CHAPTER THREE
Coronet City, Corellia
While nowhere near large enough to encapsulate the entire planet like Coruscant’s city, Coronet City was no less beautiful and expansive with its looming skyscrapers and towering spires. With a vast and shimmering ocean bordering its coast and verdant grasslands laying beyond the city limits, Corellia felt more grounded and homely than its sisters in the Core Worlds. Whereas planets like Coruscant and even Hosnian Prime had embraced their statuses as ecumenopolises, Corellia still clung on to its rural upbringings and practically wore it like a badge of honor… even if its spaceports were its true pride.
Upon landing in Coronet City, the Renegades and Valrisa’s crew had decided to meet at Bovo’s Cantina in Coronet’s Blue Sector. Although a dangerous part of the city, home to all sorts of criminals, it was also more welcoming to people like them than some of Coronet’s higher-class sectors, where CorSec officers would have probably arrested them without a second thought.
Fortunately, as it was early morning in Coronet, Bovo’s was hardly crowded. As with most shady spaces in the galaxy, the worst of Corellia’s dredge usually only came out at night. When the group of nine entered the cantina, the only other patrons were a pair of spacers sitting at the counter and a passed out Duros slumped in a far corner.
After ordering their food and drinks, the Renegades and Valrisa’s group had found a large booth to sit at and start discussing business.
“So,” Kyla said after taking a long sip of Jawa Juice, “what do you guys do for a living?”
Valrisa shrugged. “Any opportunity that arises, basically. Typha and I usually take up jobs to hunt down artifacts for antique collectors, who tend to pay very large sums. Our dream is to make enough money for us to retire early and settle down.”
“Yet you used to work for crime lords,” Ace said in a low voice. It had been agreed upon by everyone to not mention the Cabal or Malvis by name, lest they attract the attention of unwanted eavesdroppers.
“It’s a long story,” Valrisa sighed. “I basically got dragged into that kind of work and only managed to get out of it because I burnt too many bridges with them.”
“What about you?” Vessin asked Zarin, looking pointedly at the Kiffar. “You collecting antiques too, or are you still plotting to take over the galaxy?”
Zarin huffed. “For the last time, I’m not a Sith Lord. That was just a lie to intimidate those thugs back there.”
“You still dress like one though,” Kyla said, nodding to the black tunic that Zarin wore.
“Like Valrisa says, it’s a long story,” Zarin muttered. “Besides, it’s not artifacts that I’m really after. It’s the Whills.”
Bedo choked on his drink. “The what?”
“The Whills. An ancient order of beings who use the Force.”
Typha rolled her eyes. “It’s a wild mynock chase. They’re just a bunch of myths.”
Bedo looked down at his soup, stirring it idly with his spoon. “I’ve heard of the Whills,” the Ortolan said quietly. “When I was young, back on Orto, my grandfather would tell me stories about ancient Jedi and beings known as the Whills.”
Zarin stared at Bedo intently, his eyes wide with interest. “What did your grandfather know about the Whills.”
“I don’t think he really knew anything about them for real,” Bedo said hastily. “I’m sure they were just stories he was told as a child that he passed down to me. It was probably thanks to him that I ended up having as much of an interest in history as I do food.”
“Was anyone in your family Force-sensitive?” Zarin asked.
The Ortolan shrugged, still looking down at his soup. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Kyla cleared her throat. “Okay, this conversation is great and all, but we should probably discuss where we’re gonna go from here.” She looked to Valrisa. “Are you and your friends open to working with my crew for the time being? Any profits we gain will be split evenly among us.”
Valrisa glanced at Typha, who seemed to think about the question before giving her a small nod. She didn’t bother looking to Zarin; he was pretty much his own free agent. “Sure,” she said to Kyla. “Though, since you asked me, I should probably ask you: What do you guys do for a living?”
