He didn’t know if he’d heard those words before or composed the line himself, but it struck him that those words embodied the nugget of Rebel opposition to the Empire. Mon Mothma and the other leaders had enough foresight to look ahead and plan out the course of the campaign against the Empire, but for people in his position, the fight was one to defeat the forces who made them fear. The fact that after each battle, each victory, there was just that much less to be afraid of became almost tangible and served as a very sweet reward indeed.
Corran nudged his stick back and climbed up away from the fleeing yacht. Run, but always know you cannot run far enough.
He started to bring the Headhunter around on a course to the hangar, but he saw an anomalous blip on his sensor screen. He initiated an identification program, but the contact faded and returned, depriving the computer of enough solid data to make a match. It seemed to settle on an unknown fighter and a Super Star Destroyer. “Pash, what have you got for a contact at 352.4 degrees?”
“Nothing. Do you have something?”
“Yeah, but it’s weird. Probably a storm ghost. I’m going to check it out.”
“Want a wing? I can abort my approach.”
“Negative, I’m just doing a flyby. If I need help, I’ll need you all ready to go.” Corran glanced at his fuel gauge. “One pass, then I’m in.”
With the Golan Space Defense platform gone, Admiral Ackbar sent a signal to the fleet that started an evolution of the battle. Originally the Rebels had expected two or three times more by way of Star Destroyers than had appeared to defend Coruscant. That only the Triumph and Monarch remained to oppose them surprised him because neither ship had a particularly illustrious reputation or crew. At last reports Emperor’s Will and Imperator had also been part of the Coruscant defense force as well, and their participation in the battle would have made things much more difficult.
Liberator, Emancipator, and Home One formed a line moving past Triumph and Monarch. The two lines exchanged fire and missiles, savaging each other. Shields held at first, then, inevitably, crumbled. Beneath them the ships’ heavy armor had to absorb the force of the missile blasts and laser bolts. Some shots, guided by the Force or the product of pure chance, hit turbolaser batteries or torpedo launch tubes, vaporizing them, crushing them, and destroying them. Others just nibbled away at a ship’s hull or superstructure. Molecule by molecule they weakened the barrier between the ship’s interior and the void.
As always with war the best strategy was to hit without being hit back. With ships the size of Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers, avoiding being hit was, at best, difficult. The closest that could be managed in that regard was to minimize the number of weapons bearing on the ship. With the two lines passing broadside to each other, the ships were exposed to the maximum possible damage inflicted by the other side.
At Ackbar’s signal another Mon Calamari heavy cruiser, Mon Remonda, turned from its position in line behind Home One, and pointed its bow toward Coruscant. It surged forward, cutting across the Imperial Star Destroyers’ line of flight. In doing so it was able to bring all of its starboard firing-arc weapons to bear on Triumph while the Star Destroyer could hit it with its forward arc weapons.
Mon Remondao’s gunners began to pour fire in on Triumph. The Imperial Star Destroyer had already lost its shields, so the turbolaser strikes played easily up over the spine of the ship. Even more devastating were the hits by the Mon Calamari cruiser’s ion cannons. Their blue lightning chased all over the destroyer’s hull. Explosions trailed in the lightning’s wake.
The same time that Mon Remonda moved to strike at Triumph, the umbrella force began to separate. Assault frigates—a fanciful name for refitted freighters—began to close a net around the two Imperial warships and their smaller support ships. While they could not sustain the sort of damage the heavier ships were taking and survive, the Star Destroyers’ ability to strike at them had been diminished by combat. The smaller ships closed in, firing away at the destroyers. There were so many of them that the gunners who could target them could not target all of them.
Other heavier ships—Corellian corvettes, gunships, and a variety of bulk cruisers and Mon Calamari cruisers—pushed up and out away from Coruscant. They used distance to let them see over Coruscant’s horizon and spot other Imperial forces that could have been hidden on the world’s far side. They remained out of range of the Golan Space Defense platforms, yet close enough to respond quickly to any situation that demanded overwhelming firepower.
