Wedge's Gamble (14 page)

“If you need someone to do the hauling, I’m in, free of charge.”

Corran smiled. “But we won’t tell your father you’re working with a Horn on such a thing.”

“No, I like him alive too much to shock him with that news.” Mirax laughed a bit. “Has the food here on Noquivzor gotten any better than the last time I was here?”

“It actually has. Lots of good things were shipped in for a meeting here last month and Admiral Ackbar left the surplus here. I think Emtrey has traded some of it
away, but there are still some surprises. Want to get something to eat?”

“Please.”

They headed off toward the central corridor that eventually sent a branch running down to the mess hall. As they walked along Mirax related some of the odder antics of her Sullustan pilot and his bride to be. The stories were funny, and Corran laughed in all the appropriate places, but he was laughing because of more than the humor in the stories. He realized that with Mirax he felt very much at ease, providing one more reason why he found her attractive.

He knew he wasn’t in love with her, but he knew himself well enough that he’d be poised at the top of that very slippery slope if he just let himself go. Falling in love, for him, had never been one of those one-look-and-passion-ignites things. When that happened to him he knew it was lust, pure and simple. While Mirax was pretty enough to inspire lust, Corran knew things that burned hot burned out fast, and he’d been raised to think relationships should be stable, not supernova events that collapse into an emotional black hole.

The fact was that his father’s murder had cut him adrift emotionally. While he was still with CorSec he had Gil and Iella keeping him pointed in the right direction, but he had only made one new friend during that time, and she left after six months. Then, on the run, he couldn’t get close to people for fear of being unmasked and turned over to Imperial authorities. Even when he joined the Rebellion and applied for admittance to Rogue Squadron, the fierce competition with other pilots to get accepted created a wall. Lujayne Forge had made the first big breech in it, then others exploited that breech and helped him get used to being with people and trusting them again.

“Corran.”

Both he and Mirax stopped at the high-pitched squeal of his name. They turned back as a tall, blocky Gand came down the corridor from behind them. The Gand’s
exoskeleton appeared uniform in color except where shadows edged the plates and on his right forearm and hand. There the exoskeleton was much more pale and even chalky. The latter half of the limb matched the left one in length, but was not quite as big around.

Corran pointed at his right arm. “They removed the bacta capsule.”

“Yes. Ooryl is most pleased.” The Gand forced inflections into his Basic, mostly at the right places, and added volume to emphasize his pleasure. Two months before, at the first battle for Borleias, Ooryl Qrygg had been shot out of his X-wing and had lost his right forearm in the process. By circulating bacta through a capsule, Rebel medics had been able to speed up the Gand’s rather remarkable regenerative abilities—abilities no one in the Alliance had known Gands possessed.

Ooryl flexed his three-fingered hand. “Once the carapace hardens, Ooryl will be fit enough to be your wing-Gand again.”

“I can’t wait. Trying to keep up with Captain Nunb is tough. She’s good enough she could fly through a nova and her ship would stay dark.”

Mirax smiled. “We’re going to get food. Do you want to join us?”

“Ooryl would be pleased, but Ooryl was sent by Commander Antilles.” Armored lids flicked down over the Gand’s multifaceted ebon eyes and back up again. “He wants to see you, Corran.”

“Why would he want to see me?” Corran couldn’t remember having done anything unusual.
I hope Emtrey doesn’t have Whistler slicing some files for him
.

Mirax tugged on Corran’s hand. “Let’s go and get this over with. I can say hi to Wedge, then we can get some food.”

Ooryl laid his left hand gently on Mirax’s forearm. “Qrygg regrets to tell you that Commander Antilles said this is official business. The Commander knew you would be together—Ooryl was sent first to your ship—and he
wants Corran to go alone. Commander Antilles said he would see you later and explain everything.”

“If it’s official, it’s official.” She shrugged and let Corran’s hand go. “I’m still going to get some food. I’ll eat slowly, so if you get done fast, find me.”

“I will.”

Mirax looked at Ooryl. “You are still more than welcome to join me.”

“Ooryl is honored.”

