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!
Face and Kell managed to make planetfall on Arramsetti III without incident. For an Imperial world, the security did not seem to be tight at all. Perhaps because most everyone on the planet was trying to get off the surface, not onto it.
The two men had traveled together under the cover of out-of-work mechanics. As both of them were rather handsome and distinctive, Face had done his best to make them into the stereotypical mechanic.
Both of them had managed to stain their hands with oils and hydraulic fluids, giving them the appearance of having spent a lifetime inside machines. They wore baggy overalls which were as stained, if not more so, than their hands. Kell, the Wraiths part-time mechanic, had gathered up some appropriate tools and materials for them to pack into their bags in case they were searched, and Face had agreed that if they were questioned about anything technical, Kell would do all of the talking.
But they had cleared customs without any problems and waited in a rather seedy transit lounge for their first contact with Elscol Loro. They kept their eyes open since the only way they could recognize her visually was from a rather blurry static holo that had been included in their hastily compiled briefing notes. It looked to Face like it had been a frame captured from a holographic message, but he couldn’t be sure. It was out of focus just enough that he hoped she would recognize them.
Should she be unrecognizable to them, she would reveal herself with a pass-code that General Cracken had given them, and they in turn would have to give the proper response. The phrases themselves gave Face a pretty good idea what her cover identity would be.
There were several other people sitting in the lounge, none of which he would want to meet in a dark alley. They sat there for over half an hour before Elscol made her appearance. And she did not look anything like the holo.
Her auburn hair was straggly, looking very much like it needed to be washed. She wore an extremely tight blouse in a shade of yellow that was offensive to the eyes, and her cleavage was just as hard to miss. The skirt was so short that she had to pull at it before she sat.
Sitting down beside Kell, she placed her left hand on his knee. "You look like the kind of man who knows what to do with his hands." She smiled expectantly at him, and he smiled back.
Her hand began to slide further up towards his thigh, but he quickly took it in his and looked into her eyes. "Is there somewhere we can go to get better acquainted?"
"There sure is, handsome. You can even bring your friend. I know someone he might like."
"Lead the way." He put an arm around her waist and picked up his satchel with his free hand. Face followed closely behind them, surreptitiously glancing from side to side to see if anyone was paying an inordinate amount of attention to them. He couldn’t see anything suspicious, but from past experience he knew that meant little. Especially in an environment like this that he was not accustomed to.
Once they made it out into the streets of Jimmarra, Elscol picked up the pace. Kell and Face did their best to keep up with her as she threaded her way through a market and several back alleys. Finally they made it to a cantina with a picture of a protocol droid doing what looked an awkward jig painted on the front. Face could read The Dancing Droid in faded lettering in basic and several other languages.
They made their way through the crowded cantina to a back room. To the side was a door hidden behind a curtain which led to a smaller room that held scattered chairs and a small wooden table.
"It’s safe to talk here. It’s swept daily for listening devices," Elscol said as she slipped a dark tunic over her garish blouse.
Kell sat down heavily on one of the chairs, dumping his bag on the floor beside him. "You know, when you first sat down beside me in that lounge, I really thought you were coming on to me. You don’t look anything like your holo."
"I thought that was the whole idea. Don’t they teach you Intelligence boys anything anymore?"
Face sat down beside Kell and leaned on the table. "You’ll have to forgive his stupidity. We’ve been on the move for the last twenty-four hours. We’ll try to make a better impression after we’ve eaten and gotten some sleep."
"Alright. I’ll give you boys a couple of hours to get yourselves together. But after that we have to get some serious planning done. I have to leave to meet with Tycho and the gang in six hours, and I want you guys to get some work done while I’m gone."
"You mean we aren’t going to be in on the planning with the Rogues?"
"Actually, I wasn’t even going to tell them that you’re here. I didn’t think they’d care."
Kell winced. "Ouch, I’m glad you’re on our side."
"Then you had better get some sleep, hotshot, because I haven’t even started yet."
* * * * * * *
A thin lipped smile on her face, Lathel Tchlinda stood at her window and watched as Wedge’s X-wing was lowered into place in front of and below the huge black monument. It was exactly as it had been when it had been captured by the Querulous. Even the astromech droid was in its slot, deactivated. The only thing missing was its pilot.
Soon she would complete the memorial to her sons by adding the finishing touch: the man who had murdered them. Wedge Antilles.
She had been so proud when her sons, Allston and Stackpll, had graduated top of their classes from the Imperial Academy on Carida. Their first real assignments had been on the Emperor’s second Death Star. It was ironic that they had both been assigned to the same base.
