This story is based on the characters and situations created by George Lucas, for his Star Wars Universe. It is not intended for sale, only for the enjoyment of its author, and its readers; and as a tribute to the imagination that it takes to build such a universe.

If you’d like to comment, (or offer me a publishing contract,) please feel free to

E-mail me at: Iris Bailey <cbailey@zebra.net>

RETRIBUTION

By Iris Bailey

When the cockpit warning alarm sounded, signaling reversion to realspace, Wedge was awake immediately, and looking for whatever the trouble was, that he was undoubtedly in. It didn’t take him long to find it. The bulky shape of a Victory Class Star Destroyer hung directly in front of his X-wing. His scope identified her as the Querulous. In the distance, he could see the distinctive outline of the Interdictor cruiser that had yanked him from hyperspace. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, boiling out of the Querulous’ hanger deck came a full squadron of TIE fighters.

"Sithspawn! I don’t need this." He yanked the X-wing’s joystick hard to starboard, throwing the fighter into an inverted roll, and headed away from the destroyer. Four of the TIEs broke off from the main group in pursuit.

"Well…I can’t make a jump out of system, and there are only twelve of them, so I guess I’ll just have as much fun as I can, and see what happens." He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at his astromech droid. "Gate, make these guys targets one, two, three and four. And hang on!" He watched the data scroll across his monitor, adjusting his shields to full forward.

"Okay Gate, acquire one." He eased the fighter into a sharp turn, then stomped the right rudder pedal, and the X-wing’s rear end slid around, leaving him facing the four TIEs head on. Gate beeped a lock signal, and the targeting box winked green. At the same time, green laser fire washed over The X-wings forward shields, as the targeted TIE got off the first shots. Wedge ignored the rippling energy and squeezed the firing button. The first Imp watched his own death coming at him, as the laser bolts vaporized the cockpit and left a frozen metal mist trailing from the spinning wreckage.

"Gate, give me two!" The other TIEs were slow in reacting, and Wedge’s lasers took out the second one by slagging the right solar panel, sending the ship into a wobbly spin, before its pilot had a chance to correct his mistake. A piece of the hot debris hit one of the fuel cells, turning it into a brilliant but brief ball of fire.

That served to wake the other two pilots up, and they split in opposite directions. Evening out his shields, Wedge went after the one headed to starboard, and closed on him rapidly. Just as he’d gotten a lock on the TIE and was squeezing the trigger, there was a loud whump, and the X-wing jarred violently. The motion caused his shot to only graze the Imp’s port solar panel. The TIE that had broken to port had looped around and was on his tail, again.

Wedge let go a hot Corellian curse that had once gotten his mouth washed out as a child. Adjusting shields to the rear, he rolled the fighter up onto its starboard S-foil and screamed into a dive. The TIE on his tail followed, and the one in front dove to intercept.

"Good boys. Now pay close attention to me, and I’ll give you a lesson in situational awareness." He tossed his ship into a weave, that looked for all the world like it was out of control, and the pursuing TIE closed in for an easy kill.

Checking his scanners, Wedge gradually eased the ship into position. Basically he was heading back toward the Querulous, but was bringing the line of flight up at the same time. A proximity warning beep sounded on his display, and he immediately dropped the fighter below its previous line of flight and headed out of the way. At that moment, the TIE behind him, and the TIE in front of him met in the middle. The explosion was spectacular.

He would like to have felt some remorse about the pilots he’d just killed, but the truth was he didn’t have the time. Maybe later, he would, if there was a later. Right now, his goal was to survive.

"All right Gate, give me the next four…." His voice trailed off as he realized that the other fighters were headed back toward the cruiser. "What the?"

"Rebel X-wing, this is Capt. Osiel Turpa of the Querulous." His comm unit crackled to life. "You are outnumbered and cannot win this confrontation. Do you still intend to resist?"

Wedge smiled grimly. "Sorry Querulous. You ruined my dinner plans for the evening. That makes me cranky. Besides, I’m Corellian. You figure it out…." He switched his shields to full forward and reached for the throttle.

"Very well. If you insist."

There was a blinding blue flash, and Wedge’s ship shuddered once. Blue static lightening crawled all over the X-wing. Sparks showered from his comm unit and every system went suddenly and decisively dead. Lasers, guidance, engines, navigation; everything was useless. Even Gate, who’d given a hurried trilling whistle, was rendered silent. Momentum was the only thing, which kept the ship moving forward and suddenly even that stopped, as the destroyer locked the X-wing in the grip of a tractor beam.

"Well, four out of twelve isn’t too bad and it’s not over until I’m dead." He reached down and unsnapped his blaster’s safety strap, then sat back to wait. He watched as the hanger bay loomed larger and larger in front of him. Then the snub fighter was through the magnetic containment field, and settling onto the deck. With no power to lower the landing gear, she rested on her belly on the hanger deck.

Immediately, the ship was surrounded by two squads of stormtroopers. Two troopers broke ranks and began working to pry the cockpit open, then, as the canopy began to raise, quickly covered Wedge with their blaster rifles. A burly trooper wearing the insignia of a Lieutenant stepped forward.

"Don’t even think about trying anything. Put your hands up where we can see them. Then very carefully, climb out of the cockpit."

Wedge did as he was told. Easing up onto the seat first, then sitting on the side of the cockpit. He was careful to keep his hands away from the blaster at his side.

"Hold it! Get his blaster." The squad leader pointed at one of the troopers who hurried to follow orders. Once he was clear, the officer motioned to Wedge again. "Take off the helmet and life support gear and leave ‘em in the ship. Then get down from there."

Unfastening the straps Wedge complied. As his boots hit the deck, two of the biggest troopers grabbed him and forced him, face down, against the cold durasteel plating. He was searched roughly, then his hands were bound tightly behind him and he was hauled upright again.

"You guys seem to be awfully worried about one fighter pilot."

"Shut up you piece of Rebel trash." The trooper backhanded Wedge in the mouth with his heavy gauntlet, splitting his lip. "You’ll speak when you’re told to."

"It must be Antilles, sir. Here’s the homing device," A trooper walked around the nose of the X-wing and motioned behind him. "And half this side of his fighter is covered with kills, including the two Deathstars."

Forcing himself to appear indifferent, Wedge looked up at the troopers, but a cold lump had formed in his stomach. They were waiting for me. That means that somebody sold me out.

"It’s him. I’ve seen his wanted posters." The Lieutenant grabbed Wedge by the hair and turned him to face the squad of troopers. "Take a good look, men. This is the Rebel’s top fighter jockey, Commander Wedge Antilles of Rogue Squadron. He doesn’t look like much, does he?"

Wedge knew what would happen, before he ever opened his mouth, but the Corellian in him couldn’t resist the urge. "I don’t have to look like much. Your vape bait pilots don’t last long enough to see that much of me anyway." He steeled himself for what he knew would come next and the troopers didn’t disappoint him.

A blaster butt slammed into his stomach, doubling him over, then another blow caught him over his right eye and he went down on the deck. With his hands bound behind him, all he could do was pull his knees up, in an effort to deflect some of the kicks and blows. But they came form every direction at once. He felt a sharp pop in his side, and each breath became agony. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a boot coming toward his head. It was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

* * * * * * *

"I trust that you and your men didn’t kill him, Lieutenant Heblon."

Captain Osiel Turpa’s jet black eyes seemed to bore straight through the Lieutenant’s white armor, causing the man to shift uneasily.

"No sir! He’s still alive. He’s in the detention bay."

"Good. It would be most unwise to deprive Moff Tchlinda of that pleasure." A cruel smile formed on the man’s thin lips. "I imagine, it will be very entertaining. I’m looking forward to participating."

From behind his armored faceplate, Heblon studied the sharp-featured officer with discomfort. In the years he’d been with the Empire, he’d seen all manner of cruelty, and known all types of commanding officers. But in all that time, he’d never seen the equal of Osiel Turpa and Moff Lathel Tchlinda. Except possibly the one time he’d seen Darth Vader in person.

Tall and lean, with black hair and a perpetually arrogant expression, Turpa was considered handsome by a great many women. His build belied his strength. He was in excellent physical condition, and kept himself that way with rigorous training. Including regular hand to hand combat with a variety of human, mechanical, and non-human opponents. Heblon had seen Turpa best, and strangle a full-grown, powerfully muscled, male Bothan commando during one of his "workouts."

"Oh, and I do hope that he wasn’t damaged to the point of being incapable of understanding what is happening to him. That takes so much of the pleasure out of the experience for the Moff and me. It would be a pity if you or one of your men had to serve as a replacement, simply because you’d been too, enthusiastic…You’re dismissed. Inform me when he’s conscious." Turpa waved his hand toward the door.

"Yes sir." Heblon saluted, then hurried out of the room. Once the door closed behind him, a shiver went through him at the thought of what Turpa and Moff Tchlinda would probably do the Rebel pilot.

* * * * * * *

Even though he’d been conscious for quite a while, Wedge lay perfectly still, with his eyes closed. He listened intently to the sounds around him, orienting himself to his surroundings as best he could. His hands were still bound tightly behind him.

He was also giving himself a thorough and, in his opinion, well deserved chewing out.

That was really stupid, Antilles. Baiting them like that. What were you thinking? You’ve obviously spent too much time around Plourr. You’re supposed to have a cooler head than that. Somebody should put you on report. Who’s your commanding officer, anyway?

Opening his eyes, he shifted positions slightly, and all of the different pains that had coalesced into one mind numbing ache, separated again into scattered bits of misery. The stormies had been pretty thorough. He took a deep breath and winced with the effort, then began mentally taking inventory.

I’ve definitely got some broken ribs. Probably some pretty badly bruised ones too. He ran his tongue gingerly across his split lip and tasted blood. Feels like I’ve got some loose teeth as well; the jaw’s not broken though. The sore spots on my right hip and right shoulder mean that I’ve been lying in this one spot for a long time. Beyond that, I’ve still got one or two places that don’t hurt, so I guess I’ll live.

He looked around, and found his vision a bit blurred, and his right eye swollen slightly, but he could see enough to decide that he was lying on a very hard bunk, in a small detention cell. Beneath him, he could feel the thrum of the Star Destroyer’s huge sublight engines.

The first order of business is to get more comfortable.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bunk, he struggled to sit up. When the wave of dizziness and nausea that the movement caused caught up with him, he wondered why he’d been in such a hurry.

After a few painful, deep breaths, and once his head cleared, he shifted positions. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he worked his bound hands beneath him, and then up over his feet and legs, until they were in front of him. He crossed his right foot over his left knee, and began to work on the heel of his flight boot. Specifically, he worked to free a thin sliver of metal, about five centimeters long, from the place where he’d concealed it, back when the boots had been new. Finally, he grinned as it came free. In less than a minute, he had the binders unlocked, the "key" hidden again, and was rubbing feeling back into his bruised wrists.

Thanks for the lock-picking lesson, Booster. That’s another one I owe you. He smiled at the memory of the big Corellian smuggler’s "survival lessons" and of his parents’ reaction, the first time he’d "unlocked" a cabinet for his mother at the refueling depot, when she’d misplaced her keys. As punishment he’d been assigned to clean out the oil dump tank in the main repair bay. It was a job he had absolutely hated. It had taken him two days to clean the tank, and three days to wash all the oil out of his hair and skin. Still… he’d give anything if his dad could give him the same chewing out and punishment again. He wouldn’t even grumble about it, this time. But that had been a long time ago, and a lot of light-years away.

Watch it Antilles, you’d better keep your mind on now. You’ve probably got enough problems to keep you occupied for a while.

He leaned back on the bunk on one elbow, and was casually twirling the binders around on one finger when the door slid open and three stormtroopers entered the cell. They stopped short, when they saw the binders.

"You guys forgot these. I didn’t need ’em anymore." Wedge smiled innocently.

The Lieutenant snatched the binders from him and tossed them to one of the others. Then, shoving Wedge back on the bunk, he pinned him there with a knee in his chest and one hand around his throat. Leaning all of his weight on the smaller man, he smacked him sharply over the broken ribs, with his free hand. "Where’s the pick?"

Wedge’s breath left him, and getting it back wasn’t easy, but he finally managed. "Right boot heel."

Keeping Wedge pinned, he motioned to one of the other troopers "Get it, 775."

"Yessir." The man knelt and removed the holdout from the boot. "Got it, sir."

"Now, flyboy, you got any more little secrets hidden anywhere? ‘Cause if you make me search you again, I promise that you won’t enjoy it at all."

He watched the pilot’s eyes, expecting hate or fear, and was surprised when there was neither. There was only calm assessment and cold calculation. What was that rumor about Antilles? ‘ Enough ice water in his veins to replenish Coruscant’s polar caps?’

"No. That was it. You got everything else the first time."

"Fine. Now get up, and behave. Captain Turpa wants to see you." He released the pilot, and backed away. You’ve got plenty of guts, I’ll give you that much. You had to push, just to see if we’d back up.

Wedge slowly hauled himself upright, then stood next to the bunk, grimacing at the effort. The dizziness hit him again, and he had to grab the bunk until it passed. He expected and braced for a blow, but one never came. The Lieutenant watched his every move, though.

Finally, Wedge straightened up and held out his hands. His brown eyes met the command trooper’s obsidian gaze, unflinchingly. You know that I can’t see your eyes but this rattles you anyway, doesn’t it? Good. Still, you’re the smart one here. You’re the one I’ll have to deal with.

The trooper holding the binders twisted Wedge’s arm roughly behind him and the Lieutenant stopped him. "Bind him in front."

"But Sir… he..."

"I said bind him in front. He’s probably got a concussion and he’s dizzy. He’ll have more balance if his hands are in front. I don’t want to have to keep picking his butt up off of the deck."

"Yessir." The man did as he was told, and then the two troopers took up positions on either side of their prisoner.

Heblon turned to Wedge. "You give us trouble, and you’ll get more of what you got in the hanger bay. Understand?"

"Understood." With a half smile, Wedge nodded and motioned to his hands. "Thanks."

The smile made Heblon uncomfortable. "Just move it." The Lieutenant brought up the rear, and the group left the detention bay. As they walked, he studied the pilot from behind.

That’s not bravado on Antilles’ part. It was an honest "thanks" for a small favor. And he’s not cooperating because we’ve scared him. He’s simply sized up his enemy and decided how to proceed with the confrontation at hand. If he can do that, while he’s alone, here, in the middle of a ship full of hundreds of his enemies, no wonder he’s been wreaking such havoc among our best pilots. What worries me, is why I did him the favor to begin with? He’s my enemy. Why bother?

Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. When Turpa and Tchlinda are finished with him, the only thing he’ll want to thank anybody for is for killing him. He’ll probably be begging for it, by then. If he’s can still remembers the words to use, or even how to talk. A trace of pity crossed the Heblon’s mind.

Maybe that was it. It was pity…Watch it Heblon. When you start pitying your enemy, it’s getting close to retirement time.

* * * * * * *

"So this is the ‘legendary’ Commander Wedge Antilles." Osiel Turpa stood in front of the pilot, inspecting him as if he were for sale. "I’d forgotten that fighter pilots tend to be on the small side. Why do you suppose that is, Heblon?"

"I really couldn’t say sir." The three troopers stood at ease, near the door to Turpa’s office, watching.

Turpa circled Wedge slowly, an arrogant smirk on his face. Raising the pilot’s chin, he studied the bruises on his face. "You really are disappointing, Antilles. I expected someone larger than life. You hardly seem worth the bounty that the Empire put on your head. Still…you have been rather annoying."

