recordings into a portion of her documentary. Her occasional bouts of
muttering and swearing suggested that it wasn't going well.
And IellaIella was tucked under Wedge's arm, her eyes closed, her
expression serene.
Wedge smiled, knowing his was probably an idiot's grin but not caring. He
was on the run, a death sentence on his head, on a world where his enemies and
admirers alike would be happy to kill him, unable to get in touch with his
superiors. But for this moment he was carefree, happy in a way he hadn't been
in years.
Iella's eyes opened. She looked at him a little fuzzily, then smiled and
burrowed her face into his neck. "Haven't you had any sleep?"
"I've been thinking. Putting things in order."
"Marshaling your troops, General?"
"Only when I could force myself to stop thinking about you."
Her shoulders shook a little and he realized she was laughing silently.
"You know what's so wonderful about compliments from you?" she asked.
"What?"
"I know you always mean them. You have no skill at flattery."
Cheriss unstrapped herself and rose. She walked over to Wedge and Iella,
her steps unsteady because of the craft's rocking motions and occasional
battles with turbulence. Her expression was as serious as it had been back in
Iella's quarters. "General... Wedge... may I speak to you for a moment?
Privately?" She turned a look of apology toward Iella.
"Sure." Wedge looked down into Iella's eyes, tried to gauge her reaction.
But her expression offered little but sleepy contentment. There was no
concern, no jealousy to be seen in them.
Wedge joined Cheriss toward the front of the compartment. They held on to
the rings in the framework to steady themselves against the craft's motion.
When Cheriss spoke, her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear over
the engine's roar and the whistling of wind through rivet holes. "I just
wanted to say... you were right and I was wrong."
"That's a hard admission," Wedge said. "It tries to stick in my throat
whenever I'm obliged to offer it."
She managed a faint smile. "I didn't really understand it after I woke up
on your big ship. My injury was almost healed and I knew I had nothing left to
memy title lost, the perator's regard for me lost, your regard for me
probably lost"
"No."
"Let me talk. But I couldn't concentrate on all that because the medics
kept asking me questions. How my wound felt. What I might be allergic to.
Other conditions I had that were medical in nature. I told them of my
dizziness with heights..."
Wedge was surprised to see tears form in her eyes. She wiped them away
and continued, "They scanned my head and took my blood to look for chemicals
in it, and decided that it was a chemical imbalance. They gave me a drug. Half
an hour later I stood on the top walkway of your starfighter landing bay, over
the great distance to the floor where the starfighters landed, even over the
gap they flew out ofI could see all the way down to the clouds of Adumar's
skies, and I felt not even a twinge. All I have to do is take a chemical once
every few days. I can learn to fly."
"That's wonderful news."
"Yes... though I could not even make the medics understand that. To them,
it was such a little thing. A di - agnosis, a chemical, and their patient
could be set aside and a new one brought in. For me, it was years of knowing I
could never be anything in Cartann, suddenly swept away... and to those who
helped me, it was nothing more than a minor task, successfully accomplished. I
was almost angry with them for not understanding.
"And that's when I knew. If I had died the other day at the perator's
court, I could not even be resentful. I could never enjoy this thing, which is
a few grains of chemicals to your medics and a miracle to me. So I understood
that you were right. To throw away my life would have been dishonorable. It
was the choice of a stupid girl. Someone I hope I no longer am."
"Having seen this, you have only one choice."
"Which is what?"
"To live your life well. To find a purpose and pursue it."
"I want to be a pilot," she said. "Not for Cartann. Not for Adumar. For
your New Republic."
"If I'm still alive in a few days, I'll see what I can do to help you."
"I also wanted to say..." Her glance flicked to Iella and back to Wedge.
"I wanted to wish you and your lady every happiness."
"Thank you."
"II don't know what else to say."
"Let me say something, then. One last piece of advice. Cheriss, you're
always going to be too young for something important to you, too old for
something else, and the timing is just not going to be right for a third set
of things. That's life, and you can make yourself crazy by dwelling on that.
Or you can figure out what you are the right age for, and what the timing is
right for, and celebrate those things. Where do you suppose happiness lies?"
"I understand."
"Good."
He rejoined Iella and strapped himself back in, then wrapped his arm
around her.
"All settled?" she asked.
He nodded.
"If I can ask, what was it all about?"
"She's just growing up. She's come along two, maybe three years since the
other night."
"That's good."
"Maybe we can figure out how to build a weapon out of the process and
shoot Wes a few times."
His eyes still closed, Janson said, "I heard that."
