by James Luceno
Corran smiled in spite of himself. The nagging sense of doubt and doom that had been grinding away at his consciousness didn’t go away, but it became muted. Wedge’s words muffled it. Fear and insecurity were issues about himself, but their mission was about others. He was going off to make the future a bit brighter for people like Iella Wessiri and her husband and Gus Bastra and his family. And even folks like Booster Terrik.
The realization that this blow struck at the Empire would make life easier for the sorts of criminals he and his father and grandfather used to hunt didn’t tarnish the mission. He’d never believed the “virtuous bandit” myth most criminals like to wrap around themselves—raiding the affluent to give to the destitute was a pattern often claimed, but he’d seen no evidence of it. Still he couldn’t deny the contribution of folks like Han Solo or Mirax Terrik to the Rebellion. And how could one compare the minor evil of a Hutt with the grand evil of a government that would conceive of, build, and utilize weapons that could destroy planets?
If we cap the wellspring of evil, cleaning up all the little puddles it leaves behind will be that much easier.
Wedge looked at all of the pilots. “This mission isn’t going to be easy, but I know we can do it.”
Corran nodded to him. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a Rogue Squadron mission.”
“And if it wasn’t given to Rogue Squadron,” Bror added, “it would have no chance of being accomplished.”
“If ego could power shields, you’d be invincible.” Wedge shook his head. “You’ve got twelve hours to kill before you hit the line. No drinking and definitely get some sleep. You can’t use the holonet for obvious security reasons, but if you want to record some messages for friends and family and leave them with Emtrey, he’ll see to their disposition in the worst case. Get going, I’ll see you at 0800 on the line.”
“We’ll be there, Commander.” Corran tossed him a quick salute. “Nervous as Sithspawn in the glow of a Jedi’s lightsaber, but ready for whatever the Empire throws at us.”
Wedge watched his pilots walk away and saw both Shiel and Erisi catch up with them. He turned and smiled at Tycho. “Nice flying in the sim. You wouldn’t have bagged me if that belly pod hadn’t slowed my climb.”
The Alderaanian pilot shrugged. “Fifth time’s the charm.”
Wedge pointed toward the retreating knot of pilots. “Do they ever seem like kids to you—kids who shouldn’t be in this at all?”
“Gavin, yes, and Ooryl because of the insular life he’s led. The rest of them only surrender a year or two to us.”
“I know that, but it seems like the Emperor’s death was the end of an era. They’ve all joined after the New Republic was established. Before that we were outlaws fighting the legitimate government. Now we’re a movement that is bringing freedom to countless worlds.” Wedge shook his head. “Sometimes I think they’ve joined us because of the romance of the Rebellion’s having struck a blow against the Empire. We brought down Darth Vader, killed the Emperor, and destroyed the Death Stars.”
Tycho brushed a lock of brown hair from his forehead. “I hope you’re not heading toward the idea that they don’t really know what they’re getting into. I seem to recall hearing that same speculation about the new pilots in the squadron before Endor. Back then you saw the destruction of the first Death Star as what marked the end of an epoch.”
Wedge had memories flood back. “Yeah, I guess I did think about that then, didn’t I? The situation was different, though.”
“No it wasn’t. Look, Wedge, none of us have been through all you have. I joined up after Yavin, so I’ve been here for a long time, but for me Biggs and Porkins and the others are just legends. For you they’re memories—friends you’ve lost.” Tycho threw an arm across Wedge’s shoulders. “These guys have lost friends, too. There’s not a one of them that doesn’t know the odds of surviving this run are about …”
Wedge held up a hand. “Don’t give me odds. You know Corellians have no tolerance for odds.”
“Which is why you so willingly play sabacc.”
“And why so many of us are part of the Rebellion.”
The two of them laughed aloud and Wedge felt a lot of his tension bleeding away. As he wiped tears from his eyes he saw an Alliance Security Lieutenant come walking over. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Forgive the intrusion, sir, but I just wanted to remind Captain Celchu this area is restricted when he’s not actually involved in an exercise.”
“That’s all right, Lieutenant, he’s with me.”
“Yes, sir.” She glanced anxiously back toward the doorway. “I’ll wait out there.”
“I’ll be along presently, Lieutenant.”
Wedge frowned. “I’ll take responsibility for Captain Celchu, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir, my orders come from General Salm.”
“I know. Log your protest with him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wedge looked over and saw a frown on Tycho’s face. “What’s the matter?” He glanced at the Security officer’s retreating form, then back at his friend. “Have you become involved with her? Did I break something up here?”
Tycho shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s very nice, and lived on Alderaan for several years, so we can talk about places we’ll never see again. And she works with two enlisted men, one of whom watches me all the time. I do find her intriguing, but I’m not of a mind to begin a new relationship without knowing if the old one is over or not.”
