expect his scores there will measure up. I want to pair Gavin with the
Shistavanen, Shiel. I think they'll work well together." He opened his hands.
"Gavin's all alone and looking for a new home. Let me put him in Rogue
Squadron."
Ackbar looked at Salm. "Aside from this nebulous age problem, you do not
disagree with this selection?"
Salm looked at Wedge and bowed his head. "In this caseif Darklighter does well
in his Redemption trialI see no problem with letting Commander Antilles have
his way."
Which means my choice for XO gets opposed fullynot that I expected less. "You
are most kind, General."
Ackbar's mouth opened in the Mon Calamari imitation of a smile. "Spoken with
General Solo's degree of sarcasm, I believe."
"I'm sorry, sir." Wedge smiled, then clasped his hands at the small of his back.
"I would also hope the General would see his way clear to letting me choose my
own Executive Officer."
The Admiral looked at his starfighter commander. "Who is presently in that
position?"
"Rogue Squadron's XO is Captain Aril Nunb. She is the sister of Nien Nunb, one
of the other heroes of Endor. She is every bit as skilled a pilot as her
brother and worked extensively with him during his smuggling days. Sullust is
providing us aid and having her in Rogue Squadron would definitely increase
support from the SoroSuub government."
"Commander, do you quarrel with this assessment?"
Wedge shook his head. "No, sir, not at all."
"Then the problem is .. . ?"
"She's a wonderful pilot, Admiral, and I'd love to have her in my squadron, but
not as my XO. In that position I need someone who can help train my pilots. What
Aril does, what her brother does, is intuitive to them. They can't teach it to
others. As my XO she'd be frustrated, my pilots would be frustrated, and I'd
have chaos to deal with."
"And yon have another candidate in mind?"
"Yes, at" Wedge looked at General Salm and braced for his reaction. "I want
Tycho Celchu."
i
"Absolutely not!" The explosion Wedge had expected from Salm did not disappoint
him. "Admiral Ackbar, under no circumstances will I allow Celchu to be anywhere
near an active duty squadron. Just because he isn't in prison is no reason for
me to want him in my command."
"Prison!" Wedge's jaw shot open. "The man hasn't done anything that warrants
confinement."
"He cannot be trusted."
"I believe he can."
"Come on, Antilles, you know what he's been through."
"What I know, General, is this Tycho Celchu is a heromuch more of a hero than
I am. On Hoth he fought as fiercely as anyone and at Endor he piloted an A-wing
that led a bunch of TIE fighters on a merry chase through the Death Star. He
took them off our backs while Lando and I went in and blew the installation's
reactor. He fought at Bakura and went on subsequent missions with the squadron,
then volunteered, General, volunteered to fly a captured TIE fighter on a
covert mission to Coruscant. He got captured. He escaped. That's it."
"That's all you want to see, Antilles."
"Meaning?"
"You say he escaped." Salm's face hardened into a steel mask. "It could be they
let him go."
"Sure, just like they let him go at Endor." Wedge grimaced, doing his best to
banish the anger he felt growing in him. "General, you're fighting ghosts."
Salm nodded curtly. "You're right, I'm fighting to prevent you and your people
from becoming ghosts."
"Well, so am I, and having Tycho with us to train my people will give them the
best chance of survival possible."
Salm tossed his hands up in disgust 2
at Admiral Ackbar. "You see, he won't listen to reason. He knows Captain Celchu
is a threat, but he won't let himself see it."
"I'll listen to reason, sir, when I see the product of some reasoning."
Ackbar held up his hands. "Gentlemen, please. Commander Antilles, you must admit
that General Salm's concerns are valid. Perhaps if there were a way to alleviate
some of them, an accommodation could be reached."
"I thought of that, sir, and I've spoken with Captain Celchu about it." Wedge
started ticking points off on his fingers. "Tycho has agreed to fly a Z-95
Headhunter in our training exercises, with the lasers powered down so they can
only paint a target, not hurt it. He's agreed to have a destruct device
installed in the starfighter so that if he goes to ram anything or goes outside
spacelanes to which he is assigned, he can be destroyed by remote. When not
flying he has agreed to remain under house arrest unless accompanied by Alliance
Security or members of the squadron. He's agreed to undergo interrogation as
needed, to have all his computer files and correspondence open to examination,
and is even willing to have us choose what he eats, when, and where."
Salm marched over and placed himself between Wedge and the Mon Calamari Admiral.
"This is all well and good, and might even be effective, but we can't afford the
risk."
Ackbar blinked his eyes slowly. "Captain Celchu has agreed to these conditions?"
Wedge nodded. "He's no different from you, Admiralhe's a warrior. What he
knows, what he can teach, will keep pilots alive. Of course, there's no way
General Salm will ever let him fly in combat again."
"That can be etched in transparisteel."
"So serving as an instructor is the only way he can fight back. You have to give
him this chance."
