X-Wing: Rogue Diplomacy - Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen - Power Void
It was amusing, Syal thought to herself. On their initial arrival, the only media presence had been a handful of reporters a few small news outlets and the Galactic Associated Holopress had sent. Contrary to what Chief Daala had hoped, there was very little interest in Tycho's diplomatic mission to Orvax IV. All eyes were still on the Jedi and the Reunification Summit, neither of which were proceeding particularly well from what Syal had heard. There simply was not a market in the news for a retired General going off to play peacemaker on some outer-rim, backwater world.
Then came the bombing. A few dozen reporters had arrived on-world to cover the aftermath and cash in on the story of a terrorist cell that had decided to take their frustrations out on a war hero. Syal had been recovering in the embassy's medical wing, but Hobbie had told her that Tycho had been forced to field questions for the better part of an hour. That had been bad enough. The situation only got worse when word began to trickle out that the little diplomatic delegation had defied an order to return home from the Chief of State herself, the situation exploded.
Syal knew they were in for a long day the moment she took a look outside. Dozens of reports, countless holonet relays, and an even greater number of security personnel had set up at the steps to the embassy. Before she knew what was happening, Syal found herself in a dress uniform and standing behind Tycho, listening to him speak to the members of the news media in an attempt to calm nerves. She- along with Doran, Wes, and Hobbie- were merely decoration. Tycho was handling the entirety of the press conference. To say that wasn't going well would have been somewhat of an understatement. The reporters were peppering Tycho with a barrage of questions, shouting over one another to make themselves heard. It was almost as if she were staring at a mob.
"Is it true you have called in the Fourth Fleet to deploy marines against the insurgents?" One reporter asked.
Tycho calmly shook his head. "There are no plans on the table to bring an additional military presence to Orvax IV."
"Is sending Chief of State Daala's recall order to the senate merely an attempt to undermine her?"
"I have a great deal of respect for the office of Chief of State," he said levelly. "I and my entire staff would not go to these lengths unless we were certain it was in the best interests of the Galactic Alliance as a whole. There is no malice directed at Chief Daala. We are merely seeking additional time to evaluate our options and do what is best for the citizens of Orvax IV."
Another wall of shouts from the reporters. After several deafening moments, one finally managed to make herself heard over the roar. "Are rumors that the Chief of State blackmailed you into accepting this assignment true, Ambassador Celchu?"
The question seemed to catch Tycho off guard. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, but Syal could sense frustration from him.
"I assure you," he managed to say, "that talk of blackmail is little more than political conspiracy devised by opportunists who have lost sight of the bigger image. As I have said, we are here on an assignment that we take very seriously. Now if you will excuse us, I am overdue for a planning meeting I must attend. Additional questions can be directed to Major Klivian later today."
With that, he stepped away from the podium amidst a chorus of protests from the media. Syal fallowed suit, stepping in line with Wes and briskly stepping back into the embassy. "I didn't receive much in the way of public relations training while at the Academy. How did that go?"
"Some wins, some losses," Wes said, his expression oddly serious. "He managed to portray himself as the calm, rational one. Unfortunately, the larger goal was to try and convince everyone that there isn't bad blood between himself and the Witch of State. Last thing we need is for Daala to decide all of this needs to be personal."
"That's a hell of a lie to try and sell," Syal said with a frown.
"Greatest actor on the planet wouldn't have been able to pull that one off."
"I'll be sure to tell Uncle Face you said that sometime. I'm sure he's up to the challenge."
They made their way deeper into the embassy, entering a large conference room that had been set aside for their operations. As Syal peered through the door, she saw that Jamee was already there with the stack of datacards full of area maps and schematics that she had requested earlier. Seated at the conference table itself was Kess Zorvan and a middle-aged man that Syal didn't recognize. Before she could inquire as to his identity, Tycho spoke up.
"For those of you who don't know him," Tycho gestured to the stranger, "this is Vik Kelrune, one of Talon Karrde's field agents. I felt we needed some intelligence that the GA either can't or won't provide to us and Karrde's network fits the bill perfectly."
He took a seat at the head of the conference table. "Let's be very clear. Despite what I may have said out there, we are all but finished with the diplomatic route. Cridmeen refuses to cooperate. Cerulo is someone we should under no circumstances negotiate with. "
He stood a bit more upright. For the first time in several years, Syal saw a Tycho that she thought was gone. The diplomat and ambassador had been replaced by a very stern, very military presence. At that moment, she realized that diplomacy was no longer an option. The conference room had been transformed into a war room.
"So," Tycho said. "What's our status?"
Hobbie was the first one to speak up. "I think we need to assume that our terrorists are more than just domestic, run-of-the-mill freedom fighters."
"Elaborate."
"It starts with those starfighters we ran into on our approach," Wes said. "TIE Defenders may be old ship technology, but it's still expensive and can only be obtained from the black market or through the Imperial Remnant itself."
"Are you suggesting the Remnant might be behind all of this?" Doran asked.
"I don't know," Wes shrugged. "It could be possible, but it makes more sense that they were obtained through the illegal channels. Problem is, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find regular civilians who can handle a TIE with the kind of grace our attackers did."
"Hired mercenaries, perhaps?" Kess offered. "I've run into a fair share of capable ex-military combat pilots looking for any sort of a way to pocket a few credits."
Tycho nodded. "Plausible, but let's step back to the macro. We think the slave resistance is employing more than just emancipated slaves and locals because they've got a few solid pilots on their hands. A good start, but is there anything else we can say backs that theory?"
