Chapter Twelve
More than a week and several aborted missions after the uncomfortable report to Admiral Ackbar, Wedge found himself outside of Admiral Fedra's office. Since the door was open, Wedge knocked on the jamb before entering the room, tossing a quick salute. "You wanted to see me, Admiral?"
"General Antilles," Admiral Fedra welcomed him with a brief salute and a cheerful smile. He waved Wedge to a seat in front of his desk. It was a small work surface, Wedge noted, kept clear of clutter and well organized, with a holo of a woman and a toddler perched on one corner. The walls of his office were bare, with the exception of a static holo of a map of various areas of the galaxy. It confirmed what Wedge had thought when he first met the Berchest native: he was not only exceedingly intelligent, but also had a good dose of common sense, something unfortunately lacking in many high-ranking front-line officers. He also didn't like to hit visitors over the head with walls of commendations and lists of accomplishments, even though Wedge was sure he had plenty of both to have reached Admiral at his age.
Fedra waved Wedge to a seat, and the pilot moved towards the desk. "Your shoulder is doing better, I see," he commented with a smile as he settled into his chair.
The admiral nodded, rotating his left shoulder. "Didn't see the point to getting dunked just for a sprain," he replied, smiling ruefully this time. "It was my ego that took the bigger blow, being knocked off my feet during battle."
Wedge chuckled. "Can sometimes be hard to keep your feet when your ship is being pounded by a Star Destroyer. Trust me, I've been there."
Fedra nodded again, then handed Wedge a datacard. "You'll find on this the newest set of orders from Command. I wanted to talk to you about them, if I may."
"Certainly, Admiral. But you'll have to fill me in first," Wedge said with a smile, waving the datacard.
Fedra chuckled. "Of course. I had every intention of doing so, General. Actually, may I call you Wedge?"
"Uh...sure. I don't see why not, sir" Wedge answered, caught a little off-guard by the informality. One more sign that Fedra wasn't your typical Fleet officer, following fleet regs to the letter.
"Thank you. And I hope you will call me Andel."
"All right, Andel it is," Wedge said, grinning. Despite recent circumstances, he was actually very much enjoying working with Fedra. Much more than just about every fleet commander he'd worked with so far, with the possible exception of General Solo. In fact, Wedge was absolutely certain now that Fedra was unlike any other admiral he had ever worked with.
The admiral was younger than most, to be sure, probably in his mid-thirties, and was open to the suggestions of the people that worked with him. He saw the relationship between Wedge and himself as a collaborative one, often asking Wedge for his opinion or advice, drawing on his Rogue and Wraith experience, as well as his experience commanding various capital ships. Fedra didn't always take his advice, but at least he considered it. Now asking permission to call Wedge by his given name was a further demonstration of his feelings of trust and equality, not to mention an aversion for strict military protocol, which most of his peers seemed to delight in. "What was it you wanted to discuss in particular?"
"Wedge, I won't spell out all of the details, you can read them later, but our upcoming mission is going to be much more complex than our previous hit-and-runs. Not that there weren't unexpected complexities with those other missions." Wedge watched Fedra shake his head, probably in disbelief at the luck that Rozrrom seemed to be enjoying...or information that he's somehow buying. Wedge noticed, with some amusement, that he was shaking his own head now as well. He forced himself to stop.
"There will be a coordinated ground and space mission, with a team dirt-side keeping Rozrrom's forces busy while we make our jump into the system and try to get the drop on him this time. What I wanted to talk to you about was the security we're going to implement. We've put in place all of Ackbar's new measures, but they've proved insufficient, going by our recent string of misfortunes."
"Actually," Wedge began, "we've come up with a couple of ideas on that. I've talked this over with Colonel Celchu and the other squadron leaders, and we all agree that a fleet-wide comm blackout may be necessary leading up to the mission, to ensure that no one in the fleet has the chance to contact Rozrrom and tip our hand."
"That's a severe restriction," Fedra noted with a frown. "It means no reports could go out to fleet command, no response to incoming transmissions, no regular communications between our own ships, even. We would have to manually shuttle orders to the rest of the fleet."