“Good, I like having company, and since you share a room with Corran, you can tell me all sorts of embarrassing things about him.” She slipped her right arm through the crook of his left and winked at Corran. “Take your time with Wedge. I’ll be well taken care of.”

Corran laughed, more at Ooryl’s discomfiture than her remark. “Have fun—the fun I can bet I won’t be having.”

Corran walked past Emtrey and into the office space Wedge had been given on the unit’s return to Noquivzor. The room, which was not really that big, seemed far too large to suit Wedge. Other officers would have had the walls lined with holograms and the shelves packed with trophies from their various adventures. Aside from a few holograms of his dead parents and of him posing with squadron mates, Wedge didn’t have much reflective of his time with the Rebellion.

Wedge pointed Corran to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “Be seated. This won’t take long, but it means some changes that are going to require some action on your part—both of your parts.”

By way of his statement Wedge included the woman seated in the other chair. Erisi Dlarit had been another of the recruits that had joined Rogue Squadron at the time Corran did. She wore her black hair cut short and tight against the back of her neck. She had blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires and an elegant beauty that definitely made her prettier than Mirax. Erisi, having been raised
among the privileged humans on Thyferra, had benefited greatly from the riches her kith and kin made from the bacta cartel. Mirax had referred to Erisi more than once as “the bacta queen” and Corran thought the remark was uttered with an equal mix of envy and disgust in Mirax’s voice.

Though Mirax would deny any of the envy
. Corran slipped into the seat and smiled at Erisi. “This should be interesting.”

“Indeed. We finally get to fly together.”

Wedge cleared his throat. “Emtrey will be giving you access codes for some datafiles. They include a self-extracting virus that will destroy the data once it has been viewed. Read carefully and memorize the points about initial contact.”

Corran’s mind flashed back to the sort of briefings Gil Bastra used to give him and Iella before they started on an undercover assignment. “You’re not preparing us for some escort run, are you?”

“No.” Wedge looked down at his desk, then back up again. “For a variety of reasons the Provisional Council has decided the New Republic needs to take Coruscant. To be able to do that we need reliable data on the defenses and the locations of tactical targets. Someone has to get that information and you’re it.”

“Us?”

Erisi looked as surprised as Corran. “Commander, there is no way the two of us can do that job alone, even
if
we have help from forces already there.” Her blue eyes shrank to slits. “We’re
all
going in, aren’t we?”

“That’s an assumption that I’m not at liberty to confirm or deny, Lieutenant Dlarit.” The Commander shook his head. “You both know how a cell system works—no one is allowed to know about more than their portion of the network. What you don’t know will keep others safe.”

“Who do we report to?”

“All that will be in your briefing file—even I do not know what your cover will be or what your travel arrangements
will be and I doubt sincerely I’ll have a way to contact you.”

“You’ll be going, though, won’t you?” Erisi frowned. “It only makes sense they would send all of us, not just two.”

Wedge shook his head. “What makes sense to General Cracken is its own subset of reality. He says the precautions are necessary. It’s all to keep you safe.”

Corran scowled. “Since when was ‘isolated’ made a synonym for ‘safe’?”

Erisi patted his left hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll be with me.”

“That’s something.” Corran flashed her a smile. “How long before we head out, Commander?”

“You’re off as soon as you leave this office. The
Forbidden
is waiting for you.”

“Is Tycho flying us to wherever?”

“No. General Cracken has one of his people in command.”

Corran nodded slowly.
The operation is sensitive enough that they don’t want to trust him with a part of it
. “If you can, say good-bye to him for me. And goodbye to Mirax, too.”

“Will do.” Wedge folded his arms. “One last thing—and this is awkward—we need your permission to have Emtrey transfer money out of your personal accounts, slice it through some cutouts, and funnel it into the accounts you’ll be using on Coruscant.”

Corran laughed. “Get receipt bytes and we’ll be reimbursed?”

Wedge chuckled right along with the two of them. “It’s not enough they want our bodies, but they want us to finance the war. I understand there is a budget for this operation, but I know it’s not going to be enough. If things go wrong, having the extra credits available …”

“I’ve had practical experience in this area, and I’d not care to relive it. I’ve got ten you can have.”