He continued his circling, like a predator with his prey. "Tell me, Commander, How many confirmed kills do you have?" He brushed an imaginary bit of lint from Wedge’s shoulder.

"At the moment, two hundred and fifty-two. That’s not counting the four of yours I got today; or the two Death Stars." Wedge looked Turpa in the eyes and kept his expression neutral, whenever the Imperial Officer moved back in front of him.

"Impressive. Though I believe our Baron Fel, of the 181^st. has a few more."

"Had…. He’s not counting anymore."

The Imperial officer stopped in front of him again, and the smile was replaced by a brief look of surprise. Then the look became cold and ugly. "Oh? I hadn’t heard. Pity, really. He was very good at what he did."

"Yes he is. I had a tough time putting him down."

"You’re proud of all those kills, aren’t you, Commander. Proud that you killed one of our best pilots."

"I didn’t kill, Fel. He’s still very much alive. I just helped change his political orientation. And no, actually, I hate killing. I’m proud of surviving, and of keeping my friends from being killed. But, if the only way to free this galaxy from the rest of Palpatine’s evil, is for me to keep killing Imp pilots, then that’s what I’ll do."

"How very noble of you Commander, but you’ve forgotten one thing…" Turpa picked up a small stone carving that sat on his desk and studied it critically. Then he shifted it in his hand and it became a weapon.

The four brutal blows to Wedge’s stomach came completely without warning. Then, before Wedge could do anything more than double over, Turpa brought up his right knee, in a sharp blow between the pilot’s legs.

"You’ve forgotten that the Empire owns you now." He swung the carving again, as Wedge went down, and delivered two blows to the Corellian’s face.

With the first one, blood from Wedge’s mouth and nose spattered all over Turpa’s uniform, the deck, and the stormtroopers white armor. The second one opened a gash over his already bruised right eye.

"And now you will be made to pay for your crimes. Your survival will cost you dearly, Commander."

Turpa’s face was red with rage, and spittle flecked the corners of his mouth. He raised the carving to strike again, but his hand was stopped and held in midair.

"How dare you? Get your hands off of me…." He turned and, for the first time, seemed to focus on Heblon, who held his hand in an iron grip. "I’ll have you executed for this."

"Maybe, sir. But remember Moff Tchlinda is expecting him planet side in three days. If you kill him, or mess him up much more, the Moff might be…displeased."

"Yes…yes, of course." A look of alarm crossed his features. He backed up and began to regain his composure. He looked at Wedge, who lay convulsing on the deck. "The Moff would be highly displeased."

He set the bloodstained carving back down on his desk, and straightened his uniform. "We can’t have that now, can we? Take care of it Heblon. And send someone in here to tidy up a bit."

"Yes sir. All right men. Let’s get him back to detention."

The two troopers grabbed Wedge under his arms, and by his feet, and carried him from the office.

* * * * * * *

By the time they had reached the detention cell, Wedge’s convulsions had stopped.

"Put him on the bunk, and take the binders off of him." Heblon watched as the men complied. "No! Lay him on his side, so if he vomits, he won’t strangle on it."

"I don’t get it, Sir. What are you so worried about him for? They’re gonna do a lot worse than this to him, once he’s planet side."

"Maybe. But if he dies here, or looks like this when he gets there, Tchlinda is going to be madder than hell…And who do you suppose will get the blame for it? Not Turpa. Do you want to have to face Tchlinda?"

"Yeah. I see what you mean."

"I thought you would. Daw, go get some blankets, a couple of basins, and a bucket of ice. Now."

"Yessir."

"Creer, You go to my quarters and look in the locker at the foot of my bed. Here’s the key. There are three bottles of Whyren’s Reserve in there. Bring me the two that have been opened. Get some clean cloths for bandages, and bring the medpac under my bunk."

"Yessir." He disappeared and the door closed behind him.

Heblon knelt by the bunk, taking off his gauntlets, and helmet to reveal a rugged, face, with a neat beard, and close cropped white hair. The gray eyes were intelligent, and he wore a look that was a mixture of anger and disgust.

He bent down, and put a hand on Wedge’s forehead, then gently opened the pilot’s left eye, with his thumb. He did the same with the swollen right eye, and was relieved to find that they both dilated properly, even though the right one was completely bloodshot. Wedge moaned with pain.

The two troopers clattered through the door with the stuff they’d gone after, and Heblon checked to see if they’d gotten everything.

"All right. Now, you two get back to your duties. I’ll handle this. If I need you, I’ll call. And remember to keep your mouths shut. We don’t need everybody on the ship knowing what’s going on."

"Sure Lt."

"Yessir!" They hurried out of the cell, and the door slid shut behind them.

"Okay, son," He turned back to the bunk. "Let’s get a good look at the damage."

He patted Wedge on the shoulder, then shook him gently. "Antilles? Antilles? Wake up!" The only response was another moan.

"Blast!" He stood, and walked over to the small "fresher" in the corner of the cell. Picking up one of the basins, he filled it with warm water, then went to work.

First, he removed Wedge’s heavy flight boots, and swore, when Wedge’s vibroblade clattered to the deck. "Got everything the first time huh? I am gettin’ old."

Shaking his head ruefully, he eased the bloodied flight suit off, leaving Wedge in just his shorts. Rolling him onto his back, he placed one of the blankets under the man’s head and shoulders. Very carefully, he ran his hands over the Corellian’s rib cage, stomach and abdomen, pressing and releasing in different spots.

Wedge moaned and opened his eyes, trying to focus on the man bending over him. "Oww, Booster. It hurts…. I…I’m gonna be sick." He rolled to his side, trying to sit up and Heblon helped him, holding the basin up just in time. The vomit was bright red.

"I thought so. Damn you Turpa, this was uncalled for! Slapping him around would have been enough." He rasped under his breath.

He dipped one of the cloths in the warm water, and wiped Wedge’s face, carefully. Then he reached for the Whyren’s Reserve bottle and raised the pilot up more.

"Here you go, kid. Drink this." He put the bottle to Wedge’s lips and poured him a mouth full. Wedge obediently swallowed and Heblon repeated the action several times, before the Corellian began to protest.

"Mmph. Umm. Damn! That’s not whiskey." He coughed and opened his eyes. Trying again to focus.

"It’s bacta. Here, have some more."

"Uhh uhh! I’m gonna…throw up…again." And he did.

"That’s all right. I’ll just keep pouring it in you until you can keep it down, or you quit puking blood. Whichever comes first."

"Oh…Okay…Sure, B.Booster."

"I’m not ‘Booster.’"

"Oh. S…sorry." Wedge looked dazedly at the older man. "I…I thought y...you were a f...friend of mine. Mmph." He cringed in pain. "You remind me of him. It…it’s Heblon, isn’t it?"

The older man started in surprise, then met Wedge’s unsteady gaze. "Yeah. Evidently your memory still works." He held the bottle up. "Here drink some more of this. As much of it as you can get down."

"All right. But it’d be a lot easier if it were really Whyren’s Reserve." Wedge took the bottle in one shaky hand and put it to his lips. He managed to down six or eight swallows, then stopped. Taking another deep breath, he turned the bottle up again and drained it. Then clamped his mouth shut, trying not to gag.

"Can you keep it down?"

He nodded slowly. "If I don’t…think about it too much."

"Good. Now lay back, and try to relax." He helped him ease back on the bunk, and placed the other blanket over him.

Taking a plastine bag out of the medpac, he filled it with ice.

"Spread your legs."

"What?" Wedge’s eyes opened wide.

"You heard me. And don’t tell me you’re not hurting."

"No. I won’t tell you that." He did as he was told, and Heblon handed him the ice pack. "This’ll help."

Wedge gritted his teeth against the cold sensation, but after a moment, it did seem to help. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because if we take you planet side in this shape, my men and I will get the blame. I don’t want that."

"Oh." He touched his mouth tentatively and regretted it. "Is that the only reason?"

"Yeah. What else would it be?"

Wedge shrugged. "You…you just seem pretty good at this. Were you a doctor before you became a stormtrooper?"

"Never mind what I was, flyboy. I’m doing this strictly to keep my own butt out of trouble. Now shut up."

He took the second bottle and poured some of the bacta into the basin, soaking several of the bandages. He filled another ice bag, and wrapped one of the wet bandages around it. "Here, hold this on your mouth. Now, lie still. I’m going to bandage that eye."

Wedge relaxed and let the man work on him. By the time he’d finished, the bacta had already started to work. The pain in the side of his head had eased, and the burning in his belly was considerably less.

"How’re you doing?"

"Better. I’ll be in good shape, when they execute me."

"Good… Now, one last thing…" He turned to the side reaching for something.

"What?"

"This." He lifted Wedge’s arm and held it outstretched, then slipped a needle into a vein.

"Hey. What the…." He tried to struggle, but the drug hit him like a speeder wreck. "Wait…"

"Take it easy. It’s just something to ease the pain."

"H...Heblon?" His voice became thick.

"What?"

"Th…thank you."

"Quit thanking me, Antilles. This just postpones the inevitable."

"I know. But thanks anyway." His words slurred and in the next breath, he was out. His body relaxed, and his breathing became regular. Heblon lay the outstretched arm across the Corellian’s chest.

"That’s it. You just keep breathing. In three days, Tchlinda will have you, and you won’t be my problem any more." That’s what I want. It’s all I want… So how come I’m not happy about it?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Ajene Tuvora walked into the tapcafe, it always produced the same result. Most of the human males, and a fair number of the non-human ones, turned their attention to watching her, as she passed by. Not too obviously of course, but they did just the same. It produced kind of a ripple effect when viewed from a distance.

It was also totally understandable. Standing about 1.5 meters tall, she had a lithe grace when she moved. Her coppery blond hair was worn cut short, tapered at the nape of her neck and in a soft tumble of curls on top of her head. She had wide green eyes that looked from under thick lashes. Beneath her tan, she had a spatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And her figure did extremely nice things to the drab green uniform she wore.

Once you looked beyond the obvious, there were a couple of other features that came into focus; and which made all but the most foolhardy men think twice about approaching her for anything more than polite conversation.

One was the BlasTech DL-44 Heavy blaster pistol, which she wore low and tied down, at her right hip. The other was the fact that, at the collar of that drab green uniform, she wore the rank and insignia of a Major, in the New Republic Armed Forces Commandos. She was definitely an attention getter any way you looked at it.

Today was no different. Heads turned, as she made her way through the crowd toward the table occupied by Captain Tycho Celchu, Lieutenant Corran Horn, and his wife, Mirax.

At her approach, the two men stood at attention, and saluted sharply. She returned the salute, and smiled.

"At ease guys. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Tycho offered her a chair. "We just finished ordering breakfast. Interested?"

"Sure." She nodded to the serving droid that stood by, waiting patiently. "I’ll have a Carridian honey roll and hot caf." The droid trundled off and she turned her attention back to the others.

"How was your patrol?"

"Long and boring." Tycho shook his head. "Escorting diplomats and politicians back and forth is not my idea of fun."

"Now Tycho," Mirax smiled sweetly. "Your beloved Commander would tell you that you didn’t join Rogue Squadron to have fun."

"He probably would." The blue eyed pilot grinned broadly.

"Speaking of Wedge," Ajene frowned slightly. "Have any of you seen or heard from him lately?"

"We thought he was with you?" Corran spoke up instantly. "I mean, you had a date last night and…" He stopped without finishing. Nice going, Horn. Couldn’t you have come up with anything more thoughtless? Don’t answer that…

Mirax’s mouth fell open, in disbelief, and Tycho covered his eyes with one hand, grimacing at his friend’s blunder.

"I mean...Ahh." Corran blushed furiously.

"Corran…don’t, Sweetheart." Mirax patted his hand. "You’ll only make it worse." She looked at Ajene. "Forgive him, Major. Sometimes his mouth works, before his brain is fully engaged." She tapped him on the forehead gently and shook her head.

Ajene looked at the three of them for a moment then started laughing. Two huge tears of mirth ran down her cheeks, as she reached over and patted Corran’s other hand.

"Relax, Corran. It’s not as if it’s a secret that Wedge and I have been spending time with each other. We’re not hiding anything."

He looked at her gratefully. "That’s nice...But, I think I’ll just sit here and keep my mouth shut."

"Good!" Tycho and Mirax responded simultaneously.

At that moment, the serving droid reappeared with the food. There was a brief shuffle of plates and utensils, then they were alone again.

Taking a sip of the steaming caf, Ajene looked at them a bit more seriously. "You’re right Corran. Wedge and I did have a date for dinner last night, but he didn’t show up. He also didn’t let me know that he wasn’t coming, and that’s not like him." She looked at the table for a moment. "I just wondered if he’d left word with you." Her concern was written all over her face.

"Sorry, Major." Tycho shook his head. "He flew out to Thyferra the day-before-yesterday, and was going to stay the night. He was supposed to head back yesterday morning. We didn’t get back from patrol until late last night. We figured he’d made it back, already."

"He didn’t leave you any word at all?" Mirax frowned.

"Emtrey delivered a bouquet of flowers that Wedge sent me. The note with them just said that he’d see me at dinner."

"I like the sound of this less and less." Corran played with the food on his plate. "Let’s go over to the operations center and see if they’ve heard anything."

"I think you’re right." Tycho stood and tossed money on the table, "It’s on me. Let’s go." The four of them headed for the door.

It only took them a few moments to reach the operations center, and they went directly to the communications room. When they got there, Nawara Ven, Rogue Squadron’s Twi’lek Executive Officer was standing over one of the tech stations, frowning. He looked up when the others entered.

"I was just going to send for you, Tycho." Nawara’s lekku twitched nervously, as he talked. "We may have a problem. I think that Wedge…"

"…Is in trouble." The Alderaanian finished the sentence for him.

"Right. How did you know?"

"Wedge didn’t keep his dinner date with Major Tuvora last night." He nodded at Ajene.

"Oh. Sorry, Major." Nawara remembered himself and started to salute, but she dismissed it with a wave.

"What have you got, Nawara?" Corran leaned on the console.

"When I came in this morning, I found out that Wedge still hadn’t checked in, even though he was supposed to be back yesterday. I contacted Thyferra to see if he was still there."

"And…"

"Bror Jace said that he saw Wedge off early yesterday morning, and Thyferran traffic control confirmed that his ship went to lightspeed about fifteen minutes later."

"Has there been any other word?" Tycho ran his hands through his light brown hair.

"We didn’t think so, but then someone remembered that there had been a high speed microburst signal intercepted yesterday. At least part of one."

"Is it from Wedge?"

"Like I said, it was only a partial signal, and it was sent high speed. When the sensors picked it up, it made no sense, and they assumed it was static. But when we started looking for Wedge, we took a closer look at it."

He pointed to a Chadra-Fan technician, near by. "Raned is working on it now. He’s slowing it down, so maybe we can tell what it is."

The diminutive technician suddenly became very animated, chittering in his own language. Then, remembering himself, he switched to Basic. "I’ve got it, sir! I think I’ve got it!"

The group moved over to look at the information that had begun to scroll on the screen, and Raned smiled. "It’s from Commander Antilles’ R5 unit. It appears to have been sent in somewhat of a hurry."

"Are you sure it’s Wedge’s droid?" Ajene frowned at the screen.

"What does it say?" Mirax leaned over Corran.

"It’s Gate’s signal, all right. All droids have their own signal characteristics, like human voices. I compared this with a recording of Gate’s pattern. It’s him."

