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!
"Sir?" The young Ensign snapped to attention before Admiral Turpa’s desk and saluted smartly. "We have received a signal from Moff Tchlinda. She has requested that the prisoner be brought to the palace for the festivities."
"Very good, Ensign Nesta. We will be going planet side shortly. Have my shuttle prepared and make the arrangements." He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.
The Querulous had been in orbit around Arramsetti III for the last twenty hours or so, and with each passing hour, Turpa had tried to keep his temper under control. He had contacted Tchlinda upon their arrival and she had asked that he wait on the ship until she called for him to come down to the surface with Antilles. The Moff wanted her prisoner to make an impression on the party that she was holding. Turpa had been enraged at having to sit in orbit, waiting for an invitation. But he had managed to get over it.
Turpa turned to his keypad and punched in a number. "Lieutenant Heblon."
"Heblon here, sir." The disembodied voice came out of the comm unit in a low grumble.
"You’ve had nearly twenty-four hours. How is the prisoner doing?"
"Better, Admiral."
"Good. Get him ready to leave. I’m assigning you and your squad of troopers to the garrison as his guard. You will be responsible for him on the planet. We’ll be heading down in an hour."
"Yes, sir.""And Heblon, make sure and clean him up. I want him presentable. Moff Tchlinda has waited a long time for this, and I want it to be a very special moment for her."
"Yes, sir," Heblon repeated, and Turpa ended the transmission.
Picking up the stone carving from his desk, Turpa traced the pattern that had been left on it by Wedge’s dried blood and smiled. "Yes, this will be a very special moment indeed."
* * * * * * *
As Wes Janson approached the anteroom to Admiral Ackbar’s office, he was still showing signs of agitation from his confrontation with Tycho. As always, he was followed closely by Hobbie. He was taller than Wes by a handful of centimeters and a number of years older, but they had been serving together on and off for a number of years, and Hobbie knew Wes better than anyone else. He could see that his friend was so determined to help Wedge that he didn’t care how many bridges he had to vaporize to do it.
Hobbie put a steady hand on Wes’ shoulder. "Calm down, will you! The only place we’re going to get transferred to is a refuse freighter if you charge in there and start yelling at the Admiral like you did Tycho."
"We don’t have time to be calm. Wedge needs us!" He shrugged Hobbie’s hand off his shoulder and leaned over the desk of the Admiral’s aide. "I need to see him. Now!"
Hobbie saw the Mon Calamari Ensign retreat half a meter from Wes. "I’m afraid without an appointment you will have to..."
"Wrong answer!" Wes marched towards the door leading to Ackbar’s office, but was barred by the aide.
"You can’t just barge in there!" she protested.
"Get out of my way." His tone was suddenly quiet, but somehow it was more menacing than his yelling had been. The aide was about to protest when the door behind her opened to reveal the Admiral himself.
"Come in, Major, before Ensign Yasna is forced to call security and have you removed."
The two pilots entered the office, and Hobbie closed the door behind them. He turned and stood at attention before the desk of Admiral Ackbar, beside and a little behind Wes.
"Please tell me what was so important that you felt compelled to threaten my secretary."
Wes spoke first, his voice strained in an attempt to remain composed. "Admiral, Major Klivian and myself would like to request an immediate transfer to Rogue Squadron."
"And you are making this request because..."
"I think you know why, Admiral," Hobbie added, unsure what Wes was likely to say in his current frame of mind.
"Yes, I most certainly do. I will not ask how you two have come by this knowledge because, quite frankly, I am not sure I want to know." He was silent for a moment, each of his large round eyes looking at one of the pilots. He reached out with a flippered hand and picked up his datapad. He punched a couple of keys before looking back up at the two men. "Request for a transfer approved."
"But, Admiral, I must insist that you reconsider our...approved?" Wes said and looked over his shoulder at Hobbie. He just shrugged.
"Yes, Major. Both of you join your new squadron. I’ll see that the orders are processed and sent to the XO."
Wes just stood there, dumbfounded. The silence was actually quite refreshing.
"Thank you, Admiral." Hobbie said. He saluted and started to drag Wes from the room. The younger pilot stumbled along after him, still in shock.
* * * * * * *
Ackbar made a wheezing noise, the Mon Calamari equivalent of a sigh of acquiescence. The situation was getting out of hand. At this rate, most of the New Republic would know about Wedge’s disappearance in a matter of hours. And if too many people found out, there would be nothing he could do to help Wedge. He needed someone to help stem the flow of information.
He shook his large head and reached for his intercom. "Yasna, please contact General Cracken’s office. I need to speak with him as soon as it is convenient."
Copyright June 13, 2001 by Susan Hill.
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