“There are only so many of us out here, Corran.” Mirax plucked at the shoulder of her sleeveless tunic. “She wouldn’t be good for you.”
“And who would? You?”
“In your dreams, CorSec.”
The look of surprise on her face coincided with the remark’s sting in his heart. He wouldn’t have thought so automatic a response, tossed off with the speed of a reflex that had been well exercised, could have bothered him. In his previous career he’d heard the same line delivered hundreds of times, with more and less vehemence, by every creature that ever tried to get its mouth around Basic words. He’d shrugged it off without really hearing it more times than he could count.
The surprised expression she wore told him that she hadn’t meant to speak without thinking. She seemed to be second-guessing her comment as much as he was wondering about the effect it had on him. The automatic dismissal hurts because I expected to merit something more than that. And she shot back so sharply because I dared suggest she wouldn’t be better for me than Erisi—and her own reaction surprised her!
Corran crossed over and sat at the foot of Ooryl’s bunk. “Look, Mirax, it’s been a long day and tomorrow is going to be tough. I meant no offense.”
“I know. I was picking on someone in your unit. I’m a little mad at the Thyferrans right now. The price of bacta is going up—they’re blaming an Ashern attack on a processing plant. I used to turn a tidy little profit on shipments, but I can’t raise the money to buy a lot. I’m left running foodstuff and parts, which is not the way to get rich.”
“I wish I could help.”
“Sure you do.” She shook her head, all the while smiling. “If I wanted to kill my father I’d send him a holo and tell him Hal Horn’s son said he wished he could help me make some runs.”
“Somewhere in orbit between Corellia and Selonia my father’s ashes are trying to recoalesce to stop me.” He smiled and patted her blanketed knee. “I do mean it, though.”
“I believe you. Wherever you’re going tomorrow, if you run into anyone on the ground who can sign an exclusive import/export deal, think of me and get it on a datacard.”
“If I’m on the ground tomorrow, the only thing that will get exported is me, and I’ll be exported to Kessel.”
“I’ll make you a deal on the spice you dig up.”
“You’re all heart.”
She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. “It’s going to be nasty, is it?”
“About the only thing we have going for us is that they don’t know we’re coming.”
“That’s something, then.” Mirax reached out and touched the medallion he wore. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I don’t know. It was my father’s good luck charm.” Corran took it off and passed it to her, complete with the gold chain. “It’s a coin in a collar that lets me put it on a chain. My father used to keep it in his pocket, but I lose things too easily like that. So what is it that you think it is?”
Mirax turned it over and back in her palm and peered at it closely. “It’s a Jedcred.”
“What?”
She frowned. “Jedcred is what my father used to call them; it comes from Jedi credit. It looks like a coin but was really a commemorative medallion struck when a Corellian Jedi became a Master. A dozen or so would get minted and distributed to family, close friends, the Jedi’s Master, and favored students.”
Corran raised an eyebrow. “How do you know so much about it?”
She smiled sweetly. “Have you forgotten, my dear, that I make my living by bringing that which is ordinarily rare to those who want it? Collectibles like these can fetch a fine price, especially since the Emperor cornered the market on Jedi Knights. How did your father get it?”
“I don’t really know.” He thought for a moment. “I know my grandfather liaised with the Jedi, to coordinate their actions with CorSec and had a good friend among them, but that was back before the Clone Wars. I guess this guy was someone he knew. He did say the only Jedi he knew well died in the Clone Wars.”
She handed it back to him. “I hope it’s a better luck charm for you than it was for the Jedi whose face is on it.”
He refastened it around his neck and relished the sensation of its weight against his breastbone. “You’re not alone in that hope.” He stood and smothered a yawn with his hand. “Sorry, that’s not from talking with you.”
“I know. It’s late and the day’s been exhausting.”
“I’ll get up early to record some messages, but right now I need my sleep.”
“So do I.”
“I’m just going to go over there and lie down.”
“So I imagined.” Mirax lay back down and pulled the blanket up under her chin.