"The suicide bombings," Jamee offered. "I've spent the last two days looking at blast craters. Way I figure, the only way you can get that kind of a blast packed into a single individual is with high-grade military explosives. Very illegal, very hard to come by, very expensive high-grade military explosives."
Syal tapped her fingers against the top of the conference table. "That's not all, either. Two days ago I took Kess and Jamee for an unannounced trip to President Cridmeen's office."
"Without permission," Wes noted. "You really are Wedge's little girl."
"And proud of it," Syal responded with a wry smile. "In any case, I did some rough work trying to figure out where our little sniper that tried to take a shot at us was positioned." She leaned over the table and inserted a datacard into the projector, flipping it on and displaying a map of the Presidential building and nearby area.
"Originally I thought that I had seen the flash coming from this building," Syal continued, pointing to a structure a few hundred meters away from Cridmeen's office. "Unfortunately, Jamee pointed out that there was no way the shot could have originated from here. Angle of entry was all wrong."
Doran whistled. "Sure you don't work as a forensic investigator by night?"
"Definitely not. Contrary to what the holoshows say, those poor suckers don't get to carry a blaster."
"So where did the shot come from?" Hobbie asked.
Depressing a few buttons on the projector control panel, the map zoomed out. Syal highlighted another building. "This is the only possible origin."
"That's got to be a good thirty-five hundred kilometers," Wes said, shaking his head. "You don't make that shot without some pretty rigorous training, not the sort of stuff you'd expect a random civilian to pick up. Not to mention you're going to need something with a bit more oomph than a standard consumer-level rifle."
Tycho rubbed his eyes and frowned. "I'm starting to notice a trend here. Our terrorists have military precision and resources no fringe insurgency group should have. Either it's really Freedom Flight or there's someone else in play here."
"If I may," Vik Kelrune finally spoke up. "I can't tell you how she is training her insurgents, but I can shed some light on to how M'Trudar Cerulo is funding her efforts. Furthermore, I can assure you that it definitely is not Freedom Flight that's behind it." He reached into a folder set in front of him, procuring a stack of flimsis and distributed them to everyone in the room. "Talon Karrde took personal interest in this case, don't ask me why. I can't even attempt to explain that man's whims."
"Vik," Kess chided.
He held his hands up defensively. "Karrde managed to get a read on credit transactions several of Cerulo's personal contacts were involved with. Most of them were fairly innocuous, but after he sent the reports to my desk to look over, I spotted one in particular that caught my attention. Every other day for the last year and change has been a ten-thousand credit transfer from a bank based out of a nearby Outer Rim sector."
"Do you know who was behind the transfers?" Tycho asked.
Kelrune took a deep breath. "You might want to brace yourselves for this. Those credits were being wired through nearly two dozen systems and it took me a while to find the origin point. It turns out that the credits originate from right here."
"What do you mean, right here?"
"Orvax IV," Kelrune said. "I didn't believe it myself, but the credits are coming right here and going through all sorts of channels to hide that."
Syal stared incredulously at the sheet of flimsy in front of her. "That's unbelievable."
"It gets stranger. Every one of those credits can be attributed to one individual. President Jarol Cridmeen."
An icy hush fell over the conference room. Syal blinked a few times, only dimly aware that her mouth was agape. Cridmeen? "That makes absolutely no sense."
"No," Tycho said, "it doesn't, so we need to try and figure out what it means."
Jamee said, "Conspiracy? Someone trying to frame him?"
"I don't think so," Kelrune responded with a shrug. "If someone wanted to direct us to Cridmeen, why so many layers for these credits to travel through?"
"The only logical conclusion is that he is willingly funding a revolt against his own government," Hobbie mused aloud. "This isn't any sort of altruistic act on his part, either. If he wanted slavery to end here, there are far more direct and significantly less violent ways to make that happen. He wants the bloodshed."
"But why?" Kess asked. "Major Antilles is right, none of this makes any kriffing sense."
Silence filled the conference room once more. Try as she might, Syal couldn't wrap her mind around the implication that Cridmeen was directly responsible for the attacks against him. Was Cerulo even aware of who was funding her? What did it mean if she did know? Was Cerulo working for Cridmeen? Could it be the other way around? They simply didn't have enough information in front of them to draw conclusions, just enough to draw a very blurry image. After several long moments pondering these thoughts, an answer of sorts began to dawn on her.
It didn't matter. The credits, who was working for who. None of that was of importance at that moment.
"We can sort through all of this later," Syal said. "I believe Mr. Kelrune has just given us the opening we need to take action. While we don't know why Cridmeen is funding the insurgents, what we can definitively say is that both he and Cerulo are part of the same conspiracy to promote terror on-world. That gives us ground to remove both from power."
Tycho's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting a military strike?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Syal confirmed. "We don't have much time. Daala's smart, she's going to figure out a way to get us back sooner or later. If we don't move now to get Cridmeen out of office and remove Cerulo from the slave resistance, we are going to get pulled away. After that, Daala either sends the Mandos in to clean up after us, or she lets things continue here unchecked. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't find either of those options to be particularly palatable.
"I propose a dual strike," she continued. "We divide the Rogues into two groups and oust both of them at the same time. Prevents either side from catching on to what we're up to. I'll take command of one group and Doran will lead the second."
It was risky, but Syal knew it could work. Two small strike teams converging on Cerulo and Cridmeen could effectively capture both and bring them back to the embassy for holding. It all would rely on speed. Being able to get in and out with their targets in a quick manner would greatly reduce the chance of bloodshed and loss of life. Granted, there was still additional planning to do. While they knew that Cridmeen was still somewhere within the presidential building, there was no telling where Cerulo was hiding out. Hopefully Vik Kelrune and Karrde's network could reveal that minor mystery in short order.