"But. What does it say?" Tycho’s impatience was beginning to show.

"I’m afraid it’s a distress call, sir." The mouse-eared technician murmured apologetically. "It says ‘Mayday... Mayday…Taking fire… Imperial Victory Class Star Destroyer. Querulous.’ Then it gives part of a coordinate."

"Is that all?" The worry in Ajene’s voice, and her eyes was unmistakable.

"Yes ma’am. The transmission ends in static… like...it was suddenly cut off."

An icy pang of fear cut through Corran’s insides, and he shivered. Mirax looked at her husband’s face, and put her hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head. "No. I just got a really bad feeling about this. Wedge is in real trouble."

"Do you think he’s been shot down?" Tycho studied the younger man apprehensively.

"I…I don’t know. I just know that he...he needs us." He hung his head. "I wish I could tell you more. It…It’s just a feeling."

"Well, I for one, have known you long enough to trust your ‘feelings.’" Nawara straightened up and took out his comlink. Adjusting the base of it, he thumbed it on.

"Rogue Squadron, Priority One. Report to briefing room A. Repeat. Rogue Squadron, Priority One. Report to briefing room A."

"Tycho, you’ll have Lead. You’ll have to leave a four-ship element here for escort duty. I’ll let you decide who." He turned to Raned.

"Pull up what you have on the partial coordinate, and plot likely points along the Commander’s intended route home."

"Yessir."

Ajene Tuvora stepped forward. "Captain Ven, I’d like to be included in the mission. I can pilot a Lambda."

"You can fly with me, Ajene." Mirax put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. "I’m volunteering the Pulsar Skate."

"Thanks Mirax. I…" She looked gratefully at the other woman, unable to finish the sentence.

"I understand." Mirax smiled and patted her arm. That’s Wedge for you. He’s already gotten next to her heart. He does that to women, and always has. And he hasn’t got a clue that he does.

Taking a deep breath, Ajene straightened up and turned to Tycho. "I’d better notify my unit. I’ll meet you in the briefing room in fifteen minutes."

"Right. See you there." Tycho nodded.

To everyone else, she had become all business, but as Mirax watched her go, she recognized a woman trying to deal with the fear of losing someone she cared deeply for. She’d been there herself a time or two.

"Okay. Let’s go, Corran, Mirax." Tycho turned to Ven. "Have Zraii preflight the ships. We’ll be leaving as soon as we get organized."

"Done. I’ll meet you there."

The three headed for the briefing room at a trot.

* * * * * * *

Tycho looked over the room, and counted heads. Everyone was there except Nawara, who’d been delayed while notifying Admiral Akbar of the situation.

Corran, Mirax, and Ajene Tuvora sat at the table, in deep discussion over a copy of the transmission that Emtrey had brought from the comm center.

Gavin Darklighter, and Asyr Sei’lar sat together in the front row talking with Ooryl Qrygg. The Gand was demonstrating a maneuver with his hands, as he talked.

Rhysati Ynr and Inyri Forge sat on either side of Varnestra, a Calamarian, one of the newest members of the Squadron.

Tal’dira, the squadron’s towering Twi’lek pilot leaned against a support column, and silently watched the proceedings. The other two new members of the squadron, Arata Voran, a human male from Berchest, and Rehm Shyra, a male Rodian, lounged in the seats behind Gavin and Asyr.

Nawara Ven walked in and down to the table where Tycho and the others were seated. "Rogues, let me have your attention. Sorry to have to break up your down time, but we’ve got bad news."

Everyone’s attention was riveted to their XO.

"Day-before-yesterday, Commander Antilles flew over to Thyferra for a meeting. He was due to stay overnight, then head back to Coruscant yesterday morning. We have verified that he did leave on time, and made the jump to lightspeed. However, we have reason to believe that somewhere along the route home, he was ambushed. As of now, he is approximately twenty hours overdue."

Gavin spoke up. "Do we have any idea where he was hit?"

"Not specifically. What we have is a partial coordinate, that Gate sent out as a high speed distress signal."

"Partial?" Inyri frowned. "How partial?"

"Half a coordinate." Tycho answered. "The transmission read, ‘Mayday. Mayday…Taking fire…Imperial Victory Class Star Destroyer Querulous…’ then it gave the coordinate, and the rest of the transmission was cut off, before it was completed."

"His ship could have been hit with an Ion burst." Asyr spoke softly, almost to herself, and her fur ruffled in a Bothan indication of worry. She felt Gavin’s hand cover hers as it gripped his arm.

"I hope you’re right." Voran spoke up. "The alternative is…"

"It’s not up for discussion." Tycho’s voice was thick with the emotion he felt. "We’ve projected likely ambush points, and destinations, based on the information we have. Admittedly it’s pretty slim. But it’s the best that we can do, right now."

"I’ve spoken with Admiral Akbar. He’s given us his authorization to handle this as we see fit." Nawara spoke up. "Captain Celchu will assume Lead. Although I know that all of you will want to go, we will have to keep a four-ship element here, due to escort responsibilities. Captain Celchu will choose who will go, and who will stay."

"I’ve asked Emtrey to randomize a choice." Tycho nodded to the droid. "Emtrey."

"Yessir. Those staying on station will be Ooryl Qrygg, Inyri Forge, Voran Arata and Gavin Darklighter."

Their looks of disappointment were immediate, and Tycho could understand how they felt. "I’m sorry that you all can’t go with us. But Wedge would be the first to remind us that our duties take precedence over our emotions. We’ll be keeping in touch, and we’ll let Nawara know, the minute we find anything. I trust he’ll keep you all informed." He looked down at the floor. "We’ll be leaving within the hour. That’s all I have for now. You’re all dismissed."

He turned and moved back to the table, but none of the others left. Instead, they stayed, while the plans were finalized, then went to the hangars and stayed until the searchers raised ship. They watched their comrades disappear, and then silently went back to the ready room. Somehow, down time had lost its appeal.

* * * * * * *

"Sir," The young Lieutenant snapped to attention before Captain Turpa’s desk and saluted smartly. "We’ve entered orbit around Arramsetti III. Shall I have them prepare your shuttle?"

"Very good, Lt. Esta. We will be going planet side shortly. Make the arrangements." He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.

When the door slid shut behind the officer, Turpa turned to his comm unit and keyed in a number. Lt. Heblon’s image appeared on screen.
"Heblon, how is our prisoner doing?"

"Better, Sir."

"Good. Get him ready to leave. We’ll be heading down to the planet within the hour."

"Yessir."

"And Heblon, clean him up and make him presentable. Moff Tchlinda has waited a long time for this. I want this to be a very special moment."

"Yessir." Heblon saluted and Turpa ended the transmission.

Picking up the stone carving from his desk, Turpa traced the pattern that had been left on it by Wedge’s dried blood and smiled. "This will be most enjoyable."

* * * * * * *

Heblon stepped down into the detention cell, and studied the man who lay sleeping on the bunk. For the past three days he had patiently tended the man, checking his breathing, keeping the bandages wet with the healing bacta, and keeping him sedated. Now the time had come to wake him, and Heblon wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like he can see my face, and knows what I’m thinking. I prefer prisoners to be the compliant, scared stupid kind that don’t give me any trouble. He reached into his belt pouch and brought out the vibroblade that had fallen out of Antilles’ boot. He sure as hell isn’t scared of us; he’s got his own definition of compliant, and he’s already been more trouble than any three other prisoners I could name. Shaking his head, he replaced the knife in the pouch.

"Antilles!" He reached over and shook the man’s shoulder. "Antilles. Wake up!"

"Huh? What?" He opened his eyes and looked up at Heblon. "Oh. It’s you." He rolled over and hauled himself upright, then had to close his eyes until the wave of dizziness that had hit him, subsided.

He rubbed his hands over his face, and aside from discovering that he had acquired a fair amount of stubble, he realized that the bandages were gone.

Heblon took off his helmet and lifted Wedge’s chin, checking the nearly healed cut over his right eye, and the eye itself. "How do you feel?"

"Like an Impstar Deuce fell on me."

"You look like it. How’s the eyesight?"

Wedge blinked and looked around the room. "A little blurry, but it’ll do. I could target with it." He met Heblon’s frowning gaze evenly.

The Lieutenant ran a hand across the pilot’s ribs and stomach. "You need to remember something, Antilles. You are the target here. How’s the gut?"

"It’s not hurting like it did, and I’m hungry, so I guess it’s okay. I ought to be in good shape for my execution."

"Good. That was the idea."

Wedge rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve got one hell of a hangover though. How much of that stuff did you give me?"

"Maximum dose, every four hours for three days. You slept like a baby, and I didn’t have to listen to you thanking me all over the place."

"Oh." Wedge shifted uncomfortably. "That explains why I really need to use the ‘fresher."

"Be my guest." Heblon stepped forward and offered his hand to help the pilot stand up. "Take it slow. You’ve been flat of your back for those three days." Wedge stood, and waited until the cell stopped spinning, then moved slowly across to the ‘fresher unit.

"If I’ve been out for three days, I guess that means I’ll be getting to meet Moff Tchlinda soon." He talked over his shoulder to the stormtrooper.

"That’s right."

"Is the Moff as much fun as your Captain?"

"Even more so."

"Great…Got any idea why the Moff is so unhappy with me? I mean, since I haven’t got a clue who he even is." Having finished, he washed his hands and started back to the bunk.

"That’s between you and the Moff. Besides, you’ll find out soon enough."

"Okay. Mind if I ask where we are?"

"We’re in station keeping orbit around Arramsetti III. On the backside of nowhere."

"Whew." He whistled. "You can say that again. Arramsetti III is even farther ‘nowhere’ than Tatooine." He sat back down on the bunk, just as another stormtrooper walked in carrying his dufflebag.

"Here’s his gear, sir." The man dropped the bag on the bunk, but before Wedge could reach for it, Heblon’s gun came up, pointing directly at his chest.

"Uhh, uhh." He produced the vibroblade from the pouch and held it up for Wedge to see. "We didn’t quite get everything the first time."

Wedge looked at the knife then at Heblon. He shrugged and gave the big man a half smile. "I figured it was worth a try."

"Uhh huh. Dump all the gear out on the bunk, and don’t touch it." He pointed at the dufflebag with the barrel of the blaster. "Check the stuff out, 634."

"Yessir."

Wedge did as he was told, and the trooper began pawing through the contents. Carefully checking through everything, he came up with a small hold out blaster that had been tucked in one of the pilot’s dress boots. A bit more looking turned up a comlink and nothing else. "That’s all sir. Just a couple of changes of clothes and these." He handed the blaster and comlink to Heblon.

"All right. That’ll be all."

"Yessir." The trooper left.

"Okay, Hotshot. Get some clean clothes and let’s go." He moved to stand over by the door, putting his helmet back on as he did.

"Go where?" Wedge stood and picked up a clean uniform and underwear.

"You’re going to get a shower. Turpa wants you to be presentable when you meet the Moff." The Imperial walked over and took the tan uniform from the pilot. "Not that one." Tossing it aside, he picked up Wedge’s formal dress uniform and boots and handed them to the Corellian. "This one."

"By all means!" Wedge raised an eyebrow. "Anything to make a good impression." He picked up his shaving gear, and started out the door. As he drew even with Heblon, he looked up at him. "By the way…Thanks." He walked on out the door, leaving Heblon shaking his head.

He was glad that he’d put the helmet back on, so no one could seen the grin that had been put on his face by the Corellian’s good natured parting shot.

Damn you, Antilles. I don’t need to start liking you. There’s no future in it.

* * * * * * *

With a loud hiss of venting steam, and the hydraulic groan of its landing gear, the Lambda Class shuttle settled into the private docking bay, atop the Imperial Moff’s Palace, looking very much like a huge bird of prey coming to roost. Night had begun to settle, on Arramsetti III, and a chill wind blew the steam away, as the boarding ramp lowered and light spilled out into the darkness.

Captain Osiel Turpa was the first down the ramp, followed closely by his two aides, and several members of the bridge crew of the Querulous. Impeccably dressed in his black, full dress uniform, with gleaming black boots, and a single silver medal gleaming at his throat, he was an imposing figure, as he swept into the Palace from the roof top entrance. Right into the middle of an elegant dinner party.

Women at the party drew back, murmuring in appreciation. Several of the ladies smiled tentatively at him, and were rewarded with one of his nods of faint recognition. A lucky few were actually spoken to.

But however grand Turpa’s entrance had been, it was canceled out by the appearance of the next "guest."

Flanked by two armed stormtroopers, followed by a third, and with his hands bound in front of him, Wedge Antilles was escorted into the room.

Several centimeters shorter than Turpa, Wedge had the slim, lithe body of a fighter pilot and he moved with a loose easy grace acquired through years of space travel. His perpetually mussed dark hair, and dark brown eyes, made his handsome, boyish face seem younger than he actually was, and his smile took even more years off. Because of his youthful appearance, and size, many potential opponents made the mistake of underestimating him. It was a mistake equal to the magnitude of the one the Empire made, when they decided that snub fighters were no threat to Deathstars. And, if they were Imperial pilots, it was usually the last mistake that they made.

His dress uniform consisted of black shirt, black trousers with a gold stripe and black boots, with a white jacket belted in gray. He wore his rank insignia, on the collar of his shirt and, over the left shoulder of his jacket, was a red sash with all of his awards and battle ribbons embroidered on it, beginning at the shoulder with the two Deathstars and ending near his waist with the Star of Coruscant. The crests of the Alliance and Rogue Squadron stood side by side, over his heart.

The wind on the roof had tousled his hair, and he reached up with his hands to brush it out of his eyes. Moving with an ease that belied the fact that he was a prisoner, he looked around casually. Most of the conversation in the room stopped, and several of the women stared openly. He smiled and sketched a polite bow. "Ladies."

"Quiet, you." The stormtrooper behind him cuffed him on the shoulder. The women blushed or giggled and turned away.

Turpa moved over to his side and spoke in a soft malevolent voice, "I’d be very careful if I were you, Commander. You’re no longer on Coruscant. I doubt that most of these people consider you much of a hero. You owe a debt here, and you may rest assured that it will be paid."

"Sorry. I was just being polite." He smiled innocently at Turpa, but Wedge harbored no illusions about his situation. He never had. He knew that there was a very real possibility that he wouldn’t survive whatever these people had in mind for him. The odds were definitely not in his favor, but that didn’t matter, since the Corellian in him had no respect for those odds anyway.

Turpa’s face reddened, and he moved menacingly toward the pilot, but was brought up short by a velvety voice from somewhere in the crowd behind him.

"Really Osiel, " the voice purred, "that is no way to treat my guest. You forget yourself."

For a fleeting instant, Wedge saw real fear in Turpa’s eyes. Then it was gone.

The crowd parted at the woman’s approach and individuals acknowledged her with brief bows and curtsies as she swept by, with truly regal bearing.

Standing several centimeters taller than Wedge, she had an elegant figure that was shown off perfectly by the low cut, softly draped green gown that she wore. Her shoulder length brown hair cascaded around her as she moved. Her complexion was pale and creamy, and her eyes were a startling amber color. She was an absolutely stunning woman, and she stopped directly in front of Wedge. Though he was surprised, his expression remained neutral.

There was a brief silence, as she studied him closely. Her eyes, taking, in each detail, she hesitated briefly at the images of the two Deathstars, then continued until she found her look being met evenly by Wedge’s calm, brown eyed gaze.

