Star Wars - X-Wing 8 - Isard's Revenge

by Isard's Revenge (by Michael A Stackpole)

  The lights in the room came slowly up, infusing an orange glow into the wooden strips that formed the walls, floor, and ceiling of the oval room. The woods had been fitted together with such precision and artistry that the growth rings and grain formed exquisite patterns in which the casual observer could easily become lost. Cabinets built into the walls were faced with great slabs of golden brown wood featuring wonderful grain markings into and out of which the wall designs flowed. While everything remained static, the eye was drawn through an intricate tracery of lines that made the room seem alive.

  The desk across from the door had likewise been fashioned of heavily patterned wood and seemed as if it had grown up out of the floor. The back of the chair behind it rose above the head of the person seated in it and matched the wood designs of the wall. It took Wedge a moment to recognize who he was looking at, and then that realization tightened his guts and threatened to drop him to his knees.

  He couldn't remember ever having seen her in the flesh, but her image had been burned into his brain during the years after Endor. She still wore the scarlet uniform that had been her trademark, though her hair had gone completely white and her face and figure had thickened slightly. She was still a handsome woman, but had slipped beyond middle age toward becoming a matron.

  Any thought that she might have softened was banished by her eyes. One, a bright, icy blue, reminded him of the coldest day on Hoth, when ice screamed and cracked. The other, a fiery red, burned into him, searing his spirit. He'd thought her dead at Thyferra and even though the Commenor prisoners had said they'd seen her, he'd refused to believe she lived until he saw her now.

  Wedge's brown eyes narrowed. "General Wedge Antilles reporting."

  Ysanne Isard stood slowly behind her desk. "You know who I am. It is interesting that we have not met before, you and I, having been foes for so long. I expected you to be taller."

  "I expected you to be dead."

  She nodded. "Defiant, I like that. It makes you an interesting enemy and, I trust, a more interesting ally."

  Wedge blinked. "Me, an ally? After what you did with the prisoners on Commenor, leaving them to starve like that?" He turned to Colonel Vessery. "You can take me away from here now."

  Isard raised her hand. "If you will indulge me, General, I will explain a great many things to you. You owe me at least that much, since I sent Colonel Vessery to save you."

  That remark brought Wedge's chin up. "After all you have done, the debt I feel to you for saving us is still very small."

  "Of this I have no doubt." Isard leaned forward on her desk. "After I had taken control of Thyferra and you began your campaign to oust me, I realized that if you succeeded, I wished to rob you of the goal you truly sought: the prisoners from my Lusankya. I decided to scatter them. This was a mission I felt I could entrust to no one-it was one I wanted to handle myself, but I was needed on Thyferra. What I did was activate a clone of myself, lead her to believe she was me, and charge her with the task of scattering the Lusankya prisoners. When she returned to Thyferra with her task complete, I had her killed-or so I thought."

  Isard's face hardened as scorn entered her voice. "Your assault on Thyferra meant the job was not completed and the clone survived. How and why she was not recognized as me, I have no idea, but she believes she truly is me. She spent the time during the Thrawn crisis gathering the Lusankya prisoners back up and now has them ensconced on Ciutric."

  Wedge shook his head. "Explain the prisoners on Commenor."

  "Bait, for a trap." Isard shook her head. "She wanted to lure Rogue Squadron to Distna so you could be ambushed, but she did a poor job of layering her clues into the site. She was trying to be too smart and too clever. Mirax Terrik and Iella Wessiri returned to Commenor and discovered the clues she'd left there, but you were already in the Hegemony and involved in the war against Krennel, so the Lusankya rescue became of secondary importance. She never saw that."

  "But we went to Distna because of the Pulsar Station problem."

  Isard smiled and Wedge decided that her smile was not a pleasant thing to see. "Yes, and Krennel's protestations of innocence sounded genuine because they were. The lab you discovered on Liinade Three was one I had constructed there. I wanted you to go to Distna because I wanted Colonel Vessery to help you defeat Krennel's people. Without rendering that sort of direct aid to you, you never would believe that I could be your ally."

  "I don't believe it now." Wedge's eyes became slits. "You could have sent an embassy to the New Republic if you sought an alliance."

  She snorted a laugh. "They'd no more have believed it than you do, but you already know things that point to my sincerity."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as my ability to build the lab on Liinade Three. That means I have thoroughly compromised Krennel's security. How? My clone is using the procedures and codes I would have used. In this same way I knew she wanted to ambush you at Distna, so I arranged for you to be saved. As far as the New Republic and Krennel are concerned, however, both forces wiped each other out. This means no one knows you are alive, which is something I also desired."

  Wedge thought for a moment. Isard's point about having compromised Krennel's security was right, and she had sent Vessery and his people to spoil the clone's ambush. Granted, Isard got us there, too, with the Pulsar Station decoy, but the clone's clues would have been found and led us there in any event. Isard had put together an elaborate charade that had Rogue Squadron dead, and therefore, she had an ulterior motive in mind.

  "What is it you want, Isard?"

