Isard's Revenge, Page 2

  Disbelief threaded through Wedge’s voice. “Be careful, Rogues. Thrawn’s got something up his sleeve.”

  Janson laughed lightly. “Looks like a full-fledged retreat, Lead. They’re recovering their fighters.”

  Corran studied his readout. The Rebel cone began to blossom from the widest end, coming forward to the tip. The New Republic’s ships kept a respectful distance from the Imperial ships and moved to begin recovery operations. The Imp pull-back left a couple of their own stricken ships still hanging in space. And it leaves the Bilbringi shipyards to us, which Thrawn never would have wanted.

  A shiver ran up Corran’s spine. “What happened here, Lead?”

  “I don’t know, Nine.” Wedge’s voice came through solemn and with a hint of hesitation. “Just got a recall order from Admiral Ackbar. We’re to rendezvous with Home One.”

  “And then he’ll tell us what happened?”

  “Could be, Corran, but I doubt it.” Wedge’s X-wing looped out in front of the other Rogues and began the trip back toward the fleet. “For now, let’s just be glad that, for whatever reason, Thrawn discovered he had better things to do, and let’s be ready for when he decides to come back at us again.”

  Chapter Two

  As tired as he was, Wedge Antilles found it a major effort to open his eyes when Admiral Ackbar cleared his voice. The pilot had been seated in the waiting area outside the Admiral’s office and hadn’t heard the hatch open. He started to spring to his feet, but tight muscles slowed him, only allowing him to unfurl his body like a heavy flag in a weak breeze.

  “Forgive me, Admiral.” Wedge sheepishly looked back at where he’d been sitting. “I didn’t mean to…”

  Ackbar’s barabels quivered as his mouth opened in an approximation of a human grin. “No need for forgiveness. I kept you waiting too long. Reviewing Thrawn’s tactics is fascinating, and other information also demanded attention. The tide of data washed away the time.”

  “Understandable, Admiral.” Wedge followed the Mon Calamari into his office. As with any cabin on a starship, space was limited but the large viewports helped alleviate any sense of closeness. A globe of water hung suspended in the corner in a gravity-nullifying field and flashed with a rainbow of fish swimming through it. The water also contributed to the elevated humidity in the room, but Wedge didn’t mind it too much. After all these years of dealing with the Admiral, it doesn’t feel that oppressive.

  Ackbar waved a flipper-fingered hand at a chair before his desk, then sat with his back to the black expanse of space. “I want to commend you and your people on the run at the Golan station. While the Assault Frigates finished it off, your people put the first cracks in its shell and otherwise hurt it. You should have your techs get ready to paint a Golan on your fighters.”

  Wedge smiled and ran his fingers back through his brown hair. “I’m sure that’ll make the Rogues happy. I’m just pleased you gave us the release to make that run.”

  “It was a gamble we needed to make at the time.”

  “And it seemed to work.” Wedge’s brown eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe, though, that our assault was what frightened Thrawn off.”

  The Mon Calamari sat back and swiveled his chair around to face toward the fish-globe. “It wasn’t—which is not meant to diminish what you and your people did. Part of the delay here was dealing with coded messages from Wayland.”

  “Wayland?”

  “Apparently it is a world where the Emperor had hidden a cloning facility. Thrawn was using it to produce troops. He was also using a clone of a Jedi Master to help coordinate his military efforts, and this clone was based on Wayland. Luke and Leia were there to deal with him. Leia also has managed to establish a rapport with the Noghri. They are an alien species the Empire had tricked into serving as agents and assassins. The Noghri worked for Thrawn, but when they discovered the Imperial deception, they used one of the Noghri close to Thrawn to kill him.”

  Wedge sat forward, the last vestiges of fatigue burned away. “Thrawn, dead? Are you sure?”

