X-Wing: Knights of Plooma Chapter 7

[jedimara77]

CHAPTER 7

"You know, we should go on vacation," Wes mused aloud. "When was the last time we took some time off?"

Tycho looked over his shoulder, cocking a brow. "Six months ago. It ended with you, me, Hobbie, and Wedge in a holding cell. Winter and Iella had to post bail for us, which is why I'm under strict orders from my better half never to seek recreational pursuits with you again."

"Why did you get married, Tycho? You used to be so much more fun."

Rolling his eyes, Tycho returned his attention to the macrobinoculars in his hand, peering out into the distance at a mining site. There didn't appear to be too much traffic. Some individuals milled about on foot while material was loaded into large cargo speeders. Frowning to himself, he adjusted the sights and zoomed in on the several of the vehicles on the perimeter. Once again, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He was beginning to wonder if Karrde's information was right.

"Well that's odd," Wes muttered.

"I told you to lay off those ration bars," Tycho replied. "Those things are Clone Wars era."

"No, not that, though I appreciate your concern for my gastrointestinal functions. Take a look about a half-kilometer due east."

Shifting a bit (and doing his best to ignore the chunks of gravel he was laying on), Tycho scanned eastward. Nestled atop a small hill was a Lambda-class shuttle. On most worlds, that wouldn't have been cause for alarm. Unfortunately, Plooma wasn't most worlds. It was a backwater planet with little in the way of credits, which made the sight of a rather expensive, military grade transport all the more surprising. Ships like this were usually in the hands of governments with very deep pockets, and Tycho could only think of two in the Galaxy that could afford them: the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant.

"Just to confirm," Tycho said quietly, "we're the only Republic presence here on Plooma, yes?"

"As far as I know, that's correct," Wes responded.

"So if you and I were to wager a guess, would it be safe to say that's probably a Remnant shuttle?"

"Seems like a plausible explanation to me."

Rising to his knees, Tycho returned the macrobinoculars to his belt. "We need to get back to the safehouse and tell Wedge about-"

"What do you two think you're doing?" a rather gruff voice said from behind him.

Slowly turning to face the guard standing behind him, Tycho flashed the most diplomatic smile he could muster. "Is there a problem?"

"You're in a restricted area," the guard said.

"Restricted area?" Wes interjected. "Do you know who we are, son?"

The guard only offered an stare devoid of amusement.

"We're inspectors from the capital city," Wes responded with all the confidence in the Galaxy.

"We're not due for an inspection."

"It's a surprise inspection," Wes said. "You know, one without any warning. Need to see how you all are running things out here."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "Let me see your identification."

Tycho winced and offered a sideways glance towards Wes. As near as he figured, they had two options. The first was to talk their way out of this mess. The second was to take a more forceful approach to diffusing the situation. The path they would take, of course, depended on the guard's next action. If he seemed willing to talk, perhaps they could get away without too much excitement. On the other hand, if he wasn't in the mood for conversation...

"I'm calling my supervisor," the guard said, reaching into his pocket to fish out a comlink.

"Wes," Tycho muttered through the side of his mouth.

"On it," Wes replied.

Before the guard could thumb on the comlink, Wes delivered a vicious right hook followed by a left jab to the ribs. The guard stumbled backwards, but was only momentarily fazed. The guard straightened, and it was then Tycho noticed that the man was a good half-meter taller than either himself or Wes. Perhaps he had abandoned the diplomatic approach a touch too quickly. Glaring, the guard stooped down and grabbed Wes by the collar of his jacket, lifting him off the ground. He then brought his right hand back and clenched it into a fist.

"Tycho!" Wes said, his eyes wide.

"On it," Tycho replied, hastily pulling his blaster out of its holster and fumbling to switch the fire setting to stun.

Two things occured nearly simultaneously. The first was the sound of fist-on-flesh, accompanied by Wes's muffled cry of agony. A split-second later, Tycho's blaster went off, catching the guard square on the hip. The large man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and, at the same moment, he released his hold on Wes. The two fell to the ground in a heap.

"We're going to have to haul him back with us," Tycho mused aloud. "Are you okay?"