  She sighed heavily and let her head slump forward. "My battle with you, my ouster from Thyferra, and even Thrawn's unsuccessful campaign to reestablish the Empire has shown me that the cause I held dear is dead. This does not mean I like the New Republic or consider it an improvement over the Empire. I just no longer have the will to oppose it. I want peace. I want to be left alone."

  She heaved her torso up and opened her arms. "After escaping Thyferra I made my way to this place, one of many hidden facilities within the Empire. A General Arnothian was in charge here. This facility is capable of producing TIE Defenders, and Arnothian saw himself as a warlord in training. He refused to relinquish control of the station to me, so he was dealt with. I watched events unfold throughout the Thrawn crisis but chose not to intervene. I realized this place could be a base from which I could continue a campaign of terror against the New Republic, but to do so would be to sully the commitment to the Empire made by Colonel Vessery and his men.

  "I realized that for us to be sanctioned by the New Republic, I would have to offer them a grand prize, and offer it in a manner that would not cost them a lot of blood. I decided that prize would be Delak Krennel and his Hegemony. I decided I would put into position the forces that would allow the New Republic to take Ciutric and shatter his power, and I decided Rogue Squadron would be the key to that operation."

  Wedge frowned. "I don't understand."

  "You will." Isard smiled and touched a button on a datapad on her desk. An image of a man with a metal prosthesis covering the right side of his face, replacing that eye, and an artificial right forearm and hand burned to life in the middle of the room. "You will recall your posing as Colonel AntarRoat?"

  A trickle of ice ran through Wedge's guts. "I assumed the Roat identity when slipping onto Coruscant to liberate it."

  "I have taken the liberty of updating Roat's profile to reflect his being in charge of an experimental unit-two full flights-of TIE Defenders. You are in the process of negotiating a deal with Krennel that will bring your force in as part of his troops. You are one of many Imperials offering their services to him. You'll be able to slip into Ciutric and wreak havoc there. What you did on Imperial Center to free it, you can do on Ciutric."

  Wedge ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "You'll give us Krennel to get the New Republic to leave you alone?"

  "I do not expect public rehabilitation, just a quiet retirement." Isard smiled coldly. "As for
why Krennel, you know as well as I do that he defied my orders in the Pestage matter. I also want my clone eliminated. One of me is enough."

  "I heartily concur."

  "I thought you might." Isard opened her hands. "You and your people will begin training in Defenders immediately. We will work up a plan of attack that will involve a New Republic fleet. When the attack is set, you will communicate with the New Republic to let them know when to strike. We can't communicate with them too early because my clone still has some intelligence resources in the New Republic. If there is a leak, the mission will be doomed."

  Wedge nodded, and then looked up. "If we refuse to help you?"

  Isard arched an eyebrow at him. "Refuse?"

  Vessery cleared his throat. "If you refuse, General, and then my men will go into Ciutric in your place. Krennel will fall, but not quite so bloodlessly. He has to." The Imperial pilot rested a hand on Wedge's shoulder. "Despite our differences, you and I are united in the knowledge that Krennel is a scourge on the Hegemony's people. He must be dealt with, and with your help, his disposition will bring other warlords in line."

  Wedge felt a shiver run down his spine. I know I can't trust you, Isard, but I also know that if I don't go along with your plan, you can kill me and my people, and no one will know you're out here until too late. I don't know what your plan is, but I know you have one, and that, for now, is enough.

  He nodded slowly. "I hate to think you and I are of like mind in anything, Isard, but the desire to see Krennel taken down seems to qualify. Rogue Squadron is at your disposal. Let's get started."

  24

  Corran Horn rested a hand on Gavin Darklighter's shoulder, noticing how the dark green of his own flight suit contrasted with the bright orange of Gavin's. He felt the younger man stiffen, so he gave Gavin's shoulder a squeeze and slowly lowered himself to a spot on the concussion missile storage crate. "I hope you don't mind my sitting here, Gavin."

  The younger pilot looked at him with red-rimmed brown eyes. "I'd really rather be alone."

  "I know you would, Gavin, which is why I'm sitting here." Corran's left hand slipped from Gavin's right shoulder and patted the man's knee. "I remember, back when we were first on Coruscant, you came to me to ask me about Asyr and if things could work between you. You wanted some perspective then, and you need some perspective now."

  "No, Corran, what I need now is grieving."

  "I know." The bleak pain in Gavin's voice stabbed deep into Corran's heart and threatened to reopen the wound left there by his own father's death. No, now's not the time for self-pity. "Look, Gavin, there's all kinds of trite things I could tell you. I could tell you that I've been where you are, when my father died. I could tell you the same things that folks told me at that time, that I had to buck up I had to be tough, because that's what my father would have wanted of me. And you and I both know, that's what Asyr would have wanted of you."

  Gavin sniffed and glanced over at him. "You're right. That's pretty trite and doesn't help at all."

  Corran nodded and glanced around the hangar area into which the surviving Rogues had been conducted. The site itself appeared to be vintage Imperial-the Rogues had been in enough captured facilities to know the architectural style. The main difference here was that Imperials were in full force, and three squadrons of TIE Defenders filled the launching racks above the scattered X-wings. The R2 and R5 units milled about together, while the pilots had broken up into small groups, each one dealing with the loss of his comrades and wondering what news General Antilles would bring on his return.

