Star Wars: X-Wing II: Wedge's Gamble

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “Good.” Tycho pointed at the droid. “What do we do about him?”

  “I don’t think he’s much of a security risk, provided he doesn’t trade in futures for commodities that are present on whatever targets we’re heading out to hit. Whistler’s already modified his purchase parameter programming to cover that situation.” Corran smiled. “I don’t think General Salm will think Emtrey any less of a threat than he considers you, if we report on his scrounging personality. As long as we don’t activate it, except in very specific cases, we should be safe.”

  “So you think we can reactivate him?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Corran stood and walked over to the droid. “Brace yourself.”

  He hit the button on the back of the droid’s neck.

  Emtrey’s head snapped back and locked in its proper position. The droid looked around for a moment or two during which his elbows crept out away from his body. “I don’t know what got into me. Please, forgive my rudeness.” The droid’s head tilted to the right and his eyes brightened. “Did I miss anything?”

  Corran slapped him on the shoulder. “Nothing you’d find useful, Emtrey. We were just swapping gossip and repeating rumors that had no substance to them at all.”

  4

  At first the giddiness bubbling up inside him surprised Wedge, then gratified him as he slipped into his chair behind Admiral Ackbar. They’re actually here, the Provisional Council. I never thought I’d see the day. He felt the same excitement inside him that he’d known as a child when some alien or famous Corellian had come to his parents’ refueling station. Had he been asked he would have assumed that being in the same room with the leaders of the New Republic would not seem that special, but it was and made him think that the war hadn’t burned all of his innocence out of him yet.

  Mon Mothma, still looking strong and serene despite the traces of grey creeping into her hair, stood at her place at the circular table. “I call this meeting of the Provisional Council to order. Councilor B’thog of Elom sends regrets at being unable to attend, but we have a quorum, so we will be able to proceed. Councilor Organa, if you would be so kind as to update us on your attempts to open a dialog with Warlord Zsinj.”

  The woman at Mon Mothma’s right hand stood. Though she wore a pale green gown gathered loosely at the waist with a silver belt, Wedge couldn’t help but see Princess Leia ready for battle, the way he had seen her so many times before. It struck him as odd that a martial image could so easily replace the elegant vision before him, but he was reading the fight in her eyes and the fire in her spirit. Those qualities had made her one of the Rebellion’s most respected leaders, and clearly sustained her in her governmental activities.

  “I have attempted through numerous channels to make contact with Warlord Zsinj, but have been rebuffed every time. It appears he believes his possession of the Super Star Destroyer Iron Fist has made him into a force to be reckoned with in the galaxy. What little of his Imperial career we know about indicates he is a man who embraces the idea that the ends do justify the means. He is a survivor, and shows cunning at playing his enemies off against each other. The leadership vacuum in the Imperial Navy post-Endor allowed him to rise further than was previously reasonable, then declare himself a Warlord and begin his drive to take control of the Empire.”

  Borsk Fey’lya’s cream-colored fur rippled as he stood. “Councilor Organa, it would seem that this Zsinj, if he is as cunning as you suggest, would be open to negotiations. How have you approached him?”

  A trace of weariness tightened the flesh at Leia’s eyes. “We have tried contacts at various levels within his organization. Messages sent via the Imperial HoloNet have gone unanswered, though your people have assured me they have been collected by Zsinj. More light escapes from a black hole than information that comes back out from him and his fleet. I suspect he wants to see how truly strong we are before he begins any negotiations with us.”

  The Bothan’s violet eyes narrowed. “If there is no information coming out of his organization, how do you know he is seeking data on us?”

  Admiral Ackbar nodded to Leia. “If I might answer that, Councilor.”

  The hint of a smile on her lips banished the fatigue from her face. “Please, Admiral.”