"Syal," Tycho said quietly. "You do realize the ramifications if we turn this into a military operation? As you are the ranking active service officer, the media will divert their attention from myself to you. You will become the face of our presence here and you will be attracting some anger from ..." he trailed off momentarily. "Higher up officials."
"I am aware, but quite honestly that is the last thing on my mind right now."
Hobbie spoke up. "If we go thorugh with this, I think there's a major problem we're going to have to deal with. We take out Cerulo and Cridmeen, great. What do we do about the twin power voids we've just created?"
"Conceivably any one of us could step in and assume control of the Orvax IV government on an emergency, interim basis," Tycho said. "There's a diplomatic clause in there somewhere to exploit, I'm sure of it. What I don't see is who steps in and takes over the slave resistance."
Wes cocked his head to the side in a thoughtful pose. "I think I've got someone. Dia."
"Dia ..." A smile formed on Tycho's lips. "That could work. That definitely could work. Can you get in touch with her?"
"Shouldn't be too hard."
Jamee spoke raised a hand. "That's taken care of, but who fills the vacuum on the government level?"
"You leave that to me," Tycho said, pushing his seat back and standing. "Syal, I'm going to need to head off-world to speak with someone about stepping in. Given the security issues we've had of late, I'd feel a little better about taking one of your X-Wings."
"Absolutely," Syal said without hesitation. "I'm also going to insist that you take an escort. I'll be sending Captain Versai and Captain Katar with you."
"Appreciated," he said with a nod. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it's time to adjourn. We've got a good deal of preparation ahead of us and it would be best to start sooner rather than later. While I'm gone, I'm leaving Syal in charge. Hobbie, you've got the most public relations experience out of everyone here. I want you to handle the press."
Wes grinned. "See Hobbie? All of those horrific crash landings and ejections finally paid off. You landed an endorsement deal with a bacta company and learned the finer art of PR wars."
Hobbie merely grumbled.
Slowly, the members of the meeting began to file out of the conference room. Tycho was the first to depart, no doubt to try and find a flightsuit and get an X-Wing prepared. Syal suspected a part of him was looking forward to sitting behind the flightstick, for it had been several years since he had last flown. Kess and Kelrune followed. Throughout the meeting, Syal noticed Kess had a rather distant look on her face. She made a mental note to check up on her later.
"Have a minute?" Hobbie said, taking a seat next to her.
"Of course," Syal replied.
"I know now may not be the best time to bring this up, but Tycho and I have been a little worried about one of your pilots."
Syal winced. "Haruko?"
Hobbie nodded.
There was no missing that Haruko Skobra had been inconsolable since Rixar Dain had been killed in the bombing. The two of them never advertised their relationship, but everyone in the squadron knew that they were a pair. Without Dain, Skobra seemed to have gone into an emotional nosedive. Syal immediately felt guilty. She had been so caught up in the aftermath of the blast and dealing with the press that she hadn't taken the time to pull Haruko aside to try and speak with her.
"As much as you may not want to do this, Hobbie said, "I think you need to consider taking some drastic action with her. She's not going to want you to, but you've got to act in her best interests. You need to figure out whether or not she's fit to serve right now."
Hobbie stood, patting her on the shoulder before leaving Syal alone in the conference room with little more than a stack of datacards and her fragmented thoughts.
***
It was a decidedly dingy and dank tapcafe, but Wes Janson had been in far worse. A good twenty-year career with Rogue Squadron had seen to that. Peering down at his mug of ale, he was oddly pleased to see that the container was mostly clean. Definitely a step up from the true dive cantinas he had visited in his life.
"So nice of you to visit," Dia said as she tapped a foot impatiently on the ground.
Wes offered a toothy smile. "Well, I was in the nieghborhood and thought it would be a real treat to visit an old friend." He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "So how's life, Dia?"
The Twi'lek rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. Busy with work, liberating slaves. Same old, same old. Yourself?"
"Saving the Galaxy with nothing more than my roguish charm and ruggedly handsome looks."
"Janson, let me just say that it's refreshing to see you. Everything in the Galaxy may have gone to hell over the last few years, but at least you haven't changed a bit. So tell me, are you here to simply reminisce on days gone by or are you here to do business? I have other issues I need to tend to."
Sitting a bit more upright, Wes nodded an affirmative. "Tycho has come to a decision as to a course of action, but we're going to need your help."
"Oh?"
"I can't divulge too much right now, but what I can say is that within the next two days M’Trudar Cerulo will be ousted from the slave resistance.”
Dia’s ears seemed to perk up at the mention of the resistance’s violent leader. “You’ve finally decided to listen to reason.”
Wes shrugged. “None of us are particularly keen on the idea of letting her suicide bombers continue to kill both slavers and innocent civilians. She needs to go.”
“I see,” Dia said, folding her arms under her chest. “But you need something from me.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Yes, but the context is there, too. As far as you know, I’m just a Freedom Flight agent. Why share something like this with me? I figure that there’s something else to this plan, something strategic that requires outside help.” She leaned forward. “So what is it, Janson?”
He lifted his mug of ale up, taking a big swig of it before answering. “The slave resistance without Cerulo is still dangerous. Somehow they’ve gotten access to military grade weapons and training, left unchecked they might be even more deadly than they already are. Cerulo might be a terrorist and a criminal, but she at least keeps her minions focused and predictable.
“In addition,” he continued, “there are many members of her organization that don’t fully share her desire to kill slavers at any cost. They actually do want to help the slaves here.”
Dia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to get at? All my people want to see is the slave resistance go away so we can continue to operate in the shadows.”