Starfighters and troop carriers began their runs to the planet. The outcome of the battle in space was important, but without troops on the ground to take, hold, and secure facilities and impose order, Coruscant would remain unconquered. Ackbar suffered under no illusions about Coruscant and its defenselessness. That the shields were down he felt was nothing short of a miracle, but he couldn’t count on how long they would stay down. He had, as nearly as he knew, a narrow window in which to insert his troops, so he pushed them forward as quickly as seemed prudent.
Commander Sirlul reached over and tapped a command into the keypad on the arm of Ackbar’s command chair. A holographic schematic of Triumph appeared before him. Multiple systems were outlined in red, including the bridge. “Triumph has lost power and is beginning to slide back into the atmosphere.”
Ackbar hit his comlink. “Ackbar to Onoma.”
“Onoma here, Admiral.”
“Cease firing on Triumph. Use your tractor beams to pull Triumph along and accelerate its orbit so it won’t decay. We want to save the ship if we can.” Ackbar looked at Monarch and could see it taking as much damage as Triumph had. Between it and Triumph, we might be able to salvage most of a Star Destroyer.
“Order acknowledged, sir. Onoma out.”
Sirlul glanced over at Ackbar. “Captain Averen of Monarch has sent a truce-byte out to everyone.”
“He will surrender unconditionally?”
“If there are conditions, they will be insignificant.”
Ackbar nodded. “Conduct the negotiations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when you’re done with that, Commander, I have another job for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
Ackbar pointed at Coruscant. “Find me someone down there who can surrender that world to me.”
Wedge had Winter bring back up the Palace district tactical map. “Corran, we’re getting nothing on this contact you report.”
“Contact is weak, Wedge. It oscillates back and forth, as if running between buildings. The computer can’t make any sense of … wait a minute!”
“What’s going on, Corran.”
“I’ve lost throttle control. I’m speeding up!” The green arrow representing Corran’s Headhunter began a slow dip toward the planet. “Initiating emergency shutdown of fuel injectors one and two.”
That will cut fuel back to half, slowing him. Wedge looked down at Winter. “Can you help him?”
“I can try.”
“Negative, Winter, cut the override code you’re using. I need to shut those two injectors down.”
“I haven’t used an override code, Corran.”
“Yes, you have. I’m locked up. No control.”
Wedge dropped down to stare at the data scrolling across the screen on Winter’s datapad. “What’s happening?”
Near panic flooded through the comlink from Corran. “Manual override is not working.”
“Punch out, Corran! Eject!”
“Can’t. Inverting! Nothing I can …”
Static filled the comlink channel as the green arrow dropped from sight. Wedge heard an explosion and listened to its echoes rumble as the holographic image of the building Corran’s Headhunter had hit slowly collapsed. He saw the building implode, but he felt it in his stomach. A void formed deep in his guts, swallowing the elation he had felt moments before and having more than enough room to devour the pain and guilt trickling through him.
Wedge bounced a fist off the holopad w
orkstation, then tore off his gas mask and hurled it across the room. He didn’t know if the gas in the room had fully dissipated yet, and part of him hoped it had not. He’d been fighting for more than seven years to oppose the Empire. Friends had come and gone—mostly gone—in that time. He’d grown cynical enough to keep his distance from new recruits because he knew they died earliest and if he didn’t befriend them it wouldn’t hurt him as much when they died.
The truth was, though, that the distance didn’t really insulate him, it just allowed him to think their deaths didn’t hurt as much. But Corran, as much as the rest of the Rogues and a little bit more, had managed to close that gap. No, they didn’t always get along, but disagreements didn’t dull respect and admiration. Corran was a good pilot and a smart man who treated loyalty as the sacred foundation of friendship. Corran was like Tycho and Luke—all of them knew the horrors and pressures and anxiety of war, and all of them knew the sense of satisfaction at having completed a mission.
