Part 11
Jenniiya groaned, reaching out to bat at the alarm. Then she realised it wasn't the alarm, but the chime of the call-alert. Sitting up, checking her timepiece and seeing that it was still very early, she pressed the call button, asking, "What is it?"
"Manwah," the voice told her, "Chieftain Derwhen of the Kenwa has just arrived."
Jenniya slumped back against the bed, sighing softly. "Have him shown into the reception room," she ordered. "And arrange kaffin and pastries…"
"It will be done, Manwah."
Derwhen was here, she had no doubt, because Yolan had contacted him about Downhigher supposedly having been sold to him. Her father's closest friend and the only person, apart from Yolan and Lyn, that she trusted enough to turn to for advice, Derwhen had spoiled her as a child and given her good counsel on many occasions.
If he was here, in person, rather than simply contacting her by holo-vid, it meant he was concerned. Not surprising considering the information about Downhigher arriving so soon after the arrival of Imperial Governor Oston.
Getting up, she chose a gift from Derwhen: a long, black, silken robe with intricate red embroidery. She pulled it on, fastening the belt before brushing her hair, leaving it to fall down her back.
Checking her reflection in the mirror, she turned and headed for the door, making her way down to the foyer.
oo0oo
Castell watched the read-outs on the display as the droid introduced the final elements into the Bacta. In a few moments, Antilles would regain consciousness, the Bacta having done its work on the swollen tissue and nerve damage caused by the bounty hunters' shockstick.
The Bacta tank had been delivered and ready to use before Oston had finished his business meeting with the Manwah. Antilles had been in the tank for just over three hours now. Outside, night would slowly be giving way to the lightening sky of the approaching sunrise. Here, in the bowels of the Manwah's manor, it was dark and cold: cold enough for Castell to see her breath.
Just as she wanted it… The cold air would jolt Antilles after the warmth of the bacta tank, keeping him off-balance.
She was about to make him believe that he had been here longer than he actually had: a whole day longer, in the hope that he would more easily divulge some information about the contact the pilots had been waiting on.
The droid rolled back, announcing, "The subject is regaining consciousness."
"We'll wait for a few moments," Castell told Lekk and Sondu, "allow him to become aware, before taking him out…"
Both men nodded acknowledgement and Castell turned her attention to the readout screen on the Bacta tank, watching the indications.
Wedge surfaced slowly into a quiet, dark world. He was warm and comfortable. Reticent to move, he lay still. The alarm hadn't gone off yet, so he must have woken early…
He smiled, relishing the thought of another few minutes in bed before he had to get up for…
For what?
Give me something. Anything. Just one piece of information.
A flurry of panic fluttered in his belly as memories started flooding in: the hotel, the bounty hunters, the ISB officer…
Terror pulsing through him, he tried to move, but his arms were secured to his side, his legs bound together. There was something strapped to his face…
Strong hands caught him, lifting him. He tried to fight them, writhing and twisting, desperate to get free. A rush of cold air swept across him and he gasped, still fighting. The mask was pulled off his eyes, the sudden light blinding him.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Stop now or I'll stop you with a shockstick!"
Self-preservation screamed at him, overriding the fear. He stopped struggling, peering at the female ISB officer as the men holding him set him down on his feet.
Castell smiled at him, "Good, Lieutenant Commander. Very good."
She turned away, continuing, "I imagine it must be quite a shock to the system, coming out of a nice, warm Bacta tank into this cold air…"
So that's why he was so bloody cold, Wedge realised, and why he wasn't hurting…
Another thought hit him, driving a wave of panic through him. Why would Imperials waste Bacta on a Rebel?
Castell turned back as Lekk removed Antilles' respiration mask. The Rebel was beginning to shiver, his wet pants clinging to his legs. "Let's take a moment to consolidate everything you've told me so far," she began, walking back towards him. "You arrived on the Millennium Falcon three days ago to collect six X-wings."
He tried to hide it, but she saw the emotion that washed, quickly, across his face. She smiled. "You do remember telling me that, don't you?"
Wedge didn't. He didn't remember telling her any of it. He tried to convince himself that she was tricking him, that she was playing him… but how else could she have known…
Maybe Brin…
Guilt and anger flared at the thought of Brin suffering at the hands of this woman. It was his fault. This was his fault. This was all his fault.
