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!
Corran brought his X-wing around to face the wave of TIE Fighters and Interceptors heading his way. Ooryl was tucked in right behind him as always.
The eyeballs and squints were coming straight for them, reassured no doubt by their nearly four-to-one advantage. He flicked his comm unit over to the frequency he shared with the Rogues in the Flight under his command. "Three Flight, we’ll go head to head with them and take out as many as we can with torps then lasers. Then we’ll double back and pick on whoever is closest. Check in."
"Eleven Here. Is that before or after they pick on us, Nine?"
Corran shook his head at Hobbie’s pessimism. Some things never change.
"Nine, Twelve. We’re with you." Wes was unusually solemn, but determined.
"You with me, Ten?" Corran asked, knowing the answer before it was given.
"I’m your wing, Nine."
Corran had to smile. No matter what his plan, whether sane or not, Ooryl usually came back with the same response. It was reassuring in a strange way.
"Whistler, I want you to keep the sensors locked only on targets within firing range. I don’t need to see all of the TIEs out there, only the ones that can shoot back at me." His R-2 unit beeped an acknowledgment and his main screen shifted from the forty-eight inbound TIEs to about twelve, with a countdown in the lower corner. Twenty seconds until he was within his two kilometer maximum firing range. "Okay, Three Flight. Here we go."
Ten seconds before the counter reached zero, the TIEs began firing. Corran held his fire as long as possible, waiting until his targets were within optimum firing range. His shields sparked and spluttered with energy as some of the stray laser fire connected with them.
Corran’s heads-up display flickered red and Whistler gave him a constant tone as he got a solid torpedo lock on the lead TIE. He fired a single proton torpedo at it, then switched to lasers and shot at anything that moved. There was a blue flash as Ooryl fired a missile as well. Two other azure trails, from Wes and Hobbie, streaked by a mere second later.
Suddenly they were through the wall of fighters and Corran made a hard turn to port, swooping around to fall in behind the line of TIEs. Numbers scrolled across his screen as Whistler updated the enemies strength. He noted that the TIEs had fallen from forty-eight to thirty-two, but the Rogues were still at full force. Down to two-to-one. Not bad.
Whistler whistled to point out that Corran had destroyed two TIEs while Ooryl had gotten one with his missile. Wes and Hobbie also had a kill each. But Tycho had taken out three squints already. He’s flying like a man with a score to settle.
Corran also saw that Bror Jace had two confirmed kills. Corran felt some of their old competitiveness surface, but he tried to push it aside. Trying to out fly Bror now will most likely get me killed. But good to know he hasn’t lost his touch. Maybe we’ll live through this after all.
Corran completed his one hundred and eighty-degree turn and fell in behind the eyeball he had spotted. Ooryl tucked his ship in neatly behind him and to starboard. "Ten, watch my back."
There was a double click on the comm to let him know that Ooryl had received the order and would comply. The TIE Corran followed spiraled off to his left in an attempt to evade him, but he kept on its tail. He switched back to torpedoes to try and get a lock on him, and his HUD twinkled from green to yellow. But try as he might, he wasn’t able to get a solid lock.
"Ten, I’m going to try to maneuver him to port. When I do, see if you can get him."
"I copy, Nine."
Corran switched back to lasers and set them to single fire. His shots would be less powerful, but his lasers could cycle much faster. He shot to the right of the TIE, driving him to port, and Ooryl appeared beneath Corran’s ship. The Gand sent scarlet lasers through the ball cockpit of the TIE Fighter, a surgical strike that left most of the ship intact, but spiraling out of control deeper into space.
"Good shot, Ten. Scratch one more eyeball." Ooryl moved out ahead of Corran, turning to come in behind a TIE on Inyri’s tail. "I’m your wing, Ten."
The TIE fighter couldn’t have seen Corran's and Ooryl’s approach, since he kept after Inyri. She sideslipped and dove to avoid his fire. Corran assumed that the pilot could not be too experienced or he would have known to watch for other fighters. Tunnel vision was a common problem in green pilots. They would become so focused on their target that they would forget everything else around them. The TIE pilot also did not have a wingman to protect his back. Not surprising, since the TIEs are dropping like slime from a Hutt.
Ooryl fell in behind and just below the TIE fighter, Corran hanging off his port S-foil. Ooryl held his fire until he had a good shot lined up, and the eyeball didn’t even know what hit him. The Gand’s quad-linked lasers burned through the ball cockpit, and the fighter erupted into a sphere of incandescent light.
"Good shooting as always, Ten."
"Thanks, Eight."
Inyri headed off to port to rejoin Myn Donos, who had just vaped his own TIE. Ooryl headed to starboard and Corran kept with him. He looked at his scope and found that they were pretty much out on their own, at least several kilometers from the heart of the battle. The rest of Three Flight was well out of Corran’s visual range. "Whistler, how’re we doing?"
Just as Whistler trilled a response, Corran saw the blue symbol representing Rogue Eleven wink out on his tactical screen.
In the blink of an eye, Corran knew that Hobbie was gone.
* * * * * * *
Heblon opened the cell door and stood aside as the interrogation technicians, followed by two stormtroopers, walked in and dumped their burden unceremoniously on the bunk. The shortest technician turned to face him. "Moff Tchlinda wants him kept alive. She will be working on him again tomorrow." He turned on his heel and left Heblon standing in the cell with the battered figure.
Heblon stuck his head out into the hall and watched the technicians round the corner. He nodded to the stormtroopers on either side of the door, then closed it. He removed his uniform jacket and cap and quietly moved towards the bunk.
