Starfighters of Adumar (33 page)

The
perator
looked upon him, searching his features. Wedge wondered how long it had been since he’d seen his son—months? Years?

“You know why I’ve had you brought here,” the
perator
said.

Balass nodded.

“Will you accept?”

“If honor allows.” Balass turned to one of his guards. “But I cannot in my present state. My pistol.” He held out his hand and snapped his fingers, imperious.

The guard looked around, confused, then his gaze fell on Wedge.

Wedge nodded.

The guard pulled a small Adumari blaster pistol from beneath his coat and handed it to Balass. But the prince was not done; after he holstered the weapon, he said, “Blastsword.”

Wedge nodded again. But when the guard reached for the weapon at his side, Balass said, “And not one of your Halbegardian toys. A proper Cartann blastsword.”

Cheriss unbuckled the belt from her waist and put it around the prince. It barely fit, on the last notch, but he did not object. Cheriss stood back and away from him, her face solemn.

Balass turned again to his father. “Now I will accept.”

The
perator
nodded. “I, Pekaelic ke Teldan, renounce my claim to the throne of Cartann and all titles pertaining thereto, in favor of my eldest son, Balass ke Teldan, known these last two-and-twenty years as Balass ke Rassa.”

His son waited a beat, then said, “I, Balass ke Teldan, accept these rights and duties, and, though the circumstances be rushed and ceremony entirely absent, proclaim myself
perator
of Cartann.”

There was no applause; there were no cheers to mark the sudden transfer of power from one set of shoulders to another.

Escalion, from the flatscreen, said, “I congratulate you on your poise,
Perator
Balass. Now, can you do what
your father could not? Can you end this conflict by honorable surrender?”

Balass turned to the screen and shook his head. “No,” he said. “We remain at war.”

Wedge heard startled exclamations from the people in the hall and from both flatscreens. The Halbegardian guards in the chamber trained their weapons on the new ruler. Balass seemed unaffected by all this; he just stared into Escalion’s flatscreen, or rather to the point at the top of the screen where its flatcam was installed, and kept a slight smile, possibly a mocking one, on his face.

“You understand,” Escalion said, “you doom your nation to further punishment if you persist in this arrogance.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” Balass said. “Only substituting ‘our world’ for ‘your nation.’ Now be quiet a bit while I talk. I’ll try to make you understand.”

Balass paced, talking as he did so, turning from time to time so that he divided his attention between the dignitaries on the two flatscreens and those standing before him. “You lot seem to have concentrated so hard on the tactical situation before you that you have forgotten the strategic. Whether I surrender or not, the Empire knows Adumar will not be allying itself with them willingly. Indeed, I’m told that their giant ship has already left orbit … not a good sign for us.

“If I surrender, the New Republic cannot bring in ships to aid us in the conflict yet to come. Well, they can eventually. But they can bring in no more ships except under flags of truce with us or flags of war against us. And we cannot offer flags of truce as a united world until all ramifications of Cartann’s surrender are explored. Which of Cartann’s protectorates will splinter away and declare independence? Which will cling to Cartann and transfer loyalty to the united Adumari force you represent? These questions will take time to resolve.”

Men and women, a few of them, were now nodding on the flatscreen that was broken into multiple images.

Balass continued, “But if I do not surrender—if you, the united Adumari coalition, accept at this moment my offer of truce without repercussion for our recent battles—then Cartann can join your union as an equal partner. Now, instantly, with terms to follow when we have time for negotiations. I can cast the votes of Cartann’s protectorates, then free those nations when we have the luxury of time. Lords and ladies, if you abandon your grudge against Cartann, if you consider the old Cartann to have departed with my father’s abdication and a new one to stand before you, we can forge a world union, in tentative form at least,
in minutes
. Or you can have your revenge and watch our world fall.

“Now, it is time for you to decide.” He turned to face the many-faceted flatscreen, his hands on his hips, his expression imperious.

Wedge suppressed a whistle. If Balass pulled this off, he’d save his nation any number of troubles—years or decades of reparation payments, the perceived dishonor of wartime surrender, and much more. Wedge had seldom seen a leader take such a hurdle within seconds of accepting his position.

