Hearts Are Meant To: Chapter 14
Wedge was only vaguely aware of the footfalls behind him as he made his way through the cavernous steel corridors of the ship. Breathless and frantic, he finally managed to stumble onto the bridge, facing the angered and bewildered looks of the officers gathered there.
"What's the meaning of this, Antilles?" a red-faced Commander Laire demanded, his eyes glaring daggers at Wedge as he struggled to catch his breath and appear dignified at the same time.
Before Wedge could reply, however, a voice behind him spoke quickly. "It's a trap," Genna Cage panted, voice tinged with emotion.
Wedge spun on her. "What?" He'd had a bad feeling about this whole thing . . . but a trap?
Cage, however, remained calm, though insistent. "It's a set-up. This whole diversionary mission."
Laire didn't seem to be listening, or didn't care to. "You listen here," he all but spat at them, "from this moment, consider Rogue Squadron grounded until further notice. And I want Skywalker brought to me when he docks. He'll pay for . . ."
"For what?" Cage yelled back, cutting him off. "It's him they want!"
Wedge froze. "What?" he asked again, more panicked this time. He was too stunned to form more than monosyllabic responses.
Even Laire appeared momentarily stunned. "Explain yourself, Cage."
"This whole secondary mission was a ploy to get Skywalker," she stated matter-of-factly.
Wedge felt cold and immediately defensive. Luke was out there now. Did he know? "Are you sure?" he pressed.
"How do you know this?" Laire asked at the same time.
Cage shook her head as though irritated with their lack of knowledge about the situation. "I flew in the Imperial Navy. I know that if a ship is scheduled to be at a precise location at a precise moment, it's there." She paused for effect. "Particularly if it's purposely set up for the entrapment of a highly-wanted individual. Everything is nailed to the precise detail."
"I don't get it," Wedge interrupted. "If that's the case, why weren't there any ships when we dropped out of hyperspace, like there were supposed to be?"
"Because Luke and I thwarted the plan," Cage said in a tone that conveyed the sense of trying to communicate with a two-year old. She looked pointedly at Laire. "We swapped ships, remember?"
Laire narrowed his eyes at her and demanded, "What difference would that make?"
Cage sighed, seeming to no longer care if she appeared disrespectful in front of her superiors. "Do a sensor sweep of the Headhunter. His ship was probably rigged with a homing beacon or a slave circuit or some other way to make it easier for the Imps to catch him."
"But since you two swapped ships, the Imps aborted," Wedge finished for her, his face grave. "Meaning we've got an imperial agent on board."
Laire cut in indignantly, "You are both jumping to preposterous conclusions here. And as far as I'm concerned, neither of you has any evidence. I want Skywalker brought in here immediately!"
"Sir!" A cry from another officer on the bridge caused the three to turn around.
Wedge felt his heart plummet to his gut as he stared out the transparisteel canopy. The stars were no longer visible, blocked completely from view. There, right in front of them, a massive Imperial spacecraft had dropped out of hyperspace and was bearing down on them. Wedge could only gape at its size and possible armament. He'd never seen anything like it before. "What the hell is that?" he found himself whispering.
Beside him, he heard Cage whisper, "Sithspawn, they did it."
"Oh stars," Laire gasped, barely audible.
Wedge continued to gaze at the titanic monstrosity, ignoring Laire. Again, he asked, "What is it, Cage?"
He met her gaze as she pulled her own eyes away from the looming ship. "The Executor," she replied simply.
*********
The air seemed to freeze in Luke's lungs as he gazed at the colossal battleship through the canopy. It had emerged out of the silent stars exactly where Luke had expected it, and now it terrified him. He knew, knew with a certainty he could not explain, that the ship had dropped out of hyperspace for him. He knew that the ship was no less terrifying than its commander. And he knew that there was only one man who commanded that ship.
"Vader," he croaked, dumbly aware of the thudding of his heart in his ears as he gaped, stone still with frightening conviction that the Dark Lord of the Sith was on board. His heartbeat grew louder as his body grew colder and his stomach clenched itself into a crystalline rock. He'd never experienced fear like this. The knowledge that such a creature as Vader was after him paralyzed him with a terror he'd never known. Yet, how did he know that it was Vader? How did he know that Vader was seeking him, alone among the throngs of rebels?
He forced himself to swallow. He simply knew.
"Skywalker, get out of there! Now!"
The disembodied words in his headset jarred him out of his paralysis and into action. Blindly flailing still fear-numbed hands across the controls of the X-wing, he unconsciously sent it into hyperspace along the trajectory he'd already calculated moments earlier. Stars became starlines in his dim awareness, and he felt the vague tug as his ship accelerated. Soon the canopy was awash with hyperspace blue, and Luke dazedly tried to get his bearings.
