X-Wing: Knights of Plooma Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
The reconnaissance X-wing was a strange sight, Wedge noted to himself.
The Wraith's new toy was definitely a useful tool, but there was no denying that it wasn't exactly aesthetically pleasing. The nose of the craft had been replaced by a bulky sensor package. While it wasn't exactly normal on the BR series recon X-wings, the laser cannons had been replaced by wide-field holocameras configured for high-speed video capture. Every armament had been removed in favor of some sort of audio or video gathering device. While this starfighter would have been a sitting womprat in a fight, it was perfect for the task at hand.
Standing at the base of the starfighter was a blond woman clad in the typical orange flightsuit of New Republic pilots.
"Taking a break from your Jedi studies?" Wedge asked.
"Well how could I turn down a chance to fly with the Wraiths again?" Tyria Sarkin Tainer asked with a smirk. "Especially when my favorite general in the Galaxy calls in a favor."
"I'll be sure not to tell General Cracken you said that."
"Actually, I'd rather you did."
Another figured emerged from the shuttle parked next to the X-wing. "Oh, please don't," Face Loran said. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get old man Cracken to agree to buy this bird for us?"
Wedge grinned. "Noted. I do appreciate the two of you coming here on such short notice."
"Don't mention it, I'll just put this little get-together down on your tab," Face replied with a toothy smile. "Now what can your friendly neighborhood Wraiths do for you today?"
"Just some routine flyovers. I've got a half-dozen mining sites we're hoping to get some sensor sweeps and aerial footage from. Get in, do your recon work, get out, go back to whatever it is you were doing before I called you up."
"Sounds simple enough," Tyria said with a shrug. "When should we get under way?"
"As soon as possible," Wedge said. "I'd start your pre-flight up now. Forge and Soldam are already preparing to fly escort."
With a nod, Tyria dismissed herself and climbed into the X-wing to get to work. Wedge turned on his heels and walked back to the safehouse with Face in tow. "What would I do without you Wraiths?" he asked.
"I don't know," Face said, stopping in place and placing his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest a touch. "What would you do without the illustrious Garik 'Face' Loran and his merry band of Wraiths?"
Sighing, Wedge rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you about striking poses?"
"That if I did it again, I'd wake up the following morning with my head shaved."
Wedge merely smiled and continued to walk.
"You were kidding, right?" Face called from behind him. "Right?!"
Inyri Forge flexed her fingers over the flightstick as she glanced at her forward scanner, ensuring for the twelfth time in the last five minutes that the scope was clear of the red blips that marked hostile targets. She was keenly aware of the heightened sense of danger that had been permeating through the squadron over the last several days. Snipers on rooftops, signs of Remnant shuttles. For an assignment that was supposed to be a blue-milk run, it appeared to be turning into something with all of the usual Rogue hallmarks. Command understates the danger, things get murky in a hurry, and now they were all waiting for the proverbial boot to drop.
"Control to recon flight, comm check," Wedge's voice said over the radio, punctuating the silence.
"Recon One, comm check," Inyri dutifully reported back.
"Recon Two, comm check," her wingman, Lieutenant Soldam, responded.
"Recon Three," Tyria Sarkin Tainer followed, "how do I sound?"
Wes responded, "Beautiful alto voice as per usual."
Inyri made a mental note to make him suffer for that comment later. "Permission to begin operations," she asked.
"Granted, snap us up some pretty pictures," Wedge said. "Control out."
Adjusting her flightpath a touch to settle into orbit over Plooma, Inyri began doling out orders. "Two, I want you parked up here next to me. Three, you've got five minutes to get over your six target sites before Ploomian Security gets suspicious. Maybe ten minutes before they scramble whatever it is that they call starfighters on this planet. You've got the green light."
Tyria acknowledged her order and broke off from formation. Looking to her right, Inyri watched as the reconnaissance X-wing darted into the Ploomian atmosphere and made its way towards the surface. Reaching up to the chronometer mounted on the canopy railing, Inyri started a countdown clock. In five minutes she'd order Sarkin to wrap up. In seven she would order her to cease operations and retreat back to orbit. It was absolutely imperative that they not be seen. The last thing any of them needed was for the Ploomian government to think the Rogues were spying on them.
Of course, they were spying. But it was for a good cause.
"Captain, I've got something strange on my scopes," Lieutenant Soldam said.
Three minutes elapsed. "I'm just seeing atmospheric interference," she replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"It's intermittent. Seems like some sort of an engine reading, but I can't quite pin it down."
Frowning, Inyri called down to the recon X-Wing. "Three, can you feed us a status report."
The radio crackled a response. "Approaching target site four. So far it's been smooth flying, haven't-" Suddenly the sound of alarms filled the radio. "Sithspit! I've got target lock alarms. Reading three, no four signatures!"
Inyri swore and began powering on her X-wing's weapons systems. "Control are you reading this?"
"We hear you," Wedge responded calmly. "You are weapons free, repeat, weapons free."
"Acknowledged, Control," she responded. "Two, on my wing."
Throwing her flightstick to the right, Inyri broke off orbit and sprinted towards target site four. As soon as she was through the cloud layer, her sensor board lit up, confirming the four targets Tyria had mentioned. In the distance, she could make out the outline of the reconnaissance X-wing, jinking and juking away from a swarm of emerald laser fire. Inyri quickly scanned through her targeting computer and felt her stomach sink, four Imperial TIE Defenders had surrounded the site.
"TIE Defenders?" Soldam asked. "Those can't possibly be a part of Ploomian Security."
"Kill the chatter," Inyri ordered. "We need to break that formation up. Two, bracket high and try to draw their fire, I'm going to sweep in and see what kind of damage I can do."
"Any time now!" Tyria barked. "I'm at half-shields and dropping!"
Giving the order, Inyri cut her altitude and skimmed just above the ground, watching as her wingman peeled off to fly above the TIE formation. Almost on cue, two of the enemy starfighters took the bait, breaking off their attack on Tyria's X-wing to chase after Soldam. Throwing her throttle to full, Inyri shot up and raced towards the remaining two. She set her laser cannon system to dual-link fire, providing a handy combination of power and refresh rate. Somehow, it appeared that the two TIE Defenders hadn't noticed her. A smile crept onto her face while lining up the targeting brackets over one target. Without hesitating, she depressed the trigger.
