Gavin stared at the famous ship in front of them; he'd seen dozens of holos before, as well as the creaky fake-up the Wraith's had worked on, but never the original. The nice paint job couldn't cover up the massive dents and strange bulges on the hull - just like Han Solo's officer uniform couldn't completely obfuscate the anti-authoritative man underneath when he began walking down the Falcon's ramp.

General Solo waved a hand to the Rogues as the hanger's crew scurried around them, busy attending to landings, fuelings, and take-offs. Reaching the group with a pensive expression, he took Tycho's hand and arm in a firm two-handed grip. "Look, Celchu, I can't tell you how sorry I am. You guys deal with enough as it is, and then to have Wedge-"

"Yeah, I know. Thank you, sir. I'm glad you could come."

"Sure. Anything for Wedge. He was a good man. I probably wouldn't be alive if not for some of the stunts he pulled."

"That's definitely true of all of us." A slightly awkward pause fell on the group as they both fished for something more to say. Tycho changed the subject. "You remember Lieutenant Klivian?" The referenced pilot was standing slightly to attention with his hands in his pockets.

"Remember Hobbie? Hard to forget you, buddy. Still using up the New Republic's bacta supply?"

The two shook hands, and Hobbie shrugged at the attempt at lightheartedness. "Addiction's hard to break."

Gavin felt a sudden rush of nervousness when Tycho tilted his head towards him next. "And I don't know if you've met Gavin before. He helped us on Coruscant."

A big grin broke across Han's face. "Gavin Darklighter. Sure, I've heard about you. Bigg's cousin, right? Heard you've been doing a great job."

Gavin blushed bright red. "Yes, sir. I mean, I hope so, sir." He accepted the general's firm handshake.

"Good to know there's another Darklighter fighting. Have you met Luke at all?"

"Not really, sir. He is a Jedi, now."

Han snorted. "Yeah, well if he gets tired of being all high and mighty, I'll make sure he comes over to say hi. He'd love to meet you. You can reminisce about womprats together."

Tycho gestured towards the hanger exit. "Shall we?"

"Uh, wait one second, Chewie just wanted to finish up in the Falcon. He'll be...there he is."

The famed Chewbacca appeared in the freighter's door, growled something in Wookiee when he saw Han, and ducked under one of the door pistons to start heading their way. A gold protocol droid, C-3PO, Gavin figured, surveyed the scene and shuffled down afterwards.

Han sighed. "Sorry about bringing Threepio. He wanted to come to the service, and I'm not as good as I used to be at telling him what to do."

Tycho gave a slight shrug. "He's welcome, of course."

Chewbacca reached them and seemed to recognize all three pilots; he said something and put his large hairy hand on Tycho's shoulder. "Good to see you again, Chewbacca."

The Wookiee removed his hand and with his long hair waving as he gesticulated, said something to Han. Tycho turned slightly as if to start leading them towards the hanger exit, but Chewbacca startled Gavin by reaching out again and grabbing the Captain's arm. Tycho was just as surprised.

Rarrrwarrwar.

"Um, I'm sorry Chewbacca, I don't speak Wookiee-"

Han quirked a grin. "Want me to get Goldenrod, Chewie?"

Chewbacca made several more noises that seemed to adamantly turn this proposal down, when Threepio appeared at his side.

"I must say, those refueling droids make navigation extremely difficult. Captain Celchu, it looks as if my colleague Chewbacca here is in need of my translating abilities. If you will excuse the lack of crude gesticulations, he is trying to express his most heartfelt condolences for the loss of your Commander Antilles-"

With another, even more irritated roar, Chewbacca pushed Threepio backwards a few steps and waved his arms in frustration.

"Chewbacca! I'm trying to help, you furry ape! Is this the only thanks I ever get for trying to render my assistance?" The droid's voice had reached an upset falsetto.

Han reached out and grabbed his partner's furry arm. "Hey, hey, Chewie, take it easy, take it easy. I'll translate for you, alright?"

"How can you not admonish him for such behavior? I'll never understand you humans. Before I am completely banished, I would like to say something myself."

Han rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

With an expressive look at General Solo, Threepio turned his attention to the three pilots, specifically Tycho. "Captain Celchu, it is common knowledge that you were one of Commander Antilles' closest friends and comrades. As such, I feel it is appropriate that I tell you how I feel about his loss. The Commander was, in my humble opinion, an excellent pilot and an invaluable asset to myself and others on numerous occasions. I remain in his debt."

