Star Wars - X-Wing - The Bacta War

  dreams and her nightmaresfight for supremacy.

  The focus of the gathering quickly became Gavin. He thrilled his cousins and

  younger siblings with stories of what he'd seen and done, though Corran noted

  that he downplayed nearly getting killed on Talasea. That didn't surprise him,

  but it was also clear to Corran that Jula had not missed what had gone unsaid.

  The specter of Biggs's death formed the foundation for every question and

  comment.

  And the comparison of Gavin with Biggs fuels the analysis of stories he's

  telling. There was no doubt that Biggs had been a hero and had acted heroically.

  His death at Yavin had allowed Luke Skywalker to blow up the Death Star. His

  death marked the extreme danger of the situation and was not unexpected, given

  the circumstances. Even so, the situations in which Gavin found himself were no

  less perilous, yet he had survived them. To Corran's mind, Gavin's parents had

  to be thinking that made him better than Biggs in some unde-finable away, and

  for Huff it planted the seeds of doubt about how great his son truly was.

  Because he had been an only child born of only children, the Darklighter family

  gathering gave Corran a window into a whole different family dynamic. Because

  there were so many children among whom things were shared, personal boundaries

  and the ideas of ownership were weakened. Younger kids seemed to see every adult

  as part of the family, fearlessly climbing into laps or asking permission or

  asking for help.

  At first this threatened Corranin part because of the utter chaos of the

  situation but mostly because the children thrust responsibility into his hands.

  The fact that none of the Darklighters seemed to mind their children paying him

  attentionas long as the kids didn't seem to be bothering him or to be

  ill-manneredmeant he had to accept that responsibil-

  ity and act on it. The openness of the families drew him in and they accepted

  him, but Corran was uncertain if he was ready to be accepted.

  Mirax and her father, by way of contrast, formed a little insulated party within

  the grander goings-on. The hushed tones of their conversation, their quiet

  laughter and their general ease with each other reminded Corran very sharply of

  the relationship he'd had with his own father. Hal Horn had been friend and

  confidant as well as parent and work associate. Corran had always thought of

  family as a place where he could open himself up and get advice without fearing

  censure or ridicule. Shared blood meant a bottom-line alliance that no

  disagreement could shatter. He and his father had disagreed on plenty of things,

  but that which united them was far stronger than anything that could divide

  them.

  Despite the efforts of everyone to include him in what was going on, Corran

  began to retreat a bit as melancholy over his father's death slowly seeped into

  his heart. It was all too easy for him to imagine his father at the gathering,

  again hearing his laughter and watching the others react to the stories Hal

  used to tell. They would have loved him here. And he would have loved being

  here, too.

  A chill ran down Corran's spine. The openness of the families twisted like a

  vibroblade into his guts. His father, Hal Horn, had known his own father, the

  Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon. Hal had never told Corran anything about Nejaa. /

  know he did that to protect me, but I know he had to have been proud of his

  father. When I told my father that I had "hunches" and he told me to go with

  them, he knew they were manifestations of myourJedi heritage. That was his

  quiet way of telling me of his pride, but it must have torn him up to have to

  remain silent. Perhaps he anticipated telling me about that stuff later, after

  the Rebels had destroyed the Empire, but he never lived that long.

  Corran absented himself from the gathering, walking up the steps to the surface

  of the planet. The twin suns had set, letting the day's heat begin to bleed off

  into space. The chill creeping into the desert likewise began to gnaw at him. It

  found a willing ally in the sorrow sloshing around in Corran's guts.

  "Excuse me, Lieutenant Horn, I don't want to intrude."

  Corran looked back and saw Jula Darklighter silhouetted against the glow from

  the pit mansion. "No intrusion, sir. I came from a small family, so this is

  rather overwhelming."

  "I came from a big family, and it's overwhelming." Jula glanced down at the

  ground and toed an alkali crust into dust. "I wanted to say thank you for taking

  care of my son out there."

  Corran smiled, but shook his head. "Gavin takes care of himself out there."

  "He said you had confidence in him and that you got another pilot to stop

  picking on him. He didn't say it that way, mind you, but he's not hard to read."

  Corran laughed lightly. "No, your boyyoung man does tend to digitize and

  broadcast his emotions. The situation he refers to, though, was one where

  another pilot, Bror Jace, and I were having a bit of a conflict, and Gavin just

  happened to find himself in the middle. I'm glad he took heart in my having

  confidence in him, because I did and do believe in him and his skills, but he

  needs no protection. You raised a man of whom you can be proud."

  Jula smiled and nodded, then looked Corran straight in the eyes. "He's almost

  ended up like Biggs, hasn't he?"

  "We've all almost ended up like Biggs, sir. The Empire may be in retreat, but

  there are plenty of folks still willing to fight for them." Corran raised a hand

  to his breastbone and unconsciously stroked the Jedi medallion he wore. "Gavin

  has been wounded and did almost die, but the fact is that he was too tough to

  die. As a pilot, he's getting better and better and has vaped his share of the

  enemy we've faced. He's brave without being stupid. He's the sort of person who

  is the Rebellion's backbone and the reason it has succeeded as well as it has."