A wave of scarlet laser fire soared from her X-wing's wingtip cannons and slammed into the TIE Defender's shields. Before long they gave way to bare hull, causing the enemy pilot to veer away from Tyria. Unfortunately for that pilot, Inyri was faster. She feathered the left etheric rudder pedal and pulled back on the stick a touch, realigning the bracket and squeezing off another shot. The red bolts pierced the TIE Defender's aft section, puncturing the twin-ion engine core and setting off a chain reaction that caused the entire ship to burst into a ball of twisted shrapnel and flame.
Circling around, she targeted the second TIE and switched her firing controls over to proton torpedoes. Perhaps it wasn't the most elegant way to deal with a problem as torpedoes were meant for much larger ships, but they were crunched for time. Inyri lined up the brackets once more and waited for the targeting computer to establish a firing solution. After three short tones the computer gave way to a long, piercing buzz signaling a firm lock had been established. She depressed the trigger once more and watched the proton torpedo's blue streak of light race towards the TIE, slamming into the hull and instantly reducing it to debris.
"Recon Three is clear," Tyria said, relief all too present in her voice. "I think I'm going to bug out now if that's okay with you."
"Fine, but you owe me a drink," Inyri replied as she cycled through her targeting computer once more to check up on her wingman. There was one hostile target left on her scope, and it seemed to have a solid read on Soldam. "Everything okay up there?"
"Vaped one, but this TIE's on me good!" Soldam responded. "These sure as hell aren't your typical planetary security pilots!"
"I see him," Inyri said, pulling back on the flightstick for added altitude. "Two, I'm at your aft. Think you can bring your tail around so I can square up a shot?"
"Gladly, Captain."
Once more, she lined up her sights and waited for the perfect chance to pounce. Lieutenant Soldam's X-wing quickly approached, his pursuit not far behind. The moment her wingman passed overhead, Inyri fired off the repulsorlift jets on the nose of her starfighter, throwing her ship onto its back to quickly reverse course. Now the target was right in front of her. She switched back her firing controls to laser cannons and poured on the fire, punching through the shields and winging the top solar array and upsetting the delicate grasp the TIE Defender had over its atmospheric aerodynamics. The enemy starfighter spiraled out of control, slamming into the ground and exploding into countless broken fragments.
"I think that's all of them," Inyri said, heaving a sigh. "Control this is Recon Flight, we're terminating early and coming home."
The sound of static greeted her on the radio.
"Control, this is Recon Flight. Please respond."
Once more, the safehouse failed to acknowledge her hail.
"Uh oh," Soldam muttered.
"You are weapons free," Wedge said into his headset, "repeat, weapons free."
Rubbing his eyes and doing his best not to heave a sigh of frustration, Wedge brought up an area sensor grid, trying to spot the hostiles Tyria had reported. This was disconcerting; that the recon flight had been jumped this quickly into the operation suggested that something was very wrong. Did the Ploomian government not want them poking around in their mining business? That would be strange, since this entire diplomatic effort centered around just that. They had to have known they would inspect these areas sooner or later.
"TIE Defenders?" Soldam asked over the radio. "Those can't possibly be a part of Ploomian Security."
Wedge's eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder at Wes and Tycho, who both were wearing similar perplexed and alarmed expressions. Face leaned over the console to take a look at the sensor readout.
"If Ploomian Security actually owns these starfighters, I will eat my boot," Face muttered. "Just one of those Defenders would bankrupt this entire planet."
"This stinks, Wedge," Wes mused aloud. "First that Lambda class shuttle, now TIE Defenders?"
"Wes is right," Tycho said. "Something's wrong here. We need to get that recon X-wing back so Karrde's people can go over the data."
"Let's get Forge and Soldam some help out there," Wedge said. "I want Pash and Gavin up in the sky now to assist. See if you can-"
The sound of the safehouse's proximity klaxon alarms cut Wedge off. Spinning around, he turned his attention back to the terminal, bringing up a holofeed and routing it to the main display. Approaching the front entrance were perhaps a dozen rather well-armed individuals who didn't look as if they were there for a friendly chat. Without thinking, Wedge depressed a button on the terminal, transmitting a silent order to every Rogue in the vicinity to prepare for blaster fire.
"Who invited the company?" Wes asked, reaching for his service blaster and disarming the safety. "I'm looking at you, Face."
"Why me?" Face asked defensively.
"You seem to bring along an entourage wherever you go."
Shaking his head, Wedge approached the door to the hallway and stuck his head through. Immediately he recoiled backwards, just barely missing a volley of blaster fire. "Definitely not friendly," he said. "Remind me to demand hazard pay from Cracken when we're done here."
"Looks like they're getting ready to storm us," Tycho said, moving towards the table in the center of the room and turning it onto its side. "They're not wasting any time."
Wedge bunkered down behind the table and checked his own blaster. "Plans, anyone?"
"I personally plan to throw my hands up in the air, surrender, and plead for mercy," Face said, taking a seat next to him. "You didn't say that there would be a firefight when you invited me to this little party."
"If I invite you anywhere, there's a general assumption that a firefight will happen," Wedge responded, wincing as the blaster fire seemed to be coming closer. "Any actual plans?"
"If I may," Tycho calmly said, reaching to his belt and withdrawing a thermal detonator.
Wes stared at it incredulously. "You keep one of those on you?!"
"You don't?"
Grinning, Wedge looked over the table. They still had a few moments. "Tycho, as soon as you see them, lob that detonator and take out as many of them as you can. Wes, I want you situated and ready to pick off any stragglers. I'll lay down suppression fire."
"What do I do?" Face asked.
"Don't get your head blown off."
Wedge gave the order and everyone assumed their positions. Tycho stood beside the door, peering over it with the detonator ready in-hand. Behind Wedge, Wes knelt beside the terminal, somewhat concealed but with a clear line of sight to the door. The blaster fire was closer now. In the distance, Wedge could make out the shouts of his pilots, doing their part to stem the invasion. It was only the years of service that allowed him to shove the worry he felt down a few levels to focus on the task at hand.
"Armed!" Tycho shouted. "Brace for it!"
