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“Shall I see to that while I’m there?”

Zsinj laughed. “I meant an actual retirement, Zurel. He goes away to live in a cottage somewhere and writes his memoirs.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re just being your usual efficient self, I know.” Zsinj sobered. His hands moved outside the range of the sensor on him. “I’m transmitting your instructions. Do try to get along with Apwar.”

“I’m over my initial anger, my lord. And anxious to strike back at those who actually deserve it.”

“Good. Until later.” The warlord faded from view.

By the time Face made his way back to the auxiliary bridge, the comm officer had accessed New Republic records via the HoloNet and had the data they needed. Members of the bridge crew and Wraith pilots were clustered around him as the man spoke. “Pakkerd Light Transport,” he said. “Before the death of the Emperor, it was a division of Sienar Fleet Systems that built TIE fighters and Interceptors. After the Emperor died, Sienar sold it off and now it builds a ‘complete line of repulsorlift utility vehicles.’ ”

Face snorted. “Who wants to bet there are still assembly lines for fighters?”

He had no takers. Wedge said, “If Zsinj thinks the plant can throw a couple of squadrons of fighters at us, we ought to have a little help on the ground to keep it from happening. Like Lieutenant Page’s commandos.”

“I’ll second that,” Face said.

The comm officer continued. “Owner, Oan Pakkerd. Probably another false Zsinj identity. Chief officer, Vanter Raffin. Head of security, Hola Paskalian. I’d say that makes it a match.”

Wedge stepped away from the gathered officers. “Our orders from Zsinj are to break off our mission here on Obinipor and head with all due speed—but by an extremely simple and easy-to-follow route—to Ession. Can you handle that, Captain Tabanne?”

She gave him a look made up of amusement and scorn. “I hope that was a rhetorical question, Commander.”

“We have broadcast codes that will get us past Ession system’s security forces. Implacable will join us on Ession’s primary moon for the ambush.” Wedge smiled grimly. “Then we drop the heavy end of the hammer on them.”

Donos, who had been studying the screenful of data on Pakkerd Light Transport, straightened and turned toward Wedge. Face was startled by the deadly intensity in the pilot’s eyes. “This time he doesn’t get away,” Donos said. “Even if I have to fly my snubfighter up and down his corridors looking for him.”

Two days later Donos merely needed to look out a viewport to see the ship of the man he wanted to kill.

Night Caller rested on the surface of Ession’s largest satellite, a silvery rock covered in impact craters and dust.

Floating a few hundred meters directly above them, sustained by tireless repulsorlift engines, was the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Implacable.

Not far away, a communications relay dish was set up atop a mountain. This was a permanent array, a commercial dish designed to relay transmissions and sensors from the planet’s surface to ships behind the moon. But Kell had come up with an idea and Face, playing Captain Darillian, had convinced Admiral Trigit of its virtue—the idea that the dish was the key to their ability to hide from Rogue Squadron and yet remain instantly responsive.

“What we do,” Face had said, “is rig the dish to throw off emissions like a failing transponder. Emissions strong enough to conceal the standard engine emissions from our two ships. The planetary communications can issue routine apologies for the problem along with a promise that it will be repaired soon. We can be right here, ready to launch, and Rogue Squadron will be unaware of us—unless they come in close for a visual sensor look at us.”

“At which point we have them anyway,” Trigit had agreed. “A good plan.”

So they had implemented it by the simple expedient of telling the Pakkerd Light Transport head Vanter Raffin to make it so. A short negotiation and a bribe of a planetary government official later, the two ships had their electronic concealment in place.