Author's note: This post was written by a good friend of mine. You can read her fics here under the user profile Annie789.
Chapter Ten
The Best Laid Plans
"Do you know how hard it is to reach Luke Skywalker?" Corran crossed his arms and leaned against the couch, a frustrated look on his face.
"Still no luck?" Gavin asked, taking a seat on the arm of the chair opposite him.
"Why are you and Luke Skywalker suddenly all buddy buddy?" Inyri asked, her eyes narrowing.
"No real reason. I just wanted to talk with him about something. A Jedi thing."
Inyri's gaze didn't let up. "Did something happen to Mirax again?"
Corran blinked, then started to laugh. "No. No, it's nothing like that. I'm just worried about Darvix. He's so angry…"
"Of course he is." Inyri shook her head, "Corran, he just lost everything."
"Everything is a bit of an extreme…"
"His soulmate, his future life with her, any children they may have had…the important things are gone. He's not going to just magically," she snapped her fingers, "Be happy."
Gavin shook his head. "It takes so much time, there are parts that never quite heal. There are still songs I'll hear, or a joke from earlier days in the squadron that someone will make, and it brings back every memory of Asyr in a rush. It's so hard to act as if it doesn't affect me, because it does."
"Do you remember when you thought Mirax was gone?"
Gavin frowned, "Which time?"
Inyri nudged him with her elbow. "And you ran off to be a Jedi and do Force knows what crazy things during that time."
"I remember the emptiness, the knowledge that I'd do anything to bring her back…the visions of everything that was ruined…" Corran trailed off. "But that was completely different. I wasn't…there wasn't blind anger."
"It's because she wasn't dead," Inyri replied. "Look, I'm not trying to rationalize his actions or his emotions. I'm just trying to help you see where he's at. Maybe you can cut him some slack. Grief does things to people."
"It's different for the Jedi. It has permanent ramifications."
Inyri and Gavin exchanged glances. Before either had a chance to respond, the door opened.
"Where's the Whyren's?" Janson moved towards the bar at the side of the room.
"Did something happen?" Gavin asked, watching Hobbie join Janson in the search for the requested bottle.
"Nah, it's nothing. Hobbs just wants a last drink before he gets to go play in the Bacta Tank again," Janson replied. "Think of it this way, Hobbie, it's a great chance for you to soften your skin. You haven't been dunked for awhile, you know."
"Wedge has an idea," Hobbie explained. "Wes is giving me a hard time."
"You know, you really should contact the Bacta Cartel about being their spokesman," Janson continued, not missing a beat.
Hobbie shot a mournful look at the group reclining on the furniture. "Inyri, help."
"If you can't stop him, why do you think I can?" Inyri rolled her eyes. "You're the best Wes-wrangler known to the galaxy."
"Then I fear for the galaxy," Hobbie replied.
"Found it!" Janson held up his prize. "Horn, who is that guy who used to be a Rogue and works for the Bacta people?"
Corran groaned. "Oh, memories best left forgotten. Bror Jace."
"There you go, Hobbs. Contact him, use your Rogue Squadron experience for networking, and make a little extra cash on the side endorsing Bacta." Janson grinned as he poured Hobbie a drink.
"What was it that Tycho said about there not being enough power in the galaxy to help?" Hobbie asked, reaching for the glass.
"Help what?" Gavin asked.
"Bring Wes up to an emotional age of fifteen," Hobbie explained.
"Not Darth Vader and the dark side of the Force, or the nuclear power of an exploding sun," Janson replied. "Or something like that."
"Do I want to ask what you three are up to?" Tyria appeared at the head of the table, glancing down at the pieces of flimsy that were scattered around.
"Probably not," Kell replied, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"Uh-huh." Tyria raised an eyebrow. "Kell, are you blowing something up?"
Kell blinked, maintaining as much innocence on his face as he could. "Tyria, my love, what makes you think I'm going to blow something up?"
"Because you're wearing the 'I'm about to blow something up' look," she replied, amused.
Shalla snorted. "Great job, Tainer. You totally kept the mission undercover."
Tyria turned her attention away from her husband to Shalla and Runt. "I probably shouldn't ask, but how exactly are you two involved?"
"We like explosions," Runt replied quickly. "Watching them brings us great joy."
"We're planning to write an epic poem describing Kell's boom," Shalla added.