"Captain Turpa, would you introduce us please."

"Of course, your Excellency, as you wish." He bowed formally to her. "Lady Lathel Tchlinda, this is Commander Wedge Antilles of the Rebel Alliance, Commander of Rogue Squadron. It was Commander Antilles who killed your late husband, and sons, during the Rebel’s cowardly attack on our beloved Emperor, at Endor."

There was a collective gasp, and Turpa’s cold smile turned to Wedge. "Commander Antilles, this is Her Excellency, Moff Lathel Tchlinda, of Arramsetti III."

"Commander Antilles…I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time."

Her open handed slap landed solidly on Wedge’s left cheek, leaving a red imprint of her hand.

Whatever reaction she and Turpa had expected from Wedge, it definitely wasn’t the one they got. Without hesitating, Wedge took the hand she’d slapped him with in his bound hands, bowed to her briefly, then kissed her hand.

"Lady Tchlinda, you have my deepest sympathy for the pain caused by the loss of your family... I owe you that much… But that is all I owe you." He straightened up and continued to meet her gaze, as he released her hand.

She stared at him incredulously for a long moment, then she laughed out loud. "Why Commander, I see now why you’ve been such a thorn in the Empire’s side for so long. You are utterly fearless." She moved closer to him and lightly touched the cheek she had just slapped. "And, I must admit, I never expected you to be quite so charming…

or quite so attractive. Come, let’s go in and have dinner." She reached to take his arm and he held up his bound hands, shrugging apologetically.

"Oh my! Lieutenant," She motioned to the stormtrooper who stood behind Wedge. "Remove these binders."

Turpa stepped forward. "Your Excellency, that may not be a wise idea. He is…"

"Captain Turpa, if these three, armed stormtroopers are not enough to stop Commander Antilles, if he decides to cause trouble, then I doubt very seriously that the binders will be much of a deterrent…Lieutenant, please."

The trooper grabbed Wedge’s hands and turned him roughly around to face him as he unlocked the binders. "Okay flyboy," He poked Wedge in the chest. "Remember that target we talked about. You watch yourself." Heblon’s voice was deadly serious.

"I will Lieutenant." Wedge rubbed his wrists, and nodded his understanding of the trooper’s hidden warning. "You have my word on it." He turned back to Moff Tchlinda and offered her his arm. She took it and they walked into the dining room together.

Turpa turned to Heblon. "If he so much as blinks wrong, kill him!"

"Yessir."

Turpa stalked after them, and Heblon and his two men followed.

Watch your back Antilles. You may be in more trouble than even I thought.

* * * * * * *

Standing at the window, Wedge watched the Arramsetti sky, as it changed from night to earliest morning. Traces of pink and pale yellow had begun to ease their way into the deep blues and purples of the night. It held the promise of a beautiful sunrise, and the thought struck him that he should probably enjoy it, since it might be his last. Instead, he turned away and moved back into the small bedroom, which was serving as his cell.

Looking around, he finally sat down on the barely disturbed bed. He’d been unable to sleep, after Heblon had locked him in, and had spent the night replaying the day’s events in his mind.

First there was the anomalous situation of his being at a party, in a room full of Imperial sympathizers, who probably intended to kill him, and still enjoying himself. The food and drink had been delicious and he’d been treated like any other guest, except for the constant watchfulness of the three stormtroopers shadowing his every step.

There had been the polite conversation, and dancing with Moff Tchlinda and some of the other women. He’d been questioned, by some of the men, about his reasons for being a member of the ‘criminal’ Alliance, and then called a liar for giving his honest answers. And through it all, he’d seen the looks that Turpa gave him, become more and more poisonous, every time they made eye contact.

Finally, there had been the ‘tour’ of the monument, that the Moff was having built in honor of her husband and sons. A huge, black granite tab, with heroically posed statues of the slain men, carvings of TIE fighters and the Deathstar and a eulogy carved in the stone. Someone had asked what the purpose was of the large, empty area at the back of the monument. The Moff had smiled strangely and said that they’d know within the next few days, but that there would be a "special addition" to the work.

The party hadn’t ended until well after midnight. After the guests had all gone their separate ways, Wedge’s hands had been bound again and he’d been escorted upstairs and taken to Moff Tchlinda’s chambers. After delivering him, the three stormtroopers remained outside the door.

Tchlinda sat at an ornate dressing table, brushing her hair. She had changed from the elegant dress she’d worn earlier to an enticingly, low cut gown of diaphanous silk. It left almost nothing to the imagination.

The picture she presented was an extremely pleasant one, and Wedge would have probably enjoyed it, had it not been for one small fact. Over a long career of surviving whatever his enemies threw at him, he’d developed a number of instincts that warned him of impending danger. At that moment, every single one of those alarms was sounding at full volume.

"There you are, Commander." Her smile was dazzling, as she stood and moved over to sit on the bed. "Come, have a seat. Let’s…talk." She patted the bed next to her.

Wedge smiled politely and shook his head. "Thank you, but I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind."

"Why, Commander…don’t tell me that you’re shy about being in a lady’s bedroom. Don’t be afraid. I won’t bite you know. Unless, of course, you’d like me to."

"No. I’m not shy, and it’s not a question of fear."

"Love then? You have a sweetheart that you’ve pledged yourself to, and you don’t want to make her jealous." She stood and moved over to him.

He thought of Ajene and wondered what she was doing at this moment. "Why would she be jealous…if we just talk?"

"Commander, you’re not going to make this easy are you? What is the real reason?" She walked slowly around him, then stopped to brush the hair from his eyes.

"Rules…and complications." He looked at her steadily.

"I don’t understand?"

"I make it a rule never to go bed with someone who intends to kill me, and that makes life less complicated, in the long run."

"Ahh. That’s very interesting. But…" She moved closer to him, and lifting his hands, slipped them over her head, so that his arms encircled her. "Rules are made to be broken, and sometimes complications can be quite pleasant." She put her lips to his and kissed him provocatively, insinuating all sorts of interesting possibilities, but stopped after a long moment, when he refused to respond.

"Really, Commander. You disappoint me. I would have thought you’d be a bit more…responsive." She undid two buttons on his shirt and slipped a hand inside, caressing his chest lightly.

"Sorry…But I haven’t had quite that much to drink. And it would be wrong of me to take advantage of you, while you’re in…such an obvious state of grief." He met her withering look evenly, as her hand retreated and she freed herself from his arms.

"Very well then. If that’s the way you want it." She reached out and caressed his face with one hand. "Pity. It could have been very…interesting."

"I’ll bet."

"Guard!" The door opened and the stormtroopers stood there.

"Take Commander Antilles to his room. We’ll begin his interrogation in the morning."

"Yes Ma’am. Move it, you!" The trooper jabbed Wedge in the ribs with his blaster rifle. Shoving him out the door, they closed it behind them.

* * * * * * *

"You see my Dear…" A dark figure moved toward her from the other room. "I told you that your offer would be wasted on him. He suffers from an unfortunate case of moral decency. Besides, I doubt that you’d find him very satisfying." The man walked up to her and put his arms around her. "You need someone with stronger passions. More varied experience."

She reached up and removed the silver medal from his uniform, tossing it onto the dressing table, before she began unbuttoning the black shirt. "I suppose you’re right, Osiel. But it’s a pity that, now, we’ll never know. Still, there will be the pleasure of making him pay for his crimes against me and against the Empire. And I shall enjoy that very much…"

* * * * * * *

Wedge rubbed his face with both hands and looked around the room again, wondering how much longer he had before they came for him. He hadn’t heard anyone stirring yet. Maybe they’d all sleep really late, after the party.

His thoughts turned to home. He knew that the Squadron had probably mounted some kind of search for him. How much of one, and how long they’d keep at it, he didn’t know. But if Tycho or Corran had any say in the matter, it would be pretty thorough. He doubted that they’d find him though, since they had nothing to go on. He’d been back over the details of his ambush numerous times, and came to the same conclusion each time. He’d simply vanished, leaving no trace.

Then he thought of Ajene, and a pang of regret cut through him. He remembered their goodbye, before he’d left for Thyferra. It had been all too brief. Just, "I’ll see you tomorrow night. Take care." And a kiss. Nothing more. He hadn’t even told her he loved her, although, truthfully, the two of them had only recently admitted their deeper feelings for each other. Still, he wished that he’d told her, but he knew that she’d be all right. She was one tough lady, when she needed to be. That’s one of the things about her that fascinated him.

The clatter of armor, down the hall, and voices approaching the door brought Wedge out of his reverie. Then he remembered the bottle that Heblon had slipped into his palm, before locking him in for the night.

Reaching deep into his pocket, he brought out the small glass bottle, and held it up to the light. It contained several grams of a clear green liquid. He hesitated, before opening it, not quite trusting what Heblon had said.

"Before they come for you in the morning, swallow this. It’ll make things easier on you. It’s the best I can do."

It could be a trick to drug him so he’d talk easier, but he doubted it. He didn’t get that kind of feeling about the big Lieutenant.

The key grated in the lock, and he hurriedly opened the bottle and downed the contents, then slipped the empty bottle into a drawer in the bedside table.

The door opened and the three stormtroopers walked in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I sure hope Jace has something for us. Three days of quartering sectors and getting nowhere is getting to me." Corran’s voice came over the comm units in both Tycho’s ship, and the Skate.

"I agree. The longer it takes to find a lead, the less chance we have of finding Wedge. Anyway, we’ll know in a few minutes." Tycho sounded optimistic, but underneath, there was a great deal of tension in his voice.

The Pulsar Skate, flanked by the two X-wings, settled onto the permacrete landing field at Thyferra, and cut their repulsors almost in unison. As the four people set foot on the ground, Bror Jace hurried out to meet them.

Tall and blond, and wearing the abbreviated clothing typical of most people who lived on Thyferra, Jace greeted Corran and Tycho both with back slapping hugs, and Mirax with a gentler hug.

Corran shook his head, and pointed to Jace’s short pants, grinning.

"They’re still not letting you shop in the adult department, I see."

"No. This is a pair of your hand me ups."

The two men laughed, good-naturedly.

Tycho looked at Ajene and shook his head. "They do this all the time."

"Oh. Friendly rivals huh?"

"Exactly. Bror," The Alderaanian motioned to the woman standing next to him. "This is Major Ajene Tuvora, of the New Republic Armed Forces. Major, this is Bror Jace. Head of Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force"

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Major." He shook her hand, then motioned to them all. "We’ve made some headway in our end of the investigation. Come on into the Operations Center."

The group entered the Ops Center, and went directly to Jace’s office. He closed the door behind them.

"When Nawara called, we began checking to see if anything had happened while Wedge was here, that may have had a bearing on his disappearance. Basically we found that it was a pretty straightforward visit. He came to talk about fighter cover for a convoy that the New Republic and Thyferra were putting together for a trip to the Outer Rim. No big secret."

"After the meeting he went to pay a friendly visit to Qlaren Hirf. Later, we had dinner together and visited a while. He spent the night in the guest officers’ quarters at the base here. Next morning, we met for breakfast, and then he raised ship."

"That doesn’t tell us anything very useful." Tycho frowned. "What was the headway you mentioned?"

"In questioning the people that saw him arrive, and leave, and that were in a position to observe his ship while it was here, we came across something suspicious.

Several of our people had noticed a strange ground crewman hanging around Wedge’s ship. On three different occasions."

"And…" Corran raised an eyebrow.

"We started looking for him, and he seemed to have disappeared. Then…we got lucky."

"How lucky?" Ajene leaned forward.

We’ve got him in custody." Bror smiled.

"In custody. Two of my favorite words." Corran rubbed his hands together.

"I thought you’d like them."

"Would it be possible for us to question him? I mean, he is a Thyferran citizen, I presume."

"He is. But that won’t stop us. Only two of my people, and I know that we even have him, and why." Bror leaned back against his desk. "This is bigger than local, and Wedge is important enough for us to bend some rules. And since this is not the local Security Outpost, we have a certain amount of… let’s call it, leeway."

He clapped Corran on the shoulder. "Want to play a little CorSec?"

"I’d love to."

Tycho looked at Corran, hopefully. "Good officer/Bad officer?" He pointed first to Corran then to himself.

Corran shook his head. "Uhh uhh." He pointed to Tycho, "Bad officer," then to himself, "Worse officer…With a couple of not too happy ladies thrown into the bargain." Then he looked at Bror. "We need to get out of these flight suits, first."

"Sure. You can change in there." He pointed to an adjoining room.

"Good. I’ll go get our gear." Corran winked at Mirax and Ajene as he headed out the door.

Mirax grinned at Ajene. "This is going to be interesting."

"Umm hmm. I just hope it works."

* * * * * * *

Once Corran and Tycho had changed, they followed Bror down to the lowest level of the Ops Center and to an interrogation room, at the very end of the longest hall. The two guards at the door came to attention. Corran nodded to them and looked at Jace, with raised eyebrows.

Bror pointed at the two of them. "They don’t know a thing, do you fellas?"

"About what, Sir?" One of them smiled.

"That prisoner in there."

"What prisoner, in where, Sir?"

Corran smiled. "Okay. Everybody ready?"

There were nods all around. "All right. Let’s go."

Bror opened the door, and everyone filed into the room. The man occupying it stood up and immediately started complaining.

"What’s goin’ on here? I ain’t done anything wrong, and I’m being treated like a criminal. I demand to be turned loose."

Tycho walked over and shoved the man roughly back down into the chair he’d vacated. "Sit down and shut up, Frew. If that’s your real name. You’re not in any position, here, to demand anything."

"Who are you?" He looked at Tycho’s New Republic uniform, then at Bror Jace. "I’m a Thyferran citizen, and they have no jurisdiction over me. You can’t let them…"

"I can let them do whatever they want. And if I were you, I’d cooperate with these people, because you really don’t want to get on their bad side. So, why don’t you just tell us all you know, about Wedge Antilles’ disappearance?"

Frew studied them for a moment, then leaned back in the chair. "I might answer some questions, if those two Honeys ask them." He leered at the two women who’d leaned against a desk in the corner of the room

"Hey!" Corran gave him an open-handed slap on the back of his head. "That dark haired ‘Honey’ is my wife, you slime sucking maggot."

Tycho got in the man’s face. "You’re not off to a very good start here, Frew. You see, Corran’s wife and Wedge were raised together. He’s like a brother to her. And she’s not happy about him being missing. Neither is her father, Booster Terrik. Ever hear of him?"

The man paled visibly, at the mention of ex-smuggler’s name. Booster Terrik was not a man you wanted to have mad at you. He thought about it briefly, then seemed to get his nerve back. "Yeah? Who’s the other one? His mother?"

"Wrong again, little man." Ajene moved across the room and leaned over the man. Smiling sweetly, she caressed his cheek with her left hand, lifting his face so he looked up at her. "I’m his girlfriend." Her right hand moved suddenly in a flicking motion and the unmistakable hum of a vibroblade sounded near the man’s exposed throat. "And if you think you need to worry about what Booster might do to you, you don’t know the half of it. Compared to what I have in mind, you’ll enjoy dealing with him."

"Ahem." Jace cleared his throat. "In case you didn’t notice, Frew, that insignia she’s wearing on her uniform means that she is a Major in the New Republic Special Forces. She could fillet you with that blade, in time for you to show up on the supper menu at the nearest Shistavanen tapcafe." Bror smiled coldly. "And the two gentlemen present both spent time at a charming little place called Lusankya, as guests of the late Ysanne Isard. So they know all sorts of interesting techniques for ‘information retrieval,’ which I’m sure they’d love to show you."