Mere moments later, an explosion rocked them. Cries of both surprise and agony filled the air but were immediately replaced by additional blaster fire. Rising, Wedge began laying down suppression fire through the doorway along with Face, holding back the advance of the remaining infiltrators. From behind them, Wes snapped off a shot and a body fell across the hall in front of the door. Ever the marksman, Wes carefully moved forward for a better angle and snapped off another shot.
"They're going into retreat!" Wes shouted as he risked a glance down the hallway. "Chase?"
Wedge shook his head and stood. "No, that's enough damage for one day. Can you go check up on the others?"
Wes nodded a confirmation and quickly disappeared down the hallway.
"That looked like a pretty organized assault," Face mused. "Almost militaristic."
"Definitely not something you'd see from someone wearing one of these uniforms, anyways," Tycho said, gesturing to one of the fallen attackers.
Wedge strode towards the door to take a look for himself. There were several deceased bodies littered throughout the hallway, all of them wearing Ploomian Security uniforms. Once more, warning bells went off in his head. Why send your own security forces to attack a delegation you're trying to secure a very lucrative deal with? It simply didn't add up. Just like the TIE Defenders. Just like the shuttle. Just like the ion discharges Karrde had found.
"These men were far too organized and precise to be Ploomian Security," Tycho noted. "I see those formations and I can't help but think Remnant stormtroopers."
A chilly hush fell over the three men. "Who wants to say what we're all thinking?" Wedge said.
"We've got Remnant on-world?" Face asked.
Before Wedge could answer, his comlink went off. "Good news, boss," Wes said over it. "Everyone's okay for the most part. A few scrapes and bruises. Rusarian took a good shot to the leg, but it doesn't appear to be life threatening. He'll definitely need to be lifted to a medical facility sooner rather than later."
"I'll give him a lift in our shuttle," Face said. "I'm pretty sure the Redemption is nearby. We'll have him patched up in no time."
"Thanks, do it," Wedge said.
Tycho shook his head. "What now?" he asked.
"We get our merry band of diplomats back here as fast as possible," Wedge said, lifting the comlink to his mouth once more. "Corran, this is Wedge. Something's happened."
"Horn," Corran responded into his comm. It was dinnertime, and the New Republic delegation had settled into the downstairs cantina for their evening meal. The others looked at him curiously; they hadn't received many outside comms during their stay on Plooma, and when they had, it had usually been accompanied by bad news.
This time was no different.
"Corran, this is Wedge. Something's happened."
"Everything alright, boss?" Corran asked.
"Can't talk now."
Translation: We think comms are being monitored. We need you at the safehouse. "Got it." Luke cocked his head; Corran motioned that they needed to leave the cantina. The other man called the waitress over to settle the bill.
"Also, fly solo."
"Copy that," Corran said. Translation: Take a private speeder. You're being tailed. He was suddenly very uneasy.
"It'll be dark soon. Antilles out."
Corran placed his comm back on his belt. "Well?" Mara asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"Wedge wants us at the safehouse. He couldn't say why."
The others nodded in understanding, and they made their way to a secluded area of the lobby, making sure they weren't being followed. "I'll call for transportation," Karrde offered.
"Negative on that. We need to take private transport. And we need to wait until dark to leave."
"Well that doesn't sound promising at all," Hobbie commented. "Who else thinks that seems to be the theme for this trip?"
Mara snorted. "Yeah, just a bit. Anyone know where we can get a speeder?"
Everyone shook their heads. After a few seconds, Corran snapped his fingers and pointed at Mara. "Call Murray," he suggested.
"Excuse me?"
"Murray Dyartes. Lissiri's errand boy. He gave you his comm the first day here, remember? Said to call at any hour of the day?"
"Horn. I am not calling that boy and asking to borrow his speeder. He doesn't need any encouragement."
"It isn't a bad idea, Mara," Luke said.
"Oh, yeah, you would think that. Not a jealous husband, are you?"
He shrugged. "Sorry, but it seems like we don't have much of a choice. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll comm him. Give me his frequency."
Mara stared at him for a moment. Corran could feel her unease at Luke calling her out on her feelings. Not one to let Skywalker get the best of her, she snatched the comlink off her belt. "No, I'll do it," she said, turning around to make the call in private.
Ten minutes later, after it had grown dark outside, Murray rushed into the lobby, seemingly out of breath. "I got here as quickly as I could, Captain Jade," he announced, bowing his head to her. "My speeder is parked at the west side entrance. You should be free of any surveillance from that exit."
Mara patted his shoulder graciously. "Thank you, Murray. Don't worry, we'll return your speeder in one piece."
"You could return my speeder smashed into pieces, and I would not mind. I am glad to assist you in any way possible, Captain Jade." He bowed again.
"Riiiight. Well, thank you again."
Corran had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Mara still stomped on his foot as they made their way toward the speeder.
"Alright, here's the situation," Wedge began without preamble. The delegation had arrived several minutes earlier and was swept into the briefing room with hardly any time for pleasantries. "Earlier in the evening, Captain Sarkin Tainer was engaged in a routine patrol over a remote area of the planet-"
"Plooooooomaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"-with Captain Forge monitoring from orbit. Sarkin Tainer reported that she was under fire and she and Forge engaged the enemy. At the same time, we came under fire here at the safehouse. We managed to diffuse the situation, and Captain Loran noted that the attackers were wearing Ploomian Security uniforms."
"PloSec," Corran coughed. "And by the way, General, where is Face now?"
"Unfortunately Flight Officer Rusarian was injured in the firefight, and Face offered to escort him to the nearest medical frigate," Wedge responded.
"Oh. That's too bad," Corran said. He gestured at Luke and Mara, who were sitting next to him with their arms crossed over their chests. "I bet the Skywalkers here would have loved to meet him."
Wedge ignored the loud smack that echoed through the room as Mara hit Corran on the head. "As I was saying," he continued, "Captain Loran noted that the attackers were wearing Ploomian Security uniforms, but upon further investigation we realized that these attackers were too organized to be locals."
"Let me guess," Hobbie interjected. "You don't think they were from Ploomian Security at all, do you?"
"No."
"Who do you think they were? No, wait! Let me guess. I think I might be able to figure this one out for myself. Could it be...Remnant stormtroopers?"
