The Bothan looked to Mon Mothma. “If we reveal this information, we could start a panic.”
“Councilor Fey’lya has a point.”
“Revealing the nature of the mission to those who will fight the thing will start news leaking that could start a panic. Coming from the government, this becomes a security advisory that ought to generate support for what we’re doing against Krennel.” Wedge straightened up. “It’s important that we get this Pulsar Station now, while it can’t do much more than run, and explanations about the situation should make that clear.”
Mon Mothma nodded slowly. “This is an intriguing strategy you suggest, General Antilles. The Council shall consider it. You’ll likely be on station again in the Hegemony before you learn of our decision.”
“I understand, Chief Councilor Mothma.” Wedge gave her a smile. “As long as the information is going to get out, I think we should make it work for us. Make Krennel’s allies and the station’s people uneasy. It might even get us the station without a shot being fired.”
Borsk Fey’lya barked a short laugh. “Do you actually believe that, General?”
Wedge shrugged. “No, but I hope it all the same.”
Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel slowly extended his mechanical index finger, letting it uncurl from his fist, and pointed it at Ysanne Isard as she entered his office. “This is your doing, is it not?”
Isard graced him with the hint of a smile. “I admire the way you keep your rage from your voice. A good skill to have.” She turned away from him and looked at the holo-projector unit in the corner of the room. “As for
that
, no, I had nothing to do with it.”
Krennel shifted his finger to point at the projector, then brought his thumb up to hit one of the buttons on his index finger. The projector’s volume came up as General Cracken moved into the center of the image. He smiled briefly as the holocam pulled back to reveal a smaller holoprojector and a Death Star image behind him. Bitter bile bubbled up into the back of Krennel’s throat as Cracken began to speak.
“One month ago, as New Republic forces liberated the world of Liinade Three, we uncovered a secret research and development base in which scientists were engaged in studies devoted to creating the next generation of weapons based on Death Star technology …”
Isard turned back and waved her left hand dismissively at Krennel. “You may shut it off. I’ve seen it too many times in the last day. I know his boring monologue by heart.”
Krennel’s chin came up. “Ah, you were so entranced by all this that you could not come when I summoned you after my first viewing of this message?”
“Hardly.” She shrugged effortlessly and remained standing in the center of his office as if she owned it. “I was not on Ciutric. I traveled away from here to obtain reports from agents about this lab the New Republic
says
it found.”
The Prince-Admiral heard something in her voice that sounded like a mixture of boredom and disgust. “ ‘
Says
it found’? You don’t believe the report?”
“You do? You believe this transparent and pathetic charade?” Isard’s eyes narrowed with disbelief. “Please, Prince-Admiral, do not allow yourself to sink in my estimation. This is an obvious sham, meant to take in those who are a neuron shy of being able to form a synapse.”
Krennel pounded his metal fist against his desk. “It’s not a matter of belief. I
know
I had no such lab and no such project under way.”
She nodded, slowly crossing her arms over her chest. “I know. You could not have hidden such a thing away from me.”
The Prince-Admiral leaned forward, his teeth set in a feral grin. “But you, Ysanne Isard,
you
could conceal such
a base from me, couldn’t you? You could carry on such researches, couldn’t you?”
“Indeed, Prince-Admiral, I could, but the New Republic’s analysis shows I did not. Certainly, I could have put that lab in place, moved those people in, covered the tracks so you couldn’t find them. That would be child’s play, really—indeed, such projects
were
my childhood amusements.” Her eyes focused distantly and she chuckled for a moment. “That’s not what you wanted to hear.”
Krennel sat back in his chair. She was right, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was also what he expected out of her. He had assumed from the beginning she would have any number of little projects going on that he would not know about. His only control over her activities came through the resources he allotted to her. Her budgets, while not tiny, certainly were not overly generous. He expected that she supplemented what he gave her from other sources, but even doubling or tripling her funds would not allow for huge projects.
He smiled. “Ah, I see your point. The New Republic says this base was involved in researches, which you could have financed, but the construction would be beyond your reach.” He held a hand up to forestall her protest. “Or, rather, if you had such resources, you would not have allied yourself with me.”