“I’m telling you the resistance isn’t going to go away,” Wes countered. “It’s a known quantity to Orvax IV’s people now. There are people who, right or wrong, are rallying behind their cause. It won’t vanish and, quite frankly, none of my people want to see it disappear completely.”
“So why are you wasting my time?”
“They’re going to need a leader, Dia,” Wes said. “They’re going to need someone to rally around, someone to guide them and provide some kind of hope. They need someone that won’t give them orders to blow themselves up in the name of vengeance.”
“And you think that person is me?”
“I know that person is you. I still remember the brash young pilot who left the Wraiths to fight for the freedom of slaves.” He pointed at her. “That girl is still somewhere in you. The question is this. Are you going to listen to your superiors? Or are you going to do what is right for the resistance, the slaves, and yourself?”
For a long while, Dia didn’t answer. She didn’t so much as look up at Wes, seeming to think that a little stain on the tabletop was the most interesting stain in the known Galaxy. Wes knew that he was asking her to do something extraordinary, but he had to do it. There was no one better suited for the task at hand than she was. Freedom Flight may not like their agents operating in such a public spotlight, but Wes didn’t care in the slightest. They would learn to deal with it.
“I’ll do it,” she said quietly.
Wes smiled and stood, setting down a few credits on the bartop. “See? Still in there.”
“I’m just glad Tycho decided to do the right thing. I wish I knew why it took him this long to come around.”
“If only you knew, Dia,” Wes replied as he turned to walk out of the tap caf. “If only you knew the cost.”
***
Drifting in the middle of open space several systems away from Orvax IV was an aging Imperial Class-II Star destroyer known as the Errant Venture. While it may have featured the distinct sharp lines and angles of the craft that struck terror into countless worlds during the Galactic Empire's rule, this particular Star Destroyer clearly had been repurposed for other tasks. A rather odd red paint job adorned the hull, quite a departure from the usual Imperial white. Closer inspection would reveal that many of the standard turbolasers had been replaced with ion canons and tractor beams, heavy modifications from when the ship had originally been known as the Virulance.
The interior provided an even more stark contrast. Over the years, interior sections had been completely cleared out and redesigned for shops, businesses, and entertainment. Environmental and atmospheric systems had been completely overhauled in order to provide an atmosphere similar to a marketplace rather than that of a machine of war. One rather common sight on just about every floor were numerous tapcafes, perhaps the biggest credit producer on the Venture. The ship was a safe haven for smugglers and information brokers, and where there were smugglers and information brokers, there was a need for alcohol.
In one such tapcafe on one random deck of the Errant Venture sat Tycho Celchu. Idly, he spun the mug of ale that sat on the table in front of him. He did his best to keep a neutral expression on his face but he was keenly aware that he could not bring himself to look at the man sitting opposite of him. An oppressive hush lingered over the two men, For perhaps the first time in his life, Tycho wasn't sure what to expect from him. Understanding? Anger? Sadness?
"Why didn't you tell me?" Wedge asked, finally breaking the silence.
Disappointment.
"I don't know," Tycho replied honestly. "I panicked. I thought I was doing the right thing."
Wedge frowned. "You took an assignment that you knew was going to force you to compromise your morals. That's not the Tycho I know."
"Daala was going to use you as one of her political pawns," Tycho protested. "She was ready to throw you into the same corrupt judicial system that she tried to put Niathal through."
"So you decided to be the pawn for me? You knew exactly what Daala wanted, to keep the status quo going so she wouldn't have to pull resources away from the Jedi and the Reunification Summit. You agreed to this knowing full well that in order to help me you'd have to find a way to keep the slave trade alive and well on that backwards world."
"Wedge, I-"
"And you know what really gets me?" he continued. "The fact that you're using me as an excuse to help her."
Tycho opened his mouth to try and fire back a response but couldn't find the words. There wasn't anything he could say on that count, Wedge was absolutely right. Tycho was using him as an excuse to further Chief Daala's misplaced priorities.
"Why, Tycho?"
Tycho didn't immediately respond, taking a few moments to try and formulate his thoughts. "Almost forty years ago I was staring at charges of treason. Nobody believed I was innocent. I was losing the PR war and getting ripped to shreds in the courtroom. My name was dragged through the mud and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. Wedge, there were days when I thought I was guilty ..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"I can't stand the thought of watching you go through the same farce I had to endure," Tycho managed to say.
The hush returned once more, lingering for several long and uncomfortable minutes before Wedge finally spoke up. "I'd hate to put you in that position," he said. "Watching you on trial was only slightly better than the nights I'd spend awake while you were trapped on the Lusankya, wondering if you were still alive or not. Still, you know this isn't right. I'm not going to let you be a tool for Daala and I am definitely not going to be the reason slave trafficking continues out here."
"I know, Wedge," Tycho said, rubbing his temples. "I made a mistake. I should have come to you right away, instead I allowed myself to fall into her trap."
A pained smile appeared on Wedge's face. "At least you finally said something. Listen, you need to get your people, not to mention my daughter, off of Orvax IV. It's not safe anymore. Get yourself to Coruscant and start waging the public relations battle there."
Tycho hesitated. "We can't. Not yet."
"Why not?" Wedge asked. A moment later his eyes opened wide. "You're turning this into a military op, aren't you?"
"That's the short of it, yes," Tycho replied with a nod. "Wedge, let me ask you this. How would you feel about ending the slave trade down there once and for all? As a bonus, how would you also feel about avoiding a publically embarrassing and devastating sham trial?"
"Is this a trick question?"
A smile formed on Tycho's lips. "Not at all, but I'm going to need your help. You might want to consider buying a new formal suit."
