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

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “Today he didn’t warn me about what would happen at the factory. If you two hadn’t been there in the garage, I would have died. And when we got here, his central concern was killing you, not the fact that I’d survived. I realized that Thyne did respect me, but only for my usefulness to him. He thought he could trust me implicitly, which is rare among the members of the Black Sun.”

  She shrugged. “So, he saved me from Kessel, but you saved me from the Imps and, through that, saved me from thinking I was worthless. That was worth more than Thyne’s respect … or his life. I guess that favor you said you owed my sister has been redeemed.”

  “That favor I owe your sister, that’s one that will take a lifetime to pay off. What you did here, as far as I’m concerned, nulls the datacard between us. We’re even.” Corran smiled, then shook his head. “Of course, we’re still on Coruscant, we’re being hunted by Imperial stormtroopers, and Thyne told me we have yet another traitor in our midst. Seems to me this is the perfect time to be settling up accounts and making sure all our affairs are truly in order.”

  Mirax nodded. “Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today.”

  Inyri raised an eyebrow. “Except, perhaps, dying.”

  “Good point.” Corran headed toward the door into the building. “Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go see if anyone else procrastinated their way past death.”

  36

  If the Force is with us, Gavin thought as he ducked around a corner, it’s definitely the dark side. Blaster bolts gnawed away at the wall, leaving the corner serrated and flaming. Looking to his right, he saw Ooryl and Nawara positioned inside a doorway, so he dove between them and rolled on past as they opened fire on the stormtroopers chasing them down the corridor.

  Pursuit began almost immediately after they left the factory. They entered and moved through a number of buildings and thought they were in the clear when Portha shot a stormtrooper who challenged them. The stormtrooper went down but apparently lived long enough to report their location to his headquarters. Stormtroopers began to converge on the area, giving the Rogues few choices of where to run and even less time to consider them.

  Wedge had insisted on going up, but the building they’d picked to give them access to the bridges on higher levels was probably the worst choice they could have made. A transparisteel and ferrocrete monolith, at the lower levels it stood absolutely alone, with no attachments, walkways, or links to other buildings. Up on the fiftieth level it branched out and gave them the access to other avenues of escape they desired, but getting to the fiftieth level proved to be the problem.

  Coming up into a crouch, Gavin looked around and his heart sank. As with several previous floors, this one was an open square space centered on a lift and stairwell core. The floor-to-ceiling windows provided a lovely view of the shadowed levels of Coruscant—a view he found decidedly claustrophobic.

  Especially with an Imperial Troop Transport gravtruck floating up to their level. An armored side panel snapped down on the truck’s boxy cargo pod. A stormtrooper framed himself in the opening and tossed something at the window. It stuck for a second, appearing to be a black amoebic blob, then it exploded, spraying transparisteel fragments into the room.

  Gavin had already dived to the floor, but he still felt the sting of the shards on his left flank and face. We’ve had it.

  “Stay down,” Wedge shouted above the din, “everyone stay down!”

  Though he had no intention of making himself a target when trapped between two stormtrooper squads, he wondered if the Commander had snapped. Staying down was tantamount to surrendering, which would make sense except that the stormtroopers had never given any sign of being interested in taking prisoners. Looking to his left at the stormtroopers picking their way along the panel and entering through the broken window, Gavin didn’t get the impression they were more inclined to shows of compassion than the other stormtroopers they’d fought so far.

  Then something odd happened. The gravtruck tipped up at the front, spilling two stormtroopers from the walkway and tossing those in the back from their feet. A half second later the thing that had made the driver shy hit the front end of the gravtruck and exploded. The concussion of the blast shattered more windows and obliterated the gravtruck’s cab. Beyond the floppy-limbed tumbling of broken stormtroopers, Gavin saw the gravtruck begin to break apart and slip from sight.

  A sleek snubfighter shot up past their level, then came back around and flew directly toward the building. Though not as elegant as the next generation of starfighters, the black with gold trim Z-95 Headhunter came as a welcome sight to Gavin. Its blasters started blazing from each wingtip and sliced fire through the building’s central core. Sparks shot from ruptured electrical conduits and water gushed from shattered mains. Walls evaporated beneath the assault, and of the stormtroopers who had been following them, Gavin could see no trace.

  The Headhunter pulled back as a long black repulsorlift vehicle rose into place. Wedge got up and ran toward the window even before the gull-wing door to the vehicle’s passenger compartment had fully opened. He waved the others forward and Gavin followed, but kept an eye on the downed stormtroopers and the central core to protect against further trouble.

  “Gavin, go.”

  “After you, sir.”

  Wedge laughed, then winced. “Go, it’s an order.”

  Gavin tossed his blaster carbine to Pash, then leapt into the vehicle and jammed himself between Erisi and the Trandoshan. Wedge followed and the vehicle dropped away from the building. Wind whistled in through the closing doors, and it wasn’t until silence again reigned that Gavin heard the driver’s voice. Once he did, Gavin recognized it and found the shocked look on the other Rogues’ faces mirrored his own surprise.

  Wedge nodded toward the driver’s compartment. “Yes, Emtrey, I am hurt, but it’s not serious.”

