This is a little bit different.”

“Not really.” She reached out and tapped his forehead with a finger. “You and I, Wedge and Tycho, and everyone else knows what it takes to defeat the Empire. It’s not a matter of equipment, but of having the heart to use that equipment. The Empire was broken because, for the good of the galaxy, it had to be broken. The Rebels were given no choice, and because of that, they pushed themselves further than the Imperials did. We know we can win and that we must win, and Isard’s people know nothing of the kind.”

“That’s all well and good, Mirax, and I agree, but this is a massive undertaking. The sheer amount of equipment we’ll need to pull this off is staggering.”

“Agreed. I don’t think this will be easy, but it can be done.”

“I know.” Corran massaged his eyes with his left hand. “Too many variables and not enough data available to begin to assign them values.”

“And three hours before dawn isn’t the time you should be wrestling with such things. As bright as you might be, Corran Horn, this is not an hour when you do your best work.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you singing a different tune last evening about this time.”

“At that time you weren’t concerned with Ysanne Isard, you were concerned with me.”

“Ah, and that makes the difference?”

“From my perspective, you bet.” She took the lightsaber from his hand and set it atop his dresser. “And I think, if you’re willing to work with me, I can share that perspective with you.”

He kissed her on the tip of the nose. “It would be my pleasure.”

“That, Lieutenant Horn, is just half the objective here.”

“Forgive me.” Following her toward the bed, he stepped over the silken puddle her robe made on the floor. “You know, I just got out of prison.”

“For that I won’t forgive you but perhaps”—she smiled up at him—“I will make some allowance for good behavior.”

2

Wedge Antilles felt decidedly uncomfortable out of uniform. Actually, I feel uncomfortable out of the service. During the covert mission to Coruscant, he’d not been in hailing distance of an Alliance uniform, and he’d even worn Imperial uniforms a couple of times, but that had not bothered him. He’d spent most of his adult life as part of the Rebel Alliance and now he had chosen to leave it.

There was no doubt in his mind that the decision to leave was the right one to make. He fully understood why the New Republic couldn’t attack Thyferra and bring Ysanne Isard to justice. Since she was installed as the Chief of State through an internal revolution—as opposed to an invasion—her holding office was not a case of Imperial aggression, but of self-determination. If the New Republic rejected that idea in this one case, plenty of other nation-states would think long and hard before joining the New Republic or would consider leaving.

Wedge forced himself to smile and looked up at the light-brown-haired man with bright blue eyes sitting across the table from him. “Have we bitten off more than we can chew?”

Tycho Celchu