  "What you're saying, Lieutenant Horn, makes me very proud indeed." Jula sighed.

  "It also fortifies me against anticipating the worst. I imagine your parents

  are equally worried about you and proud of you."

  Corran frowned. "My parents are dead, sir."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Thank you."

  Jula jerked a thumb back toward the sounds of the gathering. "This isn't very

  easy on you, is it?"

  Corran shrugged. "Compared to an Imperial prison, it's actually very nice. The

  trick of it is that there I had a focus for my negative thoughtsthe people who

  had me imprisoned. Here there is no such focus."

  "Perhaps that means that you should just let your negative thoughts go." Jula

  patted him on the shoulder. "Nothing wrong with feeling and acknowledging sorrow

  and pain, Lieutenant Horn. The crime is letting them hold you prisoner. Come on

  back, and we'll do all we can to set you free."

  He's right. Mourning is appropriate, but not here and not now. Corran smiled.

  "Thanks. I think I will rejoin the group. In fighting the Imps I've been in so

  many places where I've been reviled, it's great, just for once, to be welcomed

  so openly and graciously."

  "I'm glad you feel that way." Jula threw an arm over Corran's shoulder and

  steered hi
m back toward the light. "Darklighters believe in treating friends

  like family and family like friends, and we're always glad to add yet one more

  to the family."

  8

  This has to be a dream. A nightmare even. Wedge cracked his left eye open and

  let it slowly attempt to focus. At first he noticed nothing unusual in the unlit

  room, but then he caught sight of little motes of light streaking like shooting

  stars across night sky. The possible presence of something in his quarters did

  convince his sleep-besotted brain that he should continue his trek toward

  consciousness, but until he heard the voice a second time, he wasn't wholly

  certain he wasn't enmeshed in a nightmare.

  "Good morning, sir. It is very good to see you again."

  Wedge rolled over and reluctantly opened both eyes. "Emtrey?"

  "How kind of you to remember me, CommI mean, Master Wedge." The black 3PO droid

  with the clamshell head stood beside the bed with its hands splayed out. "I

  realize you may not have fully recovered from your journey here, and were it up

  to me I'd have allowed you to sleep longer, but this is the time at which you

  requested awakening."

  Wedge groaned. Shortly after Corran, Mirax, and Gavin had left for Tatooine,

  Winter located a possible store of X-wings and parts on Rishi. Using some of the

  unit's money,

  Wedge rented a modified Corellian YT-1300 light freighter named Eclipse Rider

  and headed out with Ooryl Qrygg to check out the report. The trip out from

  Coruscant went well, but once they arrived in-system they ran into trouble. The

  freighter lost a repulsor-lift coil upon landing. Ooryl worked on replacing that

  while Wedge wound his way through a labyrinth of H'kig religious laws that

  seemed, to him, to prohibit or limit anything that could make life easier.

  He did locate the cache of X-wing parts and managed to purchase it. He estimated

  two fighters could be cobbled together from the parts, which was something, but

  far short of what he'd hoped when he set out at first. Regulations on the use of

  repulsor-lift vehicles complicated the loading timetable and, ultimately,

  delayed their departure from the world by twelve hours.

  When he and Ooryl final ly did make it to Yag'Dhul, Wedge was four days behind

  schedule and exhausted. He docked the freighter, then had someone show him to

  his quarters. 7 thought twelve hours of sleep would be enough, but apparently

  not, because I'm hallucinating the presence of a droid that should be on

  Coruscant.

  He rubbed his eyes, then opened them again. Emtrey was still there. "What's

  going on here? Did General Cracken send you to keep an eye on us?"

  "Since I do not have eyes per se, sir, I would have to say no." The droid's head

  canted to the right. "I do not recall any orders being given to me by my former

  owner."

  "Former owner?" Wedge realized he was becoming more awake all the time, but

  nothing seemed to be getting much clearer to him, and that caused him some

  concern. Someone has to be having fun with this. "Get Tycho for me."

  Tycho cleared his voice and Wedge turned to see him leaning against the doorjamb

  of the bedroom. "Thought you'd like to wake up to a familiar face, since you're

  in unfamiliar surroundings."

  "Right." Wedge narrowed his eyes. "As I recall, I've not gotten you back for the

  other trick you pulledthat postmortem message from Corran at Borleias. You

  better watch your step."

  "Or what? You think you can cause me more trouble than a treason trial and a

  stay in an Imperial prison?" Tycho thrust his chin out defiantly, but softened

  the gesture with a smile. "You're welcome to try any time you want, Antilles."

  Wedge shook his head. "One hopeless battle at a time. Got any caf out there?"

  Tycho nodded. "Brewed hot and strong enough to dissolve transparisteel."