Wedge nodded, drumming one finger lightly on the arm of his chair. "We're aware of the inconveniences it may cause, but with our recent string of losses, I don't see how we can avoid it. We can resume regular communications as soon as we're ready to make our jump, leaving the spy no time to send a message, and Rozrrom even less time to prepare for us. We can't even be sure how this spy is sending his messages; possibly piggy-backing them on existing transmissions somehow. But I would have thought we would have caught at least one of them by now."
Fedra's mouth twisted as he thought that over. "You're still convinced the spy is here, then."
"It's the only logical conclusion," Wedge answered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Why is that?" Fedra asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not that I don't believe you, but before I issue an order turning off every holo-unit and comlink in the fleet, I'd like to know why I'm doing it. And Fleet Command will surely want a satisfactory explanation as well. "
Wedge leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. "Think about it for a minute. Most of the last minute details of the mission are decided by you, me, and a select few others. Once we finalize the plan, I brief my squadron leaders and pilots, and you turn to your staff. Since the mission has already been approved, you send off a message to Fleet Command only a few hours before the actual mission with those last minute details. If Rozrrom was intercepting those messages, he would have only a very small window of opportunity to throw together a plan like the coordinated attacks that he's been beating us back with. If the spy is someone along the line at Command, then he would have even less time to communicate with Rozrrom and for the warlord to get his ships into position."
"What you're saying makes sense, I suppose," Fedra said, leaning back in his chair. "I just have a hard time believing that it could be someone in this fleet."
"It's even worse than that," Wedge countered with a pained grimace. "I think it may be one of my pilots."
"Why would a spy betray us to Rozrrom then put himself in danger by flying out into the middle of the furball?" Andel asked, leaning forward again.
Wedge blew out a long breath. "Trust me, I've had far too much experience with this. A squadron is the perfect place to hide a spy-they have light duties when they aren't flying, access to equipment, personnel, and communications. They also have advance knowledge of the missions, which your average crewer wouldn't have."
Fedra raised a finger to emphasize his counter-argument. "Ah, but you're forgetting that there are hundreds of other crew members who know about our missions in advance, everyone from the technicians who prep the fighters to the crew who are responsible for plotting our hyperspace jump. Not to mention my personal staff."
Wedge nodded slowly. "That's true, but you have to remember that they only have as much information as is needed for their jobs, and some of them aren't told very far in advance. Techs are told that the ships have to be prepped, but since we're on near constant alert most of the time now, our ships are pretty much kept at the ready, and we give only three or four hours' notice before we actually need them. They also don't know the where and the how. Same for most of the rest of the crew involved, with the possible exception of your aids and personal staff, who have to be in the planning from the beginning. Most ways you slice it, though, pilots have the time, the knowledge, and the know-how."
"Hmm... Those are all valid points. I think we'll need to come up with something a little more formal, though, before we broach the subject with Command."
Wedge's mouth spread into a wide grin as he pulled a datacard out of one of many pockets. "I'm way ahead of you, Andel." He handed the card over to the Admiral, who mirrored his smile.
"General Cracken was right about you," Fedra remarked with a quiet chuckle.
"I shudder to think what Cracken says about me behind my back," Wedge replied, shaking his head.
"Oh?" Fedra asked with raised eyebrows.
"Sure. 'That damned Antilles and his gang of misfits. Always poking their noses in where they don't belong,'" Wedge said in a fair imitation of General Cracken's growl. "And that was before I even founded the Wraiths, who're the real misfits of the galaxy, causing chaos and spontaneous explosions wherever they go."
"I think you're doing Cracken an injustice, Wedge. He speaks very highly of you and the Rogues, but you especially."
Wedge's lips twisted into a half smile, half sneer. "He's asked me to join intelligence more than once. I'm better off in a cockpit."
"A pity," Fedra responded. "I'm sure you would have fit right in with the Intelligence officers."
"Just what does that mean?" Wedge asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his chair with a growing smirk.
"Oh, nothing," Fedra smiled innocently. "Let's take a look at what you've come up with."
"Why me?" Corran whined.
"Because you walked in at just the wrong time; because you deserve it; because you're the least suspect of the lot of us," Wes said, bodily shoving the captain across the Starlight's mess hall.
"But-"
"Come on! Are you a Jedi or a granite slug?"