Corran walked over to his bed, sat down, and kicked off his boots. He started to pull off his flight suit but stopped when he noticed she was watching him. “I thought you were going to go to sleep.”
“I am, but I was just wondering …”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you’ll be warm enough tonight?”
Corran peeled his flight suit down to his waist, then snaked it down over the lower half of his body. Her question sounded innocent enough, but the inflection in her voice filled it with all sorts of innuendoes and invitations. Visions of the two of them entwined together in his bed flashed through his mind.
He was tempted. In her arms he could find sanctuary from the loneliness and fear he felt, but what they would be doing he would be doing for himself. That wouldn’t be right.
“Yeah, Mirax, I think I will be warm enough.”
“Oh, good.” Mirax smiled at him as he pulled his sheets over himself. “I just thought I’d ask.”
“Thanks.” He hit the light switch and the room went black.
“Corran?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?”
“Quite sure,” he said, regretting each syllable.
“Good.” Mischief shot through her voice. “Then you wouldn’t mind tossing me your spare blanket, would you?”
“Not at all.” He laughed lightly and tossed the blanket from the foot of his bed off into the darkness. “Good night, Ms. Terrik.”
“Sleep tight, Mr. Horn. Tomorrow will be all clear skies and easy shots for you.”
32
Wedge pressed his thumb against the datapad screen offered to him by the Verpine tech, Zraii. “Thanks for getting the auxiliary fuel pods on so quickly. It’s going to mean a lot on this mission.”
The insectoid technician buzzed something at him, prompting Wedge to smile and nod, since he had no idea what the tech was saying. He assumed it had something to do with the ablative sheathes fitted over the nose of the X-wings. It would burn off as they entered Borleias’s atmosphere, giving the snubfighters the appearance of meteorites burning up on entry to observers on the ground. “A very good job, Zraii.”
Over the top of the tech’s head he saw Mirax walk into the hangar with Corran. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then the pilot ran off toward his own green and white X-wing. Mirax watched him go, pulling a Rebel-issue flight jacket more tightly over her shoulders.
Mirax and Corran? Perhaps opposites do attract. It struck him that their attraction to each other seemed as improbable as that of Princess Leia to Han Solo. The thought caused a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If they have as many ups and downs as those two …
Mirax walked over to him and watched him through slitted eyes for a second. “Are you borrowing trouble, Wedge?”
“Are you reading my mind?”
“Huh?”
“Nice coat—looks better on you than it does on Corran.”
Mirax smiled, but didn’t blush. “We’re friends. Ooryl offered me his bunk last night and I accepted. Corran and I talked. Nothing happened.” She glanced to the side and noticed Erisi’s approach. “It’s a good thing Corran doesn’t snore—I was able to get some rest.”
Wed
ge shook his head. “We’re heading out, Mirax. I left a message behind for you and your father, if I don’t make it back.”
“You will, Wedge. You’ve gobbled up the best the Emperor had to offer—no reasons to imagine the crumbs will choke you.” Mirax gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see if I can find enough paint to be able to decorate your T-65 with the new kills.”
“Thanks, Mirax.” He turned to Erisi. “You have something for me, Ms. Dlarit?”
“Mission Control says Case Green is in effect.”
“Good. We’re clear to go.” Wedge whistled loudly and circled his right hand over his head. The Rogue Squadron pilots looked at him for a second, then pulled themselves into their cockpits. “Sorry you’re not going with us, Ms. Dlarit.”
“Not as sorry as I am. May the Force be with you.”
Wedge smiled. “Thanks. Stay out of danger, the both of you.” He pulled on his helmet and climbed up into the X-wing’s cockpit. He strapped himself into the ejection seat, then punched the ignition sequence into the computer. The engines came up with only a trace of a whine. He closed the cockpit canopy, then glanced behind himself.
“Are you ready, Mynock?”
The R5 unit beeped at him and Wedge projected a trace of fear into the reply’s tremolo. Wouldn’t be a mission if we didn’t feel that way.