  "I know that, Gavin, which is why I'm going to share something with you that I've not shared with another living being-except Iella. Even Mirax doesn't know this." He took a deep breath and hesitated until Gavin nodded slightly. "You've heard how my father died, but not my mother. In CorSec, given what my father and I were doing for a living, we figured that we were more likely to die than she ever was, but she went first. It was a stupid landspeeder accident. A truck was blocking the other lane, some lum-dumb whipped around it and smashed head-on into her. It busted her up badly, too badly for bacta to help.

  "My father and I arrived at the hospital as fast as we could, and we were allowed to visit her. We'd been told she had no chance; there'd just been too much damage. She knew that, but she lay there in bed just talking to us about what we'd be doing the next week and month. She wasn't regretting the fact that she'd not be there with us, but pretty much letting us know that she would be, in our memories and in our hearts. The whole time she was dying, she just went on living. And when she finally closed her eyes, it came as a surprise to everyone, her included."

  Corran brushed a hand across his face, smearing tears away to nothingness. "Understand this, Gavin, the pain you're feeling right now, it never really goes away. It will always be there, and you can find it whenever you want to, but, in time, the amount it dominates your life will shrink. It will become a small part of the memories you'll have of Asyr, and the good memories will dominate. You can't see that now, and telling you this now doesn't mean much, but you need to hear it to know the sphere of pain you're in isn't inescapable." -

  Gavin rested his head on his hands, with the heels of his palms grinding into his eye sockets. "It was in the squadron that the first person I actually knew died: Lujayne Forge."

  "I remember."

  "And I remember wondering if I could have saved her. I wonder the same thing about Asyr."

  "You're not alone. But let me tell you, Asyr was wondering what she could do to save us. She was magnificent out there, Gavin, flying beyond herself." Corran rubbed his left hand over Gavin's back. "All of us knew we were in a hopeless situation, but she understood it and rejected it. It was as though she stopped being a flesh and blood pilot and became flight and fight and death all rolled into one. We didn't fail her, nor she us, but some obscure rule of the universe broke her ship and grounded her back in reality. She was truly stellar and, after that performance, I don't know that there was any way for her to return to just being mortal."

  Gavin sighed and sat back, raising his face toward the dim ceiling of the cavernous room. "That's it, though, now, isn't it? She's no longer mortal. She joins my cousin Biggs and Lujayne Forge and Wes Janson and Dack and the others on the Rogue Squadron roll of the dead. The Bothans will have another Martyr to celebrate."

  Corran's eyes narrowed. "And you're afraid that they'll take her away from you, right? You're afraid the Asyr you knew will be forgotten as she's memorialized?"

  Gavin's lips were pressed together tightly, his goatee bristling. His larynx bobbed up and down once, and then he nodded, splashing tears down his cheeks. His voice failed him as he first tried to speak. He rubbed his throat, and then nodded. "I think I knew her better than anyone and that, with me, in private moments, she could relax. She didn't have to be a Bothan hero. She didn't have to be a pilot. She could just be herself. When we talked about getting married, adopting kids, she came alive."

  His voice trailed off and Corran sensed a flash of anger like lightning run through Gavin. "What is it, Gavin?"

  He frowned. "She met with Borsk Fey'lya. She didn't tell me what happened, but I think he tried to make trouble for her about adopting. I think she may have fought as well as she did at Distna in the hopes that no one, not Fey'lya, not anyone, could deny a hero of her stature what she wanted. She would have gotten her way, but now she's dead, so the point is moot."

  "Maybe your chance to adopt kids with her is gone, but remember what was behind that whole plan: the fact that you'd make great parents. I'm not going to tell you that you owe it to her to continue on and prove her right, but you can bet the Emperor's Black Bones that I'd rather see you teaching a child right from wrong than any of a billion ex-Imp bureaucrats."

  "Maybe it's a plan for the future." Gavin shook his head slowly. "Admitting there's a future at all is the tough part right now. I don't really care and I hurt enough that if there isn't one, it's all the same to me."

&nbs
p; A fearful bleating from Whistler and the droid's sudden appearance as he raced around from behind Corran stopped the pilot's response to his friend. "What's the matter?"

  Clattering after the droid came an Imperial tech with a restraining bolt and a welding rod. "Gotta put a restraining bolt on him. All droids get them."

  Corran shot to his feet. "I can tell you where you can affix that restraining bolt, Huttpuss-for-brains."

  The tech raised a hand and two armor-clad stormtroopers came jogging over, blasters in hand. "You want to get out of the way, Captain Horn."

  "You've no idea what I want." Corran dropped a hand to the lightsaber hanging at his left hip. "You're putting a restraining bolt on Whistler over my dead body."

  The tech raised an eyebrow. "Over your stunned body, perhaps. I have my orders."

  "Back off, Captain Horn." Wedge Antilles entered the hangar area and headed toward the confrontation, drawing the rest of the squadron in his wake. "Let's not make things more complicated than they need to be."