The characters that have appeared in previous Star Wars novels are property of Lucasfilm, Ltd. Captain Amaryl Assay, Admiral Tesh Dorass, First Officer Azzeh, and the name of Tycho's droid belong to the author. Any other characters presented here that have never been seen in a Star Wars novel are property of Iris Bailey. Do not repost anywhere without the permission of the author!
Once again on the bridge of the Querulous, Admiral Turpa paced the walkway overlooking the crew pit. He was not in the best of moods and every one of the bridge crew did their best to avoid drawing his attention.
Tchlinda had been devoting all of her attention to Antilles for the last day, excluding all else. Excluding me! Turpa looked closely at the reflection of himself in the transparisteel of the window. Tall and lean, with jet black hair and dark, intense eyes, he was considered handsome by many women. But he knew that time was catching up with him. Already in his forty-second year, he noticed that lines had begun to appear around his eyes, and a hint of gray was beginning to creep into his hair. And that hurt his vanity.
Technically, he was in command of his own Star Destroyer, as well as Imperial ground forces of the planet Arramsetti III. But the entire system was under the control of Moff Lathel Tchlinda, and she often took great pleasure in overruling him. Although he was her personal adviser, he was more commonly known as her lover, and that did not mean much in the eyes of those who held power in the Empire.
Tchlinda herself was a woman who was attracted by strength and power. He was beginning to fear that if he continued to show his age and could not prove his value, she would find that she no longer had any use for him and would discard him on a whim.
And now he had Antilles to contend with. He had seen Tchlinda’s obvious attraction to him and now she was wasting prolonged amounts of time on him. He knew that she would kill him sooner or later, but was afraid that her lust for him would make it all too clear that she needed someone younger than Turpa. And he hated himself for feeling threatened by Antilles.
The communications officer, despite his fear of intruding on Turpa’s thoughts, spoke up. "Admiral, there is an incoming message from the planet. From Moff Tchlinda."
He smiled. It was about time that she returned her attention to him. "Put it through to my command chair, Ensign."
"Yes, sir."
Turpa made his way to his seat of command, which sat at the far end of the bridge. He sat just as the small hologram of Tchlinda appeared. "Osiel, I have some news from Thyferra. It appears that Rogue Squadron has been there looking for clues to the location of their missing General. Now they are searching for him near the region where we ambushed him. I want you to take the Querulous and destroy them once and for all. I will not have them stumble across our location and spoil the ceremony."
"It will be a pleasure, your Excellency. Do we know what kind of support they have?"
"From what I have been able to learn from our contact there, there are only the twelve assorted X-wings and one Lambda class shuttle. There was also some mention of an aging freighter belonging to a smuggler. I am sure that will not cause you any problems, will it?"
"Of course not, your Excellency. We will be under way within the hour."
"Do not fail me, Osiel." A tone of pure malevolence radiated through her voice. "I will be very unhappy should they survive."
"I understand. We will be victorious. Today Rogue Squadron’s legendary luck is about to run out."
* * * * * * *
Heblon opened his eyes and closed them immediately. A bright light was aimed directly at his face and blinded him momentarily. His eyes began to water and he blinked the tears away. He slowly opened his eyes again, taking care to look down as he did, and they slowly adjusted to the glare.
Wherever he was, the rest of the room was in complete darkness. He sat in a heavy wooden chair, his hands and feet bound tightly to the arms and legs. The room was very quiet, but he sensed others nearby.
A woman’s voice came out of the dark, from behind him, and startled him enough to make him jump. "All right, Imp. Who are you, and what was it you wanted to see us about?"
"My name’s Lieutenant Tonar Heblon from the Querulous, and I’ve got some information you might be interested in."
"Oh, really. What kind of information?" Her voice was making its way around the room, to a point where she must have been standing somewhere in front of him.
"About a prisoner that Moff Tchlinda is holding. A Rebel 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?"
"I came alone. I don’t think that Tchlinda or Turpa even know about your being on the planet. I only found out by knowing who to ask, 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 man who had stunned him in the street. "You’re a loyal Imperial, a son of the Empire."
"Let’s just say I was keeping an option open." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As much as he could, anyway.
"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?"
"General Wedge Antilles."