“Rogue Leader to Mission Control, requesting liftoff clearance.”
“Control to Rogue Leader, you and your squadron are clear for takeoff. Be strong in the Force. And shoot straight.”
“As ordered, Tycho. See you in ten hours.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Wedge gave Tycho’s silhouette in the control center’s window a thumbs-up, then he slowly cut in the repulsorlift drive. The X-wing rose from the ground and, with a light foot on the rudder pedals, turned left toward the hangar door. Easing the throttle forward he applied thrust and started out. He let his nose dip a bit to give himself a better view of the area through which he flew, retracted his landing gear, and cruised out into the open.
All around him the golden savannahs of Noquivzor spread out, the long grasses teased by gentle breezes. His ship seemed immune to the wind, just as it was immune to the peace of the planet. Off in the distance brown specks flowed together into a dark flood as a mossy-horned herd of wildernerfs invaded the valley. In one huge tree, the only one visible to Wedge, a pride of taopari waited for the prey to drift closer before they would start their hunt.
Tycho was right—I’m not too old for this game. I have, however, been playing it for far too long. When I get back, I’m going to get out and walk across these plains and drink in a little life, a little peace. He nodded slowly. It’s no good to keep fighting if I allow myself to forget why I’m fighting.
Corran’s voice crackled through the helmet speakers. “Rogue Squadron assembled, sir.”
Wedge brought the nose of his fighter up. “Thank you, Rogue Nine. Full speed to the jumppoint, people. We’ve got an appointment to keep and it won’t do for us to be a minute late.” Wedge punched his throttle full forward, leaving wind-whipped grasses and roiling clouds as the only sign he had been on the planet.
And Noquivzor erased those traces effortlessly.
Mirax shivered and hugged her arms around herself. As she turned away from the hangar opening, she saw Erisi staring ion bolts at her. Now I know why I felt cold. She put her arms through the sleeves of the jacket and pulled it taut at her waist so Corran’s name tape could be read over the breast pocket. “I think they’ll do fine.”
“I know it.” The Thyferran glared at her. “Of course, your antics with Corran could doom the mission. He needed rest.”
“And he got it.” Mirax met Erisi’s stare openly. “Corran and I are friends, nothing more. His father knew my father.”
“His father hunted your father.”
“And got him, so you can rest assured that nothing could develop between us.”
“Good. See that it doesn’t.”
The implied challenge got beneath Mirax’s skin. “And if I don’t?”
Erisi’s blue eyes sparked anger. “You are a smuggler. I have it within my power to see to it that you never are able to handle bacta shipments. I can guarantee that anyone who wants to handle bacta shipments will never deal with you. In short, I can end your career here and now.”
The Thyferran’s expression eased, but the energy in her eyes did not diminish. “Conversely, you can be rewarded for leaving Corran alone. The very influence that I could bring to bear against you can be made to work for you. We can be friends, and you will find that a very good thing.”
Mirax killed the desire to haul off and smack the smug grin from Erisi’s face. She was adrift in space and isn’t on a mission with her squadron—she’s bound to be muddy in her thinking. “I’ll take that under advisement. Even if I felt something more for Corran, well, I make my living selling all sorts of things I might like for myself. In fact, I should be seeing to business right now. If you will excuse me.”
“Of course.” Erisi smiled sweetly, but it failed to cut the venom in her eyes. “We’ll speak again.”
Mirax mirrored her smile, then stalked off toward the Pulsar Skate. She headed up the gang-ramp and sniffed the air for traces of coolant. She smelled nothing, which should have made her happy, but the abbreviated conversation with Erisi left her uneasy. And, she realized, it’s because of more than the imperious way she spoke to me.
Mirax had learned to handle all manner of client attitudes toward her, but that had been easy since it was business, not personal. Erisi was giving her orders concerning her personal life. She even threatened business pressures to make Mirax change her personal life. While what Erisi offered was indeed very tempting, the practical result would be that Mirax would be selling a piece of herself and that was something she had long ago vowed never to do.
