Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

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Chapter 7: First Encounter

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After Eskrit had programmed the navcomputer and they were safely in hyperspace, he finally told Jesina where, exactly, they were headed. "Exocron?" she repeated, surprised. "Couldn't get much further from the Core if they tried."

"They have tried," he replied. "This is only a small outpost. A few fighter squadrons, the occasional capital ship or two, and a significant cache of supplies – supplies you'll be expected to help transport once we find a new base. No one has paid the planet any mind since around the time of the Old Republic, except for the people that live there – who don't much care what we do – so we more or less come and go as we please. Even if the Emperor knew we were there, he'd be hard pressed to find us."

"Fighter squadrons, huh? You wouldn't happen to know where Red Squadron is, would you?" Red squadron was an x-wing squadron. Her uncle, Garven Dreis, was the squadron's leader, and she knew a couple of the pilots well. One, Wedge Antilles, she'd met when they both were smuggling for Booster Terrik. Through Wedge and her uncle, she'd gotten to know many of them well.

He turned to her, something resembling sympathy in his eyes. "I had hoped you'd heard."

She suddenly felt cold. "Heard what?"

"The Alliance was able to obtain the plans to the space station that destroyed Alderaan. They launched an attack that Red Squadron was a part of. They were able to destroy it, but the squadron sustained heavy casualties. Only Antilles and another man, a substitute for Janson – he was ill and unable to fly – survived. I'm sorry." For all his attitude on Nar Shaddaa, he seemed genuinely compassionate now.

Tycho had been watching from the doorway. He didn't know what connection Jesina had to these people, but it was clearly a strong one. She looked as if someone had punched her in the stomach. But then, just as quickly, the pain was gone from her eyes. "I knew it could happen. So did my uncle." She bit her lip and turned away. "Do you know where they are now?"

"They are headed for Exocron. They should arrive a day or two after we do."

"That's why you're bringing us there."

He nodded. "It's not entirely a gesture of goodwill." Gil'fra glanced back at Tycho, and Jesina noticed his presence for the first time. "If he can survive Antilles and Janson right now – and the starfighter commander they've assigned there – I'll be satisfied."

"What's going on?" Tycho finally asked, looking at Jesina's drawn expression with concern.

"Nothing for you to worry about, boy," Gil'fra snapped.

Tycho clenched his teeth but nodded. "Fine. I'll be in the cabin." He spun on his heel and stalked out of the cockpit, hoping he'd never have to see the Bothan again after this trip.

Jesina watched him go, then shot Gil'fra a scathing look. "There's no need to treat him like that."

"He shouldn't be sticking that noble nose of his where it doesn't belong."

She stood, finally tired of dealing with him. "He wasn't. He simply saw that what you told me upset me, and he was worried. It won't kill you to at least me civil to him."

"It might," he retorted as she shook her head and went after Tycho.

He looked up at her as she approached. "I don't suppose spacing him would go very far toward endearing me to the Rebellion?"

Jesina gave him a small smile. "Among some, it might." She paused. "How long were you standing there?"

"I heard him say that someone would be arriving where we're going a day or two after we get there."

She nodded. "The survivors of a squadron that flew against the Death Star. They went by the designation Red Squadron. My uncle was their commander."

"Was?"

She nodded again, looking pained. "Eskrit just told me he was killed in the battle."

"I'm sorry." He knew from his own experience that there wasn't much he could say that would actually make her feel any better. She hadn't used platitudes on him, and he wasn't going to on her.

She sat down, sighing. "He died for a reason, though. They destroyed the Death Star.

Tycho stared at her in disbelief. Surely, there was some mistake. How could the Rebels have destroyed a space station with enough firepower to blow up an entire planet? "How?" he asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that ten people I knew well are dead. And you can count on not having a very warm welcome."

"I wasn't expecting one anyway – your friend in there," he jerked his thumb toward the cockpit, "pretty much erased all illusions to that effect." He paused, not sure if he'd be out of line. "Tell me about them?"

She looked surprised. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "Anything you feel like telling me. You haven't really talked much."

Jesina suppressed a bitter laugh. "And this surprises you?"

"Well, no, but..." he trailed off, looking a little hurt.

She instantly felt bad. "I'm sorry. Really, what do you want to know?"