"You were to remain on Gehndaaria until yesterday," Castell went on, "waiting for your contact… How was your contact supposed to identify themselves to you? Where were you to meet them? How were you to obtain your rendezvous point to get back to Rebel lines?"
When he failed to respond, Castell nodded to Lekk and Sondu. The two officers removed the straps securing Antilles's arms to his body, then they dragged him back, securing a chain around his wrists, hoisting him into the air.
"How was your contact on Gehndaaria supposed to identify themselves to you?" Castell repeated.
Wedge stayed silent, bracing himself for whatever punishment was to come. The chain bit into his wrists, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the muscles in his arms and shoulders started to protest... but it was what Brin had had to go through...
"Where were you to meet your contact?"
He closed his eyes, concentrating on the lies that he knew he had to get right when the pain finally got too much... or when they resorted to drugs...
Pheonix... Pheonix was to come to them... Pheonix was to supply them with the rendezvous point... For four pilots and six fighters...
Fire ripped along his nerves. The shock of it forced a scream from his throat. He bit down on it, clenching his jaw against the pain, trying to breathe.
Castell lifted the shockstick away from Antilles' spine, walking around his trembling body to stand in front of him. "How was your contact supposed to identify themselves to you, Lieutenant Commander?"
Heaving air into his lungs, the agony receding, Wedge ignored her. Four pilots; six X-wings; Pheonix; Pheonix was to come to them...
Castell sighed softly. "Your continued defiance," she warned, "does nothing but bring you more pain, Lieutenant Commander. You and I both know that you will give me the information I require. You have already given me the information I needed from our last session. Answer the questions now and I need not resort to more... convincing methods..."
When he stayed silent, she hefted the shockstick, jabbing the end into his side.
Wedge screamed, convulsing. His blood pounded in his ears, darkness pressing in from the edge of his consciousness... Then the breath was rushing back into his lungs, the darkness evaporating, the pain fading: but less quickly this time.
"How was your contact supposed to identify themselves to you?"
Phoenix... Phoenix was to come to them... Gods, Brin, is this what I put you through?
His oversight. His error. His lack of attention. He had caused this.
The pain exploded again, driving coherent thought from his mind. The darkness pressed in, tantalising him, before evaporating back into pain. He heard someone whimpering: and knew it was him.
"How were you to obtain the rendezvous point for your return to Rebel lines?"
When Antilles remained stubbornly silent, Castell shook her head, warning, "You leave me with little choice, Lieutenant Commander..."
She turned, motioning towards Antilles with a wave of her hand. From the corner of the cell, the black, spherical shadow of an interrogation droid hummed into life, lifting slowly into the air.
Lifting Antilles' head, Castell ordered, "Look at me, Lieutenant Commander!"
When he didn't respond, she slapped his face, barking, "Look at me!"
He dragged his eyes open, his gaze locking with hers.
"Last chance, Lieutenant Commander!" she yelled. "Tell me how you were to obtain the rendezvous point for your return to Rebel lines! Tell me! Or that," she continued, pointing behind her, "will make you tell me!"
She watched his gaze slide to the droid behind her, watched his eyes go wide as it hovered slowly closer.
"Tell me!"
Terrified, Wedge stared at the long-needled syringe. The words started forming in his mind, pushing down towards his mouth...
And then he remembered Brin...
Is this what they had done to Brin because of him? Had Brin had to endure the same treatment because of him? Was this even anything akin to the pain Luke had endured when the shockstick had discharged into his heart?
A sudden calm settled over Wedge, flowing down through his body, replacing terrified incomprehension with clarity. Dragging his eyes away from the interrogation droid, he looked back at the female Imperial Officer, telling her softly, "Antilles. Wedge. Lieutenant Commander..."
Castell quirked an eyebrow, but she had, in truth, expected nothing less of the Rebel. Nodding, she stepped back, telling him, "So be it."
The droid moved in, finding an appropriate vein in the Rebel's arm and emptying the full measure of thiohexium phenate. Wedge gasped softly, feeling the cold liquid flowing into his arm. He dropped his head, the strength of before deserting him.
Four pilots; six X-wings; Phoenix...
The droid slid the needle back out of the Rebel's arm, moving slowly away. Castell nodded to Lekk, who flexed his fingers, curled them into a fist... and drove it into the Rebel's belly.
oo0oo
Barylo was waiting for Jenniiya at the bottom of the stairs as she reached the foyer. He bowed deeply as he saw her, telling her, "Manwah, Chieftain Derwhen has been shown to the reception room. The ISB officers have returned and are currently with Antilles..."