"Ding ding ding!" Wes announced, holding Hobbie's arm in the air victoriously. "We have a winner! Give this man a prize! Two round trip tickets straight into a battle zone!"
Wedge grimaced. "That would be our guess, yes."
Hobbie sighed. "Why can't these things ever be easy?"
"Because we're Rogues!" Wes said. "Skywalker wrote it in the charter."
Luke nodded. "Article three, section four, codicil number 1," he recited. "Any situation involving Rogue Squadron activity must advance to the highest level of difficulty possible for said situation."
Everyone laughed at that, except for Mara, who turned to Luke incredulously. She placed the back of her palm on his forehead. "Someone call a medic. Skywalker has grown a sense of humor. I think he's hallucinating."
Luke grinned and took her hand in his. "Then you're not always this beautiful?"
The laughter in the room grew even louder, and Wedge had to turn around to keep from losing complete control of himself. After a few moments he turned around, clearing his throat and doing his best to ignore the crimson growing on Mara's cheeks. "Alright children, let's get serious. We have a very dangerous security issue on our hands. Karrde, have your people managed to get a credit trace on Lissiri yet?"
The information broker shook his head. "We're still on it. Apparently, Lissiri is very good at covering her tracks."
"Oh. That's also very reassuring," Hobbie said.
"Keep on that, Karrde, and let me know as soon as your people get any information. In the meantime, we need to keep tabs on Lissiri's movements. Any ideas?"
"I can trace her," Corran volunteered.
"That's not a bad idea, but since you're a part of the delegation she'll notice you way too easily," Wedge replied.
"One of us can do it?" Tycho suggested.
"That's a possibility, but I think I'd be more comfortable having all the Rogues available for possible combat situations at all times."
"I have an idea," Mara said softly. She straightened up in her chair, putting on her normal air of complete confidence. "I'm pretty sure her assistant would do it for us."
"Yeah, I bet he will if you ask real nicely-ow!"
Wedge ignored Corran's scream of pain. "That's a great idea, Mara. Can you take point on that?"
"Sure thing."
"Wait," Luke interjected. Mara gave him a questioning look, as did Wedge. "If you don't mind, Wedge, we're meeting with the Ploomian delegation tomorrow. I'd prefer to confront them about the situation before we ask Murray to trace Lissiri."
"Sure, if you think-"
"And what good would that do, Skywalker?" Mara cut in. "You think she'll have a crisis of conscience and confess her sins to us right there in front of her fellow delegates?"
"No, I think that if we confront the delegation point blank about what's been going on, Lissiri might reveal things unintentionally. It would be a good way for us to read her intentions."
"Oh. Right. You want to use the Force."
"Why shouldn't we? We're Jedi, right?"
"Speak for yourself. And I don't see why it's at all necessary in this situation."
"Because it's one more tool to add to our arsenal. I would think that you of all people would appreciate that idea."
"Just what is that supposed to mean, Skywalker?"
"It means-"
During this exchange, Wedge had begun massaging his temples in pain. Wes and Corran were laughing openly, while Hobbie was banging his head against the back of his chair. Karrde was smirking at the bickering couple, and the other Rogues were alternating between ignoring the awkward situation and placing bets on how long it would take for Mara to hit Luke.
Finally, Wedge couldn't take it anymore. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, stopping all conversation in the room, except for Wes, who couldn't stop giggling. "Janson?" he said slowly.
"Yes, General?" he replied in between giggles.
"You're on kitchen duty for a week when we get back."
"Aw come on-!"
Wedge raised his hand, cutting him off. He looked up and took a deep breath, forcing himself to project as much patience as possible. "Luke," he started, "go ahead with your plan to confront the delegation tomorrow and see if you can glean any information. Mara, after the negotiations, you're to ask Murray if he will trace Lissiri for us. Any objections?"
Luke and Mara glanced at each other, then sighed and shook their heads.
"Good. Now everyone get out of here."
As the delegation began to shuffle out of the briefing room, Wedge grabbed Hobbie's arm and pulled him aside. "What'd I do now, boss?" the perpetually dour pilot asked.
"It's what you haven't done that amazes me," Wedge replied. "When we get home, I'm putting you in for a medal of valor for not having killed all three of them."
"I appreciate that very much, General. But instead, can I just go home right now?"
"No."
"Well, a medal sounds nice anyway."
The New Republic delegation was quiet during the ride back to the hotel, the late hour and the events of the day finally taking their toll. Karrde sat in the back seat of the small speeder, squeezed between the side door and Mara, who in turn was squished between her pretend husband and her former boss. (She had not, it appeared, taken Horn’s suggestion of sitting on Luke’s lap to heart.) Karrde read his datapad as best he could in the dim light, not wanting to turn up the screen’s brightness for fear of disturbing the others. But as the lights from an oncoming speeder shone into the back seat, Karrde found his attention snatched away by the companions sitting next to him.
Mara Jade, former Emperor’s Hand and ruthless assassin, was sleeping soundly, nestled in the crook of the arm of the man she’d once swore to kill. Her head rested on Luke's shoulder while his arm draped over hers, his prosthetic fingers absentmindedly caressing the bare skin that peeked out from underneath her jacket. Watching them like this, Karrde was taken aback; he had never seen Mara look so at peace, with her lips curled into the barest hint of a smile.
The hardened smuggler stared at them fondly, stroking his mustache as a genuine smile spread across his face. But he was not thinking of his bet with Mara or how embarrassed this situation would make her when she awoke. No, at that moment Karrde could not think of anything of the sort. For ten years Mara had been almost like a daughter to him, and seeing her like this, so peaceful and serene, he could only hope that, one day soon, she would finally find the strength to put to rest all her past issues and find true happiness.
Before he could even finish his thought, Mara’s eyes fluttered in the flashing lights of another oncoming speeder. They snapped open as she realized where she was; for a few seconds, she remained completely still, staring up at the Jedi Master with an unreadable expression. Then she abruptly pushed herself upright, removing herself from Luke's embrace and pulling her arms tight around her chest, as she tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man sitting by her side.
After a few moments, as if she could sense his stare, Mara glanced at her former boss before quickly looking away again. Her hard green eyes did not betray any trace of the vulnerability that had just peeked out from behind her carefully constructed shields, but Karrde knew the woman well enough to know that it was still there, hidden deep beneath the icy surface.