Sweat-dampened clothes clung to his body, and Luke shakily brushed away the drops that clung to his eyelashes and forehead. He was trembling now. Stars, he was trembling! He needed to get a grip on himself. What kind of soldier was he to react this way? He was acting like a two year-old in the grip of a nightmare. And Uncle Owen wouldn't have condoned behavior like this even at that age. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head, feeling the blood return to his face and hands, the familiar heat it brought rising. Anger was beginning to replace the fear. Anger at himself for his cowardice. Had he truly just run away? Had he truly fled from Vader's ship?
Vader.
The name now caused his blood to boil, as surely as it had caused it to freeze moments earlier. That monster had killed his father, his family, his best friend, and his mentor! Vader had destroyed Leia's home! And Vader had undoubtedly committed countless other atrocities about which Luke had yet to learn, he was sure! Vader deserved to die for what he had done. And Luke had sworn that he would be the one to deliver the killing blow.
But what blow had he delivered just now? What message had he sent the Dark Lord? That he was a child too afraid to face him? That he was a coward who ran away when the situation got too much to handle? Would he have stayed had he not known that Vader was on board?
He had known! How? How had he known that Vader was on that ship? Had it been the Force? He squeezed his eyes shut, searching for the memory of that moment of discovery. He sighed wearily as he found none. Just another reminder of his pathetic lack of instruction and control. How was he ever to become a Jedi without knowledge? How would he ever get his revenge if he didn't know how to truly feel and use the Force? He growled as two hot angry tears forced their way out of his shut eyes. No! He would not waste water in such a pathetic display of frustration! He blinked his eyes against the blurry tears and stared at his readouts. Four hours until he reached the rendezvous point. He sighed, biting his lip as he worriedly turned his thoughts toward his squadron. Had they made the jump successfully?
Knowing there was no way to find out until he came out of hyperspace, Luke leaned back, trying to force back his frustration, anger, anxiety, and impatience as he'd learned to do on his Uncle's farm.
Funny how your perspective on things changes, he thought. How often had he longed for something more exciting during those years as a moisture farmer? How often had he sought adventure?
Allowing his exhaustion to overtake him, he closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "Be careful what you wish for." Then he dropped off into an uneasy sleep.
Wedge was only vaguely aware of the footfalls behind him as he made his way through the cavernous steel corridors of the ship. Breathless and frantic, he finally managed to stumble onto the bridge, facing the angered and bewildered looks of the officers gathered there.
"What's the meaning of this, Antilles?" a red-faced Commander Laire demanded, his eyes glaring daggers at Wedge as he struggled to catch his breath and appear dignified at the same time.
Before Wedge could reply, however, a voice behind him spoke quickly. "It's a trap," Genna Cage panted, voice tinged with emotion.
Wedge spun on her. "What?" He'd had a bad feeling about this whole thing . . . but a trap?
Cage, however, remained calm, though insistent. "It's a set-up. This whole diversionary mission."
Laire didn't seem to be listening, or didn't care to. "You listen here," he all but spat at them, "from this moment, consider Rogue Squadron grounded until further notice. And I want Skywalker brought to me when he docks. He'll pay for . . ."
"For what?" Cage yelled back, cutting him off. "It's him they want!"
Wedge froze. "What?" he asked again, more panicked this time. He was too stunned to form more than monosyllabic responses.
Even Laire appeared momentarily stunned. "Explain yourself, Cage."
"This whole secondary mission was a ploy to get Skywalker," she stated matter-of-factly.
Wedge felt cold and immediately defensive. Luke was out there now. Did he know? "Are you sure?" he pressed.
"How do you know this?" Laire asked at the same time.
Cage shook her head as though irritated with their lack of knowledge about the situation. "I flew in the Imperial Navy. I know that if a ship is scheduled to be at a precise location at a precise moment, it's there." She paused for effect. "Particularly if it's purposely set up for the entrapment of a highly-wanted individual. Everything is nailed to the precise detail."
"I don't get it," Wedge interrupted. "If that's the case, why weren't there any ships when we dropped out of hyperspace, like there were supposed to be?"
"Because Luke and I thwarted the plan," Cage said in a tone that conveyed the sense of trying to communicate with a two-year old. She looked pointedly at Laire. "We swapped ships, remember?"
Laire narrowed his eyes at her and demanded, "What difference would that make?"
Cage sighed, seeming to no longer care if she appeared disrespectful in front of her superiors. "Do a sensor sweep of the Headhunter. His ship was probably rigged with a homing beacon or a slave circuit or some other way to make it easier for the Imps to catch him."