“I can understand that.” Wedge recalled the woman Tycho had fallen for a couple of years earlier. She worked in Alliance Procurement and Supply and spent most of her time on covert missions directing operations on enemy worlds designed to liberate matériels from the Empire. Because of the importance and sensitivity of her work, learning anything about her from Intelligence was impossible, and Tycho’s status raised that difficulty level by an order of magnitude.
Tycho poked a finger against Wedge’s breastbone. “I think you’re changing the subject on me to avoid the real issue that prompted your earlier question.”
Wedge raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and that is?”
“You’re afraid you’re getting too old for what we’ve always told ourselves is a young man’s game.”
“If you think that, you’re as confused as a Gamorrean placed between two full mugs of lum.” The Corellian frowned. “First off, you’re a year older than I am.”
“Nine months.”
“Which is rather close to a year, my friend.”
“True enough, but years aren’t the only measure of time.” Tycho tapped the rank insignia at the collar of Wedge’s flight suit. “You’re a Commander. Luke was a General before he abandoned his rank. Han Solo and Lando Calrissian are Generals. Most of the officers who have been with the Alliance for as long as you have are at least Colonels.”
“You’re only a Captain, Tycho.”
“And there I will stay, if Salm has anything to say about it.”
“Well, I’ve had my say about my rank, and I’m happy where I am. I like leading a squadron.”
“I know that.” The Alderaanian shrugged and folded his arms. “You can’t help but wonder, though, if refusing those promotions was the right decision to make or not.”
“True.” Wedge looked up at his friend. “So, am I too old to be doing this?”
“Wedge, over the last four months I’ve flown against—and shot down—every one of the kids you have going on this mission. So have you.” Tycho let a low chuckle rumble from his throat. “If you’re too old for this, the New Republic might as well give up now. Barring a squadron of Jedi Knights winging their way in here, you’re the best we’ve got. That may not impress you, but there are plenty of Imp pilots out there who don’t sleep the whole night through because of dreams about you being on their tails.”
31
Corran smiled as Erisi caught up with the group. “You did well in the sim, Erisi.”
“It
felt strange trying to shoot you down.”
“Emphasis on trying.” Bror flashed a predatory grin at her. “You had no more success than they will tomorrow.”
Nawara Ven glowered at his wingman. “If you have found a way to shunt ego into your shields, I wish you would share it with me.”
Rhysati shook her head. “Just have him expand his shields to cover us all. There’s ego enough there.”
Bror turned to Corran. “The mewing of our inferiors grows tiresome, don’t you think?”
The Corellian’s mouth hung open for a second. He wasn’t certain if he was more surprised with Bror’s put-down of the others or his own elevation into Bror’s peer group. “I wouldn’t call it ‘mewing’ and I don’t see them as our ‘inferiors.’ Everyone here has worked hard and come through a lot. Gavin and I have both been wounded, as has Shiel, and only you and Rhysati have avoided personal or ship damage. We might have a few more kills than they do, but things will average out over time.”
The Thyferran looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “That is something to consider, certainly. And I did not mean my comment as a slight against any of you, though clearly it was taken as such. I respect you all and believe you all capable of more. I will be honored to fly with you tomorrow.”
“On that note …” Nawara Ven bowed his head to his companions, allowing his brain tails to hang down over his shoulders. “I shall see you all in the morning.”
“Wait a moment.” Rhysati held her hand out to him. “I’ll head off, too. Get some sleep—we’ll need it.”
Gavin smiled, then stretched and yawned. “I want to record a message for my parents. Biggs never got the chance and that kind of ate at Uncle Huff.”
Corran winked at the kid. “You’ll make them proud, Gavin.”
Bror bowed slightly. “I, too, shall record a message for my parents.”
They all departed, leaving Corran alone with Erisi. “Well.”
“Well, indeed, Corran.” She reached out and took his left hand in hers. “I wish I were going with you tomorrow.”
“We’d be thankful for the help.” Corran allowed her to gently pull him along toward the accommodations she shared with Rhysati. “Given how things are working out, you may be lucky that you’re not going.”
“Don’t say that.” Her voice dropped to near a whisper and a tear formed in the corner of her right eye. “Worse than dying on this mission will be surviving it here. If the mission fails, if you don’t come back, I’ll be left wondering if I could have made a difference.”
“Dying out there might be less emotionally trying, but I don’t think it’s the lesser of two evils here.”
She brushed the tear away. “You’re correct, of course, and I’m being selfish.” Erisi stopped and turned to face him. “Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t even know the name of the world where you could die?”
Actually, I do know the name of the world. Wedge and I are the only ones, though I don’t think that makes this mission any easier. “To be honest, Erisi, I hadn’t given it that much thought. The Imps there want me dead, and I don’t feel too friendly toward them, either. Where we end up fighting isn’t all that important to me.”
“It’s important to me.” She began walking again. Her hand moved up to the inside of his elbow and guided him forward. “If things go badly I thought I would visit or make sure a memorial was raised. I …”
Erisi’s voice broke and Corran felt a shudder run through her. “Hey, Erisi, it’s all going to be fine. Remember when the Commander warned us that we’d never be able to be greater heroes than the folks who have already died in service to Rogue Squadron?”
