Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [52]
Such as now.
Approaching the door to the warlord’s office, he nodded at the two guards on duty, two handpicked fighting men of Coruscant, and activated one of the many comlinks he carried on his person. This one signaled a very special set of hydraulics he’d had installed in the doors to most of Zsinj’s private quarters and retreats. They opened the door at a fraction of the speed and with almost none of the noise of most door mechanisms. Silently, he stepped inside, waited for the door to slide shut behind him, then stood before his warlord.
Zsinj looked up. He hardly ever jumped anymore. So disappointing. “What is it?” he asked.
“Word from Saffalore.” He set a datapad before the warlord. “Here’s the full report.”
“From Dr. Gast?”
“Not quite.”
Warned by something in Melvar’s tone, Zsinj sat back and laced his hands together over his prominent stomach. “Give me the short version.”
“There was a raid on Binring Biomedical about thirteen hours ago. As far as we can determine, it was by the Wraiths.”
“Were they killed?”
“No.”
“Were any of them killed?”
“We don’t think so. Survivors on the site think some of them were injured.”
Zsinj’s jaw clenched, then he forced himself to relax. “Go on.”
“They killed Captain Netbers.”
Zsinj sighed. “That’s a blow. Netbers was loyal and proficient. Is that it?”
Melvar shook his head. “They had Rogue Squadron with them, apparently flying support. Early reports indicate that Wedge Antilles was back flying with the Rogues, as our man on Mon Remonda suspected, so he was never in any real danger at the Binring site. They blew up the research center and apparently strafed one of the nearby air bases for fun.”
“And what does Doctor Gast have to say for herself?”
“They took her.”
Zsinj went absolutely still. Melvar waited, watching, but the man did not blink for long moments, and Melvar knew this was going to be a bad one.
Zsinj rose, slamming his chair into the wall behind him. “They took her alive?”
“Apparently. One of three stormtroopers who survived the bombing witnessed the Gamorrean pilot capturing her. Her body hasn’t been found.”
Zsinj made an inarticulate noise of anger. He twisted and seized one of the chamber’s decorations, a flagpole bearing a banner in the Raptors’ colors, red and black and yellow, and slammed its base onto the top of the desk, obliterating the datapad. “They took her? She knows all about Chubar! She knows all too much about Minefield!”
Melvar heard the door behind him hiss open. He heard it hiss shut almost instantly. The guards outside must be peeking in, and, seeing that the warlord was in no danger—only the general was—they’d returned to their posts.
Zsinj swung the flagpole laterally, narrowly missing Melvar, and slammed its base into a trophy case full of memorabilia from his many military campaigns. The case bounced off the wall and toppled forward, crashing onto the floor beside Zsinj’s desk.
Zsinj glared at the fallen case as though it were a new enemy. He threw the flagpole aside and, from a hidden pocket at his waist, drew a small but very powerful blaster pistol. He fired at the back of the trophy case once, twice, three times, blasting a crater into the expensive wood with each shot.
The room filled with smoke from the blaster emissions. The door slid open behind Melvar and then shut again.
Zsinj stood, shaking, glaring at the damage he’d done, then tucked the blaster away and sat heavily back in his chair. Melvar let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Well, we can’t have this,” Zsinj said. His voice was raw and sweat beaded his forehead. Sweat was also beginning to stain his white grand admiral’s uniform at his armpits and chest. “Activate our man on Mon Remonda. Tell him to kill Doctor Gast if he sees her. Whether or not she’s there, tell him to kill his primary targets. We’ll need to sacrifice some units as bait for Solo