The figures on the flatscreens began talking with one another, their voices not broadcast over the speakers. One by one, the images of distant courtrooms and planning chambers winked down to neutral gray.

“We’re going to do it,” Tomer said. “He has them by the power cables. They have to accept. We’re going to win.”

“Yes, we are.” Wedge smiled at him. It was easy to do so. All he had to do was imagine the man’s fate.

“I was delighted when I heard that you and your pilots had survived the gauntlet, and then the rumors that you’d made it outside Cartann …”

“I imagine you were.”

“And this raid!” Tomer gestured expansively. “More successful than you imagined, I’ll bet.”

“No, it’s right on the money so far. But give it time. I predict that it will get even better.”

Tomer’s expression lost some of its glee, becoming more uncertain. “How so?”

The two flatscreens flashed back into activity. As before, Escalion of Yedagon dominated one of them, and it was he who spoke. “
Perator
Balass, much as we think Cartann should shoulder the major share of loss for the brief war we have suffered, you are correct. Everyone’s circumstances have changed, and no one has time for even the most honorable prosecution. We offer Cartann a seat, a full vote, a full voice in what we now call the Adumari Union.”

“I accept.” Balass bowed to Escalion, then turned and bowed to the viewers on the other flatscreen. “Who will speak for us to the New Republic?”

Escalion said, “I think we would accept none other than General Antilles.”

Wedge cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Your elected speaker will be talking with
me
. I still have my duties as ambassador of the New Republic.”

“Then we will choose from among ourselves,” Escalion said.

As the
perators
and their advisors from around Adumar began a spirited—and, Wedge hoped, brief—discussion, Wedge turned to Tomer. “Tycho?”

Wedge drew his blaster, put its point up under Tomer’s chin. Tycho drew in the same moment, putting his barrel to Tomer’s left eye; the diplomat had to close his eye to keep it from being hurt.

“What is this?” Tomer asked. His tone was calm, even unconcerned. Wedge was impressed with his poise.

“It’s time for you to call
Allegiance
and tell them to acknowledge and accept transmissions from all New Republic personnel and citizens on the ground,” Wedge said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“And if you don’t do it, we’re going to hand you over to these Halbegardian guards. They’ll conduct you back to Halbegardia or the Yedagon Confederacy. They’ll put you on trial as a war criminal based on what I have to tell them about your interaction with Pekaelic. I doubt you can expect much mercy at their hands. On the other hand, comply and I’ll turn you over to the New Republic for prosecution. Assuming neither Tycho nor I has a spasm and blows your head off.”

Tomer heaved a sigh. “I admit nothing,” he said. But he drew out a comlink. “Tomer Darpen to
Allegiance
, come in.”

There was no answer. Tomer shrugged, an “I told you so” expression.

Wedge smiled at him. “Repeat after me.
‘En-Are-Eye-One to
Allegiance.
Over
.’ ”

Tomer looked at him, expressionless, his one open eye flickering as if reading through a list of hints to find the one that would get him out of this situation. Finally he said, “En-Are-Eye-One to
Allegiance
. Over.”

“Allegiance
to En-Are-Eye-One, we read you.”

Wedge just stared.

“I rescind the order concerning communications from the ground. You are authorized to respond to transmissions from Adumar.”

“Rescind the comm blackout as well,” Wedge said.

Tomer sighed. “Likewise, I rescind
Allegiance
’s hypercomm restrictions.” He covered the microphone with his hand. “Is that all? Or should I have them send down a meal?”

“That’s all.”

Tomer removed his hand. “Acknowledge, please.”

The distant comm officer said,
“Allegiance
acknowledges. Captain Salaban would like to talk to you.”

Wedge took the comlink from Tomer’s hand and gave it to Tycho. “Colonel Celchu, do me a favor and arrange
for this prisoner to be transported to
Allegiance
. Inform the
Allegiance
of our situation and have Salaban stand by to communicate by hypercomm with the Fleet Command and General Cracken. Then give those two parties a quick report.”