“We’re smugglers, of course,” Ace said. “But we’re not all in it for ourselves. When Kyla and I started our little operation — when it was just the two of us — it was to help worlds that had been affected by the Imperial Sith War. We would deliver supplies and even help transport refugees. After the Glorian War though, our workload became too overwhelming and we had accumulated a lot of debt. While we still help out people in need here and there, we’ve mostly been focused on paying back our debts any way we can… without doing things too illegal, of course.”
“I know that feeling,” Valrisa said quietly. “In that case, I’m sure an alliance — however temporary — would be beneficial for both of our parties.”
Kyla smirked as she raised her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”
As the others joined their glasses with hers, Valrisa glanced in the direction of the two spacers sitting at the counter. Both were human but had their heads hung low, making it difficult to discern their features. As far as she could tell, there was nothing about them that was out of the ordinary, yet she could not help but feel her attention being drawn to them.
She looked away from them as Kyla asked her question, but it would be a while before she would push the image of the pair to the back of her mind.
* * *
“They were supposed to be here by now.”
“Patience,” Toah Jarsan said in a low voice, not so much as glancing to the young woman sitting next to him.
She looked briefly over her shoulder at the group of nine that had just entered, narrowly avoiding the gaze of another woman with long black hair. “Do you sense anything dangerous about them?”
“If I did, I would have let you know,” Toah replied. “You seem antsy, Rey.”
“It’s been nearly three hours, master—”
“Toah. Just call me Toah.” He glanced at the chronometer on the wall. “And I know. The thing about being a Jedi is you can’t let yourself be bothered by the passing of time, however fast or slow. Unless peoples lives are at stake, of course.”
Rey frowned at him. “You don’t think something happened to them, do you?”
“If I did, I would have let you know,” Toah repeated.
Rey huffed impatiently but said nothing further. Even though it had nearly been a year, Toah was still not comfortable in his newfound position as a Jedi teacher. In fact, he still was not fully comfortable being back in the Jedi Order all together, but Jacen Solo had insisted that he returned to help Rey — whom they had both met on Jakku while confronting Atha Prime — hone and master her connection with the Force. Once her training was complete, Toah was planning to return to his life as a wanderer… but at the rate her training was going, he didn’t think that would be happening any time soon.
Still, he could tell that she had potential. Her prowess in the Force was nearly as strong, if not equal, to that of Jacen and his siblings. Toah had even briefly speculated that Rey may have been a lost child of Han and Leia Solo, or perhaps even his former master Luke Skywalker, though Leia had confirmed to him that that was not the case.
Even so, there was something about her….
Detecting a sense of relief washing over Rey, Toah looked over to see two figures enter the cantina, wearing nondescript that marked them as their contacts. One of them, an unshaven man with dark hair, walked past Toah and slapped him on the back as he took a seat to the Jedi’s right. The other, a woman about Rey’s age, sat down next to the Jedi apprentice.
“Sorry about the wait,” said Poe Dameron, beckoning the middle-aged barkeep over. “Traffic is tight out there.”
“I don’t mind the wait, so long as you are safe,” Toah replied.
They waited until the bartender had given Poe and his companion their drinks before vanishing into his office, just as he had been paid to do. Keeping his head low, Toah muttered to Poe, “I’m all ears.”
“We’ve got confirmation that the Cabal is indeed operating here on Corellia,” Poe whispered back. “Not only that, but they’re also running things on other planets in the Core, including Hosnian Prime and Sedratis.”
“And Coruscant?”
“They seemed to have mostly relocated and spread out, though that’s not to say they don’t still have a presence.”
“So our sources were correct,” Toah said. “The Cabal have established a large presence in the Core Worlds. Any idea if they’re influencing the Senate?”
“That, we’re still not sure about,” said Jessika Pava, Poe’s teammate. “Nor do we know if they have anything to do with the Conspirators,” she added, using the name that Resistance agents used to refer to the members of Darth Taral’s failed conspiracy (though Toah was becoming increasingly unsure about the “failed” part).
“In any case, it’s good to know we’re on the right track,” Toah said. “Anything we know about Corellia specifically?”