She wanted to convince herself that her upset came from the principle of the whole thing, but she couldn’t dismiss the nascent feelings she had for Corran. It wasn’t love—of that she was pretty certain—but it could have moved toward it. At the very least Corran represented something from her past that provided an illusion of constancy to life.
She knew she could have hated him as easily as liked him, and she’d expected more negative feelings for him, but they just weren’t there. In bringing him the ryshcate and the black-market goods she’d expected an angry reaction from him. That would have been reason enough to think poorly of him, but he’d been gracious in accepting the gifts. She’d started to soften toward him that night, which is why she fled.
Mirax admitted to herself that she’d accepted Ooryl’s offer to get another shot at kindling negative feelings. She’d been prepared to sleep with Corran, and hate him in the morning if he’d seduced her with some “and tomorrow I may die” line. The fact that he hadn’t tried to seduce her, and had deftly sidestepped invitations to keep her warm in the night, confirmed what she had known all along—he was a bit more complex than the stereotypical CorSec officer.
She shivered. I don’t need or want involvement with anyone, much less the son of the man who sent my father to Kessel. I also don’t want some bacta queen ordering me around.
Her head came up as she realized her Sullustan pilot had spoken to her. “What?”
Liat Tsayv, the mouse-eared pilot, chittered at her again.
“No, I don’t know where we’re going because I don’t know what we’ll be hauling.”
The Sullustan canted his head to the side and muttered reprovingly.
“Well, for your information, I didn’t sleep with a pilot, and even if I had slept with him, he isn’t the unit’s quartermaster. Have you thought of pulling a unit want list from Emtrey? No?” She pointed at the communications console. “Do it now.”
Liat punched up a comm frequency, then squeaked and squealed through a headset. Mirax hit another button and a holographic list featuring icons and dual buy/sell prices grew up from the holoplate in
the middle of the Skate’s cockpit. She scanned the list quickly and saw most of it was military equipment, which was paid for with promises and brought a very low profit margin into the equation. Still, she was willing to bring it in provided she had some high-value cargo to make a run worth her time.
The consumer goods list began and she found it much more promising than the military list. Then some odd products started showing up. “Liat, ask for confirmation on the prices for fifteen through twenty-five inclusive.”
The Sullustan complied with the order, then nodded and rubbed his hands together greedily.
“Damn, this is not good.” Mirax smacked her hands together. “Tell the droid we’ll buy all he has of fifteen through twenty-five. Yes, all.”
Liat chirred angrily.
“I know we can’t fit it all in here. Negotiate an exclusivity contract with him. Give him whatever he wants. A partnership even. Just do it.” She snatched a comlink from the recharging port in the cockpit wall. “When you have it locked, call me. I’ll be out looking for Wedge’s XO. We have a problem, a big problem, and if I can’t head if off, I’ve got friends who are on their way to die.”
33
Wedge keyed his comm as the squadron came out of hyperspace and prepared for the second and final leg of their run into the Pyria system. He adjusted the power output for the comm so the signal would become weak and garbled outside the kilometer sphere in which the ships moved. Even though the comm would scramble the transmission and make it all but impossible for the Empire to decrypt, he wanted to take the further precaution of making the signal all but impossible to pull in.
“This is Rogue Leader. There is one final refinement to our plans that you should know about. There is no system codenamed Phenaru. We’re going back to Blackmoon.” Wedge waited for comments and protests, but only silence came in over his headset. He took that as a vote of confidence in him by his people and that brought a smile to his face.
“The mission as simulated was exact with the following exception—the simulated run through the asteroid belt to get into the planet was based on a run through the canyons on Borleias’s sole moon. We come in to the system behind it, swing around on its surface, and take a direct shot at the nightside of the world. The moon is what will make leaving tough, but coming in it will shield us from unfriendlies on the world. Cometary fragments are causing meteor showers, so planet-based detection stations should have a hard time picking us up. Any questions?”