Even though they fought against Imperial stormtroopers and pilots, it sounded somehow evil to take pride in killing other living creatures. And it wasn’t really the killing of which they were proud, but of surviving. They took pride in the fact that they had stopped someone from killing their friends and, in doing so, loosened the grip of an evil Empire on a fearful populace. Only those individuals who had gone through what they had could truly understand it all and only those who understood it could really, truly, understand why war and killing should never be anything but the last resort.
A hand landed on Wedge’s shoulder and he spun, knocking Tycho’s arm aside. “I lost another one.”
“Maybe.” The outline of his gas mask had left red lines on Tycho’s face. “But maybe, just maybe, Corran managed to punch out before the ship went down. Maybe he’s lying on top of that pile of rubble just waiting for someone to help him.”
And maybe he’s buried so deep we’ll never find him. Wedge drew in a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re right, that’s probably what happened. He’s probably waiting for us right now.”
“He’s a Rogue, after all.”
“Right, come on.” Wedge headed for the door. “He’s a Rogue and we take care of our own. No matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, we take care of our own.”
46
Wedge Antilles found the duracrete and transparisteel barrow improbably neat. The off and on rain for the last four days had washed the dust away and granted the fractured pieces of pseudogranite sharp edges that looked almost decorative. Nothing moved in the mound, nothing showed colors outside reflective silver, black, and grey. The hill of debris rose less than seven meters above the level upon which he stood because the falling stories had telescoped into the floors below.
And somewhere in there are the mortal remains of Corran Horn, Wedge shook his head. The building Corran had hit had been on the line of the construction droid’s advance, so when Mirax used the warning beacon to get the computer center evacuated, this building had likewise emptied of people. Most of the newly unhomed already picked up on Rebellion phrases and said that the Force had truly been with them when they got out. And yet others had determined that Corran, knowing his Headhunter was going down, had deliberately driven it into a tower he knew had been evacuated. They said that made him a hero.
As if that’s what it took for him to be a hero. As if nothing else he had done would have made him one. Wedge realized his hands had knotted into fists again. He forced them open, as he had found himself doing numerous times since Coruscant had fallen. When it came down to it, because of the efforts of his people, Coruscant had not been drenched in blood. In fact, aside from the casualties in the space battle and limited actions on the planet, virtually no one had been injured. “Yet another miracle, another sign the Force was with us.”
Wedge hated the mocking tone that came with his words. People all around had gone berserk with joy when Coruscant fell. Even he had celebrated, albeit a bit subdued, because Aril Nunb had been found alive and nearly well in Invisec. Her return did not cancel the pain of Corran’s loss, especially with Mirax Terrik wandering around as if her heart had been torn out and Iella Wessiri not being much better off. The big hologram, the liberation of Coruscant, became hard to focus upon with such an immediate loss.
While he pointed to Corran’s death as the wellspring of his anxiety and frustration, he knew he did so because he did not want to consider the question that all members of the Rebel staff had been asking themselves: Why hadn’t it been harder? To even consider that question somehow seemed to cheapen their victory that was, by all accounts, hard fought and won through superior planning and execution. Even so, an average deck of sabacc cards had more computing power than the whole of the Imperial Naval staff left to conduct the defense of the planet.
The inescapable conclusion that could be drawn from the utterly inept defense of Coruscant was that Ysanne Isard wanted the New Republic to take the world. The Provisional Council had seen Coruscant as a symbol. Once they took it they would have won the right to rule the galaxy. There was no doubt that many worlds that had proclaimed themselves neutral would indeed throw their allegiance to the Republic. In that way the conquest of Coruscant did hasten the fall of the Empire.
Coruscant also became a black hole from which the New Republic could not escape. Just as taking it had been a goal for them, so taking it would be a goal for any other pretender to Palpatine’s throne. The Rebellion that had survived detection by the enemy through moving their headquarters dozens of times now had bottled itself up. It traded flexibility and mobility for legitimacy and Wedge wasn’t certain that was a trade made in their favor.
