by James Luceno
Wedge took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Have you told anyone else about the security escorts?”
“No, I …”
“Lieutenant, I want you to understand two things: First, I have the utmost trust and confidence in Captain Celchu. I have no reservations—none—about him, his service, his skills, or his commitment to the Alliance. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Second, the matter to which you allude is a private one, concerning Captain Celchu alone. Because of it he has agreed to have limitations placed upon himself. Discussion of it is up to him, but both he and I believe bringing the issue up will only serve as a distraction to the squadron.”
As if not knowing will not distract me. “Does this mean I can’t ask him about it?”
Wedge folded his arms across his chest. “Corran, you were a law enforcement officer, so suspicion comes easily to you and trust does not. Ask yourself this question—if you could trust him to help shoot those two Interceptors, don’t you think you can trust him all the way around? He didn’t have to save you, but he did, knowing full well he was as dead as you were if the Interceptors turned on him.”
“I see your point, sir.” Corran nodded slowly. “Doesn’t mean I may not ask, unless you order me not to, but I won’t tell anyone else about it. And if the Captain refuses to answer my questions, I’ll have to let it go, I guess. He saved my life. I owe him that much at least.”
“Good.”
“One more thing, sir.”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Corran looked back toward the Pulsar Skate. “Back there you mentioned that Corellian Security never caught the pirates who destroyed the Gus Treta station and killed your parents. My father got that case and worked hard on it. He didn’t give up, he just didn’t have your connections on the other side of the law.” He swallowed hard. “I think, if my father had known about Booster Terrik helping you find them, he’d have cut him some slack and Booster wouldn’t have done time in the spice mines.”
Wedge reached out and slapped Corran lightly on the shoulder. “Booster clearly wasn’t a Jedi, nor was he Sithspawn, and the time on Kessel got him out of the business. In a more candid moment, Mirax will probably admit the five years he spent in the dark was good for her father.”
“I doubt she and I will share many candid moments, sir.”
“Really? I think you two would get along quite well together.”
“Our fathers openly hated each other, sir. Not the best foundation for a lasting friendship.” Corran shook his head. “Besides, she’s your friend …”
“But just a friend. More like a sister, since she stayed with us when her father was on dangerous runs.”
Like a “sister” to the commanding officer, now there’s incentive to get to know her. Corran smiled. “I’ll take that under advisement, sir.”
“Do that, Lieutenant. Having friends never hurts.”
“Sir, sir!”
Both men looked up as Emtrey materialized out of the Talasean fog. His dark color on this dim world—I don’t envy the Commander trying to avoid dealing with the droid here.
Wedge looked over at Corran and in an instant Corran knew they had been thinking the same thing. “Emtrey, good, I’ll leave you to discuss the condition of his X-wing with Lieutenant Horn. Find me after that.” Corran read an “if you can” in Wedge’s smile as the leader of Rogue Squadron turned and walked away.
“As you wish, sir.” The droid aborted a salute, then shuffled his feet around to face Corran. “About your X-wing. Sir, the damage is not that extensive.”
“What about Whistler?”
“Ah, your R2 unit.” The droid canted his clamshell head to the side ever so slightly. “Your Whistler will be fine. He shut himself down before the ion blast could do it—this by virtue of the near miss. I must say, sir, that I thought …”
“Yes, Emtrey, I appreciate that, but he’ll be fine?”
“I should think so, sir, though it was a near thing.”
“Near thing?” Corran asked, instantly regretting his invitation to Emtrey to explain.
“Well, sir, a power coupling was negatively polarized, precluding an auto-restart. Many would consider this a minor problem. The coupling will have to undergo thermo-reconditioning, but we have the facilities for that here since the colonists used to use agrodroids and this world has some fierce thunderstorms in the rainy season.”
“Fascinating, really, Emtrey.” Corran smiled easily. “You should ask Commander Antilles to let you brief the squadron on the climatology of this world.” Use me to escape the droid, will you? “Demand it, really.”
“Demand? Oh, my.”
