Title: Inner Demons, Outer Evils

Summary: A tragic event sets Rogue Squadron on the path to the truth...and sends one of the Rogues on a collision course with himself.

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: Diplomatic Dinner

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Wedge glanced up as Leia entered his office. "Bad news," the Chief of State said with a grin.

"Then why are you smiling?" Despite the strain of the last couple of weeks or so, the squadron and the other people involved – even Mirax Horn – were starting to achieve a sense of normalcy again, and the banter between Wedge and Leia was a sign of that.

"Because I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer through the dinner alongside me tomorrow night."

"What dinner?"

"Adumar is officially joining the New Republic tomorrow night. There's a state dinner for them at which your presence is requested."

"Only took the better part of a year," Wedge remarked. Months before, Wedge, Tycho, Wes and Hobbie had been sent to Adumar as diplomats. They'd endured the duel-obsessed culture, an entire nation's attempts to kill them, and led one side in a world war. Wedge frowned at the memories. "Why do I have to be there?"

"Because you were the chief diplomat. But don't worry. You won't be alone. All of Rogue Squadron will be suffering along with you, especially Wes, Hobbie...and even Tycho."

"Tycho is going to be there?"

Leia nodded, smiling a real smile for the first time in what felt like – and might have actually been – months. They requested it and Dr. Lur thinks that it'll be good for him to get out for a while. She was having some trouble getting through to him, but apparently he's made progress over the last few days."

"Well, that's good I guess. But is she sure he can handle it? Last time I talked to her – granted, it was a few days ago – she said he seemed paranoid, and that he wasn't reacting very well to some new staff."

"She's sure. Like I said, she said he's made progress. And in case he has trouble, she's been talking to Winter about what to do."

She turned to leave but turned back. "Oh, and it's been requested that you four not come alone. I know that Iella hasn't returned, so I thought you might bring Mirax. It would give her something to think about other than Corran's death."

Wedge nodded. "I'll talk to her. Anything else?"

"Ah, yes." She gave him a sly smile. "I thought I'd warn you that General Cracken is headed your way."

He groaned. The Intelligence Director had been more than cooperative over Tycho's situation, which just meant that Wedge would really owe him at some point. "Is it too late for me to hide?"

"Afraid so."

"Feel like intercepting him for me and delaying him so I can escape?"

She feigned shock. "Wedge Antilles! I never would have figured you to be the type to run away from a fight."

"I have no problem facing down blasters or ships much larger than my x-wing. But with that man, I don't mind admitting I'm out of my league."

"Actually, I think it has to do with your orders. Lusankya has returned." She smiled. "Good luck." As she turned again to leave, General Cracken came in. She greeted him quickly, and then disappeared just as quickly.

Wedge stared at the Intelligence Director. "I've just been informed that I'm spending tomorrow evening in the company of politicians and Adumari officials. You can't possibly make my day any worse, so you may as well leave."

"And if I said you might be leaving that function prematurely?"

Wedge raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Your orders have changed. We have a line on a high-priority prisoner. When we find out for certain where he is, the task force – including Rogue Squadron and Loran's Wraiths – is going in to retrieve him. Have your people show up in dress uniforms, but have them bring flight suits and the rest of their gear in case you have to leave straight from the dinner."

"Will do." A little over a week earlier Wedge had wished for an assignment to help the squadron get back into the routine that had been thrown off by Corran's death and Tycho's hospitalization. But something about this gave him a bad feeling.

"Good luck, General."

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The Rogues gathered in a meeting room in the palace before the dinner – a meeting characterized by the traditional good-natured grumbling over the dress uniforms.

"Why did they want us to come with dates?" Wes asked, adjusting his collar for what had to be the fiftieth time.

Wedge shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe it's just an image thing."

"Or maybe they just think we women can keep the hard-partying pilots under control," Mirax joked, forcing a smile to her lips. "Speaking of, where's your keeper?"

"Here," Jesina said, raising her hand. "I'm the lucky girl. And let me just say, Mirax, anyone who thinks we'll keep the boys in line obviously has never met us."

"It's about time you two ended up together somehow."

Everyone looked up to see the man whose words had interrupted the laughter. It was Tycho. He had his arm around Winter, though Wedge could tell it was a gesture of support on her part rather than affection on his. He was pale – paler even than the night he'd gone into the hospital – and he was thinner, almost sickly. But what struck Wedge the most was the marked lack of confidence in his stature. He looked more like a lost child than a man who'd faced – and beaten – death a hundred times over.

Jesina shook her head. "Together nothing. I'm just holding his leash." Wedge smiled his gratitude to her for ending the awkward silence. The only members of the squadron who had seen Tycho since he'd been admitted to the hospital had been Jesina and Wedge.

Winter spoke up. "Leia's going to send an aide in to tell the eight of us when to go in. The rest of you can go in now."

A few more pained glances were exchanged – these were pilots, after all, and not diplomats – and the groups parted. As Winter and Tycho stepped back, out of the way of the door, Wedge noticed Tycho cling to her arm. She touched his shoulder gently and whispered a few words into his ear.

Wedge took a deep breath. Yesterday he'd met with Dr. Lur. She'd told him that she hoped that putting Tycho back into a normal role in his life, even for a night, would help his mentality. She'd also gone over how to help Tycho in case he had any kind of panic attack. Because of the way this dinner was set up, Winter was going to have to leave him for the receiving line, so Wedge needed to know how to help him if necessary. He walked over to his friends, followed by Mirax. But before he could speak, an aide came in. "Follow me, please."

At the door Mirax, Winter, Jesina, and Hobbie's date Cheriss ke Hanadi – the woman who'd been their guide on Adumar – were escorted into the ballroom. The moment Winter left her husband's side, he visibly tensed up. But Wedge lay a hand on his arm and said softly, "You're doing fine. Take a few deep breaths. And remember, all the Adumari women loved you." That brought a smile to Tycho's face, though it was quickly replaced by the terrified expression he'd been wearing moments ago.

He remained stiff until they were seated at one of the two head tables. Leia and her husband Han sat with Admiral Ackbar, Borsk Fey'lya, and the Adumari delegation at the other.