  Ackbar shrugged uneasily. “There is no way of knowing for certain, since the Noghri assassin has not reported back to his superiors. In fact, they assume he was killed trying to escape from the Chimaera. While it is possible that Thrawn was just injured and a subordinate officer issued orders in his stead, causing the retreat, the fact is that the Noghri have been spectacularly successful assassins. This Ruhk had the same sort of access to Thrawn that Chewbacca has to Han Solo, and if the Wookiee were of a mind to kill Han, I do not doubt he would succeed.”

  The Corellian pilot exhaled slowly as he sank back into the chair. “Thrawn, dead. That pretty much breaks the back of the Empire’s remnants, doesn’t it?”

  “It certainly hurts them, yes. There are still warlords out there—Teradoc, Harssk, Krennel—and some ex-Imperials who have gone feral and are leading pirate bands. There are also clusters of loyal Imperial systems that are fairly self-sufficient, but they don’t seem to be much of a threat to the New Republic. We will have to continue battling the warlords, and I have no doubt there are more Imperial weapons of mass destruction lurking out there to catch us like a riptide, but we have gotten past a stretch of rough water.”

  Wedge blinked, then shook his head. “It’s been eight or nine years now that I’ve been fighting against the Empire. There were times I didn’t think I was going to live another moment. I don’t think I ever let myself dream I might survive this long, to see this sort of victory. This was always a goal, but now that it’s here…”

  He fell silent as a host of emotions exploded in his chest. An incredible sensation of relief washed over him. I’m alive, actually alive. Pleasure at the number of his comrades who had also survived followed quickly on its heels, chased by the melancholy of remembering those who had died. Biggs, Dack, Ibtisam, Riv, the Admiral’s niece Jesmin, Grinder, Castin Donn, Peshk, Jek Porkins—too many, far too many.

  Yet even as memories of the dead tried to weigh him down, his spirits soared. The Rebellion had actually done it, had actually defeated the Empire and liberated trillions of subjugated people. Oppression had been exchanged for hope, misery for freedom. It had been an act of sheer will by so many that allowed for the Rebellion’s success, and Wedge took great joy in his contribution to that effort.

  He looked up at Ackbar. “I never really dared let myself look beyond the next battle, and now, it seems, there might truly be an end to the warfare. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

  Ackbar’s lip-fringes twitched. “Said like a man contemplating retirement.”

  “Retirement? I’m not even thirty.”

  “Warfare is an occupation from which one can never retire too young, Commander.”

  “Good point, Admiral.” Wedge smiled. “Maybe I could retire—not immediately, mind you. I literally don’t know what I would do with myself if I did. Maybe write my memoirs or get some education. I always wanted to be an architect, and peace could mean a lot of building.”

  Ackbar nodded. “Find yourself a mate, raise a small school of children?”

  Wedge wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know about a school of children, but a couple, sure. However, that’s further down the line, I think.”

  “True.” Ackbar turned to face him and rested his forearms on his desk. “There is a more immediate problem I need you to deal with.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to accept immediate promotion to the rank of General.”

  Wedge shook his head. “Hey, I won that Wraith Squadron bet.”

  “Yes, you did, and very adroitly.” Ackbar pressed his hands together. “Commander, we have played this shell game, you and I, for years. You don’t want a promotion because you don’t want to move out of an X-wing cockpit. I certainly can appreciate your desires. I can sympathize with them, but I also know you are capable of handling greater responsibilities than you have been. This promotion would address those responsibilities.”

  “Address how? I’m at
my best planning small-unit tactical operations.”

  “Ah, so the conquest of Thyferra was a small-unit tactical operation?”

  Wedge hesitated. “Well, yes, sort of.”

  Ackbar shook his head. “I allowed you to deflect me with the whole Wraith Squadron concept, and I value you enough to seriously consider letting you remain in command of a fighter unit.”

  “Rogue Squadron? Or am I going to have to command a full wing the way General Salm does?”

  “Rogue Squadron will be sufficient for now.”

  The Corellian arched an eyebrow at his superior. “If you’re willing to leave me in charge of Rogue Squadron, I guess I don’t need a promotion, then.”

  The Mon Calamari leaned forward, his eyes half shut. “But you do, Commander, you need a promotion and you need one very quickly.”