Jenniiya swore softly.
"They have only just removed him from the Bacta tank," Barylo supplied.
Jenniiya nodded, telling him, "Thank you."
He bowed, turning away as she moved towards the doors of the reception room.
Jenniiya couldn't help but smile as she walked across the floor towards the older man sitting in the same chair that Governor Oston had earlier occupied. This visitor, however, was far more welcome than the slimy, unctuous, Imperial Governor.
"Uncle," she greeted, warmly.
Derwhen Kenwa crossed his arms and gave her a flat look: the only man who would ever be forgiven for not rising to his feet and bowing deeply in the required respect for the Diazez Manwah... in private, at least.
In public, Derwhen would never be anything other than the Kenwa Chieftain. In private, however, he was Jenniiya's favourite Uncle, a man who had earned that right by loving her as a daughter and by the guidance he had offered her since succession to the head of the Diazez Cartel. His guidance, on more than a few occasions, had been invaluable.
"Jenniiya," he greeted, the hard tone of his voice belied by the laughter in his eyes, "What situation have you managed to get yourself into now?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, innocently.
"I mean a cryptic message," he told her as she sank to her knees beside him, "from the rather dashing Nabrood of yours, about a slave I know nothing about!"
"Oh," she tried.
"Indeed," he countered, "Oh!" Then he admonished, "You are going to miss that man if anything happens to him! You should be grooming another to take his place! It is the same for the lovely Lyn too!"
"Uncle," she assured him with a smile, "Everything is in place. Do not fret!"
"Fret?" he shot back, "Fret? And, pray tell me, how is an old man to prevent such fretting when he receives cryptic clues about slaves and Imperial nosing-around?"
"You," she admonished, "are far from old..."
"And you," he countered gently, "have too much of your mother in you!"
Resting a gentle hand on hers, he asked, "What is going on Jenniiya? I am concerned for you."
Jenniiya sighed, dropping her forehead onto his hand. "The fates," she admitted, "have conspired against me..."
He laughed softly, resting his free hand on her head, telling her, "Even the Jedi could not bend the Fates to their will, daughter. What hope have we?"
Leaning down to kiss her hair, he asked, "What is going on, little one?"
Jenniiya lifted her head, looking up at him. Then, as the door chimed, she rose to her feet, ordering, "Come!"
A serving droid walked into the room, carrying a tray of kaffin and bakes. Settling herself into the chair opposite Derwhen, Jenniiya waited until then droid had placed the tray on the table and retreated out of the door before beginning,, "My father always told me to rule the Diazez clans with my head and not with my heart, that every decision I made should be for the good of the clans and based on nothing else..."
"And you have failed in this," Derwhen surmised, reaching for the kaffin pot.
"I attempted to provide... weaponry... to the Rebel Alliance..."
Derwhen looked at her, aghast, for a long moment. Then he began to laugh.
"Uncle," Jenniiya assured him, "it is no laughing matter... Fate has conspired to undo me!"
Curbing the laughter, managing to school his face into a look of reassurance, he asked Jenniiya, "Tell me what has transpired, little one."
He selected a bake, biting into the sweet creaminess of the pastry, munching through it slowly and washing it down with unsweetened kaffin as Jenniiya explained everything that had gone on in the previous two days. Finally, he sat back, considering everything she had just said.
Jenniiya lifted her mug of kaffin, taking a long draw on it.
"The Imperials are here now?" Derwhen asked, finally.
"Yes," Jenniiya confirmed, "They are interrogating Lieutenant Commander Antilles. Barylo is watching everything."
"And the X-wings?"
"Flight ready but the weapons systems are not functioning..." she told him. "You see now why I say that the fates conspire against me..."
Derwhen put his kaffin down, looking at her. "Manwah," he cautioned softly, "You are courting disaster... If the other Chieftains hear any of this..."
"They will not," she assured him. "At least, they will hear nothing about us having tried to help the Rebels..."
"And when they learn that the Governor left troops here?"
Jenniiya sighed, slumping back in her chair, running her hand across her face. "I can only hope they accept that the Imperial soldiers were here at my insistence... to prevent us having to hand our property over to the Empire..."
Derwhen thought for a moment then offered, "I may be able to give some assistance there... Pre-empt the situation... if you will allow me time to consider the options..."