"Seems like I’m destined to always be putting you back together, Antilles. But I think that it’s going to take more than a little bacta to do the job this time."
Thankfully Wedge was unconscious. There were burn marks and bruises all over his body from the interrogation chair and scanner grid. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the straps that had held him in place while he screamed. His breath came in rasping short bursts, and Heblon knew that if Moff Tchlinda had worked on him for much longer, he would probably be dead.
Suddenly he stirred. His eyelids flickered and then opened slightly. A low moan escaped from him. Heblon gently lifted him to a 45-degree angle and placed a cup of water to his lips. He poured some of the liquid into Wedge’s mouth, stopping only when he started to cough and splutter.
He lay him back down on the bunk and covered him with a blanket. Wedge shuddered, then slowly curled up into an approximation of a ball. He whimpered softly, rocking a little to comfort himself.
"Antilles?" Heblon called softly, but Wedge either ignored him or couldn’t hear him.
Damn it, what is it about this man that makes me want to help him. I’ve ruined my career, not to mention I'll be killed if I'm caught. But still I help him every time. I have to be out of what’s left of my mind.
"Antilles? Antilles!"
He stirred again, and a pair of bloodshot brown eyes looked up at Heblon. Those eyes said it all. Wedge was in terrible pain; more pain than anyone should have to suffer. But he could still manage a weak smile for the man that had been the only one to help him.
"Heblon?" He coughed and his words were barely audible. Heblon had to lean in close to hear the rest. "Heblon, you look terrible."
"I wish I had a mirror to show you how you look, Antilles," he chuckled.
There was a short laugh that produced a coughing fit. It took Wedge a few minutes to recover, and he was so still that Heblon thought that maybe he had lost consciousness again. But he finally looked up at him and whispered something. He leaned close again to try to hear what the pilot was saying.
"Don’t you think it was about time you called me Wedge?"
Heblon made a face. "Don’t push your luck."
Wedge smiled, then went limp again.
* * * * * * *
The two men entered General Cracken’s office and stood at attention. He let them stand there for a moment before waving them to over to the chairs in front of his desk, all without looking up. "Have a seat, gentlemen."
They each took a seat and Cracken finally looked up from his datapad. "I have a mission for the two of you," he began without preamble. "You will be going to a planet called Arramsetti III. Up until ten standard years ago it was a neutral world. Now it is occupied by the Empire and commanded by Moff Lathel Tchlinda. You are going to help Elscol Loro upset her administration."
Captain Garik "Face" Loran was the first to speak. He was a handsome man, even more so since he had the surgery to remove the scar that had marred his face from left cheek to right forehead. The scar had helped contribute to his nickname, but Face was also a master at disguise and could assume almost any character. Sometimes Cracken wondered who the real Face was. "Sir, if you want us to help topple a government, don’t you think sending in our entire group would be a better idea?"
"Under normal circumstances I would say you were right. But this is a little different. You aren’t under orders this time. You’re volunteering for a dangerous mission. You will have virtually no support from Intelligence and very little from Starfighter Command. You’ll have to make it on your own."
Lieutenant Kell Tainer shifted in his seat. At almost two meters tall, Kell was one of the tallest pilots that Cracken had ever seen. He still wasn’t sure how he got his athletic frame into the cockpit of his X-wing. But his size was an asset that he used for his other specialty, hand to hand combat. He also liked to blow things up, which was advantageous in certain situations. At the moment, though, he looked confused.
He squinted his pale blue eyes before he spoke. "If I understand this correctly, General, you are ordering us to go on a mission, voluntarily, to a planet that no one has ever heard off to take out one single Moff?"
"That about sums it up, Lieutenant."
"Can I ask why? There has to be something more than that."
"There is. Moff Tchlinda is holding General Wedge Antilles prisoner and plans to kill him in two days."
The two operatives looked at one another. They had served under Wedge for over a year and felt a loyalty to him that Cracken hoped would motivate them to do whatever was needed to free him.
"I think it is safe to say that Kell and I will go, General. Just tell us where and how."
"I thought you might change your point of view when I told you about Antilles." Cracken leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "Here is how this is going to work. I have managed to make arrangements for both of you to get onto the planet in the next twenty-four hours. You are going by way of a transport ship leaving here in two hours. I’ll be giving you your entry IDs and cover stories. You will be met on the planet by Elscol Loro, an agent working for me, and she will give you the rest of the plan. It is something that she has worked up and that I am not privy to at this time."
Cracken reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out two semi-transparent envelopes. He lay them on his desk in front of him, face down. "One more thing. Loro is under deep cover and is taking a great risk by meeting the two of you. She may not look at all like her holo. She, however, knows what the two of you look like and what your cover identities will be. She will approach you and identify herself with a phrase that is included in your data."
Cracken slid the two small envelopes over his desk towards the two men. Face took both of them and handed the one marked ‘Wraith Five’ to Kell, keeping ‘Wraith Leader’ for himself.
"You are under direct orders not to speak to anyone about this mission, including members of your own group. It has not been sanctioned by the council, and there is only one other person besides myself that knows where you are going. Everyone else will believe that you are off on a reconnaissance mission. It is not widely known that General Antilles is missing and I want it to stay that way. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," they responded almost simultaneously.
"Good. All of the information you will need is in those packages. You leave in two hours. Questions?"
The two men remained silent.
"Get going."
Copyright June 13, 2001 by Susan Hill.
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