It was amusing, Syal thought to herself. On their initial arrival, the only media presence had been a handful of reporters a few small news outlets and the Galactic Associated Holopress had sent. Contrary to what Chief Daala had hoped, there was very little interest in Tycho's diplomatic mission to Orvax IV. All eyes were still on the Jedi and the Reunification Summit, neither of which were proceeding particularly well from what Syal had heard. There simply was not a market in the news for a retired General going off to play peacemaker on some outer-rim, backwater world.
Then came the bombing. A few dozen reporters had arrived on-world to cover the aftermath and cash in on the story of a terrorist cell that had decided to take their frustrations out on a war hero. Syal had been recovering in the embassy's medical wing, but Hobbie had told her that Tycho had been forced to field questions for the better part of an hour. That had been bad enough. The situation only got worse when word began to trickle out that the little diplomatic delegation had defied an order to return home from the Chief of State herself, the situation exploded.
Syal knew they were in for a long day the moment she took a look outside. Dozens of reports, countless holonet relays, and an even greater number of security personnel had set up at the steps to the embassy. Before she knew what was happening, Syal found herself in a dress uniform and standing behind Tycho, listening to him speak to the members of the news media in an attempt to calm nerves. She- along with Doran, Wes, and Hobbie- were merely decoration. Tycho was handling the entirety of the press conference. To say that wasn't going well would have been somewhat of an understatement. The reporters were peppering Tycho with a barrage of questions, shouting over one another to make themselves heard. It was almost as if she were staring at a mob.
"Is it true you have called in the Fourth Fleet to deploy marines against the insurgents?" One reporter asked.
Tycho calmly shook his head. "There are no plans on the table to bring an additional military presence to Orvax IV."
"Is sending Chief of State Daala's recall order to the senate merely an attempt to undermine her?"
"I have a great deal of respect for the office of Chief of State," he said levelly. "I and my entire staff would not go to these lengths unless we were certain it was in the best interests of the Galactic Alliance as a whole. There is no malice directed at Chief Daala. We are merely seeking additional time to evaluate our options and do what is best for the citizens of Orvax IV."
Another wall of shouts from the reporters. After several deafening moments, one finally managed to make herself heard over the roar. "Are rumors that the Chief of State blackmailed you into accepting this assignment true, Ambassador Celchu?"
The question seemed to catch Tycho off guard. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, but Syal could sense frustration from him.
"I assure you," he managed to say, "that talk of blackmail is little more than political conspiracy devised by opportunists who have lost sight of the bigger image. As I have said, we are here on an assignment that we take very seriously. Now if you will excuse us, I am overdue for a planning meeting I must attend. Additional questions can be directed to Major Klivian later today."
With that, he stepped away from the podium amidst a chorus of protests from the media. Syal fallowed suit, stepping in line with Wes and briskly stepping back into the embassy. "I didn't receive much in the way of public relations training while at the Academy. How did that go?"
"Some wins, some losses," Wes said, his expression oddly serious. "He managed to portray himself as the calm, rational one. Unfortunately, the larger goal was to try and convince everyone that there isn't bad blood between himself and the Witch of State. Last thing we need is for Daala to decide all of this needs to be personal."
"That's a hell of a lie to try and sell," Syal said with a frown.
"Greatest actor on the planet wouldn't have been able to pull that one off."
"I'll be sure to tell Uncle Face you said that sometime. I'm sure he's up to the challenge."
They made their way deeper into the embassy, entering a large conference room that had been set aside for their operations. As Syal peered through the door, she saw that Jamee was already there with the stack of datacards full of area maps and schematics that she had requested earlier. Seated at the conference table itself was Kess Zorvan and a middle-aged man that Syal didn't recognize. Before she could inquire as to his identity, Tycho spoke up.
"For those of you who don't know him," Tycho gestured to the stranger, "this is Vik Kelrune, one of Talon Karrde's field agents. I felt we needed some intelligence that the GA either can't or won't provide to us and Karrde's network fits the bill perfectly."
He took a seat at the head of the conference table. "Let's be very clear. Despite what I may have said out there, we are all but finished with the diplomatic route. Cridmeen refuses to cooperate. Cerulo is someone we should under no circumstances negotiate with. "
He stood a bit more upright. For the first time in several years, Syal saw a Tycho that she thought was gone. The diplomat and ambassador had been replaced by a very stern, very military presence. At that moment, she realized that diplomacy was no longer an option. The conference room had been transformed into a war room.
"So," Tycho said. "What's our status?"
Hobbie was the first one to speak up. "I think we need to assume that our terrorists are more than just domestic, run-of-the-mill freedom fighters."
"Elaborate."
"It starts with those starfighters we ran into on our approach," Wes said. "TIE Defenders may be old ship technology, but it's still expensive and can only be obtained from the black market or through the Imperial Remnant itself."
"Are you suggesting the Remnant might be behind all of this?" Doran asked.
"I don't know," Wes shrugged. "It could be possible, but it makes more sense that they were obtained through the illegal channels. Problem is, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find regular civilians who can handle a TIE with the kind of grace our attackers did."
"Hired mercenaries, perhaps?" Kess offered. "I've run into a fair share of capable ex-military combat pilots looking for any sort of a way to pocket a few credits."
Tycho nodded. "Plausible, but let's step back to the macro. We think the slave resistance is employing more than just emancipated slaves and locals because they've got a few solid pilots on their hands. A good start, but is there anything else we can say backs that theory?"
"The suicide bombings," Jamee offered. "I've spent the last two days looking at blast craters. Way I figure, the only way you can get that kind of a blast packed into a single individual is with high-grade military explosives. Very illegal, very hard to come by, very expensive high-grade military explosives."