  Gavin shook his head and poked a finger in his right ear to try to clear it. “How can Emtrey be here?”

  Rhysati nodded. “And who’s flying the Headhunter, Commander?”

  “Tycho.”

  Gavin’s face froze as his emotions went from elation to suspicion and the despair of betrayal. “How? He was killed at Noquivzor.”

  Wedge shook his head slowly. “No, he wasn’t. The raid was real, but neither he nor Emtrey was there. Whistler was logging reports for both of them to make it appear like they were there. Both of them were actually here.”

  Iella raised an eyebrow. “You brought them here, why?”

  “There are two things I’ve learned in the Rebellion. The first is that what any of us thinks is secret is really information that can be used to purchase other, more valuable information. If it were deemed expedient and useful for our presence on Coruscant to become common knowledge, say, to show a potential ally that we are taking steps to take the world, that ally would learn we were here. It would only be a matter of time before that information got into Imperial hands and we got into trouble.”

  Nawara nodded. “The fact that we were sold out today lends credence to this idea.”

  “And that brings me to my second point—the opposition can only plan to handle those things they know about. Tycho has been here as long as the rest of us have and has been working for me. I wanted one sabacc card that wouldn’t change value on me and he was it. He’d been to Coruscant inside two years ago, knew how to get around, and, as we saw just now, has turned out to be very useful.”

  Emtrey’s clamshell head swiveled around to the back. “Captain Celchu indicates we have no pursuit and are clear to our hideaway. He also has a message for you.”

  “Link him through.”

  “Wedge, I’d save this, but it’s time-critical.”

  “Go ahead, we’re all friends here.”

  “An urgent message came through for you while I was waiting.” Tycho’s voice grew somber. “We’ve got forty-eight hours to bring Coruscant’s shields down.”

  37

  Kirtan Loor bowed before Ysann
e Isard. “Rogue Squadron is a threat no more.”

  Isard nodded as if she had only half heard him. “They are not dead, however.”

  “Not for lack of trying.” Loor smothered the frown that struggled to make itself manifest. Her order to him had been to prevent Rogue Squadron from doing whatever it was they had planned to do. Killing them was an option, and he certainly could have had a squadron of TIE bombers fly in and level the Palar factory. Had he done so he had no doubt he would have been criticized for the overkill. “Their escape is regrettable, but our forces have seized their weapon and equipment caches. They are helpless.”

  Isard raised an eyebrow over her blue eye. “I hardly think the evidence justifies that statement.”

  Her stare sent a shiver down his spine, but Loor raised his head defiantly. “I agree, Madam Director, that the appearance of a Headhunter and a transport vehicle are disturbing, but extrapolating too much from that makes no sense. I think we will find the people who helped them escape were mercenaries or bounty hunters. If Rogue Squadron had on hand the resources necessary to effect that rescue they would not have engineered a plan as weak as the one we disrupted.”

  “Weak?” Isard began to pace through the open expanse of her office. “I saw it as quite subtle.”

  “True. Analysis of some memory cores does indicate they contained programs that might have been able to insert security codes into the central computer that would have given the Rebels system-wide programming access. That might have enabled them to bring our shields down, but for how long? Overrides and failsafes in the system could have had the shields back up within an hour.”

  “Provided, Agent Loor, that they only went for the shields. You seem to think their effort would be either one employing brute strength, or one that is subtle and elegant.” Isard shook her head. “Perhaps their first stage was meant to be subtle, but the second would be singularly crippling and enable them to destroy the central computer itself.”

  “I do not discount that, Madam Director, but I do not think you believe what you are saying.” He held up a hand to postpone the angry reply her molten stare promised. “Bringing the central computer down would end all service on Imperial Center. All emergency services, all power, all water, all transportation. While that would be advantageous for them, the untold hardship it would visit upon the citizenry would work against them. Your plan to drain the Rebellion of bacta and money is predicated on their altruistic nature, which means you cannot believe they would be so crude.”

  The heat in Isard’s stare slackened, then she nodded, once, and began to smile. “You surprise me, Agent Loor, with your insight. I had missed it before because of your inability to think through other things.”

  Loor cringed inwardly. “I beg your pardon, Madam Director?”

  “Did you think you could run Zekka Thyne as your own operative without my becoming aware of it?”

  “That was not my intention, Madam Director. He was but a minor player and I thought not to bother you with insignificant details.”

  “You lie. He was useful in supplying you information, but you primarily wanted him to kill Corran Horn.” The tall woman tapped a finger against her sharp chin. “It is just as well Thyne failed for I think I would like to meet this Corran Horn. It would be interesting to see why you fear him so.”

  “I fear him because he can be relentless. He hates me because I freed the bounty hunter who murdered his father. Though not a crime, it is something for which he will not forgive me. Were he disposed toward murder, I would already be dead. Now that he has joined the Rebellion, killing me would not be murder.” Loor narrowed his eyes. “Playing with Corran Horn is playing with fire.”

  “I am Iceheart, I do not burn.”

  “Yes, Madam Director.”

