Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [107]
Janson gave him a bleak look. “This is Coruscant. He’s going to hit Coruscant.”
Wedge shook his head. “That’s what the data tells us if you dig down from the top layer. But I don’t understand some things. Zsinj’s mission will take place soon—otherwise he wouldn’t give us this much information about it. Yet this complement of ships isn’t an exact representation of Coruscant’s defenses—I was just there, and he’s got the strengths wrong. So is he wrong because his intelligence is incomplete, inadequate?”
“That doesn’t sound like him, does it?”
Wedge sighed. “Then there’s the question of what sort of cargo Zsinj is going after. Our task is to protect Zsinj’s forces while they load a cargo ship—why not wait until the goods are already loaded? What does the government of the New Republic store on Coruscant’s space stations that can’t be acquired on the surface, or in transit?”
Janson thought about it. “The Inner Council?”
“What? No. It would be a real coup to capture or kill them, of course. But they hold all their meetings on-planet.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“No, but I have no reason to suspect otherwise. And holding meetings on a space station would be more problematic, less secret, and less secure than doing so on the surface. I think you’re speculating wildly.”
“All right, then, your turn. What’s on space stations that isn’t better found on-planet or between worlds?”
“Well, the stations themselves. Maybe they plan to tow one out to space.”
Janson snorted.
“Big cargo carriers.” Wedge frowned. “You know, scuttlebutt has it that Princess Leia’s big, secret mission involves bringing back additional resources for the fight against Zsinj. If he’s aware of that, if he knows what those resources are, if he knows when they’re coming back to Coruscant—”
“Now you’re speculating wildly.”
“True. Then there are cargo ships.” Wedge frowned as a shadow of a new idea crossed his mind. He stared down at the statistics on the datapad before him. “Wait a second. I have an idea of what he’s after.” He found a scrap of flimsi and a writing instrument and scribbled a very brief note, then folded it several times and handed it to Janson. “Tuck that away. Take it out when we have our answer and it will make my reputation as a military wizard.”
Janson pocketed the note. “You already have that reputation.”
“Well, then, I’ll have two. Now tell Castin to come in here.”
“Uhh, Castin’s, uhh …”
Wedge put his face in his hand. “Right. I’m tired, too. With Castin gone, who’s our best code-slicer and computer handler?”
“Probably Lara Notsil.”
“Get her.”
She was slightly out of breath when she arrived, probably having run the distance from her quarters to Wedge’s office. “Flight Officer Lara Notsil reporting, sir.”
Wedge waved her a casual salute. “No need for all the formality now, Notsil. Tell me something. With what you know of our computers on hand, how good is our ability to translate statistical data of large military forces—their strengths, capabilities, that sort of thing—into the equivalent forces of other cultures? Say I had the statistics for a New Republic strike force and wanted to come up with a Corellian force with exactly the same characteristics?”
Janson looked at him, confused.
Lara considered. “I don’t think our translation efforts would be very good, sir. That calls for specialized programs, and we don’t—” Then she looked startled. “Depending on the forces involved, sir, I think we can do a pretty good job.”
“That’s quite a switch of opinion.”
She smiled. “I forgot. We have X-wing and TIE simulators on base, sir, and they’re already linked. And already set up to analyze ship statistical data and translate into precise strength values of enemies. I can adapt that programming to do what you want. It wouldn’t be too hard.”
Wedge copied the