The reconnaissance X-wing was a strange sight, Wedge noted to himself.
The Wraith's new toy was definitely a useful tool, but there was no denying that it wasn't exactly aesthetically pleasing. The nose of the craft had been replaced by a bulky sensor package. While it wasn't exactly normal on the BR series recon X-wings, the laser cannons had been replaced by wide-field holocameras configured for high-speed video capture. Every armament had been removed in favor of some sort of audio or video gathering device. While this starfighter would have been a sitting womprat in a fight, it was perfect for the task at hand.
Standing at the base of the starfighter was a blond woman clad in the typical orange flightsuit of New Republic pilots.
"Taking a break from your Jedi studies?" Wedge asked.
"Well how could I turn down a chance to fly with the Wraiths again?" Tyria Sarkin Tainer asked with a smirk. "Especially when my favorite general in the Galaxy calls in a favor."
"I'll be sure not to tell General Cracken you said that."
"Actually, I'd rather you did."
Another figured emerged from the shuttle parked next to the X-wing. "Oh, please don't," Face Loran said. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get old man Cracken to agree to buy this bird for us?"
Wedge grinned. "Noted. I do appreciate the two of you coming here on such short notice."
"Don't mention it, I'll just put this little get-together down on your tab," Face replied with a toothy smile. "Now what can your friendly neighborhood Wraiths do for you today?"
"Just some routine flyovers. I've got a half-dozen mining sites we're hoping to get some sensor sweeps and aerial footage from. Get in, do your recon work, get out, go back to whatever it is you were doing before I called you up."
"Sounds simple enough," Tyria said with a shrug. "When should we get under way?"
"As soon as possible," Wedge said. "I'd start your pre-flight up now. Forge and Soldam are already preparing to fly escort."
With a nod, Tyria dismissed herself and climbed into the X-wing to get to work. Wedge turned on his heels and walked back to the safehouse with Face in tow. "What would I do without you Wraiths?" he asked.
"I don't know," Face said, stopping in place and placing his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest a touch. "What would you do without the illustrious Garik 'Face' Loran and his merry band of Wraiths?"
Sighing, Wedge rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you about striking poses?"
"That if I did it again, I'd wake up the following morning with my head shaved."
Wedge merely smiled and continued to walk.
"You were kidding, right?" Face called from behind him. "Right?!"
Inyri Forge flexed her fingers over the flightstick as she glanced at her forward scanner, ensuring for the twelfth time in the last five minutes that the scope was clear of the red blips that marked hostile targets. She was keenly aware of the heightened sense of danger that had been permeating through the squadron over the last several days. Snipers on rooftops, signs of Remnant shuttles. For an assignment that was supposed to be a blue-milk run, it appeared to be turning into something with all of the usual Rogue hallmarks. Command understates the danger, things get murky in a hurry, and now they were all waiting for the proverbial boot to drop.
"Control to recon flight, comm check," Wedge's voice said over the radio, punctuating the silence.
"Recon One, comm check," Inyri dutifully reported back.
"Recon Two, comm check," her wingman, Lieutenant Soldam, responded.
"Recon Three," Tyria Sarkin Tainer followed, "how do I sound?"
Wes responded, "Beautiful alto voice as per usual."
Inyri made a mental note to make him suffer for that comment later. "Permission to begin operations," she asked.
"Granted, snap us up some pretty pictures," Wedge said. "Control out."
Adjusting her flightpath a touch to settle into orbit over Plooma, Inyri began doling out orders. "Two, I want you parked up here next to me. Three, you've got five minutes to get over your six target sites before Ploomian Security gets suspicious. Maybe ten minutes before they scramble whatever it is that they call starfighters on this planet. You've got the green light."
Tyria acknowledged her order and broke off from formation. Looking to her right, Inyri watched as the reconnaissance X-wing darted into the Ploomian atmosphere and made its way towards the surface. Reaching up to the chronometer mounted on the canopy railing, Inyri started a countdown clock. In five minutes she'd order Sarkin to wrap up. In seven she would order her to cease operations and retreat back to orbit. It was absolutely imperative that they not be seen. The last thing any of them needed was for the Ploomian government to think the Rogues were spying on them.
Of course, they were spying. But it was for a good cause.
"Captain, I've got something strange on my scopes," Lieutenant Soldam said.
Three minutes elapsed. "I'm just seeing atmospheric interference," she replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"It's intermittent. Seems like some sort of an engine reading, but I can't quite pin it down."
Frowning, Inyri called down to the recon X-Wing. "Three, can you feed us a status report."
The radio crackled a response. "Approaching target site four. So far it's been smooth flying, haven't-" Suddenly the sound of alarms filled the radio. "Sithspit! I've got target lock alarms. Reading three, no four signatures!"
Inyri swore and began powering on her X-wing's weapons systems. "Control are you reading this?"
"We hear you," Wedge responded calmly. "You are weapons free, repeat, weapons free."
"Acknowledged, Control," she responded. "Two, on my wing."
Throwing her flightstick to the right, Inyri broke off orbit and sprinted towards target site four. As soon as she was through the cloud layer, her sensor board lit up, confirming the four targets Tyria had mentioned. In the distance, she could make out the outline of the reconnaissance X-wing, jinking and juking away from a swarm of emerald laser fire. Inyri quickly scanned through her targeting computer and felt her stomach sink, four Imperial TIE Defenders had surrounded the site.
"TIE Defenders?" Soldam asked. "Those can't possibly be a part of Ploomian Security."
"Kill the chatter," Inyri ordered. "We need to break that formation up. Two, bracket high and try to draw their fire, I'm going to sweep in and see what kind of damage I can do."
"Any time now!" Tyria barked. "I'm at half-shields and dropping!"
Giving the order, Inyri cut her altitude and skimmed just above the ground, watching as her wingman peeled off to fly above the TIE formation. Almost on cue, two of the enemy starfighters took the bait, breaking off their attack on Tyria's X-wing to chase after Soldam. Throwing her throttle to full, Inyri shot up and raced towards the remaining two. She set her laser cannon system to dual-link fire, providing a handy combination of power and refresh rate. Somehow, it appeared that the two TIE Defenders hadn't noticed her. A smile crept onto her face while lining up the targeting brackets over one target. Without hesitating, she depressed the trigger.
