Wraith Squadron (34 page)

“No, bear with me, just for a minute.”

“It’s just the same words again.”

“Same words … different Kell. This time I know what I’m talking about.”

“Of
course
you do. So. Set Honesty to On?”

“Honesty to On.”

“How much time did you spend thinking about me today?”

“Every chance I got. Every chance I had when Commander Antilles and Janson weren’t working me.”

“Ah, but in how many of those little fantasies of yours was I wearing any clothes?”

He snorted in amusement. “Lots of them. Most of them.” The words, the truth, came easily to him. “I saw us together in quiet times. When the war with the last bits of the Empire was over and we could argue and be confused about what to do next. Deciding things together. I saw myself presenting you to my family … and saw them making a place in their lives and hearts for you.” He saw distress in her expression but pressed on anyway. “I saw a hundred ways for our lives together to be, and the only thing that made me sad was that we couldn’t explore all of them.”

He sighed. “But now, like the galaxy’s worst general, I’ve told you my objective—I’m going to win your heart. I just don’t know how I’m going to do it, you being forewarned and all—”

She lunged at him. Her tackle took him off the end of the sofa. Suddenly she was atop him on the floor, her arms around his neck, embracing him but glaring furiously.

He rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the deck. “Ow.”

“Shut up.” She kissed him.

That went on a while and felt better than a three-day bender on Churban brandy—even better, for the rising heat and excitement he felt were something no brandy could ever simulate. In spite of his confusion, he remembered to wrap her up in his arms so she couldn’t escape when she regained her senses.

Finally she broke the kiss and returned to glaring at him.

“Well, that wasn’t bad,” he said. “But I thought you didn’t feel the way I did.”

“Of course you did. But then, you’re a giant adolescent with no sense. A big shaved Wookiee with no grasp of human emotions.”

“Granted. But how long have you wanted
me?
”

Her expression went from angry to plaintive in an instant. “Since I met you.”

“What? Then why didn’t you—”

“Because you were in love with that other Tyria, the one who doesn’t exist. We established that weeks ago.” She managed a little smile. “But I think you’re finally over her.”

“I am.”

“You have to prove it.”

“How?”

“Oh, we’ll find a way.”

Wedge stepped into the officers’ mess, took a quick look around, and froze.

Donos was among the other Wraiths. Chatting. Laughing, despite the new gauntness to his features.

Face, on the other hand, didn’t look at all well. There were circles under his eyes. He had obviously lost sleep. But he seemed cheerful enough.

Kell and Tyria looked just as bad, sleep-deprived and weary. Yet they seemed even more than cheerful.

Wedge’s sudden appearance caught the Wraiths’ attention. Their conversation cut off and they turned to look at him.

Wedge straightened and nodded sardonically at Face. In a mild tone, he said, “Captain Darillian to the bridge.”

Face scrambled up and out the door. He wouldn’t be going to the bridge, of course; Darillian’s seat of command was the comm center.

Wedge jerked his head for Janson to join him. His second-in-command was at his side in an instant. They headed toward
Night Caller’
s true bridge.

“What’s with Myn?” Wedge asked.

“I don’t know. They’re not telling me. But he seems to be functional.”

“Good. One crisis averted. What’s with all the tired faces?”

“I, well, don’t know. Maybe a late-night sabacc game they don’t invite senior officers to?”

“Fine. Anything else you don’t know?”

“Yes. Something happened with Kell yesterday.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Wedge stopped short and gave Janson a reproving look.

“No, really, I don’t know. We talked. About his father. I got the impression that he’d been thinking of me as some sort of avenging monster who vaped people for screwups. I also got the impression that he really hadn’t been plotting my death every time he came within a few meters of me … in fact, that he might have been scared stiff.”

“That can actually look the same.”

“Anyway, this morning, things had changed. For the first time, he didn’t become a tower of knotted muscles when I sat down to breakfast.”

“Good.” They swept into the bridge. “Lieutenant
Tabanne, put the compiled transmission up on the main monitor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Face sat at the comm officer’s chair, activated the voice and visual translators, and put them through the fastest possible diagnostic check. Both came up in the green. The computers controlling the comm center’s cameras thought they were tracking his body motions correctly.