"You guys have made a mistake. I don’t know n…nothin’ about nobody disappearing." His voice had developed a nervous squeak. "I ain’t done nothing wrong."

He reached over and picked up a glass and a pitcher of water from a tray at the center of the table. Pouring himself a drink, he’d just brought the glass to his lips when Corran slapped it out of his hand, shattering it against the wall. Then he grabbed the man’s shirtfront and jerked him half out of the chair.

"I’m not in the mood for this." He pulled his blaster from its shoulder holster and aimed it between Frew’s legs. "I think you better start answering some questions, or you’re going to start losing some parts."

"Wha…whadda ya mean? You can’t d…do that." Frew looked wildly at Jace. "You…you can’t let him do that. Tell him he can’t do that."

Bror looked at Corran with feigned disapproval. "You can’t do that." He wagged his finger at the Corellian.

"The hell I can’t. Just watch me." Corran’s eyes were wild with anger.

"I tried reasoning with him, Frew." Jace shrugged. "You know how difficult these Corellians can be."

Corran prodded with the blaster. "Do you know how easy it would be to make you disappear? Slice a few records here, change a few words there. We load what’s left of you in the Pulsar Skate and once we get off world, dump you out the airlock. Poof! No more Nored Frew. End of story." Corran leaned closer to the man. "You get the holo?"

"Okay…All right…W…whadda ya wanna know?"

"Who hired you, and why did they want Antilles?" Tycho moved closer.

"Oh man… I don’t know." Sweat poured down the man’s face.

"Wrong answer. Start with his elbow Corran." Ajene pointed with the vibroblade then put it back to the man’s throat. "We can work our way down."

"Good idea." He moved the barrel of the blaster.

"No! No! I mean I really don’t know. It…it was a contract. The word was put out to be on the lookout for Antilles. Who…whoever found him was to put a tracker on his ship. The Client even supplied the trackers."

"How’d you collect the money? Who was the contact?"

"I left word at a local bar, as soon as I planted the tracker. The next day the bartender gave me my money."

"What bar? What was the bartender’s name?"

"It was The Nightside. His…his name is Marth."

"You better not be lying about this." Ajene increased the pressure of the vibroblade against the man’s chin, ever so slightly, and a drop of blood appeared on his skin, from the resulting nick.

"I’m not. Really…I’m not." The man was near collapse. "I…I swear!"

Corran released the man’s shirt and shoved him back into the chair. "If you are, she and I are coming back. And you will not be happy to see us."

Tycho moved back in front him. "How much?"

"Huh?"

"How much? How many credits did they pay a piece of rancor bait like you, for the life of a man like him."

"Fif…fifty thousand credits." He shrank back into the chair, away from the look in Tycho’s eyes.

"You’d better enjoy it while you can…" Mirax stood and moved across the room. "And, hope that we find Wedge alive." She put her hand on Tycho’s shoulder, feeling him trembling with barely controlled rage. "Because if he’s not, I’m giving Booster your name. And believe me, there won’t be a corner of this galaxy dark enough or far enough away, for you to hide in."

"Remember. If you’re lying, Corran and I will be back." In one effortless move, Ajene took all of the buttons of the front of Frew’s shirt with the vibroblade.

She turned her back and walked out the door, followed by the others.

Bror Jace was the last to leave. "I think we’ll keep you here a while, just so we know where to find you if necessary." He patted Frew on the head. "But it won’t be necessary, will it?"

"N…no s…sir."

"Good."

Once outside the door, he turned to Tycho and the others. "Well?"

"Well…. It looks like we go to The Nightside and have a little talk with Marth."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stars and comets up on high,

Gently light the midnight sky.

Hush my darling, rest your head,

Snuggled safely in your bed.

Mother loves her little boy,

Daddy’s pride and mother’s joy.

So I’ll hold my young one near,

To keep you safe from hurt and fear.

--Old Corellian Lullaby--

Wedge concentrated with all his strength, trying to remember the words to the Corellian lullaby. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble remembering things clearly, but he needed to know those words.

If only his head didn’t hurt so badly…Or the rest of him for that matter. It made it awfully hard to concentrate on anything. Other jumbled memories kept getting in the way.

But if he remembered the words, and he really thought about them, he could hear his mother’s voice singing them to him. Like she had when he was a child.

That song had always been his comfort. Whenever he was sick, or frightened, she’d sung that song to him and it had made things better.

As he’d gotten older, and wasn’t her ‘baby’ any more, she’d sung the song less and less. When he’d needed it, she and his father had comforted him in other ways, like most parents do, as their children grow up. Then, they were gone, in one terrible instant, their lives wasted by pirates, in a fiery explosion. He was alone, with no one to comfort him. Although, Booster had tried his best.

Days later, after he’d destroyed their killers, and he lay in the bunk on the Pulsar Skate, halfway between wakefulness and sleep, he’d thought of the song again. And. although he didn’t believe in ghosts, he had heard his mother’s rich contralto singing it to him, as clearly as if she’d been right there. With the certainty that only a grieving, fifteen-year-old boy can have, he knew that it was meant to comfort him, and had clung to it for that reason.

Since that time, he’d had the same experience on two other occasions. Once after the Alliance had made it’s escape from Hoth, and a raging case of Bilbringi Fever, had put him in the medical center with blinding headaches, and a dangerously high temperature. Then again, when he’d been in the bacta tank, on Home One, after nearly losing his hand and his life, when he prevented the Imperial message drone from exploding.

Now, at twenty-eight, he needed to hear her voice again. Concentrate Antilles. What are the words? ‘…Keep you s…safe from hurt or fear?’ That sounds right. And it does hurt… It hurts really badly. Mom?

"Mom?" He heard his own voice call her, but it wasn’t her voice that answered.

"No, Commander Antilles, your mother’s not here. Only one mother whose sons you’ve killed." Tchlinda’s voice was cold and brittle, not warm and seductive, like it had been at the party the night before. Or afterward.

Was that only last night? Time and place had become dislocated for him. He tried to look around him, but something held him still. That’s right, they’ve got me strapped down. I’m in the interrogation chair. He could feel where the straps cut into his wrists and ankles, and how the one across his bare chest made it hard to take a deep breath. He could also feel the rivulets of sweat trickling down his sides.

I don’t remember what questions they asked. I wonder what I’ve told them? If I’ve betrayed my friends. ‘Stars and c…comets up on high, G…gently light the midnight sky.’

An aching pain started in the small of his back and spread in every direction, from the soles of his bare feet, to his fingertips. He gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out, but the pain forced a moan from him, despite the effort he made. ‘Hush my darling, rest your head, Snuggled safely in your bed.’

The sound of his pain brought a smile to Tchlinda’s lips. "You are to be congratulated, Commander. We’ve been at this for eighteen hours. By now, the average pilot would have become a babbling idiot."

"R…Rogue Squadron doesn’t take the average pilot."

"My, my! Arrogance! Good for you. You are a challenge." She motioned to a technician nearby, with a casual lift of her hand. The technician complied by raising the pain intensity level.

Wedge’s back arched as he fought the pain. ‘M…mother l…loves her little boy, D…daddy’s pride and mother’s joy…’ Another moan escaped through his clenched teeth. "Mmmm…. Mom?"

Again, Tchlinda smiled.

"I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that men will call for their mothers, in situations like this, when their weakness takes hold. Not their wife, or lover, but their mother. Like pathetic children." She leaned closer to Wedge, and shook him, so that he would look at her. His brown eyes opened and he attempted to focus on her.

"Tell me, Commander. Do you suppose that my sons were so weak, that at the moment of their deaths, they called my name?"

He struggled to concentrate on the right words. "I…I hope so."

"What? Why would you hope so?" The disdain in her voice was obvious.

"B…because, if they did… it would mean…th...that… they loved you enough… to call for you…when they hurt…or were af…afraid, and really needed your comforting." The effort of his answer had exhausted him.

She stared at him, taken aback by his words. Finally, she spoke. "Eloquently put Commander Antilles. But, since I was unable to comfort them at that moment, the best I can do now, is to punish the man who murdered them." She raised her hand again.

"So I’ll hold my young one near, To keep you safe from hurt and fear…" His mother’s voice came through the haze of pain, wrapping him in the same comfort that it always had, and even the sound of his own screams didn’t drown it out.

* * * * * * *

Off duty, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying the small dufflebag, Heblon looked like any one of the hundreds of other people making their way through the crowded streets of Jimmarra, the Capitol City of Arramsetti III. He was in no particular hurry, but he had a definite destination and purpose in mind, and it was one that he still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen. But he’d made up his mind, and there was no turning back now. Heading down a dingy side street, he spotted the place he’d been looking for.

The Dancing Droid, was a typical, spaceport cantina. The customers came from every corner of the galaxy and filled the place with the sights, smells and sounds peculiar to each of their home worlds. Although he’d never been in this particular bar before, it had a familiar feel about it for Heblon, since he’d been in others just like it; on how many worlds, and how many times before?

He worked his way through the mass of bodies, and shouldered up to the bar,

in-between a huge, dark skinned human male, and a Twi’lek. The place was busy enough, that it took the bartender a minute to notice him.

"What’ll it be?" The attractive auburn haired woman smiled agreeably.

"I’ll take a Lomin Ale, and maybe some information?"

The bartender looked at the man and then looked around nervously. "Look, we got liquor, we got food, and we got pleasure rooms upstairs, but information is too dangerous to deal in." She turned aside, and in a moment, handed the man his mug of ale.

Heblon paid for the drink, and when the bartender reached for the money, he stayed her hand, slipping several gold credits under her palm, as he did.

Without missing a beat, the woman smiled, and the money disappeared into her cleavage. "What kind of information?" She leaned close with a conspiratorial whisper.

"I need to find some of the local Alliance underground. And don’t bother denying that they are here." Heblon kept his voice low. "I happen to know better."

"I wouldn’t do that, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. They don’t trust me. I doubt that I could get them to tell me what time it is, much less how to get in touch with them. Sorry." She turned and started to move on to another customer, and he grabbed her sleeve.

"Look! It’s really important. It could mean a man’s life."

The woman studied him, then shook her head. "Can’t help you."

"Sithspawn!" Heblon’s fist thumped the bar. I know that they’re active on this planet, and this cantina is one of their contact points. I just can’t afford to attract too much attention about this. He drank his ale in silence, and then turned to go. I think I’ll hang around outside for a while. Maybe I’ll get lucky.

He made his way back outside and looked around. Spotting a corner where he could watch the bar without being seen, he headed in that direction. Suddenly he was flanked on both sides by the two customers he’d stood between in the bar.

"Hey pal. Wait for us." The big human draped a friendly arm over his shoulder, and before he could react, he felt something hard being pressed against his side. Stunner!!

Then the world went black.

* * * * * * *

Heblon opened his eyes and closed them immediately. A bright light was aimed directly at his face and had blinded him momentarily. Slowly, he opened them again, taking care to look down, as he did.

Wherever he was, the rest of the room was totally dark. He sat in what felt like a heavy wooden chair, with his hands and feet bound tightly to the arms and legs. The room was very quiet, but he sensed others nearby.

"All right, Imp. Who are you, and what was it you wanted to see us about?" The woman’s voice came out of the dark, from behind him, and startled him enough to make him jump.

"My name’s Heblon, and I’ve got some information you might be interested in."

"Oh really? What kind of information?"

"About a prisoner, that Tchlinda is holding. An Alliance prisoner."

"I’ll just bet. And while we’re having this little chat, how many of your buddies are moving into position to try and take us down?"

"None. I came alone. I don’t think that Tchlinda or Turpa even know about your being on this planet. I only found out by accident, and I haven’t told anyone."

"And why would you do that?" A deeper, male voice rumbled the question. It sounded like the voice of the big, black man who’d out flanked him on the street. "You’re a loyal, Imperial Stormtrooper."

"Let’s just say, I was keeping an option open." He shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay. Let’s just say that. And let’s pretend that we believe you. Now who is this prisoner we’ll be so interested in?"

"Wedge Antilles. Commander of Rogue Squadron."

There was a long silence in the room, then he heard the two voices conferring softly, but was unable to make out the words. Suddenly the lights in the room came on, and he had to close his eyes again.

When he opened them, the black man stood in front of him, and next to him stood the bartender from the cantina. Several others stood around the room as well. All of them were heavily armed.

"They’ve got Antilles, huh? I know Wedge Antilles, I’ve flown with him." The woman looked at him appraisingly. "Prove it." Her expression was hard and at the same time concerned.

"You got the dufflebag I was carrying? Look in there."

Someone handed her the bag, and she opened it up. Reaching in, she pulled out Wedge’s dress uniform jacket. She looked at the awards on the sash, and swallowed past the lump in her throat when she saw blood on the front of it. The two Deathstars proved it.

"It’s Wedge’s all right." She handed it to the man, who studied it carefully, anger building in his face. Wedge was a good friend, and the thought of his being in Tchlinda’s hands was not a pleasant one.

"How’d that get there?" The man indicated the blood.

"Turpa worked him over, before they put him in the interrogation chair."

"And how long has he been in the chair?"

"When I left, about twenty-two hours."

"What kind of information were they after?"

"They weren’t after information. This is strictly a case of revenge. Tchlinda’s husband and sons were on the Deathstar at Endor. She’s making Antilles pay for killing them…and she’s enjoying it."

"What kind of shape is he in?"

Heblon sighed heavily and shook his head. "Not good. When I saw him last, he kept calling for his mother, and repeating some lullaby. Between the drugs and scan grid, by now, he probably couldn’t recognize her, if his mother were to show up."

"Why’d you come here?" The woman’s hard expression dared him to lie to her. "He’s just one more piece of ‘Rebel Scum’ to your kind. Why’d you bother?"

"I’m not really sure why. It’s just…lately, I’ve found it harder and harder to justify what the Empire orders me to do. The only things they recognize are cruelty and brutality. When we captured Antilles, and after being around him, I realized that he stands for everything, that the Empire isn’t. He’s…."

"Honorable." The dark man spoke up.

"Yeah…" He turned the word over in his mind. "That’s it. He’s honorable. He’s the first really honorable man I’ve come across in a long time. Watching what Tchlinda and Turpa are doing to him turned my stomach. That’s why I’m here."

"How much time do you think he has?"

"Tchlinda plans to ‘dedicate’ that memorial she’s building, in five days. I heard her say, that Wedge was to be part of the ceremony. They won’t kill him before then."

"Good. That works out just fine. We’ll have to plan a little ceremony of our own." She smiled wickedly. "How do you feel about switching sides, Heblon?"

"I thought I already had."

"I think so too. I’m Elscol Loro, formerly of Rogue Squadron." She pointed to the huge man, who leaned over to cut the ropes holding Heblon in the chair. "This is Sixtus Quinn. Formerly of the Imperial Special Forces."

"It’s a pleasure. What have you got in mind?"

"First, we contact Rogue Squadron. I imagine Wedge’s capture has made them all a bit hostile, and I think that they’ll be anxious to relieve some of that hostility. They’ll be just what we need for what I have in mind."

"Then, we get you back where you belong, so you can work from the inside."

Heblon shook his head. "You’re ready to trust me that much, and you haven’t known me but a couple of hours?"

"Well, we have to start somewhere. Besides, if you turn out to be a traitor, you’ll be dead, before you know what hit you. That’s a promise."