“Yes,” she sniffed.
“Well, he was wrong. We can be bigger, but only by living longer and doing better than they ever did. As he was saying just now, in those days they fought for survival. We’re fighting for the future. If we do this right, Biggs and the rest won’t be remembered as Rogue Squadron’s greatest heroes, but the predecessors to Rogue Squadron’s greatest heroes.” Corran gave her a strong smile. “I’m planning on sticking around to make that prediction come true.”
Erisi smiled, but the corners of her mouth trembled. “You probably will do that, Corran. I hope it is so. I just wish I knew where the rest of you were going. You aren’t the least bit curious?”
“Maybe for my memoirs, sure.” Corran reached up and wiped tears from her cheeks. “They’ll declassify the operation in fifty years or so—just in time for me to include the location in my autobiography.”
“Even if I had to wait fifty years, I’d have a memorial built for you.” Erisi paused before the open door to her quarters. “Corran, you know Rhysati isn’t going to be coming back here this evening. You can stay here, if you wish.”
“I shouldn’t, Erisi.”
“Are you certain?” The disappointment in her voice twisted into forced levity. “Think of it as a chapter for your memoirs.”
“I have no doubt it would take two chapters.” Corran sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I’d get no sleep. That would kill me. I’d die happy, but I’m afraid our compatriots would not.”
Erisi nodded slowly and looked down. “I understand.”
I’ve got to be insane. I’ve said “no” to one of the most desirable women I’ve ever met. Corran smiled. Of course I’m crazy, I volunteered to go back to Borleias.
“Why the smile?”
Corran stroked her cheek. “I was thinking you’re ample incentive for me to do everything I can to return.”
Erisi leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. “Then if you do not return, I shall feel horrible for the rest of my life.”
“I can’t have that, can I?”
“Certainly not.” She kissed him again, then slowly pulled away from him. “Sleep well tonight, Corran Horn, and fly the best you ever have tomorrow.”
The door to her quarters closed and Corran turned to backtrack to the hallway leading to the billet he shared with Ooryl. Though with Ooryl staying in the med station so they can monitor his arm, I’ll be all alone.
A jolt of fear ran through him and he almost turned around and went back to Erisi. Since his father’s death he had spent a lot of time alone. It wasn’t that they had been in each other’s constant company, but just knowing he could speak with his father, and that his father would understand his problems, meant he didn’t have to face them without help. Unlike most of the folks he knew, he got along well with his father. They had their occasional fights, but nothing that ripped apart the fabric of their relationship. That relationship, strengthened by mutual grief when Corran’s mother died, weathered all adversity and just grew stronger.
They’d always been like paired banthas yoked to the same gravsledge. Together there had been nothing they could not accomplish. He realized that since his father’s death, he’d been trying to go forward as much as possible, but without his father being there, he had a hard time figuring out exactly which way was forward. Gil Bastra had tried to help him out, and had been very effective, but since leaving CorSec, Corran had been without a moral compass. Actually, I’ve had the moral compass, but I was so used to checking it against my father’s feelings on things, that I’m not certain it’s still calibrated correctly.
Deep down he knew his father would have supported his decision to join the Rebellion, but his approval would have been harder to earn. Corran felt fairly certain he could have earned it, too, but death prevented him from knowing his father was still proud of him. He knew his father would have thought the mission to Borleias was stupid and needlessly dangerous, but he would have also been one of the first to volunteer for it.
“I guess, old man, you really aren’t gone.” Corran fingered his medallion. “I’ve got your sense of duty and your good luck charm. Definitely puts me ahead of the game.”
Corran opened the door to his quarters and hit the light switch. He’d already unzipped his flight suit from throat to navel before he noticed the blanket-shrouded lump on Ooryl’
s bunk stir. “How did you get in here?”
Mirax sat up and scooped long locks of black hair out of her face. “Your Gand friend let me in.”
“Where did you run into him?”
“Med-station. Coolant pump went in the Skate and flooded the ventilation system. My droid is locking it down, but I got a lungful. He was there and recognized me. The Emdees declared me healthy, but I couldn’t go back to the Skate, and with you staging for an operation, there’s scant free space here. Since he’s staying with the doc droids, he offered me his billet.” She yawned. “I agreed since I assumed you’d be spending the night with the bacta queen.”
Corran blinked at her. “You did?”
“I saw the look she gave you when I showed up on the Reprieve. She could teach the average Hutt a thing or two about possessiveness.”
He didn’t like the smug tone in her voice. “You must have gotten more coolant than you thought.”
“How do you plot that?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Hey, Corran, I’d be the first to say Hal Horn’s boy was smarter than Erisi is pretty.”
“But you thought I’d be with her.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, and you’d have been making one if you’d stayed with her.”
Corran shot Mirax a wry grin. “She’s possessive and you’re, what, being protective?”
“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.