“Will do. What are you up to?”

“I’m going for a walk.” Wedge gestured all around. “I’m sick of this place.” He gave Tomer one last look. “You should have taken your chances with Adumari justice.”

Tomer just stared, impassive.

On the palace steps, Wedge found Admiral Rogriss being escorted between two Halbegardian guards. Sniper fire from the near balconies was all but over.

Wedge dismissed the guards and gave the older man a salute. “Admiral. Good to see you. How are you?”

Rogriss gave him a slow shake of the head. “How can anyone be when his career has just been vaporized?”

“Meaning that
Agonizer
has left system without sending its holocomm message.”

Rogriss nodded. “The holocomm is shut down and sealed tight. It can only be opened by my voice … or by the security codes of a superior officer. Which it won’t reach for another three days or so.”

“Will that matter? I mean, Imperial Intelligence could have a team on-planet, with its own holocomm unit …”

Rogriss shook his head. “Intelligence does have a team here. Good luck finding them; I won’t tell you how. But they don’t have a holocomm. You have the time you wanted … at the expense of my career.”

Wedge offered his hand. “For what it’s worth, you have my respect.”

Rogriss took it. “You’ll still get word to my children?”

“Yes.”

“Even if General Phennir shoots you down when the Imperial forces return?”

“So he did survive … Yes, even then. First thing, I’ll put together some orders concerning you that will be carried out in case of my death.”

“And even if I don’t come over to the New Republic?”

“Where would you go instead?”

Rogriss looked around. “I’ve spent considerable time lately planning how I was going to exploit the Adumari military weaknesses. Perhaps I can now show the Adumari where those weaknesses are, how to put armor over them. Perhaps they’d offer me a position here where I could do so.”

“I imagine they would. Either way, I’ll arrange to get word to your children.”

“Thank you.”

14

Wedge stood at the edge of the magcon field separating the atmosphere of
Allegiance
’s main starfighter bay from the vacuum of space beyond. Below, he could see
Mon Casima
, the Mon Calamari cruiser now assigned to the Adumar operation, less than two kilometers below. Other New Republic ships were out there, not visible to him but on-station—frigates, corvettes, aging cruisers that had once served the Empire or even the old Republic before it, as big a fleet as the New Republic could spare and assemble on such short notice. Not even
Lusankya
, the flagship—and sometimes only ship—of the task force Wedge normally commanded, would be present; in his absence, it had been dispatched on other duties.

The air was cold, as was common with starfighter bays in space; magcon fields were not good at retaining heat. The piercing noises of repulsorlifts being brought on-line cut through him, and the sound of engines being tested vibrated him to the bone.

To Wedge, it was almost like being at home.

Almost. From now on, he knew, home would be
where he and Iella chose to be together—quarters on Coruscant with its overwhelming press of population, a small house on some grassy patch on an insignificant colony world, even Corellia, someday, if things changed in the way that system was governed.

But that was a problem to solve tomorrow or the day after that. For now, there was Adumar.

Cartann City and a number of smaller metropolises had been seriously damaged during the Adumari Union raid. Hundreds of Blades and other vehicles on both sides had been lost, and many brave pilots. Wedge had been sorry to hear that Liak ke Mattino, captain of Strike the Moons Flightknife, who had risked his
perator
’s displeasure to give Red Flight a chance at escape, was among the dead, as were many of the pilots Wedge had trained against in the days before the outbreak of war.

The former
perator
was now hidden away on an estate somewhere within Cartann’s borders, formally protected by his son from prosecution at the hands of the Adumari Union Council. Many of the world’s other
perators
had protested, but Balass ke Teldan had stood fast by the terms he demanded for Cartann’s peaceful and quick admission into the union, so it appeared that Pekaelic would avoid prosecution for his poor judgment and autocratic politics.

That would not be the case with Tomer Darpen. The onetime regional head of New Republic Intelligence was safely locked away in prison quarters, plotting his trial defense, blissfully unaware of the recording Hallis had made of the conversation that would doom him.