“Insist absolutely. Fifteen or twenty minutes of reasoning with him should convince him of its necessity.” Corran nodded solemnly. “Now, about my X-wing. I blew a phi-inverted lateral stabilizer.”
“That is correct, sir.” Emtrey handed Corran a datapad. “I have downloaded the requisition forms for the part into this datapad. If you will fill them out, along with an incident report, I’ll get Captain Celchu to review the forms and get Commander Antilles to sign off on them. We’ll relay the information back to General Salm. We should have the part in a month or two at the most.”
Corran’s jaw dropped. “A month or two?”
“Provided they have the part and you don’t get pushed back in the priority list.”
“Priority list?”
“Yes, sir. You brought your X-wing with you and have never formally signed it over to the Alliance. To prevent individuals from using the Alliance as a maintenance depot, regulation 119432, subsection 5, paragraph 3 states ‘Non-Alliance craft that are allied with or working under the command of an Alliance leader will be provided with parts and maintenance at the discretion of the commanding officer and/or the senior officer in charge of parts and supply for said craft. If said craft are damaged in any actions that were not planned or sanctioned in advance (see Sec. 12, para 7 for a list of exceptions), all damage is considered non-Alliance related and to be repaired only after authorized repairs to sanction-action-damaged craft have been completed.’ Now the exceptions …”
“Hold it, Emtrey.” Corran massaged his temples. “Is this the only way to get a new stabilizer?”
“Sir, I am conversant in the regulations of over six million different military and paramilitary organizations and there is nothing that …”
The pilot rapped a knuckle against the droid’s black breastplate and that stopped the litany. “Emtrey, there have to be more phi-inverted lateral stabilizers in existence than we have in all the Alliance ships and stores. Z-95 Headhunters and Incom T-47 Airspeeders both use the part. There’s probably a wrecked T-47 out here somewhere, in fact.”
“There might be, sir.” The droid rotated his head around in a circle to scan the whole area. “I’ll prepare the forms requesting a general survey of the local sector.”
Dropping the datapad, Corran reached out and grabbed the droid’s head in both hands. He pulled Emtrey’s facial opening toward him. “You’re missing my point, Emtrey. Forms and requests will take time. Without that part, I can’t fly. If I can’t fly, I’ll be stuck in this fog and on the ground and that will make life miserable for me and I don’t want that. There are parts to be had …”
“And regulations to be observed.”
“Regulations be damned!”
The droid pulled back a step and the condensation on his head let him slip away. “Sir, of all the members of Rogue Squadron, I would have thought you would appreciate adherence to regulations!”
Corran sighed. “Regulations have their place, but not when they hurt. Can’t you just scrounge the part or something?”
The droid froze in position, the flashing light in his eyes being the only indication he was still working. The pilot luxuriated in the cessation of the droid’s chatter, but it went on far longer than he’d heard before in the droid’s presence. The eye-flashes became asynchronous, and this worried C
orran a bit.
“Emtrey?”
The droid’s eyes went dark for a moment, then his limbs and head jerked as if he had been struck by lightning.
“Emtrey?”
The eyes lit up again and Corran would have sworn they were a bit brighter. “Scrounging protocol engaged, sir.” The droid bent down and smoothly retrieved the datapad. He glanced at the datapad, then shook his head. “I’ll shoot a requisition up through channels, but I think I can find you something sooner than anything we get from Command. You’re a pilot, and my job is to keep you flying. Consider it done.”
Even the voice sounded different to Corran. “Emtrey, are you all right? Is the moisture getting to you?”
“I’m fine, sir. The moisture is no problem.” One eye-light flashed on and off. “Touch of a virus, maybe, but nothing to worry about.”
Did that droid just wink at me? “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.” The droid saluted smartly. “If you have nothing further, sir, I’ll get on this right away. And I’ll have your gear sent around to your billet, sir.”
“Thank you, Emtrey.” Corran returned the salute. “Dismissed.”