Jenniya smiled, "Thank you, Uncle..."
"The Rebels could be moved to the Kenwa manor," Derwhen suggested.
Jenniiya shook her head, "No, Uncle. I have already placed you in enough danger..."
He looked at her, then relented with a nod of his head, "As you wish, little one..."
oo0oo
"Enough!" Castell ordered, her gaze never leaving the Rebel pilot who hung from the chains. He was still conscious and enough time had passed for the thiohexium to have taken effect. More skilled in their techniques than stormtroopers, Lekk and Sondu hadn't broken any of Antilles' bones.
Lekk and Sondu moved away. Castell moved in, waiting a moment longer before asking, "Lieutenant Commander?"
She watched for a reaction, "Lieutenant Commander Antilles? Can you hear me?"
Antilles swung gently on the chains for a moment then, voice so soft she had to strain to hear it, he answered, "Yes..."
"Lieutenant Commander, tell me how your contact on Gehndaaria was supposed to identify themselves to you?"
There was a short delay, and then the dark-haired Rebel answered, "Phoenix..."
Castell took a step forward. Grasping his jaw, she lifted his head gently, asking, "Is Phoenix your contact's name or codeword?"
Wedge frowned, swallowing before answering, "Just... Phoenix... Meet... Phoenix..."
Castell accepted that answer, knowing that the Rebel Alliance intelligence people might simply have told them to wait around until someone calling themselves Phoenix turned up. She let his head drop, stepping back. "Where were you to meet Phoenix, Lieutenant Commander?" she pushed.
"Phoenix was to come... to... the hotel… "
"You were to wait in the hotel until he contacted you?" Castell clarified.
"Yes..." Antilles answered.
"Good, Lieutenant Commander," she assured him, stepping closer, "Very good. Now," she went on, gently running her hand down his arm and chest, "give me the name of the ship that brought you to Gehndaaria!"
There was a slight pause, as if the question had somehow thrown him then, finally, he answered, "Millennium Falcon..."
"How many fighters were you here to collect?"
"Six..." he told her. "Six fighters..."
Four pilots…
"Where is the rendezvous point for your return to Rebel lines?"
There was another pause before Antilles answered, "Phoenix... Get it from Phoenix..."
Castell traded a look with Lekk then asked, "How were you to return to the Rebel Alliance if Phoenix did not contact you?"
Self-preservation fought with loyalty to the Rebel Alliance as the thiohexium damped Wedge's reflexes and fogged his reasoning. He struggled against the drug that coursed through him, clenching his jaw to stop the words tumbling out. He couldn't tell... He couldn't tell... he couldn't tell…
"How were you to return to the Rebel Alliance if Phoenix did not contact you?" Castell repeated.
When Antilles remained silent, Castell nodded to Lekk, who lifted the shockstick, pushing it against the Rebel's spine.
The scream clogged in Wedge's throat as agony tore through him, his body convulsing against the chains.
Lekk pulled the shockstick away. Castell stepped in, slapping Antilles hard across the face, barking, "How were you to return to Rebel lines?"
In the aftermath of the agony and under the influence of the mind probe, Wedge was lost. "Contact," he choked, the words spilling out before the fog in his mind allowed him to recognise that he'd said anything at all. "Contact them…"
Castell allowed herself a small smile, sensing the subtle change in his voice, knowing that she had finally broken him. He would tell her anything she wanted to know now…
"How were you to contact the Rebel Alliance?" she demanded.
"Frequency…" he supplied. "Send a message… Wait for someone to come…"
"And how would they identify themselves?"
Incredibly, there was a slight pause before he answered and, with a flash of irritation, Castell reconsidered her assumption that she had totally broken the man.
"We'll know them…" he told her, finally.
Castell's brow furrowed in thought as she considered the answer he had just given her. Then, eyes going wide in realisation, she glanced at Lekk before looking back at Antilles. "Lieutenant Commander, was the Millennium Falcon to return for you if Phoenix did not contact you?"
The soft sound of dismay that Antilles made was all the answer she needed.
"How long were you to wait until contacting the Rebel Alliance?" she demanded.
He shook his head, struggling to stay silent, but another charge from the shockstick pushed the words out of him.
"Nightfall…"
Stepping back, Castell's mind ran through all the possibilities contained in the information Antilles had just provided. She checked her timepiece. Nineteen hours until nightfall… Nineteen hours until Antilles was supposed to contact Rebel command to inform them that Phoenix had not shown.