“Only that they have a secret route connecting here to Ord Talavos, their main base of operations,” Poe replied.
“We should start looking into that then. Since we’re already in the heart of Corellia’s hive of scum and villainy, we hopefully shouldn’t have to look very far.”
“Should we start with them?” asked Rey, gesturing to the large group that had entered less than half an hour ago.
Toah refrained from sighing, allowing his gaze to discreetly glide over to their booth. “Let’s not bother them. We can always send someone else in to—”
His words caught in his throat when his eyes landed on a man sitting in the booth, wearing an outfit similar to that of a Jedi Knight only in black. A golden strip tattooed across his face marked him as a Kiffar, but the familiar Force aura surrounding him indicated him to be more than just that to Toah. He was someone that Toah knew. A fellow Jedi.
An ex-Jedi…?
“Zarin?” Toah found himself whispering.
“Pardon?” asked Poe.
Toah shook his head, looking away from Zarin before the Kiffar could catch his eye. “It’s nothing,” he lied. As much as he wanted to know what his fellow Jedi was doing with a group of what appeared to be smugglers and bounty hunters, he knew there were more important matters at hand. “We should probably get a move on.”
Poe and Jessika exchanged glances but said nothing as they got out of their seats, leaving their drinks behind as they headed for the exit. Toah had already paid for everything in advance, so the barkeep would not give them any trouble. He could sense that Rey was looking at him in concern and still glancing furtively at Zarin and the others. If she had any desire to investigate the group further, she did not voice them as she and Toah followed the other two out the door.
* * *
Aboard a freighter en route to Corellia, Wedge Antilles was still trying to process that he was being kidnapped by his family.
After his meeting with Shadow, the ex-Glorian agent had taken him to an apartment complex where they rendezvoused with Shadow’s fellow members of Resistance Intelligence. Among them was his daughter Myri, with her vibrant red hair and an equally red dress that he normally would have scolded her for wearing. Given the circumstances of their meeting however, he had decided that such fatherly duties would have to wait. In any case, her presence made him feel slightly safer about this whole operation, now that he knew for sure that this wasn’t some sort of trap set up by Girdun or his ilk.
From their rendezvous place, they had traveled to Mizobon spaceport where the rest of Myri’s friends — Wraith Squadron, thought he technically wasn’t supposed to know that — were waiting for them with their transportation. No words had been exchanged as Wedge, wearing a concealing cloak, was hurried onto the ship and no one dare speak or relax until their ship was well out of range of Coruscant’s orbital defenses and had successfully made the jump to lightspeed.
It was a sad state of affairs when one had to be worried about leaving the capital of the Galactic Alliance in one piece. It was a bit too reminiscent of the days of the Empire for Wedge’s taste.
As the ship traveled through hyperspace along the Corellian Run, Wedge was joined in the main hold by Myri and her fellow Wraiths Jesmin Tainer, Trey Courser, and Turman Durra. Piggy, the Wraiths’ newest commander, was in the cockpit with Shadow, Wallen Nix, and Xemer, talking about things that Wedge was not supposed to be privy to. At least, not yet.
After a long bout of awkward silence, Wedge decided to break the ice, leaning back in his seat as he assessed the four young Wraiths in front of him. “So,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Are you still calling yourselves Dinner Squadron?”
Trey and Turman gave him a look. “What?” they asked in almost perfect unison.
Jesmin, on the other hand, seemed to understand the reference. Clearly, her parents — who had both been members of Wraith Squadron when Wedge had first formed it thirty-five years ago — had told her a thing or two. “Lately we’ve been sticking with Wraith Squadron,” she said. “Though I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you that. Or anything about who we are or what we do.”
“I already know who you are,” Wedge said. “Maybe not personally, but I know exactly what Wraith Squadron is and what its members do. I created it, of course.”
“I’m aware,” Jesmin said. “But legally—”
“There’s no legality or lack thereof about it, Jesmin,” said Myri. “We don’t work for the government anymore. At this point