Ackbar activated the small comlink clipped to his uniform's collar. "Lieutenant
Filla, please find Captain Celchu and bring him to me." The Mon Calamari
looked up at Wedge. "Where is he currently?"
Wedge looked down at the deck. "He should be in the simulator complex."
"He's where?!" Salm's face went purple.
"You'll find him in the simulator complex, Lieutenant. Bring him here
immediately." Ackbar turned the comlink off. "The simulator complex?"
"It was Horn's turn leading the Redemption scenario. Tycho knows how to fly a
TIE better than most pilots, so I decided to have him fly against Horn."
Ackbar's lip fringe twitched. "You've taken certain liberties concerning
Captain Celchu already, it seems, Commander."
"Yes, sir, but nothing that isn't necessary to make my pilots the best. I'm
being prudent in this, I think."
"The most prudent course, Commanderif you cared to protect the rest of the
trainees here, not just your ownwould have been to keep Captain Celchu out of
the simulator facility entirely!" Salm crossed his arms over his chest. "You may
be a hero of the New Republic, but that doesn't give you any authorization to
jeopardize our security."
Perhaps having Tycho fly today was a bit premature. Wedge glanced down
penitently. "I stand corrected, sir."
Ackbar broke the uneasy silence following Wedge's admission. "What is done is
done. Now using Captain Celchu in the scenario would have made it that much
more difficult, would it not?"
A smile creeping back on his face, Wedge nodded. "Yes, sirwhich is what I
wanted. Horn is good, very good, and the trio of pilots flying on his side
in
the exercise are not bad, either. Overall, Horn or Bror Jace, the Thyferran, are
the best pilots in the whole group. Jace is arrogant, which gets under Horn's
skin and keeps him working hard. Horn, on the other hand, is impatient. That'll
get him killed and the only way to make that apparent to him is by having
someone shoot him up in exercises. Tycho can do that."
The door to Ackbar's office opened and a female Rebel officer led a pilot in a
black flight suit into the room. "Admiral, this is Captain Celchu."
Tycho snapped to attention. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
"At ease, Mr. Celchu."
Wedge gave the slightly taller man a reassuring smile.
The Admiral eased himself out of his chair. "You may leave us, Lieutenant." The
Mon Calamari waited for the door to close behind his aide, then he nodded toward
Wedge. "Captain Celchu, Commander Antilles has told me that you have agreed to
a remarkable number of restrictions on yourself and your activities. Is this
true?"
Tycho nodded. "Yes, sir, it is."
"You realize you will be flying a defenseless bomb, you will have no privacy and
no freedom."
"I do, sir."
The Mon Calamari closed his mouth for a moment and stared silently at the
blue-eyed pilot. "You will be treated no better than I was when I served as a
slave to Grand Moff Tarkin. You will be treated worse, m fact, because General
Salm here believes you are a ducat to the New Republic. Why do you agree to such
treatment?''
Tycho shrugged. "It's my duty, sir. I chose to join the Rebellion. I willingly
froze on Hoth. I followed orders and assaulted a Death Star. I volunteered for
the mission that got me in all this trouble. I did all those things because
that's what I agreed to do when I joined the Rebels." He glanced down. "Besides,
even the worst you can do to me will still be better than Imperial captivity."
Sweat gleaming from his bald head, Salm pointed at Tycho. "This is all noble,
Admiral, but would we expect anything less from someone in his position?"
"No, General, nor would we expect anything less of a noble son of Alderaan." The
Mon Calamari picked up a datapad from his desk. "I am signing orders to make
Captain Celchu the Executive Officer for Rogue Squadron, and to put this Gavin
Darklighter in the squadron as well."
Wedge saw Salm's expression sour, so he suppressed his own smile. Even so he
winked at Tycho. Two flights, two kills.
Ackbar glanced at the datapad's screen, then looked up again. "Commander
Antilles, I expect to be informed about any irregularities or problems with your
unit or personnel. An M-3PO military protocol droid has been assigned to your
office to help you make out reports. Use it."
The Corellian rolled his eyes. "As you wish, sir, but I think that droid could
be more useful elsewhere."
"I'm sure you do, Commander, but those decisions are made by those of us who
haven't refused promotions time and time again."
Wedge held his hands up. "Yes, sir." / surrender, but you don't fool me,
Admiral. You like mixing it up in battle the same as I do, but you work with the
big ships while I like the fast ones.
"Good, I am glad we understand each other." Ackbar nodded toward the door.
"You're dismissed, the both of you. I imagine you have things to celebrate."
"Yes, sir."
"One last thing."
Wedge looked up and Tycho turned around to face the Admiral. "Sir?" they asked
in tandem.
"What did you think about the pilots in the Redemption scenario?"
Wedge looked over at his XO. "Did you get Horn?"
Tycho blushed. "Oh, I got Horn, but just not as much of him as I would have
liked." Smiling proudly, he added, "Admiral, if the pilots I flew against are
representative of the rest of the people we have to work with, Rogue Squadron
should be operational within a couple of months, and the scourge of the Empire
not very much longer after that."