Wes hands covered his face, a trickle of blood dripping between them. "I fink he bwoke mah nothe."

"He what?"

"I fink he bwoke mah nothe!"

"I'm sorry, come again, Wes?"

"I hathe yoo tho muth."

"Really, you need to enunciate."

"Go kwiff yoothef."

Wedge was exhausted.

Climbing out of his X-Wing, he could feel every minute that he had spent in those cramped confines. His patrol was finished, but his day wasn't quite over yet. He nodded towards Lieutenant Soldam and Flight Officer Rusarian, the next Rogues on the duty rotation. They appeared to be just as weary as he felt. Heaving a sigh, Wedge made his way towards the safehouse, thankful to be inside and out of the blistering Ploomian sun.

He was greeted by Captain Forge and a steaming mug of caf. "Welcome back, General."

"Forge," Wedge said, "you are a life saver. Are the others here?"

"Our favorite diplomats arrived just a few minutes ago and are waiting in the briefing room. Tycho and Wes are there as well, so I do believe they are ready to go."

"Best news I've heard all day," Wedge said, dismissing Forge and continuing down the hallway.

Wedge took a sip from his mug, savoring the taste of the bitter but consciousness-promoting drink. What should have been a blue milk run that provided ample opportunities for regular sleep had turned into a logistical nightmare. He and his pilots were pulling long hours on patrols, scanning the space around Plooma for any signs of hostile activity. Sensors had yet to pick up any definitive visual sightings of enemy starships, but they had come across more signs of ionization signatures typical of Imperial starfighters.

Ideally, Wedge would be in bed by this point. He had just wrapped up a rather grueling six hour patrol on top of a twelve hour shift monitoring the security feeds. Ever since Karrde had thrown out the suggestion that the Imperial Remnant might be around, Wedge had been running on little more than a trace amount of sleep and a good dose of adrenaline. Unfortunately, one could only go so long in such conditions. He figured he could hold out a few more days, but he was already looking forward to even a few hours of rack time.

That's why Wedge did his best to hide the disappointment he felt when Tycho called for a short-notice debriefing. There wasn't even time to strip out of his flightsuit and change. Wedge made his way to the safehouses's briefing room, extricating himself from the top-half of his orange pressure suit and awkwardly attempting to tie the sleeves around his waist while balancing his half-full mug of caf. As he walked into the room, he was greeted by the sight of Tycho and Wes. He debated asking why Wes had a cold pack on his nose, but thought better of it. At the opposite end of the room sat Hobbie, busying himself with a datapad and appearing to do his best to ignore Luke and Mara. Wedge couldn't help but notice that Mara seemed a little more flustered than usual while Luke somehow appeared more calm.

He definitely didn't want to know what that meant.

"Let's make this quick," Wedge said. "I've got a date with a rickety cot and a worn pillow."

Wes pulled the cold compress off his face. "We foun a thuttle ah thah mining thithe."

Wedge looked to Tycho. "What?"

"He got into a scuffle, broke his nose," Tycho said, patting Wes on the shoulder. "What he was trying to tell you was that we found a Lambda-class shuttle at the mining site."

"I'm guessing it wasn't Ploomian."

From behind Wedge, Karrde entered the briefing room and spoke up. "Safe assumption. I just did a bit of digging and Ploomian Security-"

"PloSec!" Corran interjected.

"-doesn't have anything on record matching that designation. Near as I can tell, that ship was either Republic or Imperial Remnant. Unless you boys didn't tell me about an additional presence from your people here..."

"It's just us," Wedge confirmed. "Which means that shuttle probably came from our old bucketheaded friends."

"Fantastic," Mara said. "Why did I let you talk me into this, Corran? I didn't sign up to tango with the Remnant."

"Lightsaber incident," Corran coughed into his hand, eliciting a sharp glare from Mara.

Luke glanced curiously at his wife for two weeks. "Lightsaber incident?" he asked.

If looks could kill, Wedge was certain that Corran and Luke would be very dead men. He raised a hand to gather everyone's attention. "I think we can all agree that things have just gotten quite a bit more complicated. I'm tempted to send a few of my pilots to shadow the four of you for security purposes, but I don't want to let on that we suspect something, just in case we're being monitored. Karrde, is there anything else you can give us?"