The droid turned sharply on his heel and walked away. Corran stared after him, then shivered.
“Ooryl did not think it was so cold here.”
Corran spun and saw the grey-green-colored Gand standing behind him. Another who blends in with this fog. “Not cold, Ooryl, just fatigue. It’s been a long day, full of surprises.”
“Qrygg wanted to apologize for abandoning you.” The Gand Findsman clutched his hands together penitently. “Qrygg was too busy dodging Interceptors on Qrygg’s tail to see you were not there.”
“You followed orders, just as I would have.”
“Qrygg would give you a sign of Qrygg’s sorrow.”
Corran threw an arm around the Gand’s exoskeletal shoulders. “I tell you what. Guide me back to my billet and let me get a solid eight hours of sleep, and we’ll call it even. Will that assuage your Gand guilt?”
“Ooryl finds this acceptable.”
“Good.” Corran swept his left hand through the fog. “Lead on, Ooryl, and this time I promise I’ll follow right behind you.”
15
The officious, bulbous officer stared laser bolts at Kirtan Loor. “I can see your orders are all properly drawn, but I have never appreciated Intelligence operatives meddling in fleet affairs.”
“I appreciate your concern, Admiral Devlia, as well as your willingness to return from retirement to Imperial service, but Imperial security must take precedence at this time which, I believe you would agree, is most critical.”
The little man brushed his grey moustache with a finger and his expression eased. “Just so we understand each other.”
“Of course.” Kirtan cared little for the Admiral’s concerns, but the Interdictor cruiser Black Asp was part of Devlia’s command. Its report of being ambushed by a squadron it identified as Rogue Squadron had brought Kirtan all the way from Coruscant to Vladet in the Rachuk system to speak with the Black Asp’s Captain Uwlla Iillor. He suspected a great chunk of Devlia’s discomfort with his visit came because it forced the Admiral to deal with Iillor, one of the women who had risen to command to fill the gaps left in the Imperial Navy after the Endor debacle.
The Intelligence agent found himself anxious to meet Captain Iillor. He had read her file, as well as that of Admiral Devlia and most of the senior command staff during his journey out from Coruscant. The files were a welcome departure from tracking the various rumors about Rogue Squadron, but her record especially intrigued him. In studying it he caught hints of how forceful she had to have been to have risen in the Imperial Navy as far as she got before the Emperor’s death.
Devlia stood and smoothed his grey jacket over his round belly. “And I’ll tell you here and now that I’ll stop any questions I think are off the mark.”
“I understand that, sir.” Dream all you want, Admiral.
Devlia led Kirtan from his spacious office down a narrow hallway in the mansion that housed the command staff. The Admiral preceded him into a small study that had been converted into a conference room through the addition of a big table that dominated the room. Boxes full of datacards still lined the built-in shelves and Kirtan judged it a larger library than he would have expected to find on a planet like Vladet.
Devlia secured himself the chair at the head of the table, then waved a hand toward the woman standing at the far end. “Captain Iillor, this is Agent Kirtan Loor. He wants to ask you some questions about the ambush.”
“Yes, sir.” The brown-haired woman looked at Kirtan without a trace of the hunted look most people acquired when told Intelligence wanted to question them. “I’ll help if I am able, Agent Loor.”
Her voice had an edge to it that backed up the challenge in her dark eyes. Kirtan assumed her lack of fear came after years of being on the Navy’s NhM track—Non-huMan. The Empire’s bias against aliens and women reached an unprecedented level of refinement in the Imperial Navy. Iillor had been sent to serve under Colonel Thrawn and a host of other alien superior officers before she had been given a ship of her own. She would have been stuck on that Carrack-class cruiser had not the defeat at Endor made the need for competent officers so great that the command staff’s survivors reevaluated personnel and awarded commands according to some semblance of merit.
“I’m sure you will, Captain. I would like any reports you have filed about this action, as well as any holographic records of it, along with any communication intercepts.” He walked around to the left side of the table, then turned back toward Devlia. “With the Admiral’s permission, of course.”