A wave of scarlet laser fire soared from her X-wing's wingtip cannons and slammed into the TIE Defender's shields. Before long they gave way to bare hull, causing the enemy pilot to veer away from Tyria. Unfortunately for that pilot, Inyri was faster. She feathered the left etheric rudder pedal and pulled back on the stick a touch, realigning the bracket and squeezing off another shot. The red bolts pierced the TIE Defender's aft section, puncturing the twin-ion engine core and setting off a chain reaction that caused the entire ship to burst into a ball of twisted shrapnel and flame.
Circling around, she targeted the second TIE and switched her firing controls over to proton torpedoes. Perhaps it wasn't the most elegant way to deal with a problem as torpedoes were meant for much larger ships, but they were crunched for time. Inyri lined up the brackets once more and waited for the targeting computer to establish a firing solution. After three short tones the computer gave way to a long, piercing buzz signaling a firm lock had been established. She depressed the trigger once more and watched the proton torpedo's blue streak of light race towards the TIE, slamming into the hull and instantly reducing it to debris.
"Recon Three is clear," Tyria said, relief all too present in her voice. "I think I'm going to bug out now if that's okay with you."
"Fine, but you owe me a drink," Inyri replied as she cycled through her targeting computer once more to check up on her wingman. There was one hostile target left on her scope, and it seemed to have a solid read on Soldam. "Everything okay up there?"
"Vaped one, but this TIE's on me good!" Soldam responded. "These sure as hell aren't your typical planetary security pilots!"
"I see him," Inyri said, pulling back on the flightstick for added altitude. "Two, I'm at your aft. Think you can bring your tail around so I can square up a shot?"
"Gladly, Captain."
Once more, she lined up her sights and waited for the perfect chance to pounce. Lieutenant Soldam's X-wing quickly approached, his pursuit not far behind. The moment her wingman passed overhead, Inyri fired off the repulsorlift jets on the nose of her starfighter, throwing her ship onto its back to quickly reverse course. Now the target was right in front of her. She switched back her firing controls to laser cannons and poured on the fire, punching through the shields and winging the top solar array and upsetting the delicate grasp the TIE Defender had over its atmospheric aerodynamics. The enemy starfighter spiraled out of control, slamming into the ground and exploding into countless broken fragments.
"I think that's all of them," Inyri said, heaving a sigh. "Control this is Recon Flight, we're terminating early and coming home."
The sound of static greeted her on the radio.
"Control, this is Recon Flight. Please respond."
Once more, the safehouse failed to acknowledge her hail.
"Uh oh," Soldam muttered.
"You are weapons free," Wedge said into his headset, "repeat, weapons free."
Rubbing his eyes and doing his best not to heave a sigh of frustration, Wedge brought up an area sensor grid, trying to spot the hostiles Tyria had reported. This was disconcerting; that the recon flight had been jumped this quickly into the operation suggested that something was very wrong. Did the Ploomian government not want them poking around in their mining business? That would be strange, since this entire diplomatic effort centered around just that. They had to have known they would inspect these areas sooner or later.
"TIE Defenders?" Soldam asked over the radio. "Those can't possibly be a part of Ploomian Security."
Wedge's eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder at Wes and Tycho, who both were wearing similar perplexed and alarmed expressions. Face leaned over the console to take a look at the sensor readout.
"If Ploomian Security actually owns these starfighters, I will eat my boot," Face muttered. "Just one of those Defenders would bankrupt this entire planet."
"This stinks, Wedge," Wes mused aloud. "First that Lambda class shuttle, now TIE Defenders?"
"Wes is right," Tycho said. "Something's wrong here. We need to get that recon X-wing back so Karrde's people can go over the data."
"Let's get Forge and Soldam some help out there," Wedge said. "I want Pash and Gavin up in the sky now to assist. See if you can-"
The sound of the safehouse's proximity klaxon alarms cut Wedge off. Spinning around, he turned his attention back to the terminal, bringing up a holofeed and routing it to the main display. Approaching the front entrance were perhaps a dozen rather well-armed individuals who didn't look as if they were there for a friendly chat. Without thinking, Wedge depressed a button on the terminal, transmitting a silent order to every Rogue in the vicinity to prepare for blaster fire.
"Who invited the company?" Wes asked, reaching for his service blaster and disarming the safety. "I'm looking at you, Face."
"Why me?" Face asked defensively.
"You seem to bring along an entourage wherever you go."
Shaking his head, Wedge approached the door to the hallway and stuck his head through. Immediately he recoiled backwards, just barely missing a volley of blaster fire. "Definitely not friendly," he said. "Remind me to demand hazard pay from Cracken when we're done here."
"Looks like they're getting ready to storm us," Tycho said, moving towards the table in the center of the room and turning it onto its side. "They're not wasting any time."
Wedge bunkered down behind the table and checked his own blaster. "Plans, anyone?"
"I personally plan to throw my hands up in the air, surrender, and plead for mercy," Face said, taking a seat next to him. "You didn't say that there would be a firefight when you invited me to this little party."
"If I invite you anywhere, there's a general assumption that a firefight will happen," Wedge responded, wincing as the blaster fire seemed to be coming closer. "Any actual plans?"
"If I may," Tycho calmly said, reaching to his belt and withdrawing a thermal detonator.
Wes stared at it incredulously. "You keep one of those on you?!"
"You don't?"
Grinning, Wedge looked over the table. They still had a few moments. "Tycho, as soon as you see them, lob that detonator and take out as many of them as you can. Wes, I want you situated and ready to pick off any stragglers. I'll lay down suppression fire."
"What do I do?" Face asked.
"Don't get your head blown off."
Wedge gave the order and everyone assumed their positions. Tycho stood beside the door, peering over it with the detonator ready in-hand. Behind Wedge, Wes knelt beside the terminal, somewhat concealed but with a clear line of sight to the door. The blaster fire was closer now. In the distance, Wedge could make out the shouts of his pilots, doing their part to stem the invasion. It was only the years of service that allowed him to shove the worry he felt down a few levels to focus on the task at hand.
"Armed!" Tycho shouted. "Brace for it!"