  Ackbar remained seated and waited until the Bothan sat back down before he spoke. Borsk’s fur rippled again, this time quickly, which Wedge took as a mark of irritation. “A little less than a standard week ago a freighter appeared in the Pyria system. It was challenged and responded with the proper passage codes, but a member of Rogue Squadron chose to do a closer check. The freighter launched six TIEs, four starfighters, and two bombers. The freighter fled and all but one of the smaller ships was destroyed. The one that survived was a bomber that had been disabled by two Y-wings. Examination of it and interrogation of the pilot indicates the ship was sent by Warlord Zsinj to confirm our conquest of Pyria and, if the opportunity presented itself, to strike at the base.”

  Borsk’s face hardened. “And your people let the freighter escape?”

  Ackbar’s lids drifted down for a moment. “Councilor Fey’lya, the freighter was fully armed and deployed six fighter craft. On post we had two Y-wings and one X-wing. Despite being outnumbered, our forces eliminated the six fighters and damaged the freighter, driving it off. The freighter fled before the fighter screen was eliminated, but even if it had not, engaging it would have been suicidal.”

  “I thought such missions were Rogue Squadron’s specialty.”

  Wedge felt color rising to his face. The last time that was suggested, it was another Bothan who did the suggesting.

  Admiral Ackbar opened his hands. “I would point out that to so easily dismiss Rogue Squadron’s sacrifices is to denigrate the sacrifices made by all peoples who have died in service to the Rebellion.”

  The Bothan councilor sat back and Wedge’s admiration for Ackbar grew. The Admiral’s veiled reference to sacrifices echoed the oft-heard Bothan lament about the number of Bothan agents who had died to secure the information about the second Death Star. Because the Bothans did not possess a strong military—as opposed to the Mon Calamari fleet forming the backbone of the New Republic’s Armed Forces—they used the sacrifices of their people as their justification for sharing power in the New Republic. If Fey’lya devalued Rogue Squadron’s contribution to the Rebellion, he likewise eroded his own basis of power.

  Doman Beruss, a flaxen-haired woman who represented the Corellian exiles on the Council, stood. “I believe we are heading toward the focus for this meeting, but I would prefer to cut directly to it instead of watching my colleagues scratch and claw their way there. Zsinj knows, as do we, that whichever force is able to wrest Coruscant from the grip of the Imperial government will be seen as the legitimate, or at least strongest, claimant to governance. The Pyria system was taken to be a stepping stone to Coruscant, and Zsinj now knows we do have it.”

  The Wookiee and Sullustan representatives nodded in agreement with Doman. Mon Mothma looked up. “Admiral Ackbar, if you are prepared to give your presentation.”

  “I am.” Ackbar stood and General Salm, a small, balding, thickly built man, slipped into the chair the Mon Calamari had vacated. Salm linked his datapad into a jack on the edge of the table. Above the mirrored plate centered on the table the holographic image of a world appeared.

  “This is Coruscant. It was the administrative center of the Old Republic and retained that function when the Emperor seized power. Palpatine made an attempt to rename it Imperial Center, but it is known as such only in Imperial decrees. Coruscant is still seen as the heart of the galaxy and many look to it as the center of order and authority, no matter who controls it.

  “After the Emperor’s death, a government was formed under the leadership of Sate Pestage. His suzerainty lasted six months until a coup by a coterie of other Imperial advisers forced him into exile. It appears that his ouster was organized by Ysanne Isard—she was definitely behind Pestage’s hounding and death.
She deftly undercut the bureaucrats she had used to vanquish Pestage and took control of the Empire for herself. While she maintains her title of Director of Intelligence, and has suggested she is holding the planet in stewardship, there is no doubt that she is in full control.”

  As Ackbar spoke, the planet dissolved into an image of Isard. A tall, slender human woman, she still seemed possessed of the vitality that the Rebellion had begun to sap from Mon Mothma. Isard wore her hair long. Except for white sidelocks, her hair was as black as night and served to accentuate her severe beauty.

  Her most striking features became apparent as the image shifted to a close-up of her face. Her eyes were mismatched. The right one was an icy blue that had contributed as much as her demeanor to her nickname of “Iceheart.” By contrast the left eye was a molten red. Wedge felt a shiver run down his spine just looking at her hologram—and he had no desire to make a closer acquaintance with her.