Erisi looked at Corran, then up at Wedge. “Is ten enough?”

Corran smiled at her. “Ten thousand is what I meant.”

“Oh, I meant ten million.” She batted her eyes. “Is that enough?”

Wedge coughed into his fist. “I think it will do.”

“Yeah, being able to buy a whole wing of snubfighters could be handy in a pinch.” Corran shook his head. “Do we have to come back after this operation?”

“Have to? I don’t know, but I certainly hope you are able to.” Wedge came around from behind the desk and offered Corran his hand. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, sir.” Corran shook Wedge’s hand. “As much as we need, and then some.”

14

I guess now is the time we will see if this disguise really works or not
. Wedge sat back in the starliner’s plush seat, barely glancing at the screen built into the rear of the seat in front of him. On it played little holographic reports about the nature of the Rebellion and the war being fought against it by the Empire. The gist of the reports was to suggest that the battle with Palpatine’s murderers was going well and justice was being restored to the galaxy as victory after victory over the treasonous Rebels was gained.

Wedge, disguised as he was, presented an argument that belied the Empire’s propaganda efforts. A metal mask covered his forehead, right eye, and cheek on down to the edge of his jaw. Part of the mask continued on past his right ear, flattening it utterly, and on back to the rear of his skull. Another piece curled down along his jaw and wrapped around his throat. A round lens set in place over his right eye enlarged it and made it very easy to see how blue the contact lens he had on was.

Surface pressure kept the mask in place, making it decidedly uncomfortable to wear. It also made the rounded edge on his face dig sufficiently into his skin to appear as
if the metal had replaced flesh on that side of his face. The mask also unbalanced his head enough that his neck hurt too much to hold his head straight all the time. As a result he let his head loll to the right for the most part, and that added to his disguise.

The Customs official who had come aboard right after the Dairkan Starliner
Jewel of Churba
entered the Coruscant system stopped in the aisle opposite him. “I need to see your identification.”

Wedge slid an identification card from inside the breast of his black Imperial uniform. He used his right hand that had been encased in black leather. The glove did little to hide the blocky, angular nature of the hand, though even if it had been smooth, the fact that it consisted of two thick fingers and a thumb would have given the Customs man the idea something was wrong. Gentle whirring sounds emanated from the glove as Wedge’s fingers tightened on the card and his wrist rotated to hand the card over to the official.

“Here you are, sir.” Wedge’s words came in a buzzing croak, half because of the pressure on his larynx and half because of the voice modulator built into the mask.

The Customs official gave the ID card only a cursory glance before he swiped it through a slot on his datapad. “Colonel Antar Roat …”

“Ro-at.”

“What?”

“My name is pronounced Ro-at.” The buzz made the words all but unintelligible, though the emphasis he placed on them appeared to get through to the Customs official.

“Pardon, sir. Colonel Ro-at. You are bound for Imperial Center for reconstr … yes, of course.” The man’s voice trailed off. “Everything seems in order here, Colonel.”

Wedge raised his hand to take the card back, but did not let his claw close on it yet. “Are you certain? My baggage is in my sleeping berth.”

“Yes, I am certain.” The man impatiently tapped the card against Wedge’s thumb.

“I understand the need for security, sir.”

“I’m certain, sir.”

“If you have trouble, I will help.” Wedge let his voice fall to a whisper, as if suddenly overcome with fatigue. His head dipped slightly at the same time, then he brought it back up. “I will help.”

The Customs man nodded. “I will remember that, Colonel.”

Wedge took the card and fumbled a couple of times before he slid it home again. “I live to serve.”

The Customs man moved on, mumbling under his breath. “You’re dead and still serving. The Emdee-fours should have let you die.”

Wedge would have missed the remark, but the hearing enhancement built into the mask and fed into his right ear allowed him to catch it. He killed the smile the comment threatened to produce because he knew Colonel Antar Roat would find little in life that was funny.
And getting caught by Customs as I try to land on Coruscant would not be funny at all
.