* * * * * * *

Tycho watched readings on his monitors scroll endlessly by, and frowned in frustration. The lead about Marth hadn’t resulted in anything useful. The bartender had simply been hired to act as a go-between. He had no idea who the ‘Client’ was.

That meant that the Rogues were back to square one in the search for Wedge. The longer they quartered sectors, the darker Tycho’s mood became.

Coran’s wasn’t much better. In fact, his ‘feelings’ had become more disturbing as time went by.

"Tycho." Mirax’s voice snapped him out of it. "I’ve got incoming communication from a friend of ours."

"Okay. Let’s hear it."

"Hey Tycho!" Elscol Loro’s voice and image came through the comm units in the two X-wings, and the Pulsar Skate, simultaneously. "Have you guys managed to misplace a Commander?"

"Affirmative, El. You know how hard those things are to keep up with. Let ‘em out of your sight for a minute, and they’re gone."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Well, we found the one you lost. But he’s in someone else’s possession at the moment. We were thinking about taking him back. You know anybody who’d be interested in helping? And maybe overthrow an Imperial Moff at the same time?"

"You bet! How much help do you need? We’re five short of a full Squadron, but I can bring that up to only one shy. Plus, I can get a couple of cruisers from Thyferra."

"Got any Star Destroyers hanging around?"

"Yes!" Mirax’s voice jumped in. "Will an Imperial Star Destroyer do? Booster’s got the Errant Venture en route to Thyferra. Where does he need to be."

"Hi, Mirax. Good to hear from you, and yes, an Impstar Destroyer will do just fine thanks. Have him meet us at Arramsetti I, in forty-eight hours. That will put enough distance between us and the Imperials, to prevent our discovery. We’ll finalize the plans then."

Hey El," Corran’s voice broke in. "What’s Wedge’s condition?"

"I haven’t seen him, Corran, but from what our contact inside says, it doesn’t sound good. The Moff that’s got him had him on the scan grid for quite a while. Evidently they were pretty rough on him. But, she wants to use him in some kind of ceremony in five days. So they’ll keep him alive until then."

"Then we’ve got four days to get this set up, and everyone in place, right?"

"That’s right."

"In that case, we’re wasting time. We’ll see you in forty-eight hours, on the Errant Venture." Tycho’s voice was less tense that it had been since they started the search.

Now that they knew where Wedge was, Rogue Squadron would take care of its own.

* * * * * * *

Heblon opened the cell door and stood aside, as the interrogation technicians walked in and dumped their burden, unceremoniously on the bunk. One of them turned to the trooper.

"Moff Tchlinda wants him kept alive until the ceremony. If you can, try to bring him around so he’ll know what’s happening to him. If not…it won’t matter."

The technician turned on his heel and left Heblon standing in the cell with the battered figure.

It’ll matter more than you think. He watched the technician round the corner and then he closed the door.

Removing his helmet, he moved over to the bunk. "Seems like I’m destined to always be patching you up, Antilles. But I think that it’s gonna take a little more than bacta to do the job this time."

* * * * * * *

A cold smile on her face, Lathel Tchlinda stood at the window and watched, as Wedge’s purposely-wrecked X-wing was lowered into place at the back of the monument. In three days, she would complete the memorial to her family, by adding the finishing touch. The man who’d murdered them; Wedge Antilles.

She hoped that he would be aware enough to understand what was happening to him. Although, from the way he’d looked when they had taken him out of the interrogation chair, she doubted that he would. Still, she could hope. She wanted the pleasure of telling him that he was being sealed in the cockpit, where he would remain forever. The anticipation of watching his slow death excited her. This would be a truly sweet revenge, indeed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Errant Venture hung in orbit above the dirty blue and gray sphere of the uninhabited planet, Arramsetti I, looming over the two MC80B Calamari Star Cruisers that kept formation with her. The ships, the Paladin and the Provider were from the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force, courtesy of Bror Jace.

On board the Errant Venture, a final council of war was about to be held, in one of the briefing rooms. At the head table, Elscol Loro looked around the room and smiled to herself. It felt like old times.

The Captains of the Thyferran cruisers sat with several of their staff, going over information that had been downloaded to their data pads. Nine of Rogue Squadron’s pilots lounged in the chairs to one side of the room. With them, sat the dozen pilots of the Errant Venture’s starfighter squadron, which was made up of X-wings, Z-95 Headhunters, and Uglies.

To either side of her, at the table, sat Tycho Celchu, Corran and Mirax Horn,

Bror Jace, Ajene Tuvora and Sixtus Quinn. Leaning over Corran and Mirax, was the imposing figure of Booster Terrik, owner and Captain of the Errant Venture.

Okay, everyone is here. Time to talk battle. As if he heard her thoughts, Tycho stood up and rapped on the table.

"Okay everyone, let’s get started. First, for those of you who may not know him, this is Booster Terrik, Captain of the Errant Venture. He’s going to provide our main firepower, for this operation." Booster nodded to the group.

Corran grinned wickedly. "Yeah, and the truly a momentous news is that he’s doing it for free." He ducked, just as Booster took a playful swipe at his head. Mirax laughed. It was good to see the two men in her life only playing at fighting, for a change.

"Captain Celchu? Who is the commander of the Querulous? And is she the only thing they’ve got?" One of the Thyferran Captains spoke up, anxious to get started.

"Yes, she’s all they’ve got. According to our contact, the Interdictor that they used to grab Wedge, was returning a favor owed to the, Captain, Osiel Turpa. He’s not very well known, and from all the intelligence we could gather on him, not that much of a military leader. His main claim to power seems to be the fact that he is Tchlinda’s lover. and is about as viscous as they come. However, our sources have informed us that he will be attending the ceremony tomorrow, and his XO will be in command, a Lt. Jarice Cright. He will do everything by the book, and is not particularly good at thinking on his feet."

"Booster’s fighters are going to be working with Rogue Squadron to keep the Querulous’ TIE’s off of our group of ships, when we land the troops; and off the ground forces. The Errant Venture will have the responsibility of dealing with the Querulous. She’s also supplying us with a few hundred-ground pounders, to add some muscle to the people already on the ground. Everyone has been given specific targets to hit. But any targets of opportunity will also be dealt with accordingly."

"Elscol, Sixtus and Major Tuvora will be leading the ground assault."

"One more thing. Rogue Squadron will be at full strength tomorrow, since Bror Jace has asked to be included. He will be designated Rogue Plus, with everyone else keeping their usual designations. Good to have you with us again, Mr. Jace."

"The pleasure’s all mine." The tall Thyferran nodded to them.

"All right, everyone. I trust you’ve had time to study the data you’ve been supplied. Elscol is going to give you a bit of background that wasn’t covered in the downloads."

Elscol Loro stood and looked at the group. "Arramsetti III has been under Imperial rule for about ten years now. The local government sold out to the Empire, one day, when two Star Destroyers showed up in system demanding their surrender. Since Arramsetti had no defense force of it’s own, having depended on it’s rather useless location as it’s primary source of protection, and the governmental leaders made the wisest choice. The destroyers were prepared to slag the place, otherwise."

"The Empire intended to use the place as a forward staging area, for future conquests. Those plans never materialized, however, since the Rebellion gave them plenty of troubles to worry about, closer to home."

"There is still a large, fairly well equipped garrison there, and the local Moff is Lathel Tchlinda. Unlike several other females who hold the title of Moff, due to the deaths of husbands or fathers, Tchlinda earned her position. She is smart, ruthless, and has all of the warmth and personality of the late, and much beloved, Ysanne Isard."

There was a round of laughter at the comment, and Elscol smiled. The tension in the room eased perceptibly.

Nodding to the big man on her right, she continued. "Sixtus and I, along with a handful of others, have been on planet for about three months. The local populace is primed and ready. They are sick of Tchlinda’s predations, and are ready for a change of government. We’ve got everything in place to accomplish that. We’ve just been waiting for the right time and set of circumstances to present themselves. They have."

"Tomorrow is that time. In her desire to exact revenge against Wedge Antilles for the deaths of her husband and sons, who died on the Deathstar at Endor, she forgot Rule Number One of Imperial Survival. ‘Don’t take on Rogue Squadron.’ Tomorrow, she will learn the full magnitude of her mistake."

Tycho grinned. "Thanks El. Are there any questions?" He paused and looked over the group one more time. "In that case then…Everyone, study the data and get as much rest as possible. We go at 06:00 tomorrow, and it’s going to be a very busy day. We have a dedication ceremony to attend." Tycho looked out over the group. "And thank you all for your efforts. May the Force be with us."

* * * * * *

"What’s your name?" Starting the drill again, Heblon studied the pilot who lay against the pillows with his eyes closed. He was still in bad shape, but they were making progress.

"Wedge Antilles."

"Sit up and open your eyes…"

Wedge sat up unsteadily and looked back at the stormtrooper.

"Who were your parents?"

"J...Jagged and Zena Antilles."

"Where were you born? And where were you raised?"

Wedge frowned in concentration. "C…Corellia. I was raised on…Gus Treta."

"Who’s Tycho Celchu?"

"He’s…he’s…I don’t know." The brown eyes became troubled.

"Yes you do. Who are you? What’s your rank?"

"Wedge Antilles. Commander."

"What do you do?"

"Fly X-wings."

Heblon smiled at that understatement. "With what unit?"

"Rogue Squadron."

"Do you know why I’m asking you these questions?"

"To help me remember. Because I…I forget things."

"Why do you forget things?" He watched the fear flash in Wedge’s eyes, then it was replaced by determination.

"B…because of th…the interrogation, and the drugs they gave me."

"Who’s Tycho Celchu?"

"My Executive Officer." He looked up at Heblon and grinned.

"Told ya’…. Who’s your lover?" Heblon slipped the new question in.

"Major Ajene Tuvora…She’s got green eyes…and blond curls." Wedge raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Heblon laughed.

"She must be hard to forget."

"Yeah…she is…" He smiled at the picture of her he’d just discovered in his memory.

"Who’re your wingmen?"

"Lt. Varnestra, and Lt. Asyr Sei’lar."

"Who am I?"

"You’re Heblon, a friend of mine… whether you like it or not." His gaze was steady as it met Heblon’s surprised look.

"Okay. That’s enough for now. You’re getting dopey again." He handed him a glass of liquid protein drink. "Here drink this." So far it was the only thing, other than water, that Wedge could keep down.

"Do you remember what I told you about tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Let them think I’m still out of it… Keep my head down…and stick close to you when the trouble starts."

"Right. Now you better get some sleep."

"Okay." He handed the empty glass back to the trooper. "Good night." He settled in the bed, and closed his eyes. Heblon dimmed the lights and waited, but there only the sound of Wedge’s breathing.

* * * * * * *

Standing at her window, which overlooked the plaza, Moff Lathel Tchlinda stretched luxuriously. Below, the monument gleamed brilliantly in the morning sunlight, promising a beautiful day. And, if her plans went well, it would be a truly satisfying one as well. Stretching again, she could think of no reason why her plans would go otherwise,

Osiel Turpa came over and stood behind her, caressing her shoulders and kissing the nape of her neck. "Well, my dear, the day you’ve waited and worked for, for so long,

has finally arrived. Soon, your loved ones can rest easy, with the starved corpse of their killer entombed nearby."

"Yes Osiel. I have looked forward to this for a very long time. Revenge will be extremely sweet, indeed. I wonder if Heblon has managed to revive Antilles enough to make this interesting. Shall we go see?"

"If you wish." He held her robe as she slipped into it, and they headed down to the cell level, four stories below.

The two stormtroopers standing guard at the stairs snapped to attention as the couple descended to their level. "Heblon?"

"Sir?" The big Lieutenant snapped to attention, as the pair walked into the cell.

"Have you been able to bring him around at all?" Tchlinda moved over to where Wedge lay.

"No, Madame Tchlinda. The best I could do was get a little food down him, so he’ll live a little longer. The interrogation was apparently too much for him. See for yourself."

He stepped aside, and they looked closely at the pilot who lay on the bunk, unmoving. He stared blankly at some point off in the distance, seeing nothing.

She stooped lower and caressed his face. "Poor Wedge. He’s about to die a slow and well-earned death, and he doesn’t even know it. Pity." She turned and looked at the trooper. "Do you have his flight suit? You know what to do?"

"Yes Madame Tchlinda. It’ll be done exactly as you’ve ordered."

"Very well. Come Osiel. We have a celebration to prepare for."

* * * * * * *

Ajene Tuvora stood near the base of the black granite monument, and studied it with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. As monuments went, it was fairly well done. The workmanship and design were not really too bad, if a bit overly dramatic. It was when she considered the intent of the piece, that it became harsh and ugly. Instead of honoring the three men it supposedly memorialized, lending dignity and a sense of loss to their story, it was to be used as an instrument of revenge.

Moving around to the back, she swallowed hard, when she saw the X-wing sitting there. She’d stood just this close to it, just days ago, and kissed Wedge goodbye. Now, a wrecked piece of junk, it waited for him one final time. She shivered at the thought.

Turning away from the monument, she checked her wrist chrono and looked around the plaza. It was already nearly filled with people, and she smiled at the fact that she recognized a large number of them as members of the underground teams that she’d met.

Her hand went to the blaster that she carried, concealed beneath the long cloak

which she wore over her uniform. She checked the setting one more time, and moved into a better position to wait. Across the plaza, she saw Elscol and Sixtus do the same.

Almost immediately, from the speakers of the public address system, the sounds of an Imperial March sounded, and the plaza was filled with the sound of booted feet. People made way, as the full compliment of stormtroopers from the garrison, marched into the plaza and took their place.

* * * * * * *

Capt. Jarice Cright stood on the bridge of the Querulous, and smiled broadly. He loved being in command, albeit temporarily. This was what he was destined for.

His one great disappointment was that his assignment on the Querulous was pretty much a dead end position. The Arramsetti System, with its three backwater planets, offered nothing of importance that would allow a man to show his worth. And Captain Turpa was not the kind of commanding officer who gave his junior officers much chance to shine; preferring instead, to further his own career at every opportunity.

"Sir." The young Lieutenant’s voice squeaked, as he studied the sensor screen before him.

"What is it, Mr. Brue?"

"Sir, we’ve got something here. It just appeared on screen."

"Well what is it?"

"Sir...It appears to be…"

The answer died on his lips as the entire main viewport was filled with the 1,600 meter long needle shape of an Imperial Class Star Destroyer as she reverted to realspace. She was immediately followed by two Calamari Cruisers.

Alarm klaxons started blaring all over the ship and people automatically assumed their battles stations, as Capt. Cright stared open mouthed at the sight.

"Sir! What are your orders?" Lt. Brue’s voice moved up an octave.

"Ahh…Launch all TIE Squadrons."

"But Sir! They’re already launched. They’re participating in the ceremony, sir."

"Oh. Well… Warn them, then come ‘round and prepare to engage." Cright began mentally reciting rules of battle, trying to remember what to do.

"Sir! They’re jamming us. There’s an incoming message."

"Querulous, this is Captain Booster Terrik of the Errant Venture. You are outgunned, and out flanked. Surrender now or face the consequences."

Cright looked at the holo image of Terrik, and then back at the viewport, weighing his chances. A victory in battle would be one way of assuring his career advancement, and this is what he’d trained for. He’d prove once and for all, just how much command potential he had.

"Open fire, Mr. Brue. Concentrate on knocking a hole in her shields, then go for the main drive."

"Y…Yessir." Brue’s voice didn’t sound at all convinced of the wisdom of the order.