She had been on the Querulous when the news of the Emperor’s death at Endor had reached her. For weeks she could see her sons' faces as death took them. They haunted her in her sleep, and she could not escape their stare. She knew what they wanted. They wanted her to take revenge on the man who had killed them.
Revenge on him.
The then Commander Antilles had been paraded around the galaxy, hailed as a Hero of the Rebellion. The man who had killed the Death Star and the Empire.
The man who killed my future! She slammed her hand out of frustration against the wall to the left of the window. Her sons were to have been her legacy. They could have been greater than she was, something for her to be proud of. They would have reached heights that she could never achieve, limited by her position and gender. And now all that she had was a deep hole within her. A void that, despite all she had accomplished, she could never fill.
She watched as the X-wing settled into place, and she hoped that Antilles would be alert enough to understand his circumstances. She wanted to see every thought, every emotion cross his face as the air was removed from his cockpit and he slowly asphyxiated. And there he would stay, a symbol of the sacrifice her sons made for their Emperor.
Her frustration faded as she thought about her impending moment of revenge. Her thoughts turned to Antilles and the agony she had inflicted upon him over the last few days. That had served to quiet the voices of her sons as they cried out for revenge, but it wasn’t enough. She would have to return to the interrogation chamber and exact some new form of suffering on Antilles.
When a new manner of torture occurred to her, a cruel smile spread across her face. She picked up her comlink and thumbed it on. "Lieutenant Heblon. Have your stormtroopers escort General Antilles to chamber two two three."
"As you will, Madame."
With a last glance at the X-wing, she headed for her next and most satisfying "appointment" with the General.
* * * * * * *
Wedge was half dragged, half carried to a different chamber this time. He guessed that Tchlinda had exhausted all the possibilities of the Interrogation Chair.
It was a sterile looking room, the walls, floor, and ceiling a harsh white. It was brightly lit and smelled vaguely like a medical facility. There were consoles in the room as well, but they had all been pushed to one side and looked like they hadn’t been used in a while.
In the middle of the room was a metal table at least a meter and a half in length and just wide enough to accommodate a body. He recognized the table from the couple of times he had been in morgues. It was where they performed autopsies.
Wedge tried to fight the two stormtroopers who dragged him onto the table, but what little strength he had wasn’t nearly enough. They lay him face down, his already bloodied and bruised wrists and ankles bound with thick straps at the four corners of the table. His arms were stretched out so tight that he could hardly breathe and it felt like his shoulders would dislocate if he moved. The table was cold and hard on the bare skin of his chest, sending a chill though him. His flesh puckered at the touch of the metal, or perhaps at the thought of what new torture they were about to inflict on him.
As the stormtroopers finished binding his ankles, Wedge closed his eyes and attempted to take in a deep breath. He also tried to clamp down on the growing terror he felt, but couldn’t. Tchlinda had been working on him for several days, and he knew his body was close to its breaking point. Heblon had done his best to help him, but he didn’t have the medical equipment or the time he needed to completely heal him. The Lieutenant had begged Turpa to let him dunk Wedge in a bacta tank, but he had refused. So he had been trying to heal him the traditional way.
But it had now reached a point that nothing Heblon did could ease the throbbing in Wedge’s belly and chest. Even the concoction he had given him the night of the party no longer helped to dull the pain. Wedge knew from experience and basic medical training that he most likely had internal bleeding and without proper bacta treatment would eventually bleed to death. If Tchlinda didn’t kill him first.
He grunted as another wave of nausea and anxiety pulsed through him. The only position that he found could help make him a bit more comfortable was to curl up into a knot, lying on his side and bringing his knees up to his chest. But stretched out the way he was, there was nothing he could do. Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him, and he no longer had the energy to fight it.
A noise somewhere behind him brought his attention back to the room and his present predicament. Although the door was not within his field of vision, he heard Tchlinda enter the room and dismiss the two stormtroopers with a barked order. She approached Wedge from the bottom of the table, running her hand along his back as she advanced towards his head, but he still couldn’t see her. Because his arms were stretched out tight, his left cheek was practically pinned to the metallic surface of the table.
"General, we meet again." Her voice was cold, taunting. He had figured out in some of his more lucid moments that not responding to her seemed to upset and frustrate her, so he remained silent. She circled around to his right and leaned down so that he could see her merciless face. "You may have noticed that we are not in familiar surroundings, General. I have something new planned for you today."
Something in her hand reflected the light in the room. It took Wedge a moment to realize that it was a sharp looking curved blade. Some kind of medical instrument, he thought. He swallowed hard and tried not to imagine what she planned to use it for.
"I see fear in your eyes, General. That is good. It is a place to start, at least."
She disappeared from his view again, and he expected her to continue with her sneers, but there was only silence. He quickly lost track of where she was.