"Why don't you start with who I'm going to be meeting," he suggested. "If they're going to want to shoot me on sight – which you seem to have suggested a few minutes ago – I'd at least like to have an idea about what I'm getting myself into."

She smiled. "I don't think any amount of warning or description can truly prepare you for these two."

He suddenly looked much less sure of himself, and she laughed at his distress. "They aren't that bad. Wedge will give you a run for your credits as far as being protective of me, though."

"What, he doesn't think you can take care of yourself?"

"No. He knows I can. But then, so do you, and that never stopped you, now did it?"

"No, I suppose not," Tycho admitted. "Wedge, huh? Corellian?"

"As they come," she replied.

"A smuggler?" he guessed, and she nodded.

"He was. He's the one who dragged me into working with the Alliance. He's one of the best fighter pilots we've got – if not the best. He's had it rough, and he's worked hard to get past what he's been through. Not to mention he's just lost a lot of friends. So don't be surprised if he's hard on you at first. He's really a good man."

"How good?" Tycho asked, eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Tycho!" she exclaimed. Then she shook her head. "Corrupted by a year or so of Imperial service. What a shame."

"As opposed to you, Ms. Dreis, who was already plenty corrupt by the time you fell in with smugglers."

She went on the defensive. "I'll have you know, most of the smugglers I've met are perfect gentlemen."

"Yes, I'm sure," he retorted. "Right up until they shoot you."

She laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Seriously, though, Wedge IS a good guy."

"I believe you," he replied. "What about the other guy? Janson, was it?"

She hesitated. "Janson might be a little more difficult. He's a joke – a real wise guy – and he sometimes takes it a little too far."

"That doesn't seem so bad."

"It's not. That's not the problem. Janson's got a history – one I don't know much about, and I'm not sure how much anyone else does, either. And – whether this is related or not, I don't know – he tends to have an intense dislike of Imperials."

"Great." He shook his head. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm walking to my own execution."

"You just defected from the Imperial Navy," she reminded him. "You're a traitor. If they catch us, you might as well be."

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"Unidentified freighter," a voice crackled over the ship's comm unit. "Transmit identification and clearance code now."

"Captain Dreis of the Nightwind," Jesina replied, hitting a few keys. "Transmitting identification, clearance, and protocol now."

"Protocol?" Tycho asked as they waited to be cleared to land.

She didn't meet his eyes. "It's standard," she replied evasively.

He frowned. She might be telling the truth. This was, after all, the Rebel Alliance, and their status was more than enough reason to do things differently. Still, something didn't sit right with him. And the way she refused to look at him made him all the more certain that something was wrong.

"Nightwind, you're cleared to land. Maintain current heading and wait for further instructions."

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The planet they'd landed on – he still hadn't been told the name – was beautiful. The area where the Rebel outpost was located seemed to be surrounded on all sides by forest. It was sunny, but still cool, and the sky was a strange color.

Marring the view were the two men who seemed to be the Alliance's version of military police waiting at the foot of the Nightwind's boarding ramp. The first sign that they were more than a simple welcoming committee was when one of them drew his blaster. "Take his weapon, Agent Gil'fra" The Bothan drew the blaster form Tycho's holster and handed it to one of the officers while the other put binders on Tycho's wrists as the Alderaanian stood there, stunned. "Come with us, Lieutenant Celchu," the second man said as another man approached them.

The new arrival turned to Jesina. "Captain Dreis, I'm Commander Narra. I'll escort you to your quarters." She nodded, and didn't look at Tycho as he was escorted away.

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The commander didn't say another word until they were in her quarters – a small room with a single window and a shared refresher down the hall. Once inside he said softly, "I wanted to extend my sympathies on Garven Dreis' death. I understand that you were a relative of his?"

She sat down on the stark, military-issue cot. "Yes. His niece." She studied this man carefully. "Did you know my uncle?"

He nodded. "I flew with him a few times. He was a good man, an excellent pilot, and very well respected by everyone who knew him."

"Thank you." She paused. "Are you an x-wing pilot?"

"Yes. A few pilots will be here in a day or two to help me begin to form a new squadron – the surviving members of your uncle's unit."

"Yes, Eskrit told me." She looked apprehensive. "Have you seen them?"

"No, I haven't. They've been running around the galaxy for the month and a half since the battle at Yavin."

"Yavin?"

"The battle against the Death Star," he clarified.