  "Great." Wedge rolled out of bed and slipped into the thick robe Emtrey held out

  for him. Knotting the belt around his middle, he followed Tycho into the small

  parlor attached to his bedroom. The furnishings were a mixture of styles and

  colors, but all of them were fashioned from hollow metal tubes and light but

  strong cloth. Less mass means less cost in transport and energy to maintain the

  gravity generation for the station.

  Wedge dropped into a chair across a low table from Tycho and wrapped both hands

  around the barrel of a steaming mug of caf. The steam caressed his face and

  could have been melting his eyebrows for all he cared because the caf tasted

  wonderful. He felt the warmth spread out from his belly and a layer of fog in

  his brain began to dissipate.

  "So, Tycho, how is Emtrey here?"

  Tycho's smile broadened considerably. "Politics."

  Wedge sipped more caf. "Okay, give me the exploded view because I'm not seeing

  it."

  "It gets weird, but I'm not complaining." Tycho leaned forward. "Before his

  capture at Yavin 4, Jan Dodonna designed the A-wing fighter. The Alliance got

  it into production and introduced the A-wing late on in the Rebellion. Most of

  them were made in locations that weren't so much factories as they were private

  shops. They all worked from the same design, but were constructed on an

  individual basis. The one I flew at Endor, for example, had Fijisi wood panels

  in itI'm guessing it was built on Cardooine."

  "I recall how reinforcements of those ships used to dribble in."

  "Right, well Incom and Koensayer are afraid their X-wing and Y-wing fighter

  designs are going to be supplanted

  by the A-wing and B-wing designs, so they've been trying to get the Provisional

  Council and the Armed Forces to open bidding on new contracts. Incom thinks it

  has an edge on winning a contract for new X-wings, when all of us up and resign.

  Koensayer starts the rumor that part of our disaffection is because we don't

  trust the X-wing anymore.

  "Incom turns around and says that it's working on some new designs and would be

  happy to bring Rogue Squadron's ships up to the state of the art. What they

  offer are A-wings manufactured by them that have been modified so the laser

  cannons can swivel and cover the rear arc."

  Wedge nodded. "Nice adaptation, but it doesn't explain how we ended up with

  Emtrey."

  "I'm getting there, and you'll appreciate the flight, trust me." Tycho pressed

  his hands together. "Someone in the militaryprobably General Cracken, but

  maybe even Admiral Ackbardecided accepting Incom's gift was appropriate, so all

  the equipment in Rogue Squadron was inspected, listed as missing parts, and

  surplussed out. Winter found out about it before anyone else, and we scooped up

  the lot, including Emtrey and our astromech droids."

  Wedge blinked. "Surplussed out? Our stuff was sold as surplus?"

  "Broken surplus. It was missing parts."

  "Such as?"

  "PL-Is"

  Wedge frowned. "PL-Is? I've never heard of them."

  Tycho shook his head. "That's the designation for pilot."

  Wedge immediately began laughing. Someone back on Coruscant favors what we're

  doing or perhaps just wants to give us the tools to destroy ourselves. I'm

  trusting it's the former. "Emtrey was just thrown in on the deal?"

  "H
e cost a little bit extra, but I thought he was worth it." Tycho coughed

  lightly into his hand. "Zraii and his technical staff resigned and followed our

  ships over. We've got a full squadron, and the parts you brought in should keep

  them operational for a long time."

  "Good. How does the base look?"

  "Not bad." Tycho pointed back toward the bedroom.

  "I'll give you a half an hour to get cleaned up, then I'll give you a tour of

  the place. It's not exactly a Death Star, but I think it will work fine for our

  purposes."

  Clad in a tan jumpsuit, Wedge followed Tycho through the space station. The

  small suite he'd been given turned out to be one of the more luxurious ones on

  the station. Because of construction costs space was at a premium. Refresher

  stations were communal, as were dining facilities. While there were private

  rooms for dinner meetings, all food was prepared in a central galley and

  delivered to the half-dozen dining facilities on the base. Those same rooms also

  served as lounges and recreation facilities.

  Tycho led him to the core of the station and punched a button on the wall. "Here

  at the core we have nine turbolifts six are for personnel and three are for

  freight."

  Wedge reached up and tapped a knuckle against the gray duraplast ceiling.

  "Everything seems shrunk down a bit. I feel like a giant."

  "It is very compact. I think it was built this way to cause stormtroopers

  problems if they ever invaded." As the turbolift door slid open, Tycho passed

  through the opening. "There are twenty-five living levels above the docking

  facility and twenty-five below it. We're starting at sub-twenty-five. I've got

  Emtrey working on the moves that will be necessary to clear the last ten

  sublevels for our personnel."

  "Moving everyone but our people off would make me feel better, since we know

  Isard will eventually figure out where we are."

  "Agreed, Wedge, but if we send people away she'll find out about things all that

  much sooner. Because we hit this station not too long ago, and because Warlord

  Zsinj evacuated his folks, what's left behind is pretty much of a skeleton

  crew. If we do get rid of them, we're going to have to use our people to perform

  a lot of nonmission-specific duties." Tycho winced. "I seem to recall the meal

  you tried to make out of tauntaun meat on Hoth and ..."