The briefing room where Wedge and company met the rulers of the Yedagon
Confederacy was unlike anything they had seen in the city of Cartann. It was a
circular chamber, half bounded by curving wall, half by a succession of ornate
columns beyond which were close-cut grasses and artistically spaced trees. The
portion of the room bounded by columns was open to the sky, though Wedge could
see a panel at the edge of the ceiling of the room's other half that suggested
some sort of light cover could be mechanically extended as a roof.
The floor and tables in the chamber were of a rnarblelike stone, the
floor textured so that feet did not slip upon it; Wedge prodded at it with his
toe to find that it was indeed solid, not the sort of cushiony cover that
seemed to decorate every surface in Cartann.
Light winds stirred in the chamber. The place was airy and well lit, with
no corners for skulking, no shadows to hide within. A vast improvement over
what we've been enjoying, Wedge decided as he seated himself.
On the other side of the central table from him, Escalion, the perator of
the Confederacy, settled into position. "I will be brief," he said. "You are a
military man and doubtless have no taste for roundabout talk or circuitous
approaches to the subject."
"Thank you," Wedge said, and studied the man. Yedagon's perator was also
in contrast to Cartann's. Of average height, he was dark of hair and beard but
pale of skin. The contrast gave his features the appearance of intensity even
when he was at ease. He was a few years older than Wedge, and his physical
condition seemed to b
e as good as Wedge's; the musculature of his upper body
suggested regular exercise or workouts and his waist was flat. His uniform was
a spotless white, reminiscent of an Imperial Grand Admiral's uniform except
for the elaborate purple scrollery traced down the outside of his sleeves and
trouser legs and the bank of medals and campaign markers on his chesteach a
different size, shape, and color, decorations that the orderly Imperials would
find offensive in the extreme.
"If it is your wish," Escalion said, "we would be happy to provide you
transport to your orbital vessel. Your public refusal to fall in with
Cartann's military aggression indebts us to you that far, and more. But we
would like to present you with another alternative. A request."
"You want me to fly with your forces against Cartann."
"No," Escalion said. "To lead them. All of them."
Wedge leaned back. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to put an entire
nation's military force in the hands of a man who has only the vaguest
familiarity with it."
"You misunderstand me," Escalion said. "I'm not talking about one nation.
I'm in constant communication with the ruler of Halbegardia, and she is in
agreement. We wish you to lead the united forces of all nations arrayed
against Cartann."
"Why?"
"Because you have done things on Adumar that are unprecedented. You have
demonstrated piloting skills that surpass our bestyour four-pilot unit shot
down thirty opponents last night, lest we forget. You have sought to teach
rather than accumulate honor at a cost of blood and lives. You have defied the
most powerful man on Adumar and survived his wrath. All of which is only part
of the answer." He leaned forward over the table, his expression genuinely
intent. "It is my belief, and the belief of my advisors and Halbegardia's,
that if it is known that you lead our combi ned forces against Cartann, many
other nations will join us. Nations currently neutral, or siding with Cartann
because they know they cannot withstand a direct attack by that nation, will
join us, giving us a chance to win. Or at least be defeated in an honorable
struggle rather than a massacre."
Wedge glanced among the others arrayed around his table. The members of
his own party wore carefully neutral expressions. The six advisors Escalion
had brought men and women in uniforms similar to hiswere more
demonstrative, nodding as he made his points, turning eager and expectant eyes
to Wedge.
"From what I've learned," Wedge said, "if I calculate things correctly,
if every nation not under Cartann's direct control were to join us, we'd still
have a united force about two-thirds the size of Cartann's."
Escalion nodded "Though even that number is optimistically misleading.
Cartann's equipment is better than ours. For our fighter corps, we have fewer
Blade-Thirty-twos than they do. Less than half our fighter fleet, in fact; we
rely largely on older models."
"So, optimistically, we would, under the best of circumstances, have half
their strength or less."
"Correct."
"I'll need a few minutes to think about this."
Escalion nodded and rose. "We will leave you this chamber and all the
time you wish. Summon a servant when you have an answer for us. In the
meantime, we will have food and drink sent."
"Thank you."
When the Yedagonians had withdrawn, Wedge said, "Pilots, Cheriss, Hallis,
please give me a little space."
"Our proximity is interfering with his brain waves," Hobbie said as he
stood. "We're jamming them."
"Something to be proud of," Janson said. "Anyone for a little sabacc?"
That left Wedge alone at the central table with Iella. She said, "Do you
want to be alone to think?"
"What, send you away? I just got you."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "You make me sound like a marketplace
purchase." But her voice sounded pleased.
"Never."
"I would have thought you'd have an answer ready for Escalion. Even
before we reached here."
"I did. I was going to turn him down." Wedge sighed. "But then he threw a
skifter into the deck. Flying with the Yedagon Confederacy is not the same
thing as leading a union of nations against Cartann. One would be pointless.