  Isard watched him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I find myself in a curious position regarding you, Agent Loor. A project under your direction, the Krytos project, has not succeeded according to my specifications. You have also, it appears, grown something of a spine and I am inclined to crush you down for having done so.”

  Fear clawed his heart but—and this surprised him—it found no real purchase there. It struck him that fear had been the motivating force for his life and the tool he used most often in dealing with others. He had first entered Imperial service out of fear of disappointing his parents. Fear of failure kept him pressing forward. Fear of embarrassment made him try to destroy Corran Horn and fear for his own life had marked his actions since Horn left CorSec.

  He realized he’d lived in fear so long that he had become accustomed to it. As if it were an addictive drug, he required more and greater amounts to affect him. For the past two years he had operated at a high level of fear, at first because of Horn and then later because of Isard. Every threat Isard had thrown at him involved his termination for failure, and impending failure had seemed a constant companion for him. The pressure had not crushed him, and having lived through it, he was stronger for it.

  Isard nodded slowly. “Very soon this world will become a festering pit of sick and dying aliens. I expect an inordinate number of Rebels will be here soon as well—them or Warlord Zsinj’s people. For these and other reasons I will remove myself to my Lusankya facility. I have there the seeds of the Rebellion’s complete destruction and they require cultivation.

  “Imperial Center, on the other hand, needs slashing and burning. While I am content to let someone else take this world, I do not want their time on it to be easy. I do not want them to become complacent. I have determined, then, to leave behind a veritable web of Special Intelligence Operative commando and terrorist cells. I had not yet decided upon who I would sit as a spider in the center of that web, but it occurs to me that you would serve very well in that capacity. This spirit, this spine, it speaks well about your ability to act independently in my behalf.”

  Part of him, the cold, calculating, and fearful part of him, screamed for the offer to be rejected. If Isard was correct and the Rebellion would soon possess the planet, there was no reason he should stay behind. It would be better to go with Isard to Lusankya and face death at her hands every day than it was to remain on Coruscant to live a life in the shadows.

  Another part of him correctly assessed the position. He would almost constantly be in danger. There would be no sanctuary, no safe haven. Even so, he would be the master of his fate—his decisions would determine whether he lived or died. That very prospect terrified him and yet, at the same time, it exhilarated him. Horn had left the sheltered life CorSec offered and he had thrived. This was Loor’s chance to see if he, too, could stand on his own.

  He pulled himself up to his full height. “You will make me, in effect, the Grand Moff of Imperial Center?”

  “You will be the leader of the Palpatine Counterinsurgency Front. You will annoy the Rebels on Imperial Center as they have annoyed us throughout the galaxy. If you are successful, we will let the word of your movement spread throughout the galaxy. We want them focused on you so they will not be able to look too far ahead. Hobbling them by giving them this planet, then blinding them by making them focus on you means they will not see the snares I lay for them.”

  She smiled coldly. “They stand united now, but that is because they have a common enemy. The Krytos virus, the scramble for power here, and your PCF will help fracture this Rebel Alliance into its constituent parts. Once that happens, once they allow themselves to be divided, sweeping them away will be nothing.”

  Loor rubbed a hand over his chin. “If I succeed, what will my reward be?”

  “If you succeed, you will do so because you will have mastered skills few people today possess.” Isard’s smile broadened, and even though he found the prospect of her being happy frightening, her amusement gratified him somehow. “In that case, Kirtan Loor, you will be in a position to tell me what your reward shall be, and to wrest it from me if I am foolish enough to deny it to you.”

  Which means you will have to destroy me somewhere along the line
, but that is not unexpected. Loor nodded. “I understand your offer and all it entails.”

  “And?”

  “And I accept it.”

  “Excellent. I have already sent two Star Destroyers and several of the ground-based TIE wings off to prepare the way for what will be a mass exodus when the opposition arrives. I will disappear then.” Isard pressed her hands together. “To you I give the responsibility for Imperial Center, the Heart of the Empire. Ward your charge well and the glory that was Palpatine’s empire will once again shine forth to illuminate the galaxy.”

  38

  The location Tycho had found to serve as a hideaway surprised Wedge because it seemed quite unusual for Coruscant. Though he did not believe the room actually was beneath the surface of Coruscant itself, it had the sort of feel that made Wedge think of it as subterranean. The ceiling climbed up into a vault that had been finished to look as if it was part of a cavern, complete with stalactites hanging down. However, rust stains and lime scale added details that reminded him where he really was.

  So did the moist trash midden in the heart of the room. It consisted largely of things slowly disintegrating to mush, but a few brightly colored plastic things spotted the corroded orange pile like mold. Nothing looked very useful and it all smelted rather bad, a fact that had Shiel feeling rather out of sorts. The moisture in the midden contributed to the room’s microclimate, evaporating and then condensing on the ceiling to drip back down again.

  Gavin seemed to be the only person who didn’t mind being dripped upon. “On Tatooine I never even saw rain, much less got rained on.” For the others the dripping water seemed to make their moods more foul and none became quite as foul as Corran’s did when he saw Tycho.

  Wedge had spotted Corran’s anger rising up through his surprise. He pulled the younger man aside and away from the others. “Do you want me to apologize for deceiving you, Corran?”