* * * * * * *

On the bridge of the Errant Venture, Booster Terrik shook his head in disbelief, at the data scrolling by on the sensor screens.

"That damn fool is going to take us on! Prepare to take fire!"

He turned to his fire control officer, a Mon Calamari named Al-Azzeh. "I want to take her in one piece if possible. Target their navigational deflector generator. Maybe having their bow slagged will knock some sense into them."

"Yessir." The officer gave the Mon Cal version of a smile, and went to work.

Booster looked at his wrist chrono. He still had time to spare before the ground action took place.

Beneath his feet, he felt the thuds, as the Errant Venture took fire from the Querulous. Then he felt the Venture return fire and watched as, first, the destroyer’s shields at her bow began to glow and waver, under the onslaught. Then, as the shields collapsed, the laser fire tuned the bow into a melted pile of scrap that trailed wispy threads of vaporized metal.

Still, the Querulous continued to fire. Her lasers caused minimal damage to a few of the Venture’s compartments, but damage control was handling the problems efficiently.

"Ion control?" Booster checked the data screen again. "We don’t have time to play with this idiot. Shut them down."

He keyed the comm unit. "Querulous, you had your one chance."

The Venture’s ion canon rumbled, and blue lightening slammed into the Querulous’ hull, where it crackled, and skittered the entire length, height and breadth of the ship

The result was immediate. Every electronic system onboard the Querulous shut down completely. Screens went blank, controls ceased to function, communications quit. Nothing worked. Throughout the entire ship, there was the smell of burning circuitry. They went dead in space.

On the bridge, Jarice Cright sat dumbfounded. In less than five minutes, he had completely destroyed whatever career he though he’d have. Not to mention the fact that the ship under his command, was now temporarily scrap metal. Soon, the relentless tug of gravity from Arramsetti III would drag the ship down to her death, if they couldn’t get a restart.

"Mr. Brue. Try to bring up the emergency comm channel. I need to offer our surrender to Captain Terrik."

"Yessir. We’re on it right now, sir." The Lieutenant’s voice was filled with relief.

* * * * * *

Tycho’s astromech droid beeped a short signal, and a second later the X-wing dropped out of hyperspace into the atmosphere of Arramsetti III. Looking to port then starboard, he watched the eleven other fighters of Rogue Squadron, and the mixed dozen from the Errant Venture, as they popped into the system. They were followed by a dozen assorted shuttles and ships, and the Pulsar Skate.

"All fighters present and accounted for Rogue two." Corran’s voice crackled over the comm channel.

"All assault craft accounted for, Lead." Mirax’s voice echoed her husband’s.

"All right. Fighters, lock S-foils in attack position. Remember, they’ve got six full squadrons of eyeballs, squints and dupes down there. We need to get in and get rid of them as soon as possible."

"That’s only three and a fraction each, Lead." Bror Jace’s voice carried its usual self-confidence. "If anyone can’t handle theirs, let me know."

"Hey Bror," Gavin Darklighter drawled. "Did you ever get the patent on that shield powering ego?"

"Trim it Rogues." Tycho knew that the chatter was pre-battle tension, but it was past time for that now. "Remember. We support the ground troops, take out the Scout Walkers and cover for Mirax and the shuttles when they go in, and when she comes out, again. Everybody got that?"

"Right Cap."

"Let’s do it then."

"Okay everybody. They’re having a party down there. Let’s get the entertainment started, shall we?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Moff Lathel Tchlinda smiled out over the crowd of people assembled in the plaza, and she was immensely pleased. It was truly a gathering worthy of the event. Nearly every inhabitant of Jimmarra was present. That they’d not been given the choice of refusing the invitation was of little concern to her. This was the moment, she’d waited for, and she wanted a large and adoring audience to witness her triumph.

"People of Arramsetti, today marks the achievement of an important and long anticipated goal. Today is the day when a murderer is brought to justice. Not only is this man guilty of the murders of my husband, and two sons, but also of the murders of members of some of your own families. When the Rebel Alliance launched its cowardly attack on our Glorious Emperor at Endor, it brought grief to many of our homes.

"Now, this man, Commander Wedge Antilles, will be made to pay for his crimes."

She gave a signal, and three stormtroopers appeared two of them supporting Wedge’s semi-conscious figure between them. He’d been dressed in his bloodied flight suit to add ‘realism’ to the scene. The troopers virtually dragged the stumbling man toward the monument. Heblon followed behind them.

As they made their way through the crowd, Heblon constantly scanned the faces, spotting individuals he recognized from his contacts with the underground. One face that he’d never seen before, but that he recognized immediately, was that of a beautiful woman, standing casually near the base of the monument. She had a tumble of blond curls, and incredible green eyes that looked straight at him as he walked by. She gave him a slight nod, and then her eyes focused on the prisoner. For the briefest of seconds, her expression softened then was replaced by a look of dangerous intent.

No wonder Antilles remembered her. Eyes like those would be hard to forget.

The two stormtroopers had reached the X-wing and were in the process of getting their prisoner into position to place him in the open cockpit.

Moff Tchlinda’s voice rose over the speakers again. "Commander Antilles will be sealed in the cockpit of his X-wing, where we will all have the pleasure of watching his life end, slowly and unpleasantly. He will, remain there, as a reminder, that those who challenge the Empire, will eventually pay for their treasonous actions."

Smiling coldly, she raised her hand to signal the men to place Wedge in his ship, and at that moment, all hell broke loose.

A series of tremendous explosions shattered the morning’s celebration, as the laser blasts from the Errant Venture ripped through the atmosphere and completely disintegrated the Imperial Garrison at the heart of the city.

A second series of blasts, courtesy of the Paladin, reduced the four Lambda-class shuttles occupying docking bays at Jimmarra’s spaceport, to smoking debris. And the four AT-ATs, which were posted at opposite corners of the city’s outskirts, fell to the targeting accuracy of the Provider.

For a split second there was stunned disbelief on everyone’s faces, then the plaza became a scene of frenzied chaos. The assembled stormtroopers broke ranks, and moved to find either defensive or offensive positions. The civilians, who wanted to remain noncombatants scattered for cover, and the Scout Walkers which were scattered around plaza, began targeting anyone or anything that looked even remotely like opposition.

The two stormtroopers, who were holding Wedge, pitched forward and backward almost simultaneously, smoking holes in their armor attesting to the accuracy of the sniper who’d dispatched them.

A suddenly agile Wedge Antilles dove for cover under one of the S-foils of the

X-wing, snagging the blaster from one of the fallen troopers, as he did. He was joined a second later by Heblon who, yanking off his helmet, looked at him curiously.

"You remember how to use that thing?"

Wedge ducked as a bolt of energy smacked into the metal in front of him.
"It’ll come back to me." He snapped off two shots, and a trooper who was moving into position to flank them, clattered to the permacrete. "Told ya’." He grinned at the big Lieutenant.

"Sithspawn!" Heblon shook his head. "You’re all right. All you needed was an adrenaline rush!"

* * * * * * *

Suddenly, the air was split by the distinctive whine of TIE fighters and everyone looked up to see the Querulous’ squadrons beginning strafing runs on the plaza.

With almost hypnotic fascination, Elscol watched one of the ungainly little fighters heading straight for where she stood. She could almost imagine the pilot’s movements in the ball cockpit, as he targeted and prepared to fire. Then suddenly the TIE exploded in a brilliant ball of flame, and a split second later a rolling X-wing occupied the airspace where the eyeball had been. People ducked for cover from the resulting shrapnel shower.

All around the plaza and Scout Walkers began to explode, ripped apart by the snubfighters that swarmed overhead like angry wasps. Those that weren’t targeting the ground vehicles were dispatching the other TIEs with relative ease.

* * * * * * *

At the first explosion, Lathel Tchlinda stared incredulously at the scene before her.

and watched all of her carefully laid plans dissolve before her eyes. People ran, screaming for cover, as blaster fire criss crossed the plaza. Everywhere she looked, armed civilians were attacking Imperial troopers, while overhead, starfighters carried out a deadly aerial dance that was highlighted by even more laser fire.

Searching through the confusion, she spotted an apparently very much recovered Wedge Antilles, as he ducked for cover. She smiled coldly when she saw the stormtrooper Lieutenant, Heblon, following the man, and she waited for the trooper to shoot the Rebel pilot. Then the realization dawned that, instead of being the instrument of her revenge, the stormtrooper was actually helping the man.

A murderous and unreasoning rage filled her, as she watched the two men firing at the other troopers near them. She started down the steps, toward the monument, and was stopped short by Osiel Turpa, who grabbed her wrist.

"Lathel! This way. My shuttle is still on the landing pad at the palace. We’ve got to get out of here."

"No! I have to get Antilles first." She struggled in his grip.

"Don’t be insane. We need to leave, now! Forget this obsession with Antilles."

"I said no!" She turned on him and the look he saw in her eyes caused him to release his grip on her arm. "I will see him dead! Get the shuttle ready, and I’ll be there shortly." Turning to her escort, she motioned to them. "Give me a weapon, and come with me."

One of the troopers handed her a blaster and she turned and moved down the steps.

* * * * * * *

Corran waited as the targeting box on his screen went green, and then hit the firing stud, sending twin red laser bolts out to bisect the TIE Interceptor that he’d been chasing. Hot debris hit one of the fuel cells, and the ship was reduced to a ball of flame.

Completing the climb that he’d been in, he rolled the X-wing to starboard and looked around.

A trio of TIEs was attempting to run down one of the Uglies from the Errant Venture, so he headed in that direction.

"Watch your tail, Venture Six. You’ve picked up company, and I’m on them."

"Thanks, Rogue Nine. Could you hurry?" The pilot, a young Hig, sounded on the verge of panic.

"Copy, Venture Six. Cut to a heading of three, five mark four."

The Ugly, a combination of a Y-wing and a Z95 Headhunter, complied with Corran’s order, and its pilot saw the X-wing headed directly at him. Then he watched in disbelief, as Corran opened fire. He ducked automatically, but was relieved to see that the laser bolts sizzled past him, and hit their intended targets.

Two TIEs in Six’s rear scope, winked out of existence. The third TIE headed for less hazardous territory. "Thanks Rogue Nine. That’s two I owe you."

"No problem, Six. Rogue Eleven, that spare has headed for you."

"Got him, Nine." Gavin’s reply was cheerful. "I was beginning to get lonely."

"Rogue’s." Tycho’s voice came over the comm channel. "Time to deliver our assault troops. A half click past the Moff’s Palace. Nine you and Ten go plow the row."

"Copy, Lead. We’re on our way. You heard the man, Ooryl."

"I copy Nine." The Gand’s ship matched Corran’s roll and dive, and they headed for the intended landing zone.

* * * * * * *

In the center of the plaza, Elscol Loro, Sixtus Quinn and their group of resistance fighters, had begun to work their way toward the speaker’s stand, and the Moff’s Palace behind it, when suddenly they began to take heavy fire. Scrabbling for whatever cover they could find, Elscol tapped her headset’s mike twice.

"Tuvora? Do you read me?" There was no answer.

"Tuvora?" She started looking around for the blond Major.

"Hang on…" The strained reply came back, just as Elscol spotted the woman near the monument.

As she’d paused to replace the power cell in her blaster, a stormtrooper had grabbed Ajene by the hair, and was bringing his own blaster up toward her chest. Dropping the useless blaster, her right hand moved with a flicking motion and wound up holding a vibroblade. Using her left hand to grip the wrist of the hand that held her hair, she slashed with the blade at one of the two vulnerable spots on the trooper’s armored arm, the elbow. At the same time, she kicked out with her foot, knocking the man’s blaster from his other hand.

The trooper’s arm went limp, and Ajene silenced his scream of anguish by letting go the severed arm, grabbing the chin of his helmet, shoving upward, and slashing his exposed throat, as she brought her hand back in the opposite direction. The vibroblade disappeared and, grabbing her blaster again, she finished loading the power cell.

"Sorry. What is it?" She looked around until she located Elscol’s position.

It took Elscol a second to find her voice. "Ahh…We’re taking fire and can’t get to the speaker’s stand. Can you see where it’s coming from?"

"Hold on. I’ll get back to you." She headed for a better vantagepoint.

Removing a thin cable and collapsible grappling hook from her belt pouch as she ran, she spotted the outstretched arm of one of the figures on the monument. Twirling the weighted hook several times, she let it fly and it wrapped itself around its intended target and caught. Securing her blaster in the holster, she began to climb the cable almost effortlessly. Reaching the top, she swung, suspended above the ground and had a perfect three hundred sixty-degree view of the plaza.

"I’ve spotted them, El. It’s an E-Web on the balcony of one of the other buildings. I’ll take care of it."

"Thanks."

"By the way, Tchlinda and Turpa aren’t on the stand anymore. I just saw Turpa duck into the Palace."

"Okay. Get us out of here, and we’ll handle him."

"Done." She switched frequencies on her comm set.

"Tycho? Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Major. What’s up?"

"There’s an E-Web on the balcony of the building directly across from the Palace. Can you take care of that for us? It’s got Loro and Quinn pinned down?"

"Consider it done. And we’ve got your reinforcements headed in. They should be on the ground in a few minutes. Behind the Moff’s Palace."

"Copy. Thanks." She remained where she was until she spotted the X-wing making its approach.

"Incoming, El. You’ll be clear in a minute." At that second, Tycho let go a

quad burst of fire from his lasers. A heartbeat later the balcony, the E-Web canon and its crew, as well as the top floor of the building disintegrated. All that remained was smoking rubble.

Tuvora watched the resistance group surge toward the Moff’s Palace, and prepared to drop from her position. Then something else caught her eye.

Moving in the opposite direction from the speaker’s stand in front of the Palace, was Lathel Tchlinda and four stormtroopers. Looking down in the direction they were moving, she saw the Stormtrooper Lieutenant, Heblon, and Wedge firing from the cover of the X-wing’s S-foils. They couldn’t see Tchlinda from their position.

"Not today, Lady Tchlinda." Instead of dropping back to the ground, she pulled herself the rest of the way up and climbed onto the arm of the statue. Carefully making her way along the arm, then she moved to the top of the stone tab, and worked her way toward the back of the monument, where Wedge and Heblon were pinned down.

* * * * * * *

Using the monument as their cover, Tchlinda and the four troopers eased their way toward the unsuspecting men. Suddenly, one of the troopers fell, hit by a stray shot. The other three closed in around the Moff and they continued to move forward. Then they were finally where they wanted to be.

On Tchlinda’s signal, two of the troopers who had worked their way farther around the monument, popped up and drew Wedge’s and Heblon’s attention, in opposite directions. Both men fired at the targets, but only Heblon’s shot hit one of them. As they fired, the third trooper fired, hitting Heblon, who slumped back against the fuselage of the X-wing. A hole in the shoulder of his armor sparked and smoked.

Wedge snapped off one last shot, taking out the second of the decoy troopers, then he whirled to face the third man, who now stood before him, covering him. He raised his hands, still holding the blaster, as Lathel Tchlinda stepped out of her protected position. They had him cornered.

She motioned for him to drop the weapon, and he complied, dropping it next to the fallen Lieutenant. As he did, he caught an almost imperceptible movement out of the corner of his left eye.

"Well, Commander Antilles. I’d like to congratulate you on your remarkable recovery from the interrogation. You are truly an exceptional adversary. In a way, I’m glad that things have turned out like this. Now I will have the pleasure of finishing this, myself."