The other could actually accomplish some, or even all, of what I was sent here
to do."
"How do you figure that? Wedge, you're no longer in the loop. Anything
you do here constitutes rogue actions. Though I suppose that's appropriate for
an ex-Rogue."
He smiled. "But that's where you're wrong. My duties and responsibilities
and powers didn't remain in Cartann when we fled. I still have them here."
"I'm not sure I understand. Until Tomer Darpen is brought down"
"He's not even relevant. It's obvious that the New Republic set this
whole operation up under the control of the local Intelligence division, yes.
And it hurts us that Allegiance is under his direct control. But, Iella, my
orders don't even refer to Intelligence. I'm here to try to bring Adumar into
the New Republic. I'm empowered to enter into negotiations and conduct
treaties. I'm still the chief New Republic diplomat on this worldand I can
choose to deal with this assembly of nations instead of Cartann."
"I hadn't considered it that way. So what's standing between you and
making a decision?"
"One simple fact. Leading the non-Cartann forces is more than writing a
treaty. It's deciding the fates of whole nations. Possibly of Adumar itself."
"Wedge, if you choose not to lead them, you're still deciding their fate.
"Iyou're right."
"Get used to it. I usually am."
He grinned at her, a cocky grin that he knew other Corellians like Han
Solo wore far more often than he. "We'll see about that." He stood. "Major
Janson!"
Janson shot upright, military straight, then glared at Wedge. "I hope
this is more important than my card game, young man."
"Inform Yedagon's perator that I have come to a decision."
"Yes, sir. Which is?"
"We're going to drop the heavy end of the hammer on Cartann."
Janson uttered a noise that was half cheer, half animal wail, and trotted
to the door. He returned a moment later. "They're sending for Escalion."
"Good." Wedge looked among his pilots. "For me, this is technically a
diplomatic matter and not a military one. I can't ask you to be part of it."
"You can't keep us out," Janson said. "We'll just overpower you. Two
majors plus one colonel equals one general at least."
"I'm part of it, too," Iella said.
Wedge gave her a mock scowl. "You can overpower me?"
"I tickle."
"Maybe you can." Wedge stretched and yawned. "We'll begin strategic
planning immediately. I'll need data on all available military resources
continuously updated if, as Escalion suggests, we'll be able to swing more
nations over to our side. I need data and advisors on Cartann's forces and
standard tactics. I want"
"No,"Tycho said.
Wedge stared at him. "What?"
"Go to bed, Wedge."
&n
bsp; "Don't be ridiculous. We don't have a lot of time, and"
"And you've had less sleep than any of us." Tycho approached to loom over
Wedge where he sat. "Meaning that you'll do all your planning, then we'll hop
into our fighters and roar off to meet the Cartann forces. And because you're
exhausted, your reflexes are shot and your thinking processes crawl along like
a dying Hutt, and some twenty-year-old twit will flame you down and be able to
brag about it for the rest of his life. No, Wedge. Get some sleep."
"But who'll"
"I will. I've plotted a few missions, you might remember. I also know how
you think. No, you go get some sleep. You'll wake up fresh, you'll examine my
plans, you'll fiddle with them to your satisfaction."
Janson and Hobbie flanked Tycho and stared down at Wedge with identical
expressions of obstinacy.
"Mutiny," Wedge said.
Iella smiled at him. "I think it's time you learned how to do something."
"Which is what?"
"Delegate authority."
"You may be right." Wedge rose. It made him feel light-headed. His pilots
were correct; if he did manage to force himself to endure several hours of
planning and organizing, he'd be no good for anything else. "All right,
mutineers, you win."
Eleven Coruscant hours later, freshly bathed and shaved, Wedge joined his
party and the military leaders of the Yedagon Confederacy in their planning
chamber. Like the meeting room where he'd met Escalion, this room was
circular, but it was deep beneath the ground under Escalion's palace. The
chamber was dominated by a table shaped as a broken ring; men and women could
stand around its exterior and within the open space at its center. Its surface
was dominated by flatscreen displays that glowed in the chamber's dim light.
Tycho waved him over to the portion of table surrounded by the New
Republic representatives and several uniformed Yedagonians. "The nations of
Thozzelling and Tetanne have come on board," Tycho said. "And a half-dozen
smaller nations. Escalion was rightyour name is like a bank full of credits
here, especially after that four versus thirty fight."
Wedge smiled at Iella and got a smile in return. Then he turned his
attention to the flatscreen on the table. It was a map showing an area
reaching from the heart of Cartann to all of Yedagon. Military units of both
sides were indicated with blinking colored dots. Wedge supposed that tapping