Syal tapped her fingers against the top of the conference table. "That's not all, either. Two days ago I took Kess and Jamee for an unannounced trip to President Cridmeen's office."
"Without permission," Wes noted. "You really are Wedge's little girl."
"And proud of it," Syal responded with a wry smile. "In any case, I did some rough work trying to figure out where our little sniper that tried to take a shot at us was positioned." She leaned over the table and inserted a datacard into the projector, flipping it on and displaying a map of the Presidential building and nearby area.
"Originally I thought that I had seen the flash coming from this building," Syal continued, pointing to a structure a few hundred meters away from Cridmeen's office. "Unfortunately, Jamee pointed out that there was no way the shot could have originated from here. Angle of entry was all wrong."
Doran whistled. "Sure you don't work as a forensic investigator by night?"
"Definitely not. Contrary to what the holoshows say, those poor suckers don't get to carry a blaster."
"So where did the shot come from?" Hobbie asked.
Depressing a few buttons on the projector control panel, the map zoomed out. Syal highlighted another building. "This is the only possible origin."
"That's got to be a good thirty-five hundred kilometers," Wes said, shaking his head. "You don't make that shot without some pretty rigorous training, not the sort of stuff you'd expect a random civilian to pick up. Not to mention you're going to need something with a bit more oomph than a standard consumer-level rifle."
Tycho rubbed his eyes and frowned. "I'm starting to notice a trend here. Our terrorists have military precision and resources no fringe insurgency group should have. Either it's really Freedom Flight or there's someone else in play here."
"If I may," Vik Kelrune finally spoke up. "I can't tell you how she is training her insurgents, but I can shed some light on to how M'Trudar Cerulo is funding her efforts. Furthermore, I can assure you that it definitely is not Freedom Flight that's behind it." He reached into a folder set in front of him, procuring a stack of flimsis and distributed them to everyone in the room. "Talon Karrde took personal interest in this case, don't ask me why. I can't even attempt to explain that man's whims."
"Vik," Kess chided.
He held his hands up defensively. "Karrde managed to get a read on credit transactions several of Cerulo's personal contacts were involved with. Most of them were fairly innocuous, but after he sent the reports to my desk to look over, I spotted one in particular that caught my attention. Every other day for the last year and change has been a ten-thousand credit transfer from a bank based out of a nearby Outer Rim sector."
"Do you know who was behind the transfers?" Tycho asked.
Kelrune took a deep breath. "You might want to brace yourselves for this. Those credits were being wired through nearly two dozen systems and it took me a while to find the origin point. It turns out that the credits originate from right here."
"What do you mean, right here?"
"Orvax IV," Kelrune said. "I didn't believe it myself, but the credits are coming right here and going through all sorts of channels to hide that."
Syal stared incredulously at the sheet of flimsy in front of her. "That's unbelievable."
"It gets stranger. Every one of those credits can be attributed to one individual. President Jarol Cridmeen."
An icy hush fell over the conference room. Syal blinked a few times, only dimly aware that her mouth was agape. Cridmeen? "That makes absolutely no sense."
"No," Tycho said, "it doesn't, so we need to try and figure out what it means."
Jamee said, "Conspiracy? Someone trying to frame him?"
"I don't think so," Kelrune responded with a shrug. "If someone wanted to direct us to Cridmeen, why so many layers for these credits to travel through?"
"The only logical conclusion is that he is willingly funding a revolt against his own government," Hobbie mused aloud. "This isn't any sort of altruistic act on his part, either. If he wanted slavery to end here, there are far more direct and significantly less violent ways to make that happen. He wants the bloodshed."
"But why?" Kess asked. "Major Antilles is right, none of this makes any kriffing sense."
Silence filled the conference room once more. Try as she might, Syal couldn't wrap her mind around the implication that Cridmeen was directly responsible for the attacks against him. Was Cerulo even aware of who was funding her? What did it mean if she did know? Was Cerulo working for Cridmeen? Could it be the other way around? They simply didn't have enough information in front of them to draw conclusions, just enough to draw a very blurry image. After several long moments pondering these thoughts, an answer of sorts began to dawn on her.
It didn't matter. The credits, who was working for who. None of that was of importance at that moment.
"We can sort through all of this later," Syal said. "I believe Mr. Kelrune has just given us the opening we need to take action. While we don't know why Cridmeen is funding the insurgents, what we can definitively say is that both he and Cerulo are part of the same conspiracy to promote terror on-world. That gives us ground to remove both from power."
Tycho's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting a military strike?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Syal confirmed. "We don't have much time. Daala's smart, she's going to figure out a way to get us back sooner or later. If we don't move now to get Cridmeen out of office and remove Cerulo from the slave resistance, we are going to get pulled away. After that, Daala either sends the Mandos in to clean up after us, or she lets things continue here unchecked. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't find either of those options to be particularly palatable.
"I propose a dual strike," she continued. "We divide the Rogues into two groups and oust both of them at the same time. Prevents either side from catching on to what we're up to. I'll take command of one group and Doran will lead the second."
It was risky, but Syal knew it could work. Two small strike teams converging on Cerulo and Cridmeen could effectively capture both and bring them back to the embassy for holding. It all would rely on speed. Being able to get in and out with their targets in a quick manner would greatly reduce the chance of bloodshed and loss of life. Granted, there was still additional planning to do. While they knew that Cridmeen was still somewhere within the presidential building, there was no telling where Cerulo was hiding out. Hopefully Vik Kelrune and Karrde's network could reveal that minor mystery in short order.