"I'm neither," Corran continued to protest as he was propelled towards a corner table. "He's gonna kill you, then me, then you again, for whatever it is you've got planned."
"Oh no, believe me, he'll thank me for this," Wes countered, pulling out a chair and pushing Corran into it, a hand on each shoulder to hold him there.
"Wes-" Corran started.
"Oh, just be quiet and do as you're told," Wes said, diving one hand deep into a pocket for his comlink, the other still firmly planted on a shoulder.
"But, Wes, he's-" Corran tried again.
"Quiet! Once I call him here, you'll ask him to come and sit with you. Then-"
"Then what, Major?" Wedge asked quietly, leaning over Wes's shoulder, his mouth close his ear. The stouter pilot jumped and turned, all in the same motion, forcing Wedge to take a step back.
"I tried to warn you," Corran said to Wes's back, smirking.
"Uh, nothing. I was just...um..." Wes thought frantically for an excuse to cover his tracks. "I was going to play a joke on…Tycho! But you caught me, so I'll just forget it, and be on my way."
Wes started past Wedge, but was stopped short as Wedge's hand took hold of his upper arm. "Are you sure it was to be on Tycho?" he asked, again quietly.
"Of course," Wes replied, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.
"I'll ask you again, Major. Are you sure it was for Tycho?"
Wes feigned a hurt expression. "Why, you didn't think I was going to play a joke on you?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Wedge said, as Corran laughed from his front row seat.
"Don't you think I learned my lesson with the Wraiths? You proved once and for all that you're the better practical joker." Wes smiled, but the suspicious frown still firmly in place on his commander's face made him finally admit defeat. "You really would have liked it in the end. Honest you would," Wes confessed with a pout. He hated it when he wasn't able to put a perfect plan into motion.
"I doubt that very much," Wedge finally chuckled, then turned towards Corran. "What did he have planned? A Rhodian pie in the face? Salted caf? Glue on my chair?"
"Actually, he'd just hijacked me and hadn't gotten around to telling me what my unwilling part was to be," Corran said, climbing back to his feet.
"Well," Wes began, "a package arrived earlier that I was sure you might enjoy, Wedge. So I had planned to-"
"A package?" Wedge interrupted, confused, glancing at the table just behind Corran. "What kind of package?"
"I think he means me," a voice said, this time from behind Wedge.
Wedge straightened, and he was the one spinning on his heel this time. "Jene!"
Wes leaned over and whispered to Corran. "He runs into her arms...and cue sappy music. This is where he forgets all about us."
"Wes, if I had the choice between you and Ajene, I'd pick her, too," Corran snickered.
"What are you doing here?" Wedge asked as he and Ajene sat down together at a table in the mess. He held both of her hands on the tabletop. "Why are you here?"
"Almost sounds like you aren't happy to see me," she replied with a smirk.
He raised one of her hands towards his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I am glad you're here. And there are a few things I'd like to talk to you about, but not here. Not in the open."
"That sounds serious," she said, frowning. "Shall we take the conversation elsewhere?"
"Sure, just let me grab a caf," he said, getting to his feet. "You want one?"
"I could sure use one. It was a very long flight in a very small shuttle to catch up with you boys."
After filling two large plastine cups with extraordinarily strong caf, the only kind the mess served, Wedge walked Ajene to the modest office adjoining his quarters. He sat in his chair, and she perched on the corner of the desk, glancing out of the viewport between sips of steaming caf.
"Most of what you want to talk to me about, I most likely know," she began, glancing down at him. "I was fully briefed about the current situation before I left Coruscant."
"They tell you about the spy?" Wedge asked, putting down his cup to turn on his datapad. It was an automated reaction to sitting behind his desk.
"Yes," she replied. "But I find it hard to believe it would be a pilot. You come up with that one?"
Wedge smiled sheepishly, looking back up at her. "Yeah, that would be me. Among others."
"I thought as much," she said without smiling. "You think it's Nyl, don't you."
Wedge shook his head, sighing. "Am I that transparent?"
"Only to those of us who know you and your recent history. Besides, you haven't exactly been secretive with your suspicions about Nyl-he's the first person you'd blame when things go wrong."
"Funny, you look like Ajene, but you sound just like Tycho." He chuckled, but when she didn't, he returned his attention to his datapad, frowning at it.