Isard gave him a respectful nod. “Your Academy education does you proud. This report by the New Republic is clearly a hoax designed to provide them the moral high ground in its struggle with you. Your championing of freedom and personal choice, as well as our painting Pestage as an Imperial butcher on a scale that cried out for his elimination, had pretty well eroded support for their war against you. Their desperation shows in their use of this tactic.”
“So there is no evidence for this lab?”
“There is a hole in the ground where they indicate there should be one, yes. It’s gutted, with all useful material long since gone. How long it was there, none of my agents can estimate. The place has been there for a long time, but
any refits were fairly recent. One agent remembers having gone fishing in that area two years ago and he saw nothing. None of your resources were used in guarding it and no traces of transactions regarding it can be found in local records.”
“Were they sliced out?”
Isard blinked her eyes in an uncharacteristic way that Krennel took as a sign of confusion. “It
is
conceivable that they were, but a completely successful codeslice job leaves exactly the same trace as no slice job at all. I suppose you could conclude the evidence on this point is inconclusive or incomplete.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“No. I think this is all a put-up job by the New Republic to get at you.” Isard began to pace. “We will have to fight this, of course.”
“I have a more immediate concern, which is fighting the New Republic’s armed forces.”
Isard’s features sharpened and a razor’s edge entered her voice. “Be aware of one thing and never forget it, Prince-Admiral: This war against you is a
political
war. They have forged this moral imperative to get at you because they do not have the belly to exert the force they should. Perhaps they cannot—perhaps Thrawn’s assault hurt them more than we can imagine. They are taking things gradually because slow is the only speed they can hit. Our counterassault will involve three steps that will cause them to seriously re-evaluate their chosen course.”
“Three steps?” Krennel opened his metal hand and ran his fingers across the indentation he’d made when he pounded his fist into the desk. “And they are?”
“First, you will issue a statement concerning this charge against you. You will be distraught and angry. Do you remember Wynt Kepporra?”
Krennel closed his eyes for a second and saw the face of an eager young man, head shaved, blue eyes bright, in a cadet’s uniform from the Imperial Academy. “He was in my
class from Prefsbelt Four. We were in the same company because our last names began with the same letter. I recall him, vaguely.”
“Well, now he was your best friend there. He was from Alderaan—this is true—and died when the planet was destroyed. He was home on leave, visiting his family. His death hurt you terribly, so much so that you volunteered for service in the Unknown Regions. Later you reconsidered and returned to try to exert influence to make sure there would be no more Alderaans. For the New Republic to suggest you would have anything to do with a project that would re-create the weapon that destroyed your friend, well, those are tactics that are painfully Imperial in nature.”
The Prince-Admiral pursed his lips, then nodded. “I can deliver that message.”
“And shed a tear?”
“I was a fighter at the Academy, not in the Thespian Union like Kepporra.”
“No matter, we will slice in suitably altered material.” Isard turned quickly and paced back the way she had come. “The second thing we will do is release a series of files that will show that you do not have the resources in the Hegemony to build such a project. One of them, the Corvis Minor file, will have been tampered with.”
Krennel smiled. “Ah, yes, your little trap for Rogue Squadron. Perhaps this new bait will be more to their liking.”
“Indeed, I hope so. When they are gone, of course, the New Republic will hit Corvis Minor rather hard. At that point, the third step goes into play. You will attack Liinade Three, hammering their garrison forces. We will insert insurgents who will undertake a covert war against the New Republic forces and, if we are fortunate, will inspire a popular uprising that will force them to devote more troops to holding the place than they ever intended.”
“Their moral justification is undercut, a storied unit is dead, and I show I have steel to back the political integrity
of my realm.” Krennel slowly nodded. “It could work. It
must
work.”
Isard smiled very coldly. “It
will
work. And once you’ve shown the galaxy that it is possible to oppose the New Republic, you will be seen as the Emperor’s rightful heir. At that point we will both attain what we most desire.”
