Tycho’s tone was kind, but his words pressed her on implacably. “And Colonel Solo?”
“Everyone’s afraid of him. Everyone. Nobody talks about him. Have you ever heard of that? Someone whose own people never talk about him?”
“Once or twice. A long time ago.” Tycho sighed. “Syal, do you want out?”
Jolted and angered by his words, she sat upright and glared at him. “I don’t want to run. I just want it to make sense.”
“I’m not asking you to run, or to dishonor your uniform. I’m asking, all else being equal, do you want out?”
“No. I want to be doing something I think will help bring the war to an end. My captain’s insignia. … it’s not worth the metal it’s stamped from without that. I’m not going to dishonor my uniform. … but the way things are going, I can’t seem to bring honor to it. Do you know what I mean?”
“You’re talking to a man who used to fly for Emperor Palpatine. Palpatine, whose subordinates never talked about him.”
She wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry, Tycho. I forgot.”
“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” He studied her. “You’ll get new orders in a day or two. They’ll look awful. They’ll look like something no commander with any sense would do to an ace like you. Don’t protest, don’t make waves. Just go where they tell you. I’ll be there.”
“Yes, General.”
“Can you get in touch with your father?”
She nodded. “I haven’t. Technically, it would be treason. But I can.”
“It’s not treason if a commanding officer orders you to do so.”
“True.”
“I so order.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t know how much time it will take.”
“My means of reaching him are bound to be just as slow and uncertain. That’s why I’m doubling my chances by asking for your help.” He gave her his gentle smile again, his Uncle Tycho smile. “So. Official talk is over. Is there anywhere around here to get a good cup of caf? Not the paint remover they serve around the hangar?”
“My gunner, Zueb Zan, brews up a good one.”
“Lead the way.”
CORELLIA, CORONET, COMMAND BUNKER
The hologram at the center of the darkened chamber showed a lean man in a dark officer’s uniform, that of a Confederation general. His face was scarred, his body rigid.
And he was only a double hand span over a meter tall, as Prime Minister Koyan had instructed his technical team to keep the hologram to a “manageable size.”
The reduction in stature did not affect the general’s voice, however. Rich with anger, it resonated, vibrating Koyan’s sternum, echoing off the chamber walls. “Centerpoint Station is a Confederation resource. Utilizing it without coordinating with my office constitutes dereliction of duty-and more important, gross incompetence.”
“It’s a Corellian resource, General Phennir. We chose to use it in an effort to end the war precipitously.” Koyan shrugged. “And we don’t know that it hasn’t had that effect. Jacen Solo, one of their two Chiefs of State, is dead. His partner, Admiral Niathal, is more reasonable than he was.”
“Our stealth craft in the Coruscant system report the Anakin Solo reaching planetary orbit. How do you conclude that Solo is dead?”
Koyan felt his stomach sink, as though he’d unwittingly stepped onto a turbolift and it had suddenly plummeted forty stories. He tried to keep his dismay from his face. “Our starfighters reported all Alliance capital ships in the engagement zone destroyed.”
“The Anakin Solo had apparently withdrawn from the engagement zone by the time the weapon was fired. So in your effort to eliminate the forces besieging Corellia, and one, only one, of the Alliance’s important strategists, you’ve given away the secret of the station’s functionality, tipped the balance of power by a few percentage points, and otherwise accomplished nothing. Whereas if you’d worked with me and my office, we could have put together a much more telling stroke. One that genuinely would have turned the tide of the war.”
Koyan shook his head. “We were lucky to have rooted out all spies who might have gotten the information about the station’s repairs to the GA. Add your people to the mix … it becomes too complex to keep secrets.”
“I don’t say this often, Koyan, but I’ll say it now. You’re an idiot.”
“Which makes you an even more exceptional idiot, for saying it to the man with the most destructive weapon ever created.”
“As you have the most destructive weapon ever created, you are clearly capable of defending the Corellian system without aid from the rest of the Confederation. No need for synchronized fleet movements. For sharing intelligence with the other worlds. For food, medicines, supplies.”