He sat back, thought for a moment about an aging prima donna of a leading man he’d worked with once, and was instantly in character for Captain Darillian. He turned toward the comm center’s main holoprojector, hit the button to activate transmission, and prepared to speak to Admiral Trigit.

The three-dimensional image of Warlord Zsinj materialized before him.

Face took an extra-deep breath and broadened his smile to cover his surprise. “My lord. I am honored.”

Zsinj’s smile was one of condescension and amusement. “But not honored enough to do your job correctly.”

Face let his eyebrows rise. How had Darillian responded to scorn in his memoirs? With outrage. But the man would never direct an angry response to Warlord Zsinj. No, hurt was the order of the day. “My lord … I have failed you in some way? You have called to tell me I no longer deserve your patronage. It’s the life of a pirate for Darillian …”

“Oh, stop being such a baby. It leeches all the fun out of scolding you.” Zsinj heaved an annoyed sigh. “I received the relay of your report on the visit to Blood Nest.”

Pretending not to be fully recovered from the wound to his pride, Face shrugged. “A pity they chose to reject your offer. But since my avoidance of their ambush was so brilliantly successful, I feel I have left them with something to think about. Perhaps they will be more cordial when I return.”

Zsinj shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Blood Nest is gone.”

Face leaned forward and assumed an incredulous expression. “They fled?”

“No, and that’s the problem. Sometime after you departed, Blood Nest was destroyed. In fact, every site you’ve visited in the last several weeks has subsequently been visited … by Alliance pilots or agents.”

“No.” Face knew he looked shaken and hoped Grinder’s program was up to having Darillian show the same expression. “At the next stop in my mission, I’ll pretend to jump out, then lie in wait for them. I’ll destroy them.”

“Yes. But not yet. I have a more important mission for you.” Zsinj smiled. “You’re going to help that fool Trigit finish off the survivors of Folor Base.”

Once everyone was reseated at breakfast, Piggy asked, “Can the Alliance muster enough firepower to Morobe in time to take out
Implacable
?”

Wedge nodded. “That firepower is in place. We know which system Trigit’s going to strike, even though Zsinj, with his customary caution, hasn’t told us yet. If Zsinj were going in himself, we’d have to draw so many frigates, cruisers, and Star Destroyers away from other duty that Zsinj would be alerted … but, fortunately or unfortunately,
Iron Fist
isn’t joining in this mission.

“We do have a real problem, though. He told our Captain Darillian to make rendezvous with the supply ship
Hawkbat
to replenish expended fuel and supplies. And to pick up a load of surveillance satellites we can deploy at our next scheduled stop so they can acquire data on our ‘pursuers.’ He also says he wants the
Hawkbat’
s master to come over for an inspection tour of the ship and a talk with Darillian.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Kell said.

“Also, if
Night Caller
is participating in the battle at Talasea, Zsinj is probably going to expect us to field our full complement of TIE fighters. Which is supposed to be four, not two.”

“The TIE fighters are no problem,” Falynn said.
“They’re all over the galaxy. Set the Wraiths down on any planet and we can steal two and fly them back.”

“Speaking of which,” Janson said, “we have two more TIE pilots if we need them. Both Captain Hrakness and Lieutenant Tabanne are Imp Academy graduates. He’s done simulators and soloed, and she actually flew a few missions.”

Wedge tried to keep any emotion from his face. “Kills?”

“No. Only since defecting and joining the New Republic Navy.”

“Good.” One of the problems with the New Republic was that many of its pilots had literally and violently been at odds in the past. It sometimes caused trouble when a pilot now under New Republic command had shot down other New Republic pilots. But some people Wedge absolutely trusted had been Imperials: Tycho Celchu, current leader of Rogue Squadron; Hobbie Klivan, who had defected with Biggs Darklighter and the rest of the crew of the
Rand Ecliptic;
even Han Solo had been an Academy graduate and briefly an officer.