  “Why?”

  Ackbar sighed. “Because your people in the squadron are refusing their own promotions. They’re following in your wake, which is a grand testament to your leadership and their feelings for you, but not really fair to them at all. Captain Celchu should be at least a Colonel—that was the job he was performing in leading the Rogues while you were with the Wraiths. Hobbie and Janson should be Majors, Horn should be a Captain at the very least, Darklighter as well, and the rest of your Rogues should be something other than Flight Officers.”

  Wedge sat there, his mouth open ever so slightly. “I never really gave it that much thought, I guess.”

  “There wasn’t that much time for thinking, given all you and the Rogues have been through.” Ackbar spread his hands. “The liberation of Thyferra made it difficult for us to insist on promotions lest it look as though we were rewarding you for toppling a government. That sort of thing could have encouraged other units to try similar actions on other worlds. Your involvement with the Wraiths further insulated you because of the bet we had. Then Thrawn arrived and promotions became less important than otherwise. Now, with his threat ended, we have old injustices to take care of.”

  “Right. I’m sure the Bothans would like to see Asyr made at least a Captain.”

  “And they would like her back flying for them.”

  “Not hard to believe.” Wedge shook his head. How could I have been so blind? My people have all been great, and certainly more deserving of rank and honors than a lot of folks who’ve been promoted beyond them. I’ve been so worried about not letting the Rebellion down that I’ve let them down. “I guess I need to prepare reports so they can be considered for promotion, yes?”

  Ackbar punched a button on the holoprojector pad built into his desk. Above it little holographic images of each of the squadron’s pilots burned to life. The Admiral reached up and touched Tycho’s image and it blossomed into a full datafile. “Emtrey managed to take care of filing routine reports for you, including performance evaluations and the like. Appending your comments to each file would not hurt, especially if the reporting officer is General Antilles.”

  Wedge nodded slowly, then smiled. “How long ago did you figure out that using my people against me would work? I mean, none of them complained, did they?”

  “No, none of them did.” Ackbar’s mouth opened in a smile. “In fact, I think they took perverse delight in their situation. As for when I knew how to get you to accept this change, it occurred to me during your time at Thyferra. You’re as loyal to your people as they are to you.”

  “Fair enough.” Wedge’s eyes narrowed. “Now that you’ve gotten me to agree to the promotion, it’s time you let me in on what else is happening.”

  Ackbar hesitated for a moment, then bowed his head. “Very good, General. How did you know the tide was still rising?”

  “I know you well enough, Admiral, to know you wouldn’t have pushed me to accept a rank unless it was important for me to do so. If getting my people to accept rank was the problem, you’d just have me talk to them. You want me to be a General, and I guess I figure that if I have rank, it’s because I’m going to need to pull it.”

  “Excellent reasoning, which confirms your suitability to what I need you for.” The Mon Calamari pressed his hands flat against the desk. “Thrawn’s assault really was the last effort by a united Empire to destroy the Rebellion. There are, however, many warlords who hold sway over collections of star systems. We’re going to need to liberate those systems and worlds. Right now, Rogue Squadron is pretty much the only unit in the New Republic with any sort of experience with that kind of operation.”

  “Because of what we learned at Thyferra.”

  “Exactly.”

  Wedge nodded. “System liberation will be a delicate operation. If we go in with too much matériel we’ll appear to be as nasty a force as the Empire. If we make a half-hearted effort and are defeated, it will cost us lives and undermine our credibility with the New Republic’s member states. If we do it just right, we give other warlords something to think about, which might make them more open to peaceful negotiations.”

  “You’ve distilled four hours of Provisional Council discussions down to the key points. We’re going to have to go after the warlords, and the first one has to fall in relatively short order.”

  “Haste never makes for good warfare.” Wedge frowned. “Just picking a target will be tough. The criteria for that choice alone will take hours of debate.”