  Ackbar continued. “Despite her not being from a military background, she has, in no way, allowed the defenses of the Imperial homeworld to slacken. Outermost we have Golan Space Defense stations. They are comparable in power to a Star Destroyer. They are not mobile, so eliminating them from a section of the sky over Coruscant will give us an area in which to operate, but eventually all of them will have to be neutralized.

  “In addition to these defense stations, there are approximately seven Victory-class Star Destroyers on station at Coruscant. There are ground-based fighter groups as well as the fighter wings stationed in and around the ships, shipyards, and orbital factories. The orbital mirror stations and low-orbit skyhooks may also have been armed.”

  Ackbar clasped his hands behind his back. “As formidable as all that is, the primary problem in taking Coruscant is the overlapping defense shields.”

  The image of the world had long since returned. As the Mon Calamari had described aspects of the defense, representations of them appeared in orbit around the planet. With his mention of the defense shields, two spheres constructed of hexagons appeared to encase the world. One moved in the direction of its orbit, the other moved in the opposite direction. The neon-blue latticework shrouded Coruscant and occluded any good view of it.

  “To take Coruscant we must eliminate the shields. There are a number of ways to do this, but none of them is simple. A direct assault would cost us more dearly than both Death Star battles combined. I think the only reasonable approach to taking Coruscant is to blockade the world. It is hardly self-sufficient—even the defense stations only carry three standard months’ worth of provisions. Faced with dwindling supplies, a negotiated surrender would be possible.”

  Mon Mothma frowned. “The problem with a blockade is twofold. The first is that it would keep our fleet at one place for an extended period of time. This would allow Isard to recall the Imperial fleet to drive us off.”

  Ackbar nodded. “Or it could encourage naval officers in far-flung regions to sever their ties with the Empire, breaking it up further.”

  “Giving us many warlords like Zsinj to worry about.” Borsk’s words came so softly they seemed almost purred. “Pinning our fleet in one place would also allow Zsinj to prey upon New Republic worlds.”

  Ackbar opened his hands. “Yes, what you suggest might happen.”

  Mon Mothma raised a hand and cut him off. “The second problem with a blockade is that the people of Coruscant will suffer. My friend, you visited Coruscant when you were with Grand Moff Tarkin. You know there are vast populations of outcasts who dwell deep in the shadowed canyons of that metroworld. They barely survive as it is. If supplies are cut off to Coruscant, they will suffer the most and we cannot afford to be responsible for their suffering.”

  “This I know very well, Chief Councilor Mothma, but you face me with an impossible task.” Ackbar pointed a hand at the floating hologram of Coruscant. “You want the world taken, but the means that will deliver it to us with the minimum of bloodshed is one that is unacceptable. It is possible to batter our way in there. I cannot say there will not be a significant amount of collateral damage—damage that may harm people as much as any blockade. Yet, even if that sort of damage is more acceptable from a diplomatic and political point of view, it leaves us with a reality that is militarily unacceptable: the world we take will be a world we cannot hold.”

  Wedge nodded. To bring the shields down on a planet, standard doctrine dictated that the shields were to be probed for weaknesses, such as places where an atmospheric anomaly was causing a disruption. That weakened sector would be targeted and a hole would be punched through it. The gap would then be used as a hole through which shield projectors would be destroyed by bombardment or laser fire. While that would bring the shields down and allow for a planetary assault, it would leave the planet defenseless until the shield generators could be repaired or, most likely, replaced.

  “What you ask of me and my troops is not possible.” Ackbar shook his head. “Coruscant, if taken in haste, will fall to another just as quickly, and all we have fought for in this Rebellion will be for naught.”

  5

  Wedge opened his arms wide and stretched. Standing on the patio of the Noquivzor facility’s only aboveground building, he looked out over rolling hills carpeted with golden grasses. The breezes that stirred eddies and currents into them warmed him and began to take the chill out of his clothes. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. I need an hour or two of sun and warmth before I head back in there.

