Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [14]
Trigit smiled at the ego Zsinj routinely manifested. “My lord, you’re going to twist my neck from staring up at you.” He slowly turned a knob and Zsinj’s image shrank until it was just over human-sized. He kept from his face the sheer delight the action of shrinking Zsinj brought him; in the Imperial armed forces, it would have been construed as an expression of pure insolence. He would have been lucky merely to have been demoted to garbage scow pilot.
The warlord—a corpulent man, balding and graying, with a florid complexion and drooping mustachios that gave him an exotic look—favored him with a smile. “I’ve just read the report from your last transmission. I wanted to congratulate you on the destruction of Talon Squadron.”
Trigit gave him a sardonic little bow. “Thank you. The code-slicer who planted the false information about the security of the Gravan system later reported that they have decommissioned Talon Squadron entirely.”
“The pilot who escaped the ambush—was that by your design? Or an accident? The report doesn’t say.”
“No, we made every effort to kill him. His reflexes were just good enough to save him. In the final analysis, I consider it to be just as good as a clean sweep. He’s doubtless told his tale of woe to his superiors; now they can begin to fret about forces cunning enough to wipe out X-wing squadrons without significant loss or effort. A few more such missions, and they’ll begin to develop a supernatural dread about us.”
Zsinj smiled. “What about your code-slicer? What if he’s caught and broken?”
“Impossible. She has already left her Rebel station. I’m having her brought in and giving her a commission aboard Implacable.”
“It would have been cheaper to have eliminated her. Your previous superior would have done it.”
“Ysanne Isard kept all her officers and minions in a state of fear,” Trigit acknowledged. “And when they failed her, or proved in any way to be a liability, she did eliminate them. So they knew that there were no happy endings in their futures, no rosy retirements. They literally had nothing to look forward to except death or escape. That’s not a way to engender loyalty. That’s not my way.”
“Good.”
“But none of this discussion explains why you’ve contacted me at such considerable expense.”
Zsinj’s smile grew broader. “I want to hear early results from the Morrt Project.”
“Ah. Well, the first few thousand Morrt-class parasite-droids have been distributed. I’m getting preliminary reports already. Naturally, there’s a concentration of signal hits from known population centers—Imperial, New Republic, and independent. We’re also getting a few hits from unknown sites, and sites designated destroyed or abandoned. Once we get reinforcement on them, we can go looking.”
“Good. Keep me up-to-date on all your interesting little operations.”
“As always, my lord.”
Zsinj gave him a gracious little nod and his image faded to nothingness.
Trigit sighed. Zsinj was much easier to deal with than Ysanne Isard, also known as Iceheart, former head of Imperial Intelligence—now dead at the hands of Rogue Squadron. Unlike Iceheart, Zsinj understood something about the folly of waste—such as murdering subordinates on a whim. But Zsinj’s desire to be up-to-date on every operation, to have his fingers in each new plan and enterprise, was extremely tiresome.
Ah, well. As long as Zsinj remained reasonable and kept Implacable stocked with fuel, weapons, food, and information, Trigit would remain with him. Far better than setting out on the lonely warlord’s road himself.
That is, until he had power and advantages to match Zsinj’s.
“Any more?” said Wedge.
Janson consulted his chrono. “It’s getting late. But we have only two more candidates to review.”