  “Already done.” Ackbar hit another button on the holoprojector and a new image replaced Tycho’s. The man had close-cropped white hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to project a cold cruelty. Below the image of the man’s head and shoulders hung a smaller computer window display showing a prosthetic right hand. A list of specifications for the hand scrolled out below. “You’ve dealt with this man before.”

  “Admiral Delak Krennel.” Wedge felt the flesh on his arms pucker. “He ordered TIE fighter attacks on the civilians on Axxila and opposed our rescue of Sate Pestage from Ciutric.”

  “Yes. He murdered Sate Pestage and took over his holdings—the Ciutric Hegemony. It made him the leader of a dozen worlds and gave him a fair amount of material resources. He didn’t join Thrawn per se, but seems to have given him monetary support. He rules from Ciutric and has a fleet of a dozen or so capital ships, including his Reckoning.”

  Wedge smiled. “Got it all repaired, did he?”

  “So it seems.”

  “He’s been rather quiet—not at all like Teradoc. How can you justify going after him…?” Wedge frowned for a moment, then barked a little laugh. “We’re going to bring him to justice for Pestage’s murder?”

  “That, and the murder of Pestage’s family. When Krennel took over, he killed every one of them he could find. Over a hundred people perished in that purge alone, and there have been other purges to keep him in power. His murder sprees give us all the excuse we need to target him.”

  “And the fact that he took the holdings of an Imperial officer and converted them to himself means that by going after him, we’re suggesting to anyone else who might be adventurous out there that what once belonged to the Empire is ours. Interfere with us and you’ll lose everything.”

  Ackbar turned his head and stared at Wedge with one big amber eye. “Political analysis, Wedge? Had I known you’d take to being a General so easily, I’d have demanded the promotion sooner.”

  “Being aware of politics, Admiral, is light-years away from liking it or being good at it. Still, the lessons concerning Thyferra and how ticklish that all was haven’t been lost upon me. Do things right, and we might avoid prolonged battles in the future.” Wedge stood and saluted the Admiral. “I guess a General has to keep the big picture in mind. I get that right and I keep my people alive. No matter what my rank, that’s the duty I hold most dear.”

  Chapter Three

  Corran Horn hit the canopy release on his X-wing and freed himself of the restraining harness even before Whistler completed the fighter’s shutdown procedure. The pilot pulled off his helmet and set it on the spacefighter’s nose, then clambered out of the cockpit and j
umped down to the hangar deck. He came up from his crouch quickly and turned toward Whistler. The droid was piping shrilly.

  “I know you want down. I’ll find a tech to do that.”

  He turned toward the flight operations center and raised a hand to signal for a tech, but a woman slipped her fingers through his, then bumped him bodily back a step beneath the X-wing. She covered his mouth with hers and Corran enfolded her in a fierce hug. He clung tightly to her, drinking in the spicy scent of her hair and perfume as they kissed.

  Eventually, reluctantly, he freed his mouth from hers and looked up into her smoldering brown eyes. “Damn, I have missed you so much, Mirax. I…”

  She kissed him again. “You’re here, I’m here. The missing part is over, my love.”

  Corran reached a hand up and stroked her cheek, brushing away a single tear. “Of happiness, I hope.”

  “Very much so.” She pulled her face back a couple of centimeters and arched a black eyebrow at him. “No tears of joy from you?”

  He shrugged. “You’d have a flood, but it’s bad for the pilot image thing, you know?”

  Whistler’s harsh blatting from above them stole any need for Mirax to reply.

  She jerked a thumb in the droid’s direction. “He’s right; you pilots take this image thing much too seriously.” Mirax flicked a finger up under his chin. “Then again, guys who weep never have done much for me.”

  “You love me for my stoic attitude then?”

  “No, dear, it’s the lightsaber.” She swung around on his left, slipping her right arm around his waist. “Do you need to report for debriefing, or can I steal you away?”

  Corran frowned. “I think we covered everything on the trip back from Bilbringi.”

  “So you want to just go home and fall into bed?”

  He shook his head as they threaded their way through the chaos the squadron’s return had created. “I got plenty of rack time on Home One during the trip.”