Tycho smiled sadly and lowered his head to droid. "I'm sure the Commander would have appreciated your words, Threepio."

Threepio seemed to phsyically straighten, embolded by the respectful answer. "Indeed. And his skill as a pilot was rumored to be extraordinary. I would even go so far as to say he was a better pilot than either General Solo or Chewbacca-"

"Alright, Goldenrod, don't you have something else to do?"

With one last indignant look, which was surprisingly expressive for a metal face with no moving parts, the eccentric droid excused himself. "I will find something else to do with my time until the service, then. Captain, if you'll excuse me." Looking long-suffering, he walked off with his joints squeaking.

Chewie had calmed down, and told Han something in Wookiee. "Ok...yeah, buddy, sure...I know what you're trying to say...alright..."

Chewbacca finished and turned to look at Tycho, who shared a quick glance with the other two pilots before returning the look curiously.

"Alright, Chewbacca here has a few things to say," Han started. "He knows that you're one of Wedge's best friends, and that you guys played sabaac with us on Hoth-"

"Rar, rar, rawr, rawwr..."

"Right, played sabaac and also helped us find that part to the Falcon when the droids said they didn't have any in inventory." Han looked at Chewie to make sure he was saying it right, and Chewbacca made a noise of approval. "And he wanted to say how sorry he is that you don't have Wedge around anymore to be your friend. He says Wedge was an exceptional pilot,"

Rarrarrar...

"Especially that time when Wedge flew his snowspeeder with Chewie here still hanging on the bottom-"

Rarrwar-

"Which he admits Wedge didn't mean to do on purpose-"

Rarr...

"And that Wedge was a good man, and Chewie here doesn't want you to feel bad or guilty about what happened."

Tycho looked at Chewbacca directly and nodded his thanks. "Thank you, Chewbacca. Wedge was an amazing man, and we were lucky to be his friends."

Gavin noticed that several of the hanger technicians were stopping their work to whisper and watch the group, so he felt a bit of relief when they finally started walking towards the exit.

Han was watching Tycho out of the corner of his eye as they walked, and cast a searching glance at Gavin and Hobbie as well. "Look; Chewie also wants to know if you guys are doing alright. I'd like to ask the same question."

The three exchanged glances, and Hobbie dourly turned to Han with an answer. "We're doing alright. We're here, at least."

Han sighed. "Sure you are. Though you look a lot more together than I thought you might be, which leads me to believe that you're up to something."

Tycho's face was the pinnacle of innocence. "Up to something? Since when are the Rogues ever up to something?"

"Since Antilles took over, that's when." Han turned an extremely curious look on all of them. "And I get the feeling that this funeral isn't the end of things. Whatever you guys are doing, I want in."

As they crossed the hanger, Gavin suddenly stopped and craned his neck over a refueling cart; he could have sworn he'd heard Corran's voice.

Tycho looked back. "Gavin?"

"Yes sir, one second, I thought I heard...hey, is that the Pulsar Skate?"

"Where?" Tycho craned his neck to look around the same obstacle. "That's odd; Flight Control was supposed to keep me updated on incoming traffic. Though that landing gear does look familiar."

He looked back at Han. "Do you mind if we check it out? Mirax Terrik's ship is supposed to be arriving about now."

"Terrik, as in the smuggler? I'd love to meet her. C'mon, Chewie. No, I'm not trying to reopen my contacts. No. I told you, we're getting the new sensor package through legitimate channels. Why? No, it's not because Leia told me to, I just feel like getting a real permit - hey, furball, watch your language, I'm the General here- no, I don't think it would be disrespectful to Wedge-"

As they weaved through the thick of the hanger towards the glimpse of recognizable hull, Gavin swore he heard Corran's voice becoming louder. A droid ceased making a loud construction noise, and even though they were still a good hundred feet away, words were suddenly distinguishable.

"This...ridiculous. Helped bring...Coruscant..."

"...need clearance..."

"What do mean, clearance? What-"

"Sir, we shouldn't even have given docking clearance - we didn't give docking clearance-"

"So you would have had her wait for an hour while you checked with five superiors?"

"It's a civilian ship, sir. I'm already in trouble for that-"

"Luke Skywalker landed without a problem."

"That's a special case, and he had clearance."

The debate finally came into view. Corran, Mirax, and another man were standing at the base of the Skate's ramp. Corran was obviously angry, his arms gesticulating when he spoke, but the technician was holding on stubbornly. Gavin's heart almost broke when he saw Mirax standing quietly behind Corran, arms held together protectively and head lowered.