"But since you two swapped ships, the Imps aborted," Wedge finished for her, his face grave. "Meaning we've got an imperial agent on board."
Laire cut in indignantly, "You are both jumping to preposterous conclusions here. And as far as I'm concerned, neither of you has any evidence. I want Skywalker brought in here immediately!"
"Sir!" A cry from another officer on the bridge caused the three to turn around.
Wedge felt his heart plummet to his gut as he stared out the transparisteel canopy. The stars were no longer visible, blocked completely from view. There, right in front of them, a massive Imperial spacecraft had dropped out of hyperspace and was bearing down on them. Wedge could only gape at its size and possible armament. He'd never seen anything like it before. "What the hell is that?" he found himself whispering.
Beside him, he heard Cage whisper, "Sithspawn, they did it."
"Oh stars," Laire gasped, barely audible.
Wedge continued to gaze at the titanic monstrosity, ignoring Laire. Again, he asked, "What is it, Cage?"
He met her gaze as she pulled her own eyes away from the looming ship. "The Executor," she replied simply.
*********
The air seemed to freeze in Luke's lungs as he gazed at the colossal battleship through the canopy. It had emerged out of the silent stars exactly where Luke had expected it, and now it terrified him. He knew, knew with a certainty he could not explain, that the ship had dropped out of hyperspace for him. He knew that the ship was no less terrifying than its commander. And he knew that there was only one man who commanded that ship.
"Vader," he croaked, dumbly aware of the thudding of his heart in his ears as he gaped, stone still with frightening conviction that the Dark Lord of the Sith was on board. His heartbeat grew louder as his body grew colder and his stomach clenched itself into a crystalline rock. He'd never experienced fear like this. The knowledge that such a creature as Vader was after him paralyzed him with a terror he'd never known. Yet, how did he know that it was Vader? How did he know that Vader was seeking him, alone among the throngs of rebels?
He forced himself to swallow. He simply knew.
"Skywalker, get out of there! Now!"
The disembodied words in his headset jarred him out of his paralysis and into action. Blindly flailing still fear-numbed hands across the controls of the X-wing, he unconsciously sent it into hyperspace along the trajectory he'd already calculated moments earlier. Stars became starlines in his dim awareness, and he felt the vague tug as his ship accelerated. Soon the canopy was awash with hyperspace blue, and Luke dazedly tried to get his bearings.
Sweat-dampened clothes clung to his body, and Luke shakily brushed away the drops that clung to his eyelashes and forehead. He was trembling now. Stars, he was trembling! He needed to get a grip on himself. What kind of soldier was he to react this way? He was acting like a two year-old in the grip of a nightmare. And Uncle Owen wouldn't have condoned behavior like this even at that age. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head, feeling the blood return to his face and hands, the familiar heat it brought rising. Anger was beginning to replace the fear. Anger at himself for his cowardice. Had he truly just run away? Had he truly fled from Vader's ship?
Vader.
The name now caused his blood to boil, as surely as it had caused it to freeze moments earlier. That monster had killed his father, his family, his best friend, and his mentor! Vader had destroyed Leia's home! And Vader had undoubtedly committed countless other atrocities about which Luke had yet to learn, he was sure! Vader deserved to die for what he had done. And Luke had sworn that he would be the one to deliver the killing blow.
But what blow had he delivered just now? What message had he sent the Dark Lord? That he was a child too afraid to face him? That he was a coward who ran away when the situation got too much to handle? Would he have stayed had he not known that Vader was on board?
He had known! How? How had he known that Vader was on that ship? Had it been the Force? He squeezed his eyes shut, searching for the memory of that moment of discovery. He sighed wearily as he found none. Just another reminder of his pathetic lack of instruction and control. How was he ever to become a Jedi without knowledge? How would he ever get his revenge if he didn't know how to truly feel and use the Force? He growled as two hot angry tears forced their way out of his shut eyes. No! He would not waste water in such a pathetic display of frustration! He blinked his eyes against the blurry tears and stared at his readouts. Four hours until he reached the rendezvous point. He sighed, biting his lip as he worriedly turned his thoughts toward his squadron. Had they made the jump successfully?
Knowing there was no way to find out until he came out of hyperspace, Luke leaned back, trying to force back his frustration, anger, anxiety, and impatience as he'd learned to do on his Uncle's farm.
Funny how your perspective on things changes, he thought. How often had he longed for something more exciting during those years as a moisture farmer? How often had he sought adventure?
Allowing his exhaustion to overtake him, he closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "Be careful what you wish for." Then he dropped off into an uneasy sleep.