The information broker shook his head. "Not right now. I might have more on this world than NRI, but let's be honest. There hasn't been much of a reason to scout Plooma out. If I had a more detailed sensor sweep I might be able to piece something together."

"I think I can provide that," Wedge said, rubbing his chin. "Last I checked the Wraiths were nearby. I'm going to put in a call to Face Loran and see if he can bring one of his new toys by."

Hobbie looked up from his datapad. "You're bringing the Wraiths in? Oh Force. It's gotten worse."

"I'm not bringing all of them in," Wedge replied. "Just enough to do a little bit of grunt work for us. Anything else you need to bring to our attention, Tycho?"

The Alderaanian shook his head. "That's it. I merely wanted to get us all here to lay out what we're looking at. Keep your eyes peeled, everyone."

After another long day examining and studying the data in Plooma’s vast historical archives, Luke had extended an invitation to Fiolla to have dinner with him and Corran. The young historian had nearly jumped out of her skin, finally managing to squeak out, “Yes, of course!,” in reply. The group had made plans to meet at the hotel’s cantina at 1900 hours.

For some reason, Luke had asked Corran to forego his Jedi robes and wear civilian clothes to dinner-something about wanting to show Fiolla that the Jedi were normal people. Corran had begrudgingly agreed, fondly remembering all those free drinks he had received his first night on Plooma. Not that it mattered, he realized; he somehow got the feeling that Luke wouldn't let them use their Jedi status to their advantage and accept free drinks.

When they had arrived at the cantina, Corran had noticed that Fiolla looked somewhat disappointed with their appearance, but her disappointment quickly disappeared and she soon began badgering Luke with questions about what it was like to be a Jedi and how he helped defeat the Empire and what his plans were for the future of the Jedi Order. Luke fielded her questions with true Jedi Master patience, although Corran could sense that Fiolla's unabashed admiration was once again starting to bother him.

Eventually Fiolla had turned her attention to Corran, asking about his past in CorSec and Rogue Squadron and how he had come to be a Jedi Knight. Of course she had already memorized the entire story, but Corran still answered her questions with the theatrics of a holostar.

Now Fiolla’s good cheer began to slowly disappear, and she played with the straw in her drink while she avoided Corran’s eyes. “I apologize, Jedi Horn…I hope that I am not being presumptuous, but I must ask.”

Corran motioned for her to continue. “Go ahead, Fiolla.”

“I was wondering…you are obviously a very powerful Jedi. Why are you not teaching at Master Skywalker’s praxeum, or serving his order on a permanent basis? Surely the galaxy needs more Jedi Knights than pilots?”

Corran grinned and leaned back in his chair. “You’d think that, but you’ve obviously never seen me fly.”

Fiolla tilted her head. “I'm sorry, I do not understand.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “What Corran means, is that right now he can best fight the Empire by continuing to fly starfighters. After discussing the issue with him, I came to the same conclusion. Not every pilot has the skills to serve in Rogue Squadron, and I think it would be a huge disservice if Corran were to resign his commission before the war with the Empire has been won.”

“But, Master Skywalker, didn’t you resign your commission as a general so that you could be a Jedi?”

“Fiolla, how many times do I have to tell you, just call me Luke," he smiled, causing the young woman to brush profusely. "But you are right, I did resign my commission. I felt it was my duty to travel the galaxy and try to find information about the Jedi so that I could one day start to rebuild the Jedi Order. Eventually I met more Force sensitives and decided to start the Academy. I wouldn’t have been able to do that while serving in the military.”

“I guess I understand,” Fiolla nodded. “Your wife was one of the first Force sensitive people you trained, was she not?”

Luke’s eyes widened in shock. “What?!”

"Mara Jade, your companion? You trained her, did you not?"

Corran grinned and kicked Luke under the table. “Oh!" the Jedi Master exclaimed. "Yes. My wife. Yes, Mara was one of the first people I met who was very strong in the Force. It was actually my time with her that gave me the courage to start training others.”