3
Kirtan Loor struggled to keep a self-satisfied smirk from ruining the stern
expression he had worked hard to cultivate. He wanted to appear implacable. He
needed to be merciless.
He feared he would fail on both counts, but laid the blame on his eagerness to
confront an old nemesis finally brought to heel. What had been a blot on his
record would soon be expunged. More importantly, people who had ridiculed him
would learn they had grossly underestimated him. And in doing so they had doomed
themselves.
Kirtan held his head erect as he marched down the companionway on the
Expeditious. The Car-rack-class light cruiser had not been built to accommodate
people of his height, so he felt some of his black hair brush against the
ceiling. A more cautious man would have slumped his shoulders slightly and
lessened the chance of bashing his head on a light fixture or bulkhead support.
Kirtan, having once been told that he looked every inch a taller, younger Grand
Moff Tarkinfrom thinning widow's peak and lanky frame to sharp features in a
ca-
daverously slender facedid his best to emphasize the resemblance.
Even though Tarkin was nearly seven years dead, the resemblance still earned him
some respect. On an Imperial naval vessel, respect for an Intelligence officer
such as himself was in short supply, so he took what he could get. The military
arm of the Empire clearly resented having the government being run by the
Emperor's former Intelligence chief, and they took their displeasure out on the
least of her servants.
Kirtan ducked his head and entered the antechamber of the Expeditious's brig.
"I am here to interview the prisoner you took off the Starwind."
The Lieutenant in charge glanced at his datapad. "He just got back from
medical."
"I know, I've seen the report." Kirtan glanced at the hatchway leading to the
detention cells. "He has been told nothing about the results?"
The soldier's face darkened. "I've been told nothing about the results. If he
has a disease, I want him out before he infects the ..."
The Intelligence operative held a hand up. "Calm yourself, you'll bounce your
rank cylinder out of your pocket in a moment."
The Lieutenant raised a hand to check his rank badges and when he found them in
place he blushed. "Play your little games with Rebel scum, not me. I have
serious work to do."
"Of course you do, Lieutenant." Kirtan flashed a smile that was more predator
than comrade, then turned toward the detention cells. "Which one?"
"Holding cell Three. Wait here while I get you an escort."
"I wont need one."
"You may not think so, but he's listed as rating
a four on the Hostility Index. That rating requires two officers to accompany an
interrogator."
Kirtan shook his head slowly. "I know, I gave him that rating. I can handle
him."
"Remember that when you're in a bacta bath washing away his fingerprints."
"That I shall, Lieutenant." Kirtan grasped his hands at the small of his back
and started off through the hexagonal companionway. His black boots made a solid
clanking sound on the metal grating and he measured his step
s carefully to keep
the sound rhythmic and daunting.
The hatch to cell Three opened with a hiss of pressurized gas. Yellow light
spilled out into the corridor and Kirtan folded himself halfway to double to
fit through the opening. He paused inside the cell and stood tall. He narrowed
his eyes, then immediately thought better of it. He always said it looked as if
I were wincing in pain.
The older, heavyset man swung his legs around off the cot and levered himself up
into a sitting position. "Kirtan Loor, I thought it would be you."
"Did you?" Kirtan injected sarcasm into his voice to cover his own surprise.
"How could that be?"
The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I rather counted on it."
What? The Intelligence officer snorted. "You mean you thought no one but me
would be able to puzzle out your whereabouts."
"No, I mean that I thought even you could figure out how to find me."
Kirtan rocked back slightly from the venom in the prisoner's voice, bumping the
back of his head on the top of the hatchway. This is not the way this is
supposed to be going. Narrowing his eyes, he stared down at the old man. "You,
Gil Bastra. are going to die."
"I figured that the moment your TIEs started shooting at me."
Kirtan slowly crossed his arms. "No, you don't understand how desperate is your
situation here. You thought you outsmarted me and the Empire. You were cautious,
but not insurmountably so. You are dying even now."
Bastra's bushy grey eyebrows met in a frown. "What are you talking about?"
"When we took the Starwind I ordered a medical evaluation for you. You may have
forgotten that I always remember what I have seen and heard, and in doing so you
have forgotten how you ridiculed me for using skirtopanol to interrogate a
smuggler working for the Rebellion. You told me then that he died during
interrogation because his boss, Billey, had his people dose themselves with
lotiramine. It metabolizes the interrogation drug and can induce chemical
amnesia or, in some cases, death."
Kirtan gave Bastra a cold smile. "Your medical scan shows elevated levels of
lotiramine in your blood."
""I guess you'll just have to kill me the old-fashioned way, then." Bastra
smiled openly, flashing white teeth in a thick, stubble-coated face. "Since
Vader was the last Jedi, I guess you'll even have to get your hands dirty doing
it."