Mere moments later, an explosion rocked them. Cries of both surprise and agony filled the air but were immediately replaced by additional blaster fire. Rising, Wedge began laying down suppression fire through the doorway along with Face, holding back the advance of the remaining infiltrators. From behind them, Wes snapped off a shot and a body fell across the hall in front of the door. Ever the marksman, Wes carefully moved forward for a better angle and snapped off another shot.
"They're going into retreat!" Wes shouted as he risked a glance down the hallway. "Chase?"
Wedge shook his head and stood. "No, that's enough damage for one day. Can you go check up on the others?"
Wes nodded a confirmation and quickly disappeared down the hallway.
"That looked like a pretty organized assault," Face mused. "Almost militaristic."
"Definitely not something you'd see from someone wearing one of these uniforms, anyways," Tycho said, gesturing to one of the fallen attackers.
Wedge strode towards the door to take a look for himself. There were several deceased bodies littered throughout the hallway, all of them wearing Ploomian Security uniforms. Once more, warning bells went off in his head. Why send your own security forces to attack a delegation you're trying to secure a very lucrative deal with? It simply didn't add up. Just like the TIE Defenders. Just like the shuttle. Just like the ion discharges Karrde had found.
"These men were far too organized and precise to be Ploomian Security," Tycho noted. "I see those formations and I can't help but think Remnant stormtroopers."
A chilly hush fell over the three men. "Who wants to say what we're all thinking?" Wedge said.
"We've got Remnant on-world?" Face asked.
Before Wedge could answer, his comlink went off. "Good news, boss," Wes said over it. "Everyone's okay for the most part. A few scrapes and bruises. Rusarian took a good shot to the leg, but it doesn't appear to be life threatening. He'll definitely need to be lifted to a medical facility sooner rather than later."
"I'll give him a lift in our shuttle," Face said. "I'm pretty sure the Redemption is nearby. We'll have him patched up in no time."
"Thanks, do it," Wedge said.
Tycho shook his head. "What now?" he asked.
"We get our merry band of diplomats back here as fast as possible," Wedge said, lifting the comlink to his mouth once more. "Corran, this is Wedge. Something's happened."
"Horn," Corran responded into his comm. It was dinnertime, and the New Republic delegation had settled into the downstairs cantina for their evening meal. The others looked at him curiously; they hadn't received many outside comms during their stay on Plooma, and when they had, it had usually been accompanied by bad news.
This time was no different.
"Corran, this is Wedge. Something's happened."
"Everything alright, boss?" Corran asked.
"Can't talk now."
Translation: We think comms are being monitored. We need you at the safehouse. "Got it." Luke cocked his head; Corran motioned that they needed to leave the cantina. The other man called the waitress over to settle the bill.
"Also, fly solo."
"Copy that," Corran said. Translation: Take a private speeder. You're being tailed. He was suddenly very uneasy.
"It'll be dark soon. Antilles out."
Corran placed his comm back on his belt. "Well?" Mara asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"Wedge wants us at the safehouse. He couldn't say why."
The others nodded in understanding, and they made their way to a secluded area of the lobby, making sure they weren't being followed. "I'll call for transportation," Karrde offered.
"Negative on that. We need to take private transport. And we need to wait until dark to leave."
"Well that doesn't sound promising at all," Hobbie commented. "Who else thinks that seems to be the theme for this trip?"
Mara snorted. "Yeah, just a bit. Anyone know where we can get a speeder?"
Everyone shook their heads. After a few seconds, Corran snapped his fingers and pointed at Mara. "Call Murray," he suggested.
"Excuse me?"
"Murray Dyartes. Lissiri's errand boy. He gave you his comm the first day here, remember? Said to call at any hour of the day?"
"Horn. I am not calling that boy and asking to borrow his speeder. He doesn't need any encouragement."
"It isn't a bad idea, Mara," Luke said.
"Oh, yeah, you would think that. Not a jealous husband, are you?"
He shrugged. "Sorry, but it seems like we don't have much of a choice. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll comm him. Give me his frequency."
Mara stared at him for a moment. Corran could feel her unease at Luke calling her out on her feelings. Not one to let Skywalker get the best of her, she snatched the comlink off her belt. "No, I'll do it," she said, turning around to make the call in private.
Ten minutes later, after it had grown dark outside, Murray rushed into the lobby, seemingly out of breath. "I got here as quickly as I could, Captain Jade," he announced, bowing his head to her. "My speeder is parked at the west side entrance. You should be free of any surveillance from that exit."
Mara patted his shoulder graciously. "Thank you, Murray. Don't worry, we'll return your speeder in one piece."
"You could return my speeder smashed into pieces, and I would not mind. I am glad to assist you in any way possible, Captain Jade." He bowed again.
"Riiiight. Well, thank you again."
Corran had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Mara still stomped on his foot as they made their way toward the speeder.
"Alright, here's the situation," Wedge began without preamble. The delegation had arrived several minutes earlier and was swept into the briefing room with hardly any time for pleasantries. "Earlier in the evening, Captain Sarkin Tainer was engaged in a routine patrol over a remote area of the planet-"
"Plooooooomaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"-with Captain Forge monitoring from orbit. Sarkin Tainer reported that she was under fire and she and Forge engaged the enemy. At the same time, we came under fire here at the safehouse. We managed to diffuse the situation, and Captain Loran noted that the attackers were wearing Ploomian Security uniforms."
"PloSec," Corran coughed. "And by the way, General, where is Face now?"
"Unfortunately Flight Officer Rusarian was injured in the firefight, and Face offered to escort him to the nearest medical frigate," Wedge responded.
"Oh. That's too bad," Corran said. He gestured at Luke and Mara, who were sitting next to him with their arms crossed over their chests. "I bet the Skywalkers here would have loved to meet him."
Wedge ignored the loud smack that echoed through the room as Mara hit Corran on the head. "As I was saying," he continued, "Captain Loran noted that the attackers were wearing Ploomian Security uniforms, but upon further investigation we realized that these attackers were too organized to be locals."
"Let me guess," Hobbie interjected. "You don't think they were from Ploomian Security at all, do you?"
"No."
"Who do you think they were? No, wait! Let me guess. I think I might be able to figure this one out for myself. Could it be...Remnant stormtroopers?"