The old man nodded.
“Very well. If you don’t mind, please tell me what happened.”
“May I sit?”
“By all means.” Kirtan smiled but remained standing. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Captain Iillor sat and turned her chair so she gave Devlia her profile. “We had information that a smuggler running supplies to the Rebels was expected in the Chorax system at a particular time, and would be departing after picking up some supplies there. I sent a shuttle in to monitor the smuggler’s situation while I put the Black Asp on the fringe of the system. When the Pulsar Skate started to head out of the system, I jumped the Black Asp in and brought my G7-x gravjectors up.”
Kirtan frowned. “Intra-system jumping is a rather unusual tactic, isn’t it?”
Iillor shook her head. “I’ve seen it used with great success out in the Unknown Sector. It worked at Chorax, too, because the Skate had no idea where we came from. It took them nearly six seconds to begin evasive maneuvers. I took the liberty of closing to use our ion cannons on the Skate during that time. Then a dozen X-wings came into the system.
“I deployed my Interceptor squadron, but none of the pilots are Academy material. They would have been eaten up, so I brought the Black Asp in and managed to disable one X-wing. By then, however, the remainder of them screened the Skate and hit my forward shield with a volley of proton torpedoes. The shield came down and I lost two laser batteries. I had to choose between reinforcing my shields or keeping the gravjectors operational. I made the former choice, recovered five Interceptors, and went to light speed.”
Devlia leaned forward. “They were waiting for the Black Asp. They came out of hyperspace right on top of her.”
Kirtan stroked his chin. “I don’t see that one thing establishes the other. I see no evidence of an ambush.”
Iillor’s head came up. “That’s what I’ve been telling the Admiral.”
“You’re both blind.”
“I think, sir, with all due respect, you are making unwarranted assumptions.” Kirtan began to pace around the edge of the table, passing behind the Admiral and back again. “Interdictor cruisers are designed to pull ships out of hyperspace. Of course, only where the route is known in advance can they be positioned in such a way that doing that is possible. In this case,
since the Black Asp was in the Chorax system specifically to prevent a ship from entering hyperspace, you have chosen to discard one of its primary functions.”
“Preposterous!”
Which is precisely the kind of mistake I would have made previously. Kirtan allowed himself a slight smile. “Check your thinking. If you chose to ambush an Interdictor cruiser, would you do so with a single squadron of X-wings?”
Devlia’s face reddened. “Perhaps I would not, but I have training most Rebel officers do not.”
“Granted, sir, yet the Rebels are not without wise leadership.” Kirtan left allusions to Yavin and Endor unvoiced, but he saw by Devlia’s expression the man had caught them anyway. “I might ask why the Rebels would waste their time attacking an Interdictor cruiser at all? No disrespect intended to you, Captain Iillor, or your ship, but the action of Interdictors is hardly crippling to the Rebellion. Our main battle fleets are garrisoning key worlds, like Corellia and Kuat, so even predation on Interdictors is unlikely to draw them out.”
Iillor did not smile, but her nod was not as stiff as before. “My assumption was that we had suffered the misfortune of pulling a convoy out of hyperspace, but the Admiral found such coincidence unlikely.”
Kirtan smiled. “The Admiral, despite this misjudgment, is formidable enough that I should think the Rebels utter fools to operate in his command sector.”
Devlia had opened his mouth to protest the first half of Kirtan’s statement. The second half, which Kirtan had added as a sop to the man’s vanity, killed the Admiral’s comment and clicked his jaw shut.
The Intelligence agent again focused on Captain Iillor. “How did you identify them as Rogue Squadron?”
“Communication intercepts used ‘Rogue’ call signs. Visual data is not very good, but there is a unique unit crest painted on the S-foils. Preliminary searches correlate it with a crest said to be that of Rogue Squadron. Also the Pulsar Skate is a ship with Corellian connections, just like Wedge Antilles. And the pilots were hot—they took off seven of my Interceptors, with the last two falling to an X-wing that was dead.”
