“I’ve disabled both aft cannons. He’s heading back.”
“He opened fire. Do it.”
“Jacen, the ship’s damaged and he’s retreating. I can’t continue the attack.”
“You know the rules of engagement.”
“I won’t do it. It’s a civilian vessel and right now he isn’t presenting a threat-“
“That’s an order.”
“It’s outside the ROE.”
“It’s legitimate. I repeat, take him out.”
“Colonel Solo, I’m refusing that order.”
Jaina cut her comlink and swung back to the picket line. Jacen seethed. She was crazy. Civilian or not, the freighter had opened fire. Retreating or not, it still had functioning cannons. It was a clear threat.
Jacen lined up the icons on his console and sent a spread of five torpedoes into the freighter.
“Jacen, what the-“
That was all Jacen heard from Zekk. A ball of gold light plumed from the starboard side of the freighter’s hull, then another and another, and suddenly half its flank was in fragments and hitting ships alongside. The line flanking Bloodstripe broke and scattered. On his screen, Jacen saw the pinpoint images of small lifeboat ships disgorging from the cruiser to go to the freighter’s aid: half of the ship had blown away.
“Rogue squadron, bang out now.” Resolute’s commander cut in. “We’re opening fire. Get out of there.”
Jacen dropped immediately under Resolute’s arc of fire and headed back to Ocean, picking up Zekk and Jaina as he went. He could feel Jaina’s fury as she trailed him in silence.
Zekk opened the comlink. “Anyone want to tell me what happened back there? Jaina, why did you break off?”
Jacen answered for her.
“Colonel Solo refused a direct order,” he said carefully. It broke his heart, but he had no choice. My sister. I’ve really lost her now. Why won’t she see what has to be done? “She’s now suspended from duty.”
PRESIDENTIAL OFFICES, CORONET, CORELLIA: 1830 HOURS.
“Do take a seat,” said Thrackan Sal-Solo. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon.”
The doors to the office were open, and a couple of Sal-Solo’s staff sat at desks in the adjoining room. Fett perched on the edge of one of the fine brocade chairs and motioned to Han to sit down. Mirta simply stood to one side, arms folded. Sal-Solo didn’t seem to expect to be introduced to Fett’s new associate.
He’d meet him soon enough.
“Did you have second thoughts?” asked Sal-Solo.
“Just seeking clarification,” Fett said. He noted the position of the door that led to the emergency bunker. “Can we discuss this in private?”
“How private?”
“Is this room soundproofed?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut the doors and give your staff the rest of the evening off.”
For a man like Sal-Solo it wasn’t an unusual request. Fett was counting on it; he hadn’t been paid to silence any bystanders. The doors closed, and they were as alone with Sal-Solo as they were ever likely to be.
There was a panel of comlinks on the desk. Fett was pretty sure one of them would be a priority button to summon help. He was also sure that Sal-Solo carried more than one blaster.
Don’t make a hash of this, Solo. Clean shot. I should never have let you tag along, but you’re my ticket to my daughter now.
“Tell me again what you have in mind for Centerpoint.”
His HUD showed nobody in adjoining offices. Beyond two rooms, the penetrating radar became less efficient. Why will I give anything to see Ailyn now after fifty years? Amazing, the power that mortality has over your mind. He rested his hand on his blaster rifle. He always carried it rather than sling it across his shoulder; Sal-Solo seemed unperturbed by it.
Mirta didn’t take her eyes off him. Han was silent but visibly tense. Fett could see it in his shoulders.
“Once Corellian forces breach the blockade, we can resupply the station with technical equipment and reactivate it. We’d hope to position your men inside to stop further sabotage. It’s a huge station to make intruder-proof.”
Okay, watch me carefully…
“Like I said, one million credits per man per month.” Fett counted the seconds. Han twitched.
“Cheaper than an army, I suppose,” Thrackan said at last.
“A hundred Mandalorians is an army,” said Fett.
And then Han leapt from the edge of his seat and slammed across Sal-Solo’s desk, knocking him flat into the wall and upending his chair. Sal-Solo pulled a hold-out blaster from his jacket while they struggled, and Han head-butted him. The blaster went flying.
You moron. You blew it. Han pulled off his helmet with one hand and had his cousin by the throat.