"What about that ship over there? It's from where, Eiattu? That's civilian."

"Yes, but it has a diplomatic release code-"

"What's going on here?" Tycho demanded as they pulled up to the group. Mirax looked up and smiled when she noticed them. Tycho smiled back softly before turning to the suddenly jumpy technician. "Well?"

"Captain Celchu, sir, this ship landed before we gave it clearance. We didn't intercept it because our computers recognized it as a friendly, but it's a massive breach of protocol."

"Is my permission enough?"

The tech looked sheepish. "Um, no, sir. Not in this hanger, at least."

Tycho frowned, and then Han Solo stepped forward. "Hey, recognize me?"

The man almost dropped his clipboard. "General Solo? Yes sir! Of course, sir!"

"Good. Tell your superiors that I give this ship complete clearance for as long as the captain wants."

"Yessir!"

"Now scram."

"Yessir! Absolutely, sir!" The wide-eyed man gave an overzealous salute and practically ran off.

"Mirax? I'm so glad you could come." Tycho's words were full of honest meaning.

"Oh, Tycho-" Mirax pulled the man into a big hug, her face puffy and red. "The moment Corran told me..."

"I know. I'm sorry." Tycho looked up from her shoulder to Corran, who was now standing quiet, looking exhausted.

Finally pulling out from the hug, she noticed Hobbie and another sad fond smile touched her lips. "Hobbie Klivian."

"Hi, Mirax." She pulled the blinking man into a hug as well. She seemed to forget to let go, and after a while, Hobbie appealed silently to Gavin. "Um..."

Gavin walked over and bent down to look at her at eye level. "Um, Mirax..."

She seemed to snap out of it. "Oh, hi Gavin. Sorry, Hobbie." She released him, Hobbie now looking about as awkward as a man could get. Gavin saw his shoulders sag a bit in relief. Mirax visibly pulled herself together, and scrubbed off her cheeks with her gloved hands. "Corran told me last night. I dropped out of a bartering deal and came this direction as soon as I could."

Over Corran's shoulder, Gavin squinted and in the distance saw the technician explaining something to what was probably a superior, pointing their direction. "Tycho..." He nodded towards the two men, and Tycho quickly took in the sight, before looking over to Han, who was standing respectfully off to one side. "General, it looks like we have a new friend headed our direction. I doubt it will be a problem, but..."

"But he might give us flak. Well, there's an easy way to avoid that - where to?"

Tycho turned to Mirax. "Do you need anything else from the ship?" She shook her head, and Tycho nodded. "Good. Quick, it looks like he's coming this way - let's use the exit over there."

Corran put his arm around Mirax's shoulder and they once again set off. Gavin was at this point itching to get out of the crowded and dark hanger; it was oppressive. They walked in silence for the distance. Han's earlier banter with his companion was nonexistent.

Finally; Gavin breathed an audible sigh of relief when they entered a well lit hallway.

In the good light, Mirax finally seemed to acknowledge the presence of the General. "Thank you for bailing me out back there."

"No problem." Han sent a half-cocked smile her way. "One of the few advantages of promotion."

"Sure. You know..." She looked at the man warily and wiped her red nose with her sleeve, "I'm not usually like this. You're seeing me in an unusual situation..."

"Hey, you're Booster Terrik's daughter, and not only that, your reputation practically exceeds his, sweetheart. That takes someone with nerves of steel and one helluva street cred. I'm not going to judge you at your friend's funeral."

"He was one helluva friend," Mirax intoned after a pause, still looking cautious.

"I believe you, trust me."

"We grew up together."

"Damn, woman, I already said I'm not going to pass judgement on you for crying at the funeral of a friend! And I sure as hell won't when the dead man is Wedge, alright? He was my friend, too, you know."

After the outburst, another pregnant silence fell on the group, broken by Mirax's apparent acceptance that Solo was telling the truth. "That's good to hear. I'm sorry for you, then. Wedge was a good man."

Han nodded in agreement, still looking moody, but accepting the strange truce. "Damn right he was. A little straight-laced, sometimes, but about as trustworthy as you can get."

Mirax laughed between sniffles. "He was a bit straight-laced, wasn't he? He didn't make a very good smuggler. He did some runs for my dad when I was a kid - Booster used to get irritated because he never bargained for a better price."