“But, Master Skywalker-I mean, Luke. From what I've read, it seems that she has never completed her Jedi training. Does she fight in your military as well?”

Luke ran his hand over his face, suppressing a grimace. Corran raised a brow. How are you going to pull off this one, Master?

Luke narrowed his eyes, then turned back to the historian. “Well, Fiolla, that’s a very good question. Unfortunately Mara does not yet feel comfortable being a Jedi. Hopefully, someday soon she will, but until that time comes I cannot make her learn the ways of the Force.”

Again Fiolla looked down, a solemn look crossing her face. “But, I still do not understand, Master Sky-Luke. I mean no offense to her, but if I were strong in the Force, there is nothing in the galaxy that would give me more fulfillment than to serve as a Jedi Knight. When I was a child, I would have dreams of being a Jedi. And yet, your own companion does not want such an honor.”

For a moment, Luke also looked down at his hands. He managed to keep his eyes blank, but Corran knew exactly what he was thinking. Luke had quoted Fiolla’s same argument to Mara probably fifty times over the past nine years, and now he was forced to defend his old friend's aversion to being a Jedi. Corran wondered if putting himself in Mara’s mindset was helping Luke to better understand her feelings, or if it was instead making him feel more adamant that Mara should complete her training.

After a few moments, Luke sighed. “I know it is difficult for you to understand, Fiolla, but there are many other ways to serve the galaxy that are just as admirable. For example, my sister served as Chief of State for several years. Many of my best friends serve with Corran in Rogue Squadron. They are all heroes, and they have done amazing things without using the Force. You, Fiolla, have done amazing things with your archives. I have been searching the galaxy for years, trying to find just a fraction of the information you have been keeping safe. You may not be a Jedi, but I can assure you that your contributions to the Jedi Order are priceless.”

Once again, poor Fiolla looked like she might faint. “You really mean this to be true?”

Luke nodded. “I certainly do. And if you want proof, I can introduce you to Tionne, our Jedi historian-she will certainly be in your debt for all of your information.”

Fiolla bowed her head slightly, a red tinge creeping onto her cheeks. “Thank you. That means more to me that you will ever know.”

Luke reached across the table to take Fiolla’s hand. “Just remember what I said, Fiolla-one needn’t be a Jedi to do great things.”

She smiled at him, and they then proceeded with their meal, talking and laughing and exchanging stories about the New Republic and Plooma. As they were nearing the end of dinner, Corran noticed that Mara and Karrde were sitting at the bar, talking animatedly about something-probably business of some sort.

When they had finished, Luke paid for dinner (after letting Corran know in no uncertain terms that he was springing for the next dinner out) and the trio stopped to say hello to the two smugglers before leaving the cantina. Luke, still playing the role of dutiful husband, gave Mara a tender hug and kiss on the cheek. Mara bristled slightly but, ever the spy she returned the kiss, even though her discomfort was clearly radiating through the Force.

Fiolla stepped forward and extended her hand. “Mara Jade, I thank you for allowing me to have dinner with your companion. It was very enjoyable." She bowed her head. "And I commend you for your service to the New Republic.”

Mara gave the historian an odd look, but accepted the handshake. “No problem,” she drawled, narrowing her eyes. After Fiolla turned away, Mara grabbed Luke and hissed something in his ear. He merely shrugged in reply before giving her another kiss.

“Don’t stay out too late, love,” he told her.

"Yeah, whatever," Mara retorted.

Luke then met the older man's eyes. “Take good care of her for me, Karrde.”

The smuggler gave a mock bow. "Will do, Luke."

Mara rolled her eyes into the back of her head and downed a large gulp of her drink. Corran said his good-byes, then followed Luke and Fiolla out of the cantina. “What was that about?” he whispered to his former master. “She didn’t want you to leave without getting another good-bye kiss?”

“Shove it, Corran.”

The Corellian chuckled. “You know, it’s too bad she wasn't around to hear you defend her decision about not being a Jedi. She might have actually kissed you voluntarily!”

Corran was answered with a hard smack on the shoulder.