“The rendezvous is no problem,” Phanan said. At Wedge’s curious look, he said, “We simply need to get to the rendezvous site and say, Oh, no, we’re all down with the Tastiged Flu. Sure, come over. Hope you don’t mind when we have sneezing fits all over you and infect you.’ ”

Wedge shook his head. “We’re dealing with an enemy who is proficient at intelligence work. I think that a sudden inconvenient contagion would tend to alert him.”

Face smiled. It was a crooked smile better suited to a member of Black Sun, the criminal underworld of Coruscant. “What if it’s not us who gets contaminated?”

“Go on.”

“Zsinj transmitted us the
Hawkbat’
s current schedule so we could arrange a rendezvous at our mutual convenience. That means we know where they’re going to make planetfall over the next several days. We choose the planet where they’re most likely to be offering shore leave; we send the Wraiths over there; and we expose them to some sort of disease. Then it’s the
Hawkbat’
s captain who has to report we couldn’t meet physically because of an ‘inconvenient contagion.’
Zsinj can investigate all he wants … because he won’t be investigating us.”

Wedge rubbed his chin and resisted the urge to say, “That’s crazy.” Instead, he asked, “Where do we get the contaminants?”

Phanan said, “Every modern planet has a hospital, Commander. Some even have centers for disease containment. One of those would be a street market of disease for us.”

Wedge stood. “Wes, Phanan, let’s go back to my conference room and see if we can actually hammer this into a plan. The rest of you—I think a day’s rest is in order. Get some sleep.”

They broke into laughter at his words and he didn’t dare ask why.

21

As the world of Storinal grew in
Narra’
s viewscreen, the Wraiths still hadn’t finalized their plans.

There were too many unknown factors, Wedge reflected. Storinal was still under Imperial control, but at the very edge of Imperial space, and said to be leaning toward possible alliance with the New Republic or Warlord Zsinj. The Wraiths could count on running into Imps, and might run across factions of the other two groups. Possible complications there.

Exactly which disease agent they’d be using on the crew of the
Hawkbat
was an unknown. Phanan wanted to make that decision at the last minute, based on what was available on the planet’s surface and what they could find out about the crew of the
Hawkbat
. It wouldn’t do to use a biological agent that meant mild illness for most of the crew but death to others. Fortunately, many of Zsinj’s ships appeared to follow Imperial recruiting doctrine—employ no nonhumans if at all possible—which helped limit that danger.

There was the matter of stealing a pair of TIE fighters. The planet was probably swarming with them … but how good was Imperial security? The mission called for the
Wraiths to locate and select their target fighters and perform all steps of their acquisition except the actual theft … and then wait until other elements of the mission were completed before launching for space with their new acquisitions. In the middle would be a wait that could be very dangerous.

The whole mission offered little but questions at this stage.
Fortunately, it will offer nice scenery while we’re chewing the details
, Wedge decided.
Night Caller’
s library record of Storinal displayed image afer image of lushly green countryside, rivers cascading down stepped hillsides, forest-sized tropical flower gardens, and cities of graceful lines and dimensions occasionally interrupting the world’s natural vistas. The people of Storinal were said to be steeped in a philosophy of beautification that extended to their world, making it one of the most gorgeous in what was left of the Empire, and a favorite center of tourism among those who enjoy natural delights. Falynn, of course, had looked through the data and decided, “Looks humid.”

Then there was the problem of clearing customs. Were they coming down to the planet aboard a cruise vessel or as part of the crew of a large military ship, they could blend in with fair ease and be accelerated through the routine inspection offered to large, precleared groups. But they’d be arriving in a private shuttle. They’d receive close, individual inspection. Face’s plan was to make them stereotypes, types very familiar to customs officials so their inspectors would dismiss them and give them the minimum likely inspection … but that could go wrong, too.

There were even unknown factors among his own team. In the space of two days, things had shifted, changed as though a rock slide had come through. Donos was functional again. Falynn Sandskimmer was cozying up to him once more, but this time he seemed to be reciprocating the sentiment. Kell and Tyria, though they did not advertise it, made no attempt to hide the fact that they were together. Kell himself seemed looser, more at ease, his very presence no longer causing fits to Janson. All these changes seemed to be improvements, especially in light of how down the Wraiths had
been after Jesmin’s death … but Wedge was slow to embrace so many changes all at once.