Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [103]
“They’re progressing from world to world in your territories based on a number of factors. The degree to which a world is known outside the borders you control. Estimated planetary production that can be applied to your fleet funding. Proximity to New Republic space so they can make quick escapes. Comparative morale value of hitting specific targets. Suspected presence of pro-Rebel factions.”
“I know that. Unfortunately, considering how many worlds I control, that still doesn’t give us a pattern.”
“Yes, it does. There’s one more factor. Former trade relations, direct or indirect, with the planet Alderaan.”
Zsinj rocked back on his heels. “That would make sense.”
“Yes, sir. On such worlds, there’s a higher likelihood that there will be people who sympathize with Princess Leia and the other Alderaanians who were off-world when the first Death Star destroyed that planet. Also, in my opinion, they’re more likely to be planets that Princess Leia will have heard of, thereby increasing her recognition of Solo’s deeds when he tells her of them.”
“Very good, very good.” Zsinj’s eyes lost focus as he considered Lara’s words. “What does that suggest Solo’s next target will be?”
“I give a very high probability to Comkin Five, and just slightly less high a likelihood to the Vahaba Asteroid Belt.” Comkin was a Zsinj-controlled world known for its candies and medicines—two industries inextricably tied together on that world—and Vahaba was known not only for its asteroid-mining operations but for the skill of its metal fabricators. She knew a little about Vahaba; it was in a well-populated cluster of stars, not far from Halmad, where the Wraiths had acted as pirates not long ago.
“Well. Interesting speculation. Thank you, Lieutenant.” Still distracted, Zsinj turned to depart the bridge, not even seeing Lara’s salute.
General Melvar caught up with Zsinj in the corridor just outside the bridge. “Well?”
“There’s a proper query to give a superior officer. It’s not ‘Well?’ Something more like, ‘Sir, a moment of your time, I wished to inquire about your recent interview with the subject under observation.’ ”
Melvar said, “I can phrase all such requests so as to waste a maximum amount of your time, of course.”
Zsinj smiled. “Never mind.” He told him of Lara’s speculations, then said, “What I don’t know is whether she came to this conclusion honestly, or whether she was privy to some of their mission profile before she left Mon Remonda and is now presenting it as a sudden realization on her part.”
“Either way, the information is valuable … so long as she’s not leading us into a trap.”
“We’ll find out. Dispatch half the ready fleet to lie in wait at Vahaba, and we’ll take the other half personally to Comkin.”
• • •
Donos lay waiting on the craft he had fabricated from rubbish.
Portions of the thing had begun their existence as the gravitational unit in a TIE fighter simulator. When coordinated with the simulator’s computer, they would exert artificial gravity around the pilot, drawing him left, right, down, up, all in artful mimicry of the sort of g-forces the pilot would experience in sharp turns and other maneuvers.
But the simulator had grown old, had become too unreliable even for recreational use, and it had been dragged to a corridor outside a refuse chamber. There Donos, doing a tour of the unfrequented portions of Mon Remonda, a habit that had recently become part of his regular routine, had found it.
He’d liberated still-functioning portions of the gravitational unit. He’d installed computer gear to ensure that the unit would exert appropriate force downward even when the unit was tilting, would detect obstacles, would exert repulsorlift power against obstacles. To this he had added a padded layer that was part of the simulator’s pilot’s couch and a battery to supply power.
Now, in one of the ship’s lonely cargo