There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a long silence. Then he heard the two voices conferring softly. Although he was unable to make out all of the words, he got the gist of their conversation.
"...didn’t know he was missing," he heard the woman’s voice say.
"...have to check on it," the man replied.
"Have to save...can’t let them..."
"...how you feel...can’t...involved....orders..."
"...have to...chance."
There was another moment of silence before the woman returned her attention to Heblon. "They’ve got Antilles, huh? I know Wedge Antilles, I’ve flown with him." A short pause. "Prove it."
Heblon tried to look out beyond the circle of light in which he sat, but couldn't make anything out. "Behind the refuse bin outside the cantina I was in, there's a bag. The proof is in there." He heard a murmur and a shuffle of feet somewhere beyond the woman's voice. He guessed she had sent someone out for the bag.
"While we wait for your proof, Imp, I want some more details," the woman demanded. "Like why you came here? He’s just one more piece of ‘Rebel Scum’ to your kind. Why’d you bother?" The woman’s tone was hard, daring him to lie to her.
"I’m not really sure why. And even if I could explain it to you, I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me." He sighed. "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 they captured Antilles, and after being around him, I realized that he stands for everything that the Empire isn’t. It’s...he’s..."
"Honorable," the woman's voice said quietly.
"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. Knowing what Tchlinda and Turpa have planned for him turned my stomach. That’s why I’m here."
From somewhere in the darkness, Heblon heard someone enter the room. If it was the person the woman had sent out for the bag, then he figured he was most likely back in the cantina.
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 female bartender from the cantina. She was no longer in the suggestively low cut shirt and tight pants of the bar. She was all business in a black flightsuit covered with pockets that could hide enough weapons to arm a small invasion force. Several others stood around the room as well. All of them were heavily armed.
Someone handed her the bag he had hidden, and she opened it up. Reaching in, she pulled out Wedge’s flightsuit. She looked at the five pips representing his rank and visibly swallowed past the lump in her throat when she saw blood on the front of it. Deeper in the bag, she found Wedge’s military ID.
She handed it to the big man beside her, who studied it carefully, anger building on his face. Heblon could see that Wedge was a good friend of theirs, and the thought of his being in Tchlinda’s hands was not a pleasant one.
"How’d that get there?" The man pointed to the blood partially obscuring the Rogue Squadron patch on the orange garment that the woman was still holding.
"Turpa worked him over on the Querulous before delivering him to the Moff."
"What do they want him for? Why didn't they kill him outright?" the woman asked.
"Because for now they want him kept alive. This is strictly a case of revenge for Tchlinda. Her sons were on the Death Star at Endor and she’s making Antilles pay for killing them...and she’s enjoying every minute of it."
"What kind of shape is he in?"
Heblon sighed heavily and shook his head. "Not good. He was taken to the interrogation room about ten hours ago and hadn't been returned to his cell before I decided to leave. When there was no sign of him, I managed to get to the interrogation chamber to check in on him. He was still strapped to the chair, was semi-conscious and repeating the same words over and over again. Between the drugs and the chair, he probably couldn’t recognize his own mother at this point."
"How much time do you think he has?" she asked.
"Tchlinda plans to dedicate the memorial she’s building to her sons in a little over three days. I know that Antilles is to be part of the ceremony, so they won’t kill him before then. If I know her, she’ll torture him to the brink of death, have me make sure he stays healthy enough, then start the whole process over again. She will break him. I just hope that by the time you can get to him he will still be the same man he was."
The woman’s fists clenched and the muscles in her jaws bunched. "She won’t get away with this. I’m going to see to that personally." She paced the room two or three times, then stopped in front of Heblon. "How do you feel about working for us? Are you willing to change sides?"
"I thought I already had."
"I think so, too. I’m Elscol Loro, formerly of Rogue Squadron." She pointed to the huge bearded 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. Do you have a plan?"
"First, we get you back where you belong, so you can work from the inside. Then we contact Rogue Squadron. I imagine Wedge’s disappearance has made them all a bit hostile, and I would like to point that hostility in Tchlinda’s direction if I can. They’ll be just what we need for what I have in mind."
Heblon shook his head in disbelief. "You’re ready to trust me after speaking to me for five minutes?"