"And we know how much you value your pleasure, isn’t that right Lady Tchlinda?" He leaned heavily against the S-foil.

"Indeed we do. Now, on your knees Commander. But keep your hands where I can see them, please."

She motioned with her blaster, and he eased down onto his knees, his fingers laced behind his head. "Now Commander, would you like to beg for your life?"

"No. I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m just gonna get out of the way." He smiled up at her, then flattened himself on the permacrete.

"What?"

Her question was lost in the sound of the blaster shot that took out the trooper standing next to her. As she realized that it had been fired by Heblon, she shifted her aim to return fire, and was hit chest high, by the full weight of Ajene Tuvora.

The two women tumbled down the steps that led up to the level where the X-wing sat, and landed on the sidewalk at the bottom. Tchlinda struggled to bring her blaster to bear on the Rebel Major, who was just as determined to stop her.

Raising his head cautiously, Wedge looked at the women, then struggled up, and crawled over to where Heblon was attempting to sit up.

"Take it easy. How bad is it?" He helped the man lean against the side of the ship, and looked at the wounded shoulder.

"Not bad. Not much more than a flesh wound." He looked at the two women fighting on the ground, then at Wedge. The pilot was shaking noticeably.

"I see that stim shot I gave you this morning is wearing off. You okay?"

Wedge leaned against the ship, next to the trooper. "Uhh huh."

"Is that your lady?" Heblon nodded toward the women, as Ajene avoided a roundhouse to the jaw from Tchlinda, who was sitting on her chest.

"Yeah. That’s her." They watched as Ajene twisted violently, and dumped the other woman onto her back. Grabbing a handful of Tchlinda’s hair, she slammed the Moff’s head against the sidewalk until she stopped moving.

Getting to her feet, she climbed the steps, and knelt in front of the two men, trying to catch her breath.

Finally she looked at Wedge and smiled. "Nice to see you again, Commander."

"Major." He grinned back at her. "Sorry about the dinner date."

"I’ll forgive you this time. But don’t make a habit of this." She leaned over and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then, straightening up, she drew her blaster. "Now, do you guys think you could make a run for it?"

"We can sure try." The two men helped each other stand, and she eyed them uncertainly. Neither one of them looked too steady on their feet.

"Okay. Let’s hope so, because this would be a really good time to go. We’re headed to the back of the Moff’s Palace." She whistled to two of the resistance members near by. "Give us some covering fire!" She pointed in the direction they were going. "Okay. Let’s move."

* * * * * * *

Once the E-Web was neutralized, Sixtus and Elscol moved their team toward the Moff’s Palace with relative ease. The fighting in the plaza was still heavy, and there were pockets of Imperial resistance that took more dealing with than others. But without the Scout Walkers and the canon to worry about, the tide of battle had turned in favor of the Rebels.

Reaching the Palace, they split up into two groups. One headed down, to clear any trouble that might be hiding in the lower levels of the building. The other team headed up, to prevent Osiel Turpa from escaping.

Making their way cautiously up the stairs, leaving two rear guards to search each floor, they worked their way all the way to the fifth and final floor before the roof. There, they were stopped cold. In the hall, at the top of the stairs, another E-Web had been set up, and its crew fired on anything that moved.

"Now what?" Elscol ducked, just as the canon fire, knocked a chunk out of the wall near her head. "They’ll hold us here long enough for Turpa and a command crew to get to the shuttle and raise ship."

Sixtus looked around, and assessed the situation. After a moment, he pointed to Elscol and two of the other team members. "Head on won’t work, so we outflank them. You and these two men, stay here. Keep up enough fire to make them think we’re stuck here. The rest of us will go back down a floor, and go up the outside of the building. When we get on their level, we’ll come in behind them and take out the canon. Then you can come on through."

"That’ll work, but it still wastes time. Send one crew in to blow the canon, but send the rest on up to the roof to stop Turpa."

"I like it! Let’s go."

There was a hasty shuffling of people and positions, and then Elscol and the two men were alone. "Okay. Let’s make some noise."

They opened fire and kept it up for what seemed like an eternity, especially when the E-Web sent answering volleys in their direction. Plaster chips and splinters flew everywhere, and the heat in the confined space was incredible.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous explosion and the E-Web went silent. "You’re clear, Elscol. We’re about to hit the roof."

"C’mon." She shoved some debris out of the way, and they headed up the stairs at a run.

When they reached the roof, the scenario did not look very promising. Turpa and a group of stormtroopers were barricaded behind a low blast containment wall, and were laying down a withering fire pattern. They were between the shuttle and the resistance group and to make matters worse, there was someone on the shuttle running through the pre-flight sequence.

"We’ve got to stop that shuttle." Elscol switched comm frequencies. "Any Rogue in the vicinity of the Moff’s Palace. Do you copy?"

"Rogue Nine here. What can I do for you El?"

"We’re on the roof of the Palace, and we need the Lambda taken care of. Just to keep her from lifting off. Nothing too spectacular."

"No problem. Your reinforcements are on the ground, and your wish is my command. Keep your heads down for a few seconds."

It actually didn’t take Corran much longer than a few seconds. There was the sound of an approaching X-wing, and then two laser shots. Both hit, and the upper stabilizer and the folded wings of the shuttle became so much slag, running down the sides of the ship.

"How’s that, Ground?"

"Just fine thanks."

"Ten and I are in the neighborhood until the Pulsar Skate lifts off. Let us know if you need anymore help." Corran’s ship flashed overhead, in a three hundred and sixty-degree roll, then stood on her tail and went straight up.

"Will do ‘Hotshot.’" She laughed and turned back to the problem at hand.

With their only means of escape gone, the Imperials seemed to lose interest in fighting, and most threw down their guns. The few diehards that didn’t lasted only a few minutes longer. Only Turpa remained behind cover, and firing back at the advancing Rebels. Finally, a shot struck home and he pitched forward onto the permacrete roof.

As the troopers were herded downstairs, Sixtus and Elscol walked over to where the officer lay. Reaching down, Quinn rolled him over and swore vehemently.

"It’s not him. It was a decoy! Find him!"

* * * * * * *

Getting from the monument to the landing area had taken a bit longer than Ajene would have liked, but it couldn’t be helped. Not only was there still quite a bit of fighting to contend with, but her two charges were not in the best of shape, and it slowed their progress down, considerably.

Heblon was managing fairly well, but Wedge was still pretty weak, and was

leaning heavily on the big Lieutenant for support. Ajene and some of the other Rebels helped them both, in between skirmishes. Eventually though, they made it past the Moff’s Palace.

The landing zone was five hundred meters past the Palace grounds, and when they arrived, the reinforcements were just beginning to off load. Each ship would circle the field once, drop in and lower their ramp, and a wave of people would hit the ground at a dead run. Then, as the ship lifted off, they’d raise the ramp on the fly. Everyone hit the mark right on time, and from a distance, it looked almost like a dance.

All the while, the two X-wings circled overhead, covering each ship.

Rather than swim against the living tide, Tuvora steered the two men to the cover provided by a wall. "You guys all right?"

Both men were exhausted, but they nodded, anyway. Their goal was in sight, and exhaustion wasn’t going to stop them now.

Wedge looked up as the sound told him that one of the X-wings was making a run on a target. His jaw dropped when he realized that the target was the building that they were standing next to.

"Get down!" He grabbed Ajene and pulled her down between himself and Heblon. They covered their heads as best they could just as they heard the two laser shots sizzle overhead. There was the sound of the bolts striking something solid, high above them. Then, as they uncovered, Corran’s green and white X-wing was rolling above them, before heading high.

"That’s Corran. He only used half power. It must have been a surgical strike." He watched as the other ships finished their landing rotations, then grinned when the Pulsar Skate settled in place and stayed put once her troops had disembarked.

"That must be our ride."

"That’s her. C’mon." The three stood and headed out toward the waiting ship at a slow trot. Just as they reached the halfway point, a figure staggered out from behind another low wall.

"Antilles! You’re not going anywhere!" The bloody form of Lathel Tchlinda raised the blaster in her hand and squeezed off a shot.

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Heblon dove and jerked the pilot to the ground as he went. In the same instant, in a blur of motion, Ajene’s blaster cleared her holster, and spat two bolts in Tchlinda’s direction. One struck center mass and the other hit the woman between the eyes as she fell. The blaster bolt she’d fired went wide, smacking harmlessly against the side of the Pulsar Skate.

Then, from behind the same wall where Tchlinda had emerged, another blaster bolt stabbed toward the three and hit Tuvora in the upper thigh. As she was falling, she attempted to bring her blaster up to return fire, but the pain proved too much for her. As unconsciousness overtook her, she collapsed a meter away from Wedge and Heblon.

In reply, four rapid shots came from the swivel canon, at the Pulsar Skate’s nose, obliterating the wall, and the figure that had been crouching behind it.

A second later, Sixtus Quinn and Elscol Loro rounded the corner of the Palace, weapons ready. Looking down, they watched what was left of Osiel Turpa take his final breath. Then they headed for their three allies, who lay midway between them and the Skate.

By the time they reached them, Heblon had managed to haul himself into a sitting position, and was holding on to a wild-eyed Wedge Antilles.

"Ajene!" The pilot struggled valiantly to crawl to the woman’s side, but his strength finally gave out. "Help her. Please." His sides heaved from the effort.

"Easy Wedge." Kneeling next to him, Elscol put her arm around his shoulder, and he seemed to focus on her. "She’ll be all right. Let us get you both into the Skate."

"C’mon Commander." Sixtus leaned down and picked Wedge up as easily as if her were a child. Another of his team, lifted Ajene gently, and the two men carried their burdens to the waiting ship. Elscol followed behind, with Heblon leaning on her heavily, for support.

Once on board, a pressure bandage had been quickly applied to Ajene’s wound, and she’d been settled in the Skate’s Med Station for liftoff. After seeing to it that Heblon was bandaged, and that he and Wedge were strapped in for liftoff, Sixtus and Elscol took their leave to rejoin their comrades. There was, after all, a battle still in progress, and when it finally ended, there would be a lot of mopping up to do. And that’s what they were good at. When the hatch was sealed, Mirax hit the comm button.

"Rogue Squadron, this is the Pulsar Skate, advising you that as of now, and until we dock with the Errant Venture, our designation will be that of Rogue One. Do you copy?"

"We copy, Rogue One." There was no disguising the relief in Tycho’s voice. "Tell the Commander we’re happy to have him back."

"You tell him Rogue Two. I’ll put you on overhead." She flipped a switch on the comm unit. "Someone has something to tell you, Wedge."

"Commander?"

From where he sat, next to the Med Station, Wedge grinned tiredly. "Yes Mr. Celchu?"

"Welcome home. It’s good to have you back." The sentiment was echoed by eleven other voices.

"It’s good to be back. In fact, it’s so good to be back, that I might even forget that I saw some grandstanding out there today, by a certain Corellian pilot…"

"That was a salute, sir." You could hear the grin in Corran’s reply.

"Uhh huh…." He shook his head resignedly. "See you guys on the Venture… and by the way…Well done, Rogues."

"Copy, Rogue One. Head for the hangar guys, the Boss is back."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two days later on board the Errant Venture, bound for Coruscant.

Wedge’s small cabin, on the ship’s Medical Deck, was packed nearly to capacity, and he silently reveled in the sounds of the familiar voices, and the laughter. As he leaned against the bulkhead, with his legs stretched along the length of the bunk, he looked at each face, and was grateful for each and every one, realizing just how close he’d come to never seeing any of them again.

Seated beside him, Ajene Tuvora gently squeezed his hand, and he looked up, answering her questioning look with a smile, and a wink. He was especially grateful to see that particular face.

Despite her wound, she’d been at his side as much as humanly possible since they had been brought back to the Venture. He even vaguely remembered seeing her through the distortion of the bacta tank, as he had spent twelve interminable hours suspended there. Thank the Force that was over and done with. The Em Dee Ones had pronounced him healthy, and said that the drugs would be completely out of his system in another day or so. When he got back to Coruscant, he planned to see a counselor about what he’d been through, but he didn’t anticipate any problems.

Now, here he sat, surrounded by his friends, eating the traditional Corellian Rhyscate, and enjoying a drink, albeit a small one, of Whyren’s Reserve, to celebrate his homecoming. And he was actually keeping it down.

"So, you’re saying that our beloved Commander was a difficult prisoner?" Corran arched his eyebrows at Heblon, who nodded in agreement.

"He was a pain in the butt." Heblon took a sip of the whiskey, and continued, grinning as he did. "Picking locks. Mouthing off at his betters. Getting the hell beaten out of himself. And then he had the nerve to enjoy the Moff’s big party. Dancing with her and the other women. Then winding up in her quarters, afterwards."

"Oh?" Ajene joined in. "That’s interesting. You never mentioned that." She smiled sweetly at Wedge.

Wedge shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn’t think it was important. She just wanted to proposition me."

"Really? And…?" She was clearly enjoying this.

"And what?" His face was innocence itself.

"Did she proposition you?"

"Umm hmm." He took a long sip of his drink.

"And?"

"And what?"

She rolled her eyes. "What did you do about it?"

"Well…I hate to admit it, but I was tempted. I mean, she was sort of attractive and all that. But then I realized that I had all the woman I could handle right here."

There was a chorus of "Ohhs" and whistles, from around the room, and Ajene leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Now that boys and girls, is a perfect example of grace under fire." Tycho slapped Wedge on the shoulder. "That’s what makes him such a good Commander."

Heblon grinned wickedly. "No, that’s survival instinct. We got to see her at work the other day in battle, and he knows just what a bad idea it would be to make her mad."

Even Ajene laughed at that assessment.

"Well…" Booster stood up and looked around the room. "I’ve enjoyed this, but I think it’s time to let this man get some rest. I’ll see you all in the morning. And Wedge…It’s really good to have you back."

"Booster’s right. We all need to get out of here." Tycho stood and saluted. "Commander."

The others followed his example and soon the only people left in the room were Wedge, Ajene and Heblon.

The ex-stormtrooper swallowed the last of his drink, and stood to leave as well.

"Well Antilles, I’m glad that you’re feeling better. Behave yourself and I’ll see you later."

"Wait a minute. What are your plans, now that you’re no longer an Imperial Lieutenant?" Wedge swung his feet off the bunk and sat up, facing the man.

"I don’t know yet. I haven’t really given it much thought." He shrugged.

"Why don’t you go back to being a doctor?"

"I never said I was a doctor." He eyed the Corellian suspiciously.

"No. I got that from your records on the Querulous."

"Having me checked out for a reason?" There was no anger in the question.

"Curiosity mostly." Wedge shook his head. "I’d hate to see that kind of ability wasted."

"Yeah… well, I was a doctor a long time ago, on a backwater planet, in a settlement that doesn’t even exist anymore."

Wedge nodded in the direction of the small viewport. "Maybe. But there’s a whole galaxy out there. Hundreds of worlds, and thousands of settlements. One of them is bound to need a doctor."

"Well, I can’t argue with that logic. I’ll give it some thought."

"Good. And if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I owe you one or two favors."

"I’ll keep that in mind. Now, let me get out of here. Good night Commander, Major."

"Good night Heblon."

"Good night."

They watched as he started out the door, and the door started to slide shut.

"Hey Heblon!"

The door slid back open. "Yeah? What is it?"

Wedge grinned broadly, and winked. "Thanks."

Heblon stared a moment, then shook his head, as the door slid shut.

* * * * * The End * * * * *