will interpret all that, we think, as a coming strike on Ciutric, and will defend his capital world appropriately.”
Wedge smiled. “And if Krennel rushes ships from Ciutric to defend Liinade Three, Bel Iblis can always hit Ciutric.”
The Mon Cal Admiral nodded. “When you have to assume your enemy knows your plans, providing him two distasteful alternatives often promotes conservative thinking.”
Even as Ackbar spoke, Wedge knew there was something being left unsaid. It occurred to him that if the New Republic had enough force to be able to hit Liinade III and threaten Ciutric, then it would need to appear to have enough power to hit Ciutric and do exactly what Bel Iblis would be threatening to do. This means Bel Iblis will be working with a fake force at Borleias—skeleton-crewed ships probably operating with droids to simulate a full staff. We’ll be on our own and in trouble if Krennel has gotten any smarter over the years.
Ackbar opened his hands. “So, if you will all please call up the first file, we’ll begin going through the plan step by step and see what holes we need to plug so it does not sink without a trace.”
10
Iella Wessiri sat back in her chair and closed her eyes in spite of the sandpaper feeling of lids sliding down over eyeballs. She rolled her shoulders and let her head droop back a bit. She slowly worked her head to the right and left, loosening the muscles of her neck, then took in a deep breath, held it, and slowly exhaled.
With the next deep breath she caught the scent of hot and strong caf. Her eyes snapped open and she spun her chair toward the doorway. “Wedge?”
Mirax smiled sheepishly and extended a steaming mug toward her. “Sorry to disappoint you, Iella, but I figured you could use this when you called and canceled dinner this evening.”
“Thanks, I can use it.” She accepted the mug from Mirax and inhaled the steam. “Where’d you get this caf? I haven’t smelled anything this strong since … since I left Corellia.”
Mirax stepped in from the doorway and Whistler warbled triumphantly as he rolled into Iella’s office. His head turned in a circle, and he stopped and extended toward her a small bag clutched in his pincer. A tone ran from low to high, and Iella accepted the bag with a gracious bow of her head.
Mirax smiled. “Whistler seems to recall the settings you CorSec folks used on your caf distiller back on Corellia. I don’t allow him to make it that strong at home, but I gather he still brews it that way at the squadron. I found a caf shop that let him play with the controls in return for some exotic blends I managed to get my hands on. The result is in your mug.”
Iella took a sip, then set the mug down on the desk. She opened the bag and peeked inside. “And the pastries, they were your idea, Whistler?”
The droid trumpeted triumphantly.
Mirax sighed. “I tried to convince him that something a bit more substantial would be better for you, but he seems to think all CorSec officers function on strong caf and foods full of fat and sugar and gluten.”
“Well, it couldn’t hurt at the moment.” Iella narrowed her eyes. “Um, how did you get in here, anyway?”
Mirax fished a security datacard from the pocket of her nerf-hide jacket. “General Cracken and I have an understanding. He uses me to keep tabs on my father’s Errant Venture. I pass on rumors that I hear while trading, offer opinions.”
“Cracken doesn’t worry too much when your cargo manifests don’t actually square with what arrives?”
“He knows he can trust me not to do anything harmful, and I did have a little to do with rylca production on Borleias, so it’s an easy détente.” Mirax smiled. “Neither Corran nor my father know of my arrangement with Cracken, and I’d just as soon keep it that way.” She reached out with a foot and tapped Whistler’s barrel body with a toe. “You got that, Whistler?”
The droid warbled emphatically.
Iella raised an
Wedge smiled. “And if Krennel rushes ships from Ciutric to defend Liinade Three, Bel Iblis can always hit Ciutric.”
The Mon Cal Admiral nodded. “When you have to assume your enemy knows your plans, providing him two distasteful alternatives often promotes conservative thinking.”
Even as Ackbar spoke, Wedge knew there was something being left unsaid. It occurred to him that if the New Republic had enough force to be able to hit Liinade III and threaten Ciutric, then it would need to appear to have enough power to hit Ciutric and do exactly what Bel Iblis would be threatening to do. This means Bel Iblis will be working with a fake force at Borleias—skeleton-crewed ships probably operating with droids to simulate a full staff. We’ll be on our own and in trouble if Krennel has gotten any smarter over the years.
Ackbar opened his hands. “So, if you will all please call up the first file, we’ll begin going through the plan step by step and see what holes we need to plug so it does not sink without a trace.”
10
Iella Wessiri sat back in her chair and closed her eyes in spite of the sandpaper feeling of lids sliding down over eyeballs. She rolled her shoulders and let her head droop back a bit. She slowly worked her head to the right and left, loosening the muscles of her neck, then took in a deep breath, held it, and slowly exhaled.
With the next deep breath she caught the scent of hot and strong caf. Her eyes snapped open and she spun her chair toward the doorway. “Wedge?”
Mirax smiled sheepishly and extended a steaming mug toward her. “Sorry to disappoint you, Iella, but I figured you could use this when you called and canceled dinner this evening.”
“Thanks, I can use it.” She accepted the mug from Mirax and inhaled the steam. “Where’d you get this caf? I haven’t smelled anything this strong since … since I left Corellia.”
Mirax stepped in from the doorway and Whistler warbled triumphantly as he rolled into Iella’s office. His head turned in a circle, and he stopped and extended toward her a small bag clutched in his pincer. A tone ran from low to high, and Iella accepted the bag with a gracious bow of her head.
Mirax smiled. “Whistler seems to recall the settings you CorSec folks used on your caf distiller back on Corellia. I don’t allow him to make it that strong at home, but I gather he still brews it that way at the squadron. I found a caf shop that let him play with the controls in return for some exotic blends I managed to get my hands on. The result is in your mug.”
Iella took a sip, then set the mug down on the desk. She opened the bag and peeked inside. “And the pastries, they were your idea, Whistler?”
The droid trumpeted triumphantly.
Mirax sighed. “I tried to convince him that something a bit more substantial would be better for you, but he seems to think all CorSec officers function on strong caf and foods full of fat and sugar and gluten.”
“Well, it couldn’t hurt at the moment.” Iella narrowed her eyes. “Um, how did you get in here, anyway?”
Mirax fished a security datacard from the pocket of her nerf-hide jacket. “General Cracken and I have an understanding. He uses me to keep tabs on my father’s Errant Venture. I pass on rumors that I hear while trading, offer opinions.”
“Cracken doesn’t worry too much when your cargo manifests don’t actually square with what arrives?”
“He knows he can trust me not to do anything harmful, and I did have a little to do with rylca production on Borleias, so it’s an easy détente.” Mirax smiled. “Neither Corran nor my father know of my arrangement with Cracken, and I’d just as soon keep it that way.” She reached out with a foot and tapped Whistler’s barrel body with a toe. “You got that, Whistler?”
The droid warbled emphatically.
Iella raised an
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