He also knew the conquest of Coruscant would not be without a price. Ysanne Isard had clearly traded the world for her escape from it—no one had found any trace of her and the reason for her evacuation seemed quite sound. Already rumors of a plague spreading through Invisec were flying thick and fast. Nawara Ven and Riv Shiel had undergone bacta therapy and were recovering. What little General Cracken had told him about Aril Nunb’s debriefing suggested the virus might have been created by the Empire specifically to leave Coruscant a charnel house, but the conquest had aborted that plan. Virus had been found in the water supply, though Rogue Squadron’s boil-off of a lot of water may have killed a vast quantity of the virus.
Wedge heard footsteps behind him and, expecting to see Tycho and Winter, was surprised when instead he saw General Cracken and Pash. Wedge began to smile, but Pash appeared hesitant and Airen intent, which led him to believe something serious was going on. “Good afternoon, General, Lieutenant. Is there something I can do for you?”
The elder Cracken nodded. “There’s been some headway in the investigation of what happened to Lieutenant Horn. My people went over all the sensor traces we could find concerning the crash, as well as comm transcripts and the statements made by everyone who heard his last transmissions.”
Wedge smiled genuinely. “This is good news. If you don’t mind waiting a minute or two, I know Tycho will want to hear this, and it will save you telling it again.” Wedge glanced at his chronometer. “He should be here momentarily.”
Airen Cracken shook his head. “I’m afraid he won’t be joining you. He’s been arrested for treason and the murder of Corran Horn.”
“What? That’s impossible.” Wedge stared at the head of Alliance Intelligence. “Tycho would never do that. Never.”
General Cracken held a hand up. “There are some things you don’t know, Commander, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that an arrest is not a conviction. It is just that we have sufficient evidence to arrest him and it was deemed appropriate to do so.”
Wedge folded his arms across his chest. “What evidence?”
“He was absent without leave from his post at Noquivzor. He traveled from there to Coruscant, bringing with him an M-3PO droid full of highly sensitive data.”
“He did those things on my order, General. Those orders were issued and sealed
by me at Noquivzor.”
The older man nodded. “So I have been told and so it says in your statement. If we ever get down to where your office was, I believe I will find those orders. However, until I do, his vanishing act looks highly suspicious, especially when coupled with other things.”
“Such as?”
“Captain Celchu knew the command codes for the Headhunter Horn was flying.”
“He knew them for all those Headhunters.”
“Yes, but no other pilot threatened him with exposure for treasonous activities.” General Cracken looked at his son. “Pash overheard a heated conversation between Horn and Celchu right before the mission began. Celchu told Horn he’d checked his machine out special.”
Wedge’s head came up and Pash winced at the harshness of his stare. “Is this true?”
“I wasn’t spying, Commander.”
“My son was not placed in your unit to spy. He just happened to be there.” Airen frowned. “He didn’t want to tell me about the conversation and has proved a most reluctant witness.”
“I see.” Rogue Squadron’s leader nodded toward Pash. “Corran was probably hot about all this. What was Tycho’s reaction?”
Pash’s tense expression eased. “He said he welcomed any investigation Corran wanted to make. He said he had nothing to fear.”
Wedge raised an eyebrow. “That hardly sounds like a man with any fear of discovery.”
“He wouldn’t fear it if he’d disabled the manual override and had given his masters the command code for the Headhunter. What you did with that Interceptor, they did with Horn’s Headhunter.”
“You still haven’t established a link between Tycho and the Empire.”
“But we will, Commander.” Cracken shrugged his shoulders. “We have means, motive, and opportunity. That’s all we need for an arrest and trial.”
Wedge just shook his head. “This is wrong, and you know it. After all we’ve fought for, to get to this point and arrest someone who’s risked his life time and again for the Rebellion on evidence that’s circumstantial at best is a crime itself. A crime worthy of the Empire.”
Star Wars: X-Wing II: Wedge's Gamble Page 33