"Welcome to the underground rebellion, Heblon. We take who and what we can get. And 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."
Heblon knew that she was not kidding. He marveled at how well respected Wedge was and how many people were willing to risk their own lives to save his. He was startled by the fact that he included himself among them.
And when did you start thinking of him as Wedge?
He sighed. Damn, he’s doing it to me again.
* * * * * * *
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 and had no idea who or where the ‘client’ was. That meant that the Rogues were back to square one in their search for Wedge. They at least knew how Wedge had been ambushed, but still had no idea why.
In desperation, they had returned to their search grid in the Llessgha System, in hopes of finding something, anything that would give them an idea of where Wedge had been taken. But so far they had come up with nothing. Not even debris to suggest that the ambush had even taken place.
On their return from Thyferra, they had run a parallel course to Wes, who had taken his share of the Rogues back to eat, rest, and refuel. But they were back now and the squadron was at one over full strength. A total of thirteen X-wings hung in space, including Bror in his own ship. There was also Nawara in the Stardust and Mirax and Ajene in the Skate, all of them doing sensor sweeps in the middle of nowhere for a man they knew was no longer there.
The only good news they had received was that Bror had managed to convince his people to release two ships to help in the search. At any time two MC-65-B Mon Calamari Star Cruisers would be joining them. Although not nearly as big as the MC-80, the same model as Admiral Ackbar’s Home One, they would be of great use to them. Not only would their sensors be able to pick up more detail, it meant that the group wouldn’t have to head for Thyferra every time they needed to sleep or refuel. The cruisers had small hangers that, between the two ships, would just be able to squeeze in the thirteen fighters. The Skate and Stardust would be able to dock with either of the ships as well.
Tycho had been surprised that Thyferra would offer two of their largest ships to them. When he asked Bror how he had managed to convince his people to send the two ships, he answered with an uncharacteristic shrug. "It was easy. Wedge helped to liberate our planet from Ysanne Isard. Every man, woman, and child owes him a debt." Tycho never ceased to be amazed at how the people of the New Republic rallied to help Wedge.
Just as he was about to yawn with boredom, there was a blur of motion to Tycho’s right, and his R-5 unit hooted frantically at him. He expected the outlines of the two Mon Cal cruisers to appear from hyperspace. But the shape that came into focus was not what he wanted to see at all. Suddenly he was alert, his mind racing.
"Rogue Leader to Group. Victory Class Star Destroyer has just arrived, and she does not look friendly. Come about to heading two zero mark three five and prepare to make an emergency jump back towards Thyferra."
There was a chorus of confirmations that his order had been received, and he saw the tiny dots of other X-wings come about to match his heading.
"Lead, Six. We have about four squadrons of TIEs, Interceptors, and Fighters, pouring out of the Destroyer. She’s reading as the Querulous." Gavin’s voice came through clear and calm.
"Rogue Leader, Nine here. There is no way we can jump before those fighters catch us. And the Querulous is maneuvering right into the direct path back to Thyferra."
"I see it, Nine. Stand by." Tycho weighed their options, but none of them seemed terribly appealing, and he dismissed outright all but two of them.
They could make a blind jump to lightspeed, which in many cases proved to be deadly. They could fly right through a star or a planet, and that would kill them for sure. With Querulous in the way, a jump directly to Thyferra was out of the question. The only other option was to turn and fight. As much as the odds of thirteen X-wings against forty-eight TIE’s and a Star Destroyer appalled him, it seemed to be the best option.
"Okay, gang, we’re going after the TIE’s. Break by wing-pairs and shoot at anything that shoots at you. But stay as far from the Destroyer as you can. Rogue Control, I want you to plot a course around Querulous and back to Thyferra, then transmit it to the group. Skate, get in behind the Stardust and stay there."
Mirax’s voice crackled across the Rogue frequency. "No way, Lead, we’re helping where we can."
"Skate, that was not a request. It’s an order."
"Rogue Leader, I don’t respond well to orders. Get to work, Tycho and let me worry about the Skate."
Tycho sighed. He wondered briefly if she spoke to Corran the same way. "Alright, people, let’s show these Imps that they should know better than to corner Rogue Squadron!"
Copyright June 13, 2001 by Susan Hill.
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