"Syal," Tycho said quietly. "You do realize the ramifications if we turn this into a military operation? As you are the ranking active service officer, the media will divert their attention from myself to you. You will become the face of our presence here and you will be attracting some anger from ..." he trailed off momentarily. "Higher up officials."
"I am aware, but quite honestly that is the last thing on my mind right now."
Hobbie spoke up. "If we go thorugh with this, I think there's a major problem we're going to have to deal with. We take out Cerulo and Cridmeen, great. What do we do about the twin power voids we've just created?"
"Conceivably any one of us could step in and assume control of the Orvax IV government on an emergency, interim basis," Tycho said. "There's a diplomatic clause in there somewhere to exploit, I'm sure of it. What I don't see is who steps in and takes over the slave resistance."
Wes cocked his head to the side in a thoughtful pose. "I think I've got someone. Dia."
"Dia ..." A smile formed on Tycho's lips. "That could work. That definitely could work. Can you get in touch with her?"
"Shouldn't be too hard."
Jamee spoke raised a hand. "That's taken care of, but who fills the vacuum on the government level?"
"You leave that to me," Tycho said, pushing his seat back and standing. "Syal, I'm going to need to head off-world to speak with someone about stepping in. Given the security issues we've had of late, I'd feel a little better about taking one of your X-Wings."
"Absolutely," Syal said without hesitation. "I'm also going to insist that you take an escort. I'll be sending Captain Versai and Captain Katar with you."
"Appreciated," he said with a nod. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it's time to adjourn. We've got a good deal of preparation ahead of us and it would be best to start sooner rather than later. While I'm gone, I'm leaving Syal in charge. Hobbie, you've got the most public relations experience out of everyone here. I want you to handle the press."
Wes grinned. "See Hobbie? All of those horrific crash landings and ejections finally paid off. You landed an endorsement deal with a bacta company and learned the finer art of PR wars."
Hobbie merely grumbled.
Slowly, the members of the meeting began to file out of the conference room. Tycho was the first to depart, no doubt to try and find a flightsuit and get an X-Wing prepared. Syal suspected a part of him was looking forward to sitting behind the flightstick, for it had been several years since he had last flown. Kess and Kelrune followed. Throughout the meeting, Syal noticed Kess had a rather distant look on her face. She made a mental note to check up on her later.
"Have a minute?" Hobbie said, taking a seat next to her.
"Of course," Syal replied.
"I know now may not be the best time to bring this up, but Tycho and I have been a little worried about one of your pilots."
Syal winced. "Haruko?"
Hobbie nodded.
There was no missing that Haruko Skobra had been inconsolable since Rixar Dain had been killed in the bombing. The two of them never advertised their relationship, but everyone in the squadron knew that they were a pair. Without Dain, Skobra seemed to have gone into an emotional nosedive. Syal immediately felt guilty. She had been so caught up in the aftermath of the blast and dealing with the press that she hadn't taken the time to pull Haruko aside to try and speak with her.
"As much as you may not want to do this, Hobbie said, "I think you need to consider taking some drastic action with her. She's not going to want you to, but you've got to act in her best interests. You need to figure out whether or not she's fit to serve right now."
Hobbie stood, patting her on the shoulder before leaving Syal alone in the conference room with little more than a stack of datacards and her fragmented thoughts.
***
It was a decidedly dingy and dank tapcafe, but Wes Janson had been in far worse. A good twenty-year career with Rogue Squadron had seen to that. Peering down at his mug of ale, he was oddly pleased to see that the container was mostly clean. Definitely a step up from the true dive cantinas he had visited in his life.
"So nice of you to visit," Dia said as she tapped a foot impatiently on the ground.
Wes offered a toothy smile. "Well, I was in the nieghborhood and thought it would be a real treat to visit an old friend." He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "So how's life, Dia?"
The Twi'lek rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. Busy with work, liberating slaves. Same old, same old. Yourself?"
"Saving the Galaxy with nothing more than my roguish charm and ruggedly handsome looks."
"Janson, let me just say that it's refreshing to see you. Everything in the Galaxy may have gone to hell over the last few years, but at least you haven't changed a bit. So tell me, are you here to simply reminisce on days gone by or are you here to do business? I have other issues I need to tend to."
Sitting a bit more upright, Wes nodded an affirmative. "Tycho has come to a decision as to a course of action, but we're going to need your help."
"Oh?"
"I can't divulge too much right now, but what I can say is that within the next two days M’Trudar Cerulo will be ousted from the slave resistance.”
Dia’s ears seemed to perk up at the mention of the resistance’s violent leader. “You’ve finally decided to listen to reason.”
Wes shrugged. “None of us are particularly keen on the idea of letting her suicide bombers continue to kill both slavers and innocent civilians. She needs to go.”
“I see,” Dia said, folding her arms under her chest. “But you need something from me.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Yes, but the context is there, too. As far as you know, I’m just a Freedom Flight agent. Why share something like this with me? I figure that there’s something else to this plan, something strategic that requires outside help.” She leaned forward. “So what is it, Janson?”
He lifted his mug of ale up, taking a big swig of it before answering. “The slave resistance without Cerulo is still dangerous. Somehow they’ve gotten access to military grade weapons and training, left unchecked they might be even more deadly than they already are. Cerulo might be a terrorist and a criminal, but she at least keeps her minions focused and predictable.
“In addition,” he continued, “there are many members of her organization that don’t fully share her desire to kill slavers at any cost. They actually do want to help the slaves here.”
Dia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to get at? All my people want to see is the slave resistance go away so we can continue to operate in the shadows.”