Castell had planned simply to break Lieutenant Commander Wedge Antilles, manipulate him into confessing his transgressions; allow Oston to hand him over to the Emperor to be paraded in front of the media in a public exhibition of admission, acknowledgement and denunciation. Now, however, other potential avenues were opening up.
"Put him back in the tank," she ordered. "And watch him carefully!"
oo0oo
Sinking to his knees before Palpatine's holographic image, the Lord Darth Vader inclined his head, greeting, "Master."
"Old friend," Palpatine began. "I have a task for you…"
Vader lifted his head, looking at the holograph as Palpatine continued, "Governor Oston on Gehndaaria has informed us of two Rebel pilots who have been arrested. One is of particular interest. You will go to Gehndaaria and bring the pilot to me."
Vader fought down the nervous anticipation that flared in the pit of his stomach. There were few Rebel pilots who would warrant an audience with Palpatine. Was it possible that the captured pilot was Skywalker? Was it possible that he would soon be face to face with his son again?
Bringing his emotion tightly under control, Vader acknowledged, "Yes, my Master."
Palpatine paused.
He had given a great deal of thought to how he should deliver this next news to Vader. He was unsure how Vader would react. In all other things he could anticipate Vader's thoughts and actions: in only one area was Vader unpredictable...
Padme Amadala's child…
"I have other news, my friend…"
Vader sensed the subtle difference in his Master's manner. Frowning, disturbed by the change in demeanour, Vader waited for Palpatine to continue.
The Emperor took a breath then told him, bluntly, "Anakin Skywalker's son is dead…"
The words brought no physical reaction, but Palpatine sensed the tremor that rippled through the Dark Side of the Force: shock; grief; dismay; hatred; betrayal… love…
"How?"
Vader's voice was calm, devoid of any emotion, but Palpatine knew the news had struck Vader hard... or, at least, had struck hard at the part of the man who had remained and always would remain, Anakin Skywalker. Slowly, keeping his voice carefully controlled, Palpatine explained the circumstances of the boy's death, as the Gehndaarian Governor had reported it to him.
Vader listened, not believing.
He would have known… He would have sensed it…
And yet, Padme had slipped from life into death without his knowledge: his son had lived two decades without his knowledge…
Was it possible?
No!
He refused to believe it. He would not believe it until he saw the boy's body for himself. He had already been betrayed over Luke once: by his Jedi masters, who had hidden the boy in plain sight, leaving the galaxy to believe that he had died with Padme…
Padme…
Memories, hidden so deep that he had thought them erased until the encounter with Kenobi on the Death Star, rose to fill his mind.
Come away with me. Help me raise our child.
The boy's face, glimpsed briefly before the blast doors closed, seen more closely on the security footage after Skywalker was proclaimed one of the heroes of Yavin. The eyes and the mouth were Padme's, but everything else was Anakin. There was no doubting the boy's heritage.
Anakin, all I want is your love. I'll never stop loving you, but you are going down a path I can't follow.
Because of Obi-Wan?
Obi Wan… His friend and mentor… The man who had betrayed him. The man who had stolen his son. The man who had turned away and left him in a burning hell of agony, left him to die…
I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine…
Beneath the obsidian mask, Vader smiled. In that, Obi Wan had been wrong. Obi Wan's power had lain in hiding the boy from him, in hiding his son from him. From the moment he had understood who Luke was, from the moment he had realised that his son had survived the treachery on Mastafar, Obi Wan's power had gone.
The boy had been raised on Tatooine, knowing only what Obi Wan wanted him to know of the Force: the way of the Jedi…
This new turn of events was a warning. Plans, dormant since Padme's death, had begun to entice him again and Vader had believed that he had time… time to search quietly for Luke, to track him down, to lay bait and reel the boy in, to dispel the lies Kenobi had instilled in him and show him the true power of the Dark Side of the Force.
I've become more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of… together you and I can rule the galaxy…
Now he realised that he did not have the luxury of time. He had not anticipated a freak event ripping his son from him again. If Luke was, as he believed, still alive, he would have to move more quickly.
Bringing his attention back to Palpatine, realising that the Emperor was not longer speaking, Vader inclined his head again. "I will go to Gehndaaria and bring Antilles to you, my Master…"