  After the morning Council session had adjourned, Wedge and Salm had returned to Admiral Ackbar’s quarters and discussed the problems with conquering Coruscant. Because of Noquivzo’s arid climate, Ackbar’s quarters had been fitted with a humidification system that made the environment more comfortable for the Mon Calamari. For Wedge and General Salm, the humidity thickened the air to the point where it seemed to drag on them and tire them out.

  Wedge smiled as he watched a herd of wilder-nerfs spread out and over a far hill like an inky black stain on the golden carpet. He recalled a promise he had previously made to himself to return to Noquivzor and take some time to relax. He had wanted to remember what he was fighting for, and this world had seemed the sort of place where he could find some peace. Now I’m back, but there’s no peace to be had.

  “Would that some of this tranquillity would sneak into our deliberations.”

  Wedge spun around. “Highness.”

  Leia smiled at him. “Wedge, please, not so formal. We’ve known each other for too long to stand on ceremony.”

  He nodded sheepishly. “I know that, but things have changed. Look at you. I can still see the Leia Organa who waited anxiously for Luke’s return from the Death Star at Yavin, but the others, they all see you as Alderaan’s representative to the Provisional Council. I have no intention of seeming familiar or disrespectful.”

  “Things may have changed, Wedge, but not us.”

  “I don’t think I can agree with that idea entirely.” Wedge hung his jacket over the back of a metal chair and leaned heavily upon it. “Yavin was over seven years ago. I’ve gone from being a pilot who thought he was very good to someone who leads a squadron of hotshots and aids an Admiral in planning assaults on the Imperial capital.”

  Leia nodded and drew a chair up beside the one upon which Wedge leaned. “Back at Yavin we didn’t have any Admirals.”

  “We barely had any ships at Yavin. We had General Dodonna, but he’s gone.” Wedge seated himself beside her. “You’ve gone from being the youngest person ever to be elected to the Imperial Senate to the fusion reactor for the whole Rebellion. Mon Mothma may lead us, and Admiral Ackbar may fight for us, but you’re the one who keeps all the disparate parts of the New Republic working together. How you do that, I can’t even begin to guess.”

  She laughed lightly and Wedge smiled in response to the sound. “Keeping Han and Luke out of trouble has often been far more easy, to be certain. There are times it feels as if this Rebellion could be measured in decades, not years.
”

  “I was thinking centuries, but your point is well taken.” Wedge shook his head. “Are all the Council meetings this difficult?”

  “Some are. This one in particular is prickly. Borsk Fey’lya has some issues he wants dealt with and he has taken steps to see to it that he gets his way.”

  “I think Admiral Ackbar is holding his own.”

  “That’s because Fey’lya is playing for a longer game. He has things well thought out, and he is a stickler for details.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Leia looked at him with a mixture of surprise and pity in her eyes. “Oh, Wedge, you wouldn’t believe how well Fey’lya has orchestrated things to work against Admiral Ackbar.”

  “Try me.”

  “You’re on.” Leia swept a hand out to take in the nearly treeless landscape. “Fey’lya arranged for this meeting to be held here, on Noquivzor. He is right at home here—these savannahs closely resemble his home range on Bothawui. Mon Mothma, you, me, and the other humans find the climate and setting pleasant enough that we are at ease. Kerrithrarr, the Wookiee Councilor, does not like a world with wide blue skies and a lack of trees. Asking him to live underground is to come within millimeters of violating his personal honor, and you know how touchy Wookiees are about that.”

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, Noquivzor and Kashyyyk have very little in common. Admiral Ackbar and the other Mon Calamari don’t like the dry air here.”

  “Sian Tevv and his Sullustans find it a bit hot here.” Leia shrugged. “As a result, most of those who oppose Borsk Fey’lya are ill at ease here. It will be easy for tempers to flare and people to decide someone …”

  “Admiral Ackbar …”

  “Right, someone is being stubborn. This could influence votes and could go against Ackbar and his plans.” The Princess sat back and smoothed her gown against her thighs. “Of course, Ackbar knows all this, which is why he advanced the blockade plan. He knew it would not work, so now if he retreats from that position, he shows himself to be reasonable and willing to compromise. This means the other side must compromise, too.”