Epilogue:
The celebration shortly after their return to Mon Calamari was loud, joyful, grand. The hollers of heart wrenching welcome and congratulations echoed throughout the Mon Calamari hangar and far out to sea. Stories traveled throughout Alliance circles. The survivors were attended to, many were saved from the clutches of death, but many died, and many others still suffer from the ghoulish Imperial experiments, forever debilitated by the surgical and chemical mutilations, but they were freed and safe from further harm, as safe as anyone could be in such times.
The Alliance pilots and soldiers were awarded for their bravery, receiving commendations before the assembled battalions on Mon Calamari by the Alliance leader, Mon Mothma.
Their victory further enhanced the morale of the Rebellion throughout the galaxy. Echobe was given a medal, and cheered for his bravery and leadership abilities. Bilebelch was given plenty of moist dirt to dig and play in, and plenty of food to eat, and was as honored as much as any rancor could ever hope to be.
The past several years since leaving Kashyyyk, Echobe could only of hoped that things could end so well, that what Burmar and Ulchewbuk, Elyya and Obechukk, Yaminul, Scious, Hase, Rikot, Bilebelch, and R2-L7, had set out to do would come to fruition. Their collective dreams since that fateful day had been realized, and those lost were not lost in vain.
Despite his grievous injuries, Bilebelch was alive and well, just with more scars to overlap older ones. So much had been gained, but so much had been lost. Echobe had once felt confident and sure that he would finish his task, but he never expected what could have happened along the way, and never imagined that things could have turned out the way they had, so different from what he envisioned. He had gained so much, almost gained even more, but lost just as much.
Echobe was eventually allowed back onto Kashyyyk once word of his deeds reached his people after the death of Makaashyya and her brother. The stories of what he had done for his people, and his fight against the Empire, had made him a hero among his people. Stories were written, songs sung, ceremonies played out. Elders would tell of what Echobe had done for generations upon generations. Echobe's foster parents looked upon their foster son with love and pride. Makaashyya was even given a formal burial on Kashyyyk.
But as Echobe stood on the surface of Kashyyyk, after returning the Wookiee survivors from the prison-laboratories, he looked up into the sky from his healing home city. The stars twinkled and winked at him. He saw comets skim off of it, ricocheting Kashyyyk's atmosphere and back into space. He watched with longing eyes. Everything he set out to do had been done. Echobe was able to come home, as he long desired, among his people, as he had always wanted.
Accepted.
But he stood there under the endless sky that reached out into the limitless void of all that had been and ever will be, feeling as if he had somehow failed.
The End.