"Uh-huh." She suddenly dove for one of the scraps of flimsy. Kell realized what she was after half a second too late, and Tyria held her prize aloft.
"Tyria…it isn't what you think." Kell pouted, watching her as she read over his schematic.
"I'm thinking you're planning a practical joke on someone," she replied. "Okay, where's Janson?"
"Huh?" Shalla frowned.
"I know he's involved. This practically screams Wes Janson, with a small Kell twist, as these containers you're using to hold stuff in will eventually explode and drench the victim in Force knows what substance." She squinted at the hastily scribbled handwriting on the diagram. "Looks like ketchup."
"Hey! We came up with that all on our own," Runt protested.
"Yeah, maybe one of Runt's minds has decided to be Janson," Shalla added.
"Force help us." Kell murmured. "Does Face know yet?"
"He'll figure it out sooner or later," Runt joked.
"Not funny, guys." Tyria shook her head. "So, who exactly is this elaborate set-up for? The new squadron members?"
The three conspirators exchanged looks, none venturing to speak.
"You do realize this is juvenile, right? I suppose you're even calling it an initiation."
"She's good," Shalla told Kell in a stage whisper.
"In addition to her stunning beauty, she's also highly intelligent. That's why I married her," he replied in a similar fashion.
"Face is in on it, too, isn't he?" Tyria asked.
"He's not in on it, per se," Runt replied. "He knows we're doing it, but he said he doesn't want to know what we're planning. Something about it being better if our CO wasn't involved in any sort of initiation routine."
"I told him he should participate," Shalla put in, "As it would help add to our team unity."
Tyria studied the schematic. "How exactly did you plan on rigging this up while they're sleeping?"
"Being really quiet?" Kell replied, still feigning innocence.
"Or hope that they're really heavy sleepers. You forgot the heavy sleepers part," Runt told Kell.
"That's still pretty risky. If you want to do it right, slip them a sleeping pill or something." Tyria continued to study the schematic. "Either that, or have me set up the parts in the actual bedrooms."
Kell exchanged a look with Shalla and Runt, then looked up at her. "Are you saying you'll help us?"
"Kell, you wound me." Tyria laid a hand across her heart. "What better way is there to say 'I love you' than conspiring with someone to pull an immature prank on a poor, helpless victim?"
Kell grinned. "I knew there was a reason I married you."
"So, how's it feel to have your people back together again?" Wedge asked, scanning the menu at the take-out counter. What had Iella asked for again?
"Well, do you remember what happened to your sanity when you worked with the Wraiths?" Face asked.
"It decided to take a permanent vacation?" Wedge asked.
"Got it in one." Face grinned.
"You know, you reach a point where you just stop missing your sanity all together. Once there, everything gets a lot easier." If he brought the wrong thing home for Iella to eat, would she accuse him of not listening to her?
"I'll have to remember that." Face paused. "They're up to something already."
"This surprises you?" Wedge asked, amused.
"No, don't worry, I'm not that naïve," Face reassured him. "I'm well aware of standard operating procedure in Wraith Squadron. I am starting to wonder about what they're going to do, though."
"Did you ask?" Salads…did Iella like salads? He'd seen her eat them from time to time, but usually in combination with something else.
"You know, it's usually best not to know what they're going to do," Face pointed out.
"Ah, it's like when Wes says 'you don't want to know.' Sooner or later…Boom."
"Probably." Face shrugged. "All I know is that Kell, Shalla, and Runt were conspiring to do some sort of initiation ritual on the new members of the squadron."
"Can I take your order, sir?" The woman behind the counter interrupted their conversation.
Decision time. Wedge frowned at the menu, then motioned to the middle panel. "I'll take that."
"Which one, sir?" She turned to look at the sign behind her.
"The three sandwiches, the different soups, the salad, and that desert-looking-thing."
The cashier frowned, "But, sir, that's the whole center portion of the menu."
"He's a freak medical experiment," Face explained to the woman. "He has four stomachs."
She looked at Wedge strangely. "Oh. Well, coming right up."
Wedge turned to look at Face. "Freak medical experiment?"
"Hey, I told you I hated improv. It was all I could come up with on short notice." He looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Besides, I didn't want to tell her Iella would kill you if you screwed this up."
"Thanks. I appreciate the concern for my ego." Wedge had to refrain from rolling his eyes.
Face slapped him on the back. "I thought you would."
End chapter ten