Gavin listened with surprise. "Commander Antilles was a smuggler?" He hadn't known Wedge had smuggled, or done anything illegal. But then, he supposed the entire nature of the Rebel Alliance was somewhat illegal.

"A gun-runner, at that," Mirax supplied, smiling at Gavin's naivety. "But that didn't last very long before he got sucked up in the Rebellion. Maybe he thought it was less dangerous."

Han snorted. "That was a stupid conclusion."

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They eventually reached a crossroads, and Mirax looked up into Tycho's only slightly higher face. "The service is when?"

"An hour away."

"Will I be able to get in? If it's just military personnel..."

Another angry glower crossed Corran's face. "You'll get in. I'm prepared to use my blaster if I have to."

"Not necessary, Horn," Tycho shook his head. "I'll make sure no one hassles her."

Corran squeezed Mirax gently with his arm, and turned to Tycho. "Dress uniforms?"

"Of course." Hobbie answered. "Thinking you could avoid it, Horn?"

Corran sighed. "Wedge didn't like them. But he did make us wear them." He supplied a grim, sour smile. "I suppose we need to show he trained us to do something that followed official protocol."

"Well, in light of clothes, I'll be going." Hobbie saluted to Han. "General."

Han returned it. "Lieutenant."

With a flurry of sedate salutes and nods, Hobbie, Corran, Mirax, and Gavin walked off towards their quarters.

Tycho, Han, and Chewbacca were left standing in the hallway. Chewbacca let out a growling mew and said something to Han, and Han reached up and distractedly messed up the hair on his companion's head. "Yeah, I know, pal. Look, Celchu," he sent the younger man the Han Solo approximation of a stern look, "you probably have to get dressed. Chewie and me will let you off babysitting duty and head on over. Where's the service supposed to be?"

"I'll take you there." Tycho lightly touched Han on the arm and guided him down the hall. "My dress uniform is in a locker by the hanger. I'm supposed to be there early, anyways."

Han didn't look completely convinced. "You're sure..."

"I'm sure, sir." They walked in silence for awhile. Tycho knew he had somehow taken on the role of host, but it helped distract him. Well, it would have if people stopped addressing their regrets directly to him, as if he were the surviving spouse. If they felt so bad, why hadn't they told the man their feelings while he was alive? Tycho realized he was gritting his teeth in a sort of angry bitterness, and he forced the muscles to relax. If people wanted to express their feelings, he wasn't the one to get angry at their belated timing. And if he served as a convenient surrogate for the real thing, so be it.

He looked up and realized that they had already reached the lift that would take them to the tiny hanger. They had walked the entire distance in complete silence. Well, so much for being a host.

Tycho touched the keypad for level A21, Repair Hanger. As they waited for the lift to arrive, Tycho looked at Han out of the corner of his eye, before averting his gaze back to their warped images in the metal lift door.

Han finally cleared his throat. "Um, Celchu, before I lose track of you, I want you to know that I meant it when I said I wanted in."

"In?"

"On whatever you and the Rogues are up to."

Tycho blinked. He'd almost forgotten about the man's flippant comment in the hanger. He wanted in? "If you don't mind me asking, sir...why?"

"Why?" Han looked surprised, and little put-off. "I want some payback too, snub-brain."

"Snub-brain? And what makes you think we want payback?"

"I know how you guys operate. Sure, missions come first, but your true motivator is your buddies. I know because I'm the same way. And I happened to like Wedge Antilles. Quite a bit, actually. And it pisses me off that some worthless imps blew him up like that, and I'm tired of dealing with this stuff diplomatically, fed up with councils, with strategies, with big pictures. I'm fed up. You want to know how the politicians are dealing with Wedge's death?"

Tycho was watching Han warily. "I'm not sure."

"They're already bickering over how to replace the man." Han was fuming. "You can't replace a man like that. And you can't be Antilles, goddamnit, because you're Celchu, just like I can't because I'm Solo. And get this;" Han leaned in closer, whispering furiously. They had moved to the corner away from the turbolift. "That damn Bothan is happy Antilles is dead because he was loyal to Luke and Leia and Ackbar. Figured that Wedge made you and the Rogues into some kind of private army. And he's trying to get that Commander role filled up with a Bothan-"

Tycho was listening in sick disbelief. "With who, Asyr? She's dead. And Asyr hated politics."

