Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [74]
“Right, but this is just a recon run. We’re not being asked to take the thing out, just to see if it’s there.”
“And if Janson’s prediction is correct, that mission will be next.”
“And when was Janson ever right with one of his predictions?”
“Well, I can’t argue with you on that point.” Wedge hit a couple more keys on his datapad and the numbers hovering in the air collapsed in on themselves. “There we go, that’s it, I’ve just sent Command confirmation of our orders and mission specs. Unless we uncover some serious problems in future sims, we’re locked in. We pull a quick swing through Corvis Minor, get out again, and await orders from our masters.”
Tycho stood and stretched. “Back to the simulators, then?”
“Yeah. That worst-case scenario, I want to run it again.” Wedge nodded solemnly. “I want to run it until it becomes Krennel’s worst case, not ours.”
The order confirmation memo that Wedge fed into the Rogues’ computer on Liinade III was shoved through an encryption program and then dropped into the queue for routing through the HoloNet. Once into the HoloNet, the message traveled all but instantaneously to its desired destination, then was decoded and sent on to Admiral Ackbar.
During that process, as the message entered the queue and as it worked its way through the computer network on Coruscant, copies of it were created and appended to other information transmissions. They shot off through the Holo-Net to a different destination where the masking messages were discarded and the Rogues’ message was decoded, compared to the New Republic’s decoded version, and transmitted to a holoprojector for display.
Shrouded by the shadows of her sanctum, Ysanne Isard sat back and steepled her fingers as she reread the simple text message glowing green in the air above her holoprojector. “ ‘Corvis Minor, the moon Distna, 2100 hours local, two days time.’ Splendid, better than I could have hoped. Now I have Rogue Squadron exactly where I want them.”
20
Mirax waited at the base of the shuttle’s gangway and gave Baz Korral a warm hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. Getting us out of that bind, and finding me that deal on those Alderaanian statuettes. They’re exquisite. If you find more, I have a number of clients who will take them off your hands.”
“I’ll see what I can do to get more.” Korral smiled broadly, then looked past her. “Booster, you look more fit than ever. Running this ship must agree with you.”
Mirax’s father, who towered over Korral and out-massed him by being fit rather than fat, boomed a hearty laugh. His left eye, a mechanical replacement, burned red, while his brown eye reflected his joy at welcoming the shuttle to the Errant Venture. “The profit margin agrees with me, though the overhead does not. Good to see you again, Baz; and you, Iella.”
He held his arms wide open for Mirax, but she poked a finger into his breastbone. “I don’t think I’m talking to you, Father.”
Booster winced. “That formal, and that tone? What did I do?”
Mirax narrowed her brown eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “You had Baz watching us, that’s what.”
Her father looked confused for a moment. “But having the Verpine watch you and report on what was happening saved you from being taken away and killed.”
Iella shook her head. “Booster, just leave it alone.”
“No, just wait a minute there, Iella. Mirax is my daughter and I feel some responsibility for her safety.”
Mirax looked at Iella. “He’s following the script, isn’t he?”
Booster’s head came up and his eyes slitted. “Script? You two discussed how this chat would go?”
Iella nodded and tried to pull Booster away, deeper into the Imperial Star Destroyer’s aft docking space. “We did, and you’re following it