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Authors: Aaron Allston
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means everybody. When I gesture with one hand, it means just the pilots. Will that work?”
They nodded.
Wedge gestured with one hand. Reluctance evident on their faces, the two of them backed off and hovered a few meters away at the edges of the crowd.
“What’s up?” Tycho asked.
“I’m going to allow Cheriss to put on whatever show it was she was talking about. I’m going to pay a lot of attention to it.”
Tycho offered a confused frown. “Why?”
“Because the hangers-on seem mostly to be concentrating on me right now. If I do this, it’ll give you some freedom to act.” Wedge turned to Janson. “Wes, at exactly ninety degrees to your right, about twelve meters, there’s a table with a woman at it.”
“Oh, good.”
“I want you to wait until the crowd is on me and Cheriss’s demonstration. Then break free and approachher. Tycho, Hobbie, make sure his actions aren’t being noticed. If they are, give him a double-click on the comlink to warn him off.”
Janson smiled. “Thanks, Wedge, for looking after me. You know, you’re one of the most considerate commanders, not like Tycho here—”
“Wes, she’s Iella Wessiri.”
Janson’s eyes widened. “What?”
Iella Wessiri was a New Republic Intelligence agent, a former partner and long-time friend of Rogue Squadron member Corran Horn. She had been very helpful to the Rogues during the taking of the world Coruscant from the Empire. Her husband Diric, an unwilling traitor brainwashed by Imperial Intelligence head Ysanne Isard, had died during those events. Corran and Wedge had both helped her through the trying times to follow, and Wedge had eventually grown interested in her himself, until things had conspired to separate them for good. His career. Hers. Ultimately, his relationship with Qwi Xux. After that began, he’d almost never run into Iella.
“If it’s really her,” Wedge continued, “she’s probably here on an Intelligence assignment. Don’t do anything to blow her cover—just be your usual obnoxious self and let her shoot you down.”
“I resent the implication that she would. That any woman would.”
“But suggest to her that your commander finds her interesting and would like to see her at some time. I’d like to know what she’s up to. Whether she’s here to support us. Whether we can help her. That sort of thing.”
Janson nodded. “Understood. And if it’s not actually Iella?”
“You’re on your own.”
Janson’s grin returned.
• • •
Wedge spoke to Cheriss, and she spoke to some sort of functionary, and moments later that man drew a blastsword. He thumbed it on and waved it in a circle over his head. Wherever the tip moved through the air, it traced a glowing yellow line, so his motion created a shining circle above him. As soon as he ceased his motion, it began to fade.
This attracted the attention of the crowd and conversation quelled. “We have a non-title ground challenge,” he said. “Lord Pilot Depird ke Fanax challenges Cartann Ground Champion Cheriss ke Hanadi, vengeance for her defeat of Jeapird ke Fanax at the last championship.”
There was applause from the crowd, which withdrew from the speaker, forming an open circle in the middle of the chamber.
Wedge turned to Tomer. “Wait, wait. I thought she was going to put on some sort of show or demonstration.”
Tomer’s expression was serious. “She is. To entertain you, she offered to accept a combat challenge. As the ground champion, she receives a lot of them. And you told her to go ahead.”
“I didn’t know that’s what she meant. I’m putting a stop to this.” Wedge took a step forward, but Tomer’s hand fell on his shoulder and restrained him.
“Don’t,” Tomer said. His voice was a plea. “It’s too late. The challenge was accepted. You’re out of the loop. All you can do now is embarrass Cheriss and look like an idiot—you’ll be demonstrating weakness.”
Wedge glared, then fell back.
They nodded.
Wedge gestured with one hand. Reluctance evident on their faces, the two of them backed off and hovered a few meters away at the edges of the crowd.
“What’s up?” Tycho asked.
“I’m going to allow Cheriss to put on whatever show it was she was talking about. I’m going to pay a lot of attention to it.”
Tycho offered a confused frown. “Why?”
“Because the hangers-on seem mostly to be concentrating on me right now. If I do this, it’ll give you some freedom to act.” Wedge turned to Janson. “Wes, at exactly ninety degrees to your right, about twelve meters, there’s a table with a woman at it.”
“Oh, good.”
“I want you to wait until the crowd is on me and Cheriss’s demonstration. Then break free and approachher. Tycho, Hobbie, make sure his actions aren’t being noticed. If they are, give him a double-click on the comlink to warn him off.”
Janson smiled. “Thanks, Wedge, for looking after me. You know, you’re one of the most considerate commanders, not like Tycho here—”
“Wes, she’s Iella Wessiri.”
Janson’s eyes widened. “What?”
Iella Wessiri was a New Republic Intelligence agent, a former partner and long-time friend of Rogue Squadron member Corran Horn. She had been very helpful to the Rogues during the taking of the world Coruscant from the Empire. Her husband Diric, an unwilling traitor brainwashed by Imperial Intelligence head Ysanne Isard, had died during those events. Corran and Wedge had both helped her through the trying times to follow, and Wedge had eventually grown interested in her himself, until things had conspired to separate them for good. His career. Hers. Ultimately, his relationship with Qwi Xux. After that began, he’d almost never run into Iella.
“If it’s really her,” Wedge continued, “she’s probably here on an Intelligence assignment. Don’t do anything to blow her cover—just be your usual obnoxious self and let her shoot you down.”
“I resent the implication that she would. That any woman would.”
“But suggest to her that your commander finds her interesting and would like to see her at some time. I’d like to know what she’s up to. Whether she’s here to support us. Whether we can help her. That sort of thing.”
Janson nodded. “Understood. And if it’s not actually Iella?”
“You’re on your own.”
Janson’s grin returned.
• • •
Wedge spoke to Cheriss, and she spoke to some sort of functionary, and moments later that man drew a blastsword. He thumbed it on and waved it in a circle over his head. Wherever the tip moved through the air, it traced a glowing yellow line, so his motion created a shining circle above him. As soon as he ceased his motion, it began to fade.
This attracted the attention of the crowd and conversation quelled. “We have a non-title ground challenge,” he said. “Lord Pilot Depird ke Fanax challenges Cartann Ground Champion Cheriss ke Hanadi, vengeance for her defeat of Jeapird ke Fanax at the last championship.”
There was applause from the crowd, which withdrew from the speaker, forming an open circle in the middle of the chamber.
Wedge turned to Tomer. “Wait, wait. I thought she was going to put on some sort of show or demonstration.”
Tomer’s expression was serious. “She is. To entertain you, she offered to accept a combat challenge. As the ground champion, she receives a lot of them. And you told her to go ahead.”
“I didn’t know that’s what she meant. I’m putting a stop to this.” Wedge took a step forward, but Tomer’s hand fell on his shoulder and restrained him.
“Don’t,” Tomer said. His voice was a plea. “It’s too late. The challenge was accepted. You’re out of the loop. All you can do now is embarrass Cheriss and look like an idiot—you’ll be demonstrating weakness.”
Wedge glared, then fell back.
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