Karrde and Mara took their time finishing their drinks, staying downstairs long after Luke and Corran had left the restaurant. Karrde suspected that Mara wanted to remain out late so she wouldn’t have to deal with Luke back in their room. As such, it was nearing midnight when Karrde finally escorted Mara upstairs, and he expected Luke to already be asleep.

But, instead of an empty living area, they were greeted with a nearly naked Jedi Master, sitting cross-legged on the floor and apparently deep in meditation.

Karrde stood in the doorway, hand to mouth, doing his best to stifle his laughter. The sight in front of him would have been humorous enough in and of itself, but the fact that Mara Jade was standing at his side made it all the more amusing. Karrde glanced at Mara out of the corner of his eye, noticing that she alternated between both staring at Luke in complete awe and glaring at him in pure outrage.

The Jedi Master seemed to not notice their arrival, leaving them standing still in the entrance for several long moments.

It wasn’t until Mara began screaming that Luke made any inclination of recognizing their presences. Apparently, outrage had won this round.

The first few phrases out of her mouth Karrde recognized as Bocce. Then came some choice words in Huttese, Corellian, and even some Alderaanian curses (Karrde wasn’t sure of their meanings but they would have sounded strangely beautiful had Mara not been yelling at the top of her lungs and reaching for the two weapons on her belt). In one swift movement Luke leaped from a sitting position, holding his hand out in a defensive stance even though he was unarmed. Sighing heavily, he relaxed as he realized the intruders were his friends and there was no danger present.

But Luke visibly tensed again as Mara continued swearing in various languages and crossed the threshold in three quick steps, coming to rest mere centimeters in front of him and poking him violently in the chest.

“Why,” she asked through gritted teeth, still poking him, “must you do this in the living area?!”

Luke took several steps back and shrugged innocently. “Why shouldn't I?”

“Because we have separate bedrooms for a reason! I hate coming in here at night and having to play witness to your Jedi playtime!”

“Alright, alright,” Luke soothed. “I don’t want to cause you any discomfort. I’ll take my meditation into my bedroom from now on.”

"Good." Before he could leave, Mara reached out and held him firmly in place. “Speaking of my discomfort, could you, you know…” She waved her hand, indicating his undressed state.

Luke cocked his head. “Could I what?”

Mara sighed, now pointing directly at his shorts. “You know…”

Luke gestured for her to continue, feigning ignorance. Karrde followed their exchange and smiled inwardly, thinking just how skilled Luke was at playing naive. He truly was a master.

After several long, awkward moments, it became obvious that Mara was going to have to spell out her frustrations. And she did, in a scream that once again threatened to tear laughter from Karrde’s stomach:

“Why are you always in your underwear?!”

Luke grinned in return and teased, “Why aren't you?”

Mara threw up her arms in disgust and pushed Luke away from her, causing him to stumble backwards into the caf table. “Because I'm a civilized human being!” she growled. “We wear clothes around those we’re not married to!” Luke opened his mouth to protest; realizing her mistake, she spun around and jammed her finger in his face in warning. “If you want to keep the part of your anatomy that your real wife will want to use someday, then don’t. Even. Say it.”

Raising a hand to calm her down, Luke slowly closed the distance between them. “Listen, Mara, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything like that,” he explained. “I swear, okay? It’s just that I grew up on Tatooine, you know-twin suns? It was hot all the time so at night I wore shorts. Now I can’t sleep in anything else.”

“Well, last I checked Plooma only had one sun, and there are cooling units inside, idiot,” Mara spat. “Wear more clothes from now on, okay?”

Luke nodded in acquiescence. “As you wish, my dear.”

Again Mara threw up her hands and began a tirade of multilingual curses. Even through her outrage, Karrde could see that Mara’s cheeks were still tinted red in embarrassment. He made a mental note to thank the Jedi Master for putting thoughts of himself in various states of undress into Mara’s mind. Whether his actions were intentional or innocent, it didn’t matter-the outcome would be the same, one that would benefit Karrde immensely.

Still holding in his laughter, Karrde lifted a hand in farewell. “I'll just leave you two lovebirds alone,” he announced, closing the door behind him.