"I'm very serious about this, Wedge. I don't know what's gotten into you lately. You used to be so open‑minded about people, never taking anything at face value, never suspecting someone without just cause. But ever since you were ambushed-"
Wedge looked up immediately, fire suddenly dancing through his brown eyes as he cut her off. "No! I'm sick of everyone insinuating that I'm letting my feelings about that one experience color my perceptions about the current situation! That's well behind me. And need I point out yet again that Nyl is a former Imperial pilot, captured in battle? He didn't defect, he didn't leave due to a crisis of conscience, he was captured and-"
This time Ajene cut him off, setting down her cup of caf on his desk with such force that some of it sloshed over the side. She pointed a slim finger at him. "Don't do this, Wedge. Just don't. I've tried to be as supportive as I can since your rescue, knowing how much pain and anguish that ordeal caused you, is still causing you, but since those first couple of days you've hardly mentioned it at all, even after the nightmares started. You just won't admit to yourself how much it hurt you-but it has, and it'll continue to do so until you do something about it. This unfounded distrust of Thras Nyl is just the most recent symptom!"
"You think that I need professional help?" Wedge asked with an incredulous expression, anger threatening at the edge of his words. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve that kind of punishment."
"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all." Ajene sighed, then got up and went around to the front of his desk so she could fully face him. She sat in the chair opposite him, leaning her elbows on his desk. "Let me talk for a minute, to try and tell you what I do mean, before we just end up angry at each another."
"All right," Wedge said, sitting back to listen, his fingers gripping tightly at the arm of his chair.
Ajene took a deep breath. "Wedge, when we rescued you from Arramsetti, you were grievously injured. I actually had to stand by and watch you die right in front of me, and that affected me in ways for which I wasn't prepared. For a long time after that, I felt very protective of you, wanted to do everything in my power to bring you back to the man you were before-the man I loved. I didn't want anyone to hurt you like that ever again."
She leaned back, rubbing at her temples. "What I didn't realize at the time, but I've come to recognize recently, is that the person who would hurt you the most is someone I can't protect you from-yourself. You're hurting, Wedge, more than you know. You have a great amount of pain and hate in you, and I think it's affecting a lot of your decisions. Tycho's seen it for a while, and he's struggled with what to do about it, because he's not only your friend, but also an officer under your command. I didn't see it before because... I don't know, maybe I didn't want to see it. Maybe I was too close to it. Maybe I'm denying it as much as you are; who knows. Am I making any sense so far?"
Wedge just nodded for her to continue.
She looked at him seriously for a moment, trying to read his emotions though his eyes. He was his usual self, though, locked up tight. "What I'm trying to tell you, Wedge, is that you have to think very carefully about what you're going to do regarding this spy issue. You can't make baseless assumptions about one man because of his past. You didn't about Tycho when you first took him into the Rogues, so don't do it with Thras now, no matter how much you think you may want to."
Ajene searched Wedge's face again for any sign of anger or distress. She'd told him the truth as she saw it, which she had only just realized herself after a lot of observation and soul searching, and a very long shuttle ride. Wedge was one of the strongest people she had ever met, only one of a thousand things or more that attracted her to him, but he had his weaknesses, just like everyone else. She had refused to acknowledge that at first, but she'd reluctantly been forced to after recent events.
She saw him glance down at the top of his desk, the corners of his mouth turned downwards, pain and sadness in his eyes that he'd let her see only once or twice before. "Jene, I..."
"What is it, Wedge?" she asked gently when his words trailed off to nothing. But when he looked back up at her, his mask was firmly in place once again. Whether he did it consciously or not, she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was just an automated response, borne of years of trying to protect himself from a lot of hurt.
"I'll think about what you've said," he continued with a weak smile. "I'm trying to be as open-minded about this as possible. And Tycho has been doing a very good job of acting as my conscience personified."
Ajene's shoulders slumped. "He shouldn't have to, Wedge. He didn't used to. Can't you see how wrong it is?"
Wedge was saved from having to answer by a tone from his comlink. "Antilles, here."
"Wedge, this is Andel. Please come to my office as soon as possible, I have news from Fleet Command."
Wedge looked up at Ajene, who sagged back into her chair in defeat. "I'm on my way."