17
Though Gavin Darklighter’s eyes burned with fatigue, the image of Delak Krennel coming in over the recreation room’s holoprojector held his attention and kept him awake. The projector rendered Krennel three-fourths his real height, but because Gavin was seated on a couch next to Asyr, he had to look up at the man’s image. Krennel had abandoned a military uniform and instead had adopted well-made civilian clothes, but stayed away from the robes long associated with the Emperor’s intimates.
“So now I am faced with the onerous task of rebutting the charges Mon Mothma and the New Republic have made against me. To many of you it would be inconceivable that such researches were taking place on a world under my control without my knowledge of it.” Krennel’s expression remained open, his eyes guileless. “I concur, and I tell you that I had no knowledge of these researches. I would point out that the New Republic has offered no proof that I knew of them and, in fact, has offered no proof that anyone knew of these researches
prior
to the New Republic’s conquest of Liinade Three.”
Gavin frowned. “What reason in the galaxy would the
New Republic have for faking a lab and accusing you of doing Death Star research?”
The other pilots in the rec center nodded in agreement with Gavin’s question.
Hobbie laughed. “Not like we didn’t have better things to do when pacifying the planet.”
“It wasn’t that hard, Hobbie.” Myn Donos stretched his arms and rolled his wrists around. “I mean, we did have some spare time—an hour or two—in which to plan and execute such deception.”
Krennel’s flesh and blood hand rose innocently. “In suggesting the New Republic fabricated this evidence against me, I would be as remiss as they are if I did not offer you proof of their perfidy. Why would they want to discredit me so? By accusing me of Sate Pestage’s murder they’ve already provided themselves with as much justification as they needed to launch an invasion of my Hegemony. These charges against me serve only to unite the New Republic by making the Emperor’s ghost haunt my activities—a New Republic that apparently was not united behind the attack in the first place. In fact, there was much more division in the New Republic than anyone could have imagined, and that very division is what prompted this move.”
Krennel’s chin came up. “In keeping with my pledge to provide land and shelter and a future to any beleaguered population within the galaxy, I have been involved in negotiations with the leadership of the Alderaanian refugee population. I was prepared to offer them Liinade Three’s southern continent—one known for its parallels to Alderaan—as a haven. By fabricating evidence implicating me in furthering the sort of researches that resulted in Alderaan’s tragic destruction, the New Republic has scuttled this effort that would have provided peace for the peoples of Alderaan, and for the peoples of the Hegemony.”
Gavin glanced over at Tycho Celchu and watched the other pilot’s arms cross tightly over his chest. “Colonel, is what he’s saying true?”
Tycho shook his head slowly, as if barely registering the question. “I don’t know. I don’t pay much attention to the
Alderaanian refugee groups and they leave me alone for the most part. They’d see me as linked to the New Republic anyway, so if they were negotiating with Krennel, telling me about it would interfere with their plans.”
Krennel bowed his head for a moment. “What pains me the most about the New Republic’s tactics is that Mon Mothma has accused me of perpetuating the sort of terror weapons that destroyed Alderaan. She has painted me as an inhuman monster in doing so and has suggested that those who forget the horror of Alderaan will again allow such atrocities to be committed.
“The plain fact of the matter is that I have
not
forgotten the lessons of Alderaan. Captain Wynt Kepporra was from Alderaan and went to the Imperial Academy at Prefsbelt Four at the same time I did. We were friends, good and close friends. He had returned to Alderaan to see his family and was there when Grand Moff Tarkin …”
Krennel’s voice failed him and he brushed away a tear with his left hand. He set his face again, then nodded and continued. “Wynt was on Alderaan when it was destroyed. I’ve been to Alderaan. I’ve been to the Graveyard and I’ve left my offerings to him and his memory. It was in his name that I chose to negotiate with the Alderaanian refugees. It was in his memory that I sought a suitable world to give them. Now, to be accused of such cruel duplicity as to be negotiating with them on one hand and scheming to create a Death Star on the other, well, the Emperor was never so vicious in dealing with his enemies.”