It was then that he felt the slight pressure of a hand on the exposed skin of his back. It was almost immediately followed by intense pain as the knife made its first slice into his skin.
* * * * * * *
Heblon had gone to meet with Elscol Loro earlier in the day at the Dancing Droid. She had given him the details of the scheme that they had put together, but only as far as it concerned him.
He knew why she couldn’t tell him the whole plan. He was an Imperial Lieutenant, after all. They would only trust him so far. But he couldn’t help but think that by keeping him out of the loop he could cause more problems than he could solve.
At that meeting she had also introduced him to two men who were working for her. "Heblon, these two are Face and Kell. They are here to help us free General Antilles." She turned back towards the two men. "This is Lieutenant Tonar Heblon. He’s the man on the inside that I was telling you about."
The two men nodded. Heblon assumed that Elscol had hired them on to expand her team of local rebels.
The tall man spoke to him first. "How’s Wedge doing?"
Wedge? Could they be more friends of his? "I haven’t seen him since this morning, but he’s going downhill fast. Without better equipment, I can’t make a complete diagnosis, but I am pretty sure that he is still bleeding internally, perhaps some organ damage, a number of bruised and broken ribs, and has had at least one concussion. I’ve been able to get some bacta for him, but until you can get him to a proper medical facility, he will continue to weaken."
Kell looked concerned, but the handsome man beside him seemed to be able to hide his emotions extremely well. He thought for a moment, then spoke. "Are you a doctor?"
The question caught Heblon by surprise. "I used to be, a long time ago. Turpa knows that and I think that is why he had me assigned to looking after him. He knew that if he let Antilles die, Tchlinda would probably kill him."
Face looked over at Elscol. "From what you’ve told us, I don’t think there’s much chance of us being able to get Wedge out of the garrison. I think our best bet is still to go after him at the ceremony."
"He’s right," Kell continued. "Even if Heblon could get us into the complex, I can pretty much guarantee that we wouldn’t be able to get back out without being discovered. Then getting off the planet would be next to impossible, especially with Wedge in such a weakened condition."
Elscol looked down at her datapad "If we do this at the ceremony, we’re going to have to go full scale, taking the palace and the garrison. We’re going to need a lot of troops and even more fire power."
Kell’s face brightened as a thought occurred to him. "Do you have any explosives?"
Face laughed and Elscol looked at him, confused. Once he managed to contain his mirth, he explained. "I’m sorry. I’m just surprised it took Kell this long to ask that question."
Kell frowned. "The way you talk, you would think that I sleep with explosives under my pillow."
"You mean you don’t?"
He gave Face a toothy grin. "Not since Tyria came along."
Now Heblon was certain that they were friends of Wedge. They all had the same deranged sense of humor. He guessed they must have been sent by the New Republic and were not mercenaries as he had previously thought. I guess that’s why I wasn’t assigned to Intelligence. "I’m sorry to break this up, but we do have work to do. I should be back at the barracks before they return Wedge to his cell."
Kell looked at him. "Sorry. What I was thinking before Face rudely interrupted was that if someone could get me some explosives, then maybe I could get into the plaza and rig something up that could be detonated by remote. Nothing fancy, just enough to cause a little confusion. The way I see it, we have to keep their forces off balance long enough for ground troops to arrive and take over."
"I think I can get my hands on what you would need for that." Elscol made a small notation on her datapad and showed it to Kell. A broad grin spread across his face.
"Elscol, if you can get your hands on that for me, I could blow half the garrison into little bits."
"I thought you might like it."
Face tried to lean over the table to see what it was that she had shown Kell. "What? What is it?"
Kell shoved him back into his seat. "People who make fun of me don’t get to know my little secrets."
Face just stuck his tongue out at him.
"What is it that Wedge does to make his pilots into such children?" Elscol asked.
"Hey, I think we’ve just been insulted," Kell said to Face.
"Does anyone have any other ideas?" Elscol asked, purposely ignoring Kell.
Face looked over at her, then back to Heblon. "I have an idea, but it will all depend on Heblon here."
"What is it?" Heblon asked.
Face told him.
Heblon stood up so fast that his chair tipped behind him. "Are you out of your mind?!"
"Wouldn’t be the first time," Face joked.
"If you get caught, I won’t be able to protect you. They will kill you and most likely me as well."
"I think it’s a chance that we have to take to make sure that we get Wedge out of harm's way before they can kill him."
Kell stooped and picked up Heblon’s chair for him. The Imperial Lieutenant sat down again. "I hope you know what you’re doing."
"Not really...but again, it wouldn’t be the first time." Face smiled, and Heblon knew they were all in real trouble.
Continue on to Chapter Seventeen.
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