“I’m telling you the resistance isn’t going to go away,” Wes countered. “It’s a known quantity to Orvax IV’s people now. There are people who, right or wrong, are rallying behind their cause. It won’t vanish and, quite frankly, none of my people want to see it disappear completely.”
“So why are you wasting my time?”
“They’re going to need a leader, Dia,” Wes said. “They’re going to need someone to rally around, someone to guide them and provide some kind of hope. They need someone that won’t give them orders to blow themselves up in the name of vengeance.”
“And you think that person is me?”
“I know that person is you. I still remember the brash young pilot who left the Wraiths to fight for the freedom of slaves.” He pointed at her. “That girl is still somewhere in you. The question is this. Are you going to listen to your superiors? Or are you going to do what is right for the resistance, the slaves, and yourself?”
For a long while, Dia didn’t answer. She didn’t so much as look up at Wes, seeming to think that a little stain on the tabletop was the most interesting stain in the known Galaxy. Wes knew that he was asking her to do something extraordinary, but he had to do it. There was no one better suited for the task at hand than she was. Freedom Flight may not like their agents operating in such a public spotlight, but Wes didn’t care in the slightest. They would learn to deal with it.
“I’ll do it,” she said quietly.
Wes smiled and stood, setting down a few credits on the bartop. “See? Still in there.”
“I’m just glad Tycho decided to do the right thing. I wish I knew why it took him this long to come around.”
“If only you knew, Dia,” Wes replied as he turned to walk out of the tap caf. “If only you knew the cost.”
***
Drifting in the middle of open space several systems away from Orvax IV was an aging Imperial Class-II Star destroyer known as the Errant Venture. While it may have featured the distinct sharp lines and angles of the craft that struck terror into countless worlds during the Galactic Empire's rule, this particular Star Destroyer clearly had been repurposed for other tasks. A rather odd red paint job adorned the hull, quite a departure from the usual Imperial white. Closer inspection would reveal that many of the standard turbolasers had been replaced with ion canons and tractor beams, heavy modifications from when the ship had originally been known as the Virulance.
The interior provided an even more stark contrast. Over the years, interior sections had been completely cleared out and redesigned for shops, businesses, and entertainment. Environmental and atmospheric systems had been completely overhauled in order to provide an atmosphere similar to a marketplace rather than that of a machine of war. One rather common sight on just about every floor were numerous tapcafes, perhaps the biggest credit producer on the Venture. The ship was a safe haven for smugglers and information brokers, and where there were smugglers and information brokers, there was a need for alcohol.
In one such tapcafe on one random deck of the Errant Venture sat Tycho Celchu. Idly, he spun the mug of ale that sat on the table in front of him. He did his best to keep a neutral expression on his face but he was keenly aware that he could not bring himself to look at the man sitting opposite of him. An oppressive hush lingered over the two men, For perhaps the first time in his life, Tycho wasn't sure what to expect from him. Understanding? Anger? Sadness?
"Why didn't you tell me?" Wedge asked, finally breaking the silence.
Disappointment.
"I don't know," Tycho replied honestly. "I panicked. I thought I was doing the right thing."
Wedge frowned. "You took an assignment that you knew was going to force you to compromise your morals. That's not the Tycho I know."
"Daala was going to use you as one of her political pawns," Tycho protested. "She was ready to throw you into the same corrupt judicial system that she tried to put Niathal through."
"So you decided to be the pawn for me? You knew exactly what Daala wanted, to keep the status quo going so she wouldn't have to pull resources away from the Jedi and the Reunification Summit. You agreed to this knowing full well that in order to help me you'd have to find a way to keep the slave trade alive and well on that backwards world."
"Wedge, I-"
"And you know what really gets me?" he continued. "The fact that you're using me as an excuse to help her."
Tycho opened his mouth to try and fire back a response but couldn't find the words. There wasn't anything he could say on that count, Wedge was absolutely right. Tycho was using him as an excuse to further Chief Daala's misplaced priorities.
"Why, Tycho?"
Tycho didn't immediately respond, taking a few moments to try and formulate his thoughts. "Almost forty years ago I was staring at charges of treason. Nobody believed I was innocent. I was losing the PR war and getting ripped to shreds in the courtroom. My name was dragged through the mud and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. Wedge, there were days when I thought I was guilty ..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"I can't stand the thought of watching you go through the same farce I had to endure," Tycho managed to say.
The hush returned once more, lingering for several long and uncomfortable minutes before Wedge finally spoke up. "I'd hate to put you in that position," he said. "Watching you on trial was only slightly better than the nights I'd spend awake while you were trapped on the Lusankya, wondering if you were still alive or not. Still, you know this isn't right. I'm not going to let you be a tool for Daala and I am definitely not going to be the reason slave trafficking continues out here."
"I know, Wedge," Tycho said, rubbing his temples. "I made a mistake. I should have come to you right away, instead I allowed myself to fall into her trap."
A pained smile appeared on Wedge's face. "At least you finally said something. Listen, you need to get your people, not to mention my daughter, off of Orvax IV. It's not safe anymore. Get yourself to Coruscant and start waging the public relations battle there."
Tycho hesitated. "We can't. Not yet."
"Why not?" Wedge asked. A moment later his eyes opened wide. "You're turning this into a military op, aren't you?"
"That's the short of it, yes," Tycho replied with a nod. "Wedge, let me ask you this. How would you feel about ending the slave trade down there once and for all? As a bonus, how would you also feel about avoiding a publically embarrassing and devastating sham trial?"
"Is this a trick question?"
A smile formed on Tycho's lips. "Not at all, but I'm going to need your help. You might want to consider buying a new formal suit."