"Ding ding ding!" Wes announced, holding Hobbie's arm in the air victoriously. "We have a winner! Give this man a prize! Two round trip tickets straight into a battle zone!"
Wedge grimaced. "That would be our guess, yes."
Hobbie sighed. "Why can't these things ever be easy?"
"Because we're Rogues!" Wes said. "Skywalker wrote it in the charter."
Luke nodded. "Article three, section four, codicil number 1," he recited. "Any situation involving Rogue Squadron activity must advance to the highest level of difficulty possible for said situation."
Everyone laughed at that, except for Mara, who turned to Luke incredulously. She placed the back of her palm on his forehead. "Someone call a medic. Skywalker has grown a sense of humor. I think he's hallucinating."
Luke grinned and took her hand in his. "Then you're not always this beautiful?"
The laughter in the room grew even louder, and Wedge had to turn around to keep from losing complete control of himself. After a few moments he turned around, clearing his throat and doing his best to ignore the crimson growing on Mara's cheeks. "Alright children, let's get serious. We have a very dangerous security issue on our hands. Karrde, have your people managed to get a credit trace on Lissiri yet?"
The information broker shook his head. "We're still on it. Apparently, Lissiri is very good at covering her tracks."
"Oh. That's also very reassuring," Hobbie said.
"Keep on that, Karrde, and let me know as soon as your people get any information. In the meantime, we need to keep tabs on Lissiri's movements. Any ideas?"
"I can trace her," Corran volunteered.
"That's not a bad idea, but since you're a part of the delegation she'll notice you way too easily," Wedge replied.
"One of us can do it?" Tycho suggested.
"That's a possibility, but I think I'd be more comfortable having all the Rogues available for possible combat situations at all times."
"I have an idea," Mara said softly. She straightened up in her chair, putting on her normal air of complete confidence. "I'm pretty sure her assistant would do it for us."
"Yeah, I bet he will if you ask real nicely-ow!"
Wedge ignored Corran's scream of pain. "That's a great idea, Mara. Can you take point on that?"
"Sure thing."
"Wait," Luke interjected. Mara gave him a questioning look, as did Wedge. "If you don't mind, Wedge, we're meeting with the Ploomian delegation tomorrow. I'd prefer to confront them about the situation before we ask Murray to trace Lissiri."
"Sure, if you think-"
"And what good would that do, Skywalker?" Mara cut in. "You think she'll have a crisis of conscience and confess her sins to us right there in front of her fellow delegates?"
"No, I think that if we confront the delegation point blank about what's been going on, Lissiri might reveal things unintentionally. It would be a good way for us to read her intentions."
"Oh. Right. You want to use the Force."
"Why shouldn't we? We're Jedi, right?"
"Speak for yourself. And I don't see why it's at all necessary in this situation."
"Because it's one more tool to add to our arsenal. I would think that you of all people would appreciate that idea."
"Just what is that supposed to mean, Skywalker?"
"It means-"
During this exchange, Wedge had begun massaging his temples in pain. Wes and Corran were laughing openly, while Hobbie was banging his head against the back of his chair. Karrde was smirking at the bickering couple, and the other Rogues were alternating between ignoring the awkward situation and placing bets on how long it would take for Mara to hit Luke.
Finally, Wedge couldn't take it anymore. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, stopping all conversation in the room, except for Wes, who couldn't stop giggling. "Janson?" he said slowly.
"Yes, General?" he replied in between giggles.
"You're on kitchen duty for a week when we get back."
"Aw come on-!"
Wedge raised his hand, cutting him off. He looked up and took a deep breath, forcing himself to project as much patience as possible. "Luke," he started, "go ahead with your plan to confront the delegation tomorrow and see if you can glean any information. Mara, after the negotiations, you're to ask Murray if he will trace Lissiri for us. Any objections?"
Luke and Mara glanced at each other, then sighed and shook their heads.
"Good. Now everyone get out of here."
As the delegation began to shuffle out of the briefing room, Wedge grabbed Hobbie's arm and pulled him aside. "What'd I do now, boss?" the perpetually dour pilot asked.
"It's what you haven't done that amazes me," Wedge replied. "When we get home, I'm putting you in for a medal of valor for not having killed all three of them."
"I appreciate that very much, General. But instead, can I just go home right now?"
"No."
"Well, a medal sounds nice anyway."
The New Republic delegation was quiet during the ride back to the hotel, the late hour and the events of the day finally taking their toll. Karrde sat in the back seat of the small speeder, squeezed between the side door and Mara, who in turn was squished between her pretend husband and her former boss. (She had not, it appeared, taken Horn’s suggestion of sitting on Luke’s lap to heart.) Karrde read his datapad as best he could in the dim light, not wanting to turn up the screen’s brightness for fear of disturbing the others. But as the lights from an oncoming speeder shone into the back seat, Karrde found his attention snatched away by the companions sitting next to him.
Mara Jade, former Emperor’s Hand and ruthless assassin, was sleeping soundly, nestled in the crook of the arm of the man she’d once swore to kill. Her head rested on Luke's shoulder while his arm draped over hers, his prosthetic fingers absentmindedly caressing the bare skin that peeked out from underneath her jacket. Watching them like this, Karrde was taken aback; he had never seen Mara look so at peace, with her lips curled into the barest hint of a smile.
The hardened smuggler stared at them fondly, stroking his mustache as a genuine smile spread across his face. But he was not thinking of his bet with Mara or how embarrassed this situation would make her when she awoke. No, at that moment Karrde could not think of anything of the sort. For ten years Mara had been almost like a daughter to him, and seeing her like this, so peaceful and serene, he could only hope that, one day soon, she would finally find the strength to put to rest all her past issues and find true happiness.
Before he could even finish his thought, Mara’s eyes fluttered in the flashing lights of another oncoming speeder. They snapped open as she realized where she was; for a few seconds, she remained completely still, staring up at the Jedi Master with an unreadable expression. Then she abruptly pushed herself upright, removing herself from Luke's embrace and pulling her arms tight around her chest, as she tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man sitting by her side.
After a few moments, as if she could sense his stare, Mara glanced at her former boss before quickly looking away again. Her hard green eyes did not betray any trace of the vulnerability that had just peeked out from behind her carefully constructed shields, but Karrde knew the woman well enough to know that it was still there, hidden deep beneath the icy surface.