"Doesn't matter. He's pushing other options, the sick bastard." Han finally paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He succeeded in cooling his tone, but not much else. "Antilles risked his life everyday for what these politicians sit around and enjoy. They'll give the man a heroes funeral once they decide to leak it to the media, they'll make him up into some martyr and sell him to the masses, and then they'll put his picture in a museum and forget about him. But something as simple as finding his body? They couldn't care less."

"Leia and Mon Mothma care, don't they?"

"Well, yeah, but they have to look at the big political picture. It has me wondering, though." Tycho could see that Han's jaw clenched as he paused and looked to one side. "Are we in the same boat, Celchu? You go down, and they spend a day talking about you on the interplanetary vid-channel, put you in a museum. That's fine and all, but it's political propaganda. The political stuff - I know Wedge hated politics like that. We all do."

Han looked empty of words for a second. Chewbacca was standing like a sentinel, watching the occasional personnel go by, using his intimidating glare to stop them from gawking or paying too much attention.

Tycho slowly shook his head. "What about Ackbar, and the rest of the military? They don't think like that."

Han's fury deflated slightly. "No. They don't. And the military has to go through with what the council wants. And they're probably right to do that." He rubbed his temple with one hand, looking harried.

"Then why-"

"Maybe I'm just fed up with it. Damn. Maybe no one is doing anything wrong."

"You're just tired of doing what other people tell you to do."

Han grimaced. "No, that's not it. Being a General, you don't have to listen to a lot of people." Chewbacca looked back and seemed to contest that fact pretty verbally. "Hey...alright, Chewie, I might, just might do what Leia wants me to do sometimes. And yeah, if Mon Mothma or Ackbar...point is, I don't listen to the Council."

Tycho finally understood. "You're tired of sacrificing friends for big, abstract concepts." He nodded, and reached out to offer Han his hand, which the man looked at with suspicious confusion. "You wanted in, you're in. We're going back to Yuman. If you stay around until later, I'll fill you in on the details."

Han took the proffered hand and shook it seriously. "Deal."

Tycho nodded. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to get dressed. Payback or not, Wedge is still dead; there's still a funeral in half an hour."

Han's eyes darkened. "Right." They starting moving back to the turbolift. "C'mon, Chewie." Chewbacca said something in response, and they stepped through the door.

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When Tycho had finally been released from Han's overwhelming presence, and accepted more condolences from Admiral Ackbar, who was overseeing the setup for the service, he found he literally did not have the strength to change clothes in the nearby locker-room. He just sat on the bench, shirt undone, elbows on knees and gripping his head in his hands. It was too much. All that talk of politics, all the attention, all the sympathetic grief, it was too much.

Wedge was dead. Stone cold, body blown into smithereens dead. Tycho now realized that his identity in the last seven years had been forged as Wedge's partner, his backup, and his wing. They had understood each other implicitly. In X-wings and on the ground, they knew every move the other would make, tendencies, styles, bad habits, weaknesses. As wingmates, they had been unparalleled in all of Star Command. They had flown into the Death Star together. And now only one had flown out. Worse yet, he'd left his partner to the mercies of that explosion.

Payback? Yeah, they were definitely going to find payback. It would help with closure, he realized, for the entire squadron, especially for the older Rogues like Hobbie, and Wes, and even Plourr, though she wasn't back on a permanent basis. And apparently it would give Han Solo some satisfaction as well. Taking down the people who had killed Wedge was an agreed upon necessity. But would that help him?

Maybe. At least it would help distract him from the actual loss. But closure; maybe that would never happen. Fighting in the New Republic against the people who killed his family had given him a purpose, but it had failed to give him closure. The grief and guilt had dulled over time, but it had never gone away, and with Wedge, he realized it would be the same.

So much for improving that melancholic disposition Winter teased him about. Thank the Force he still had Winter. He'd contacted her as soon as he'd been able, but he wasn't sure if she had received the message. The last time he'd spoken to her, over a month ago, she had been in an undisclosed location with the Solo children. He was sure that she'd heard about Wedge through the Solo's, but he couldn't help wishing that Han Solo had taken over baby-sitting and that Winter had arrived in the Millenium Falcon in his stead.

Finally lowering his arms, he let his head slump back and stared at the sterile lights on the ceiling. Which brought a wall chrono into view...sithspawn, ten minutes left. He was supposed to be out marshaling the squadrons into ceremonial order, and while he'd ignored that duty for its triviality, he couldn't ignore his duty to simply be there. He stood up and started pulling on his dress uniform, and without checking to see if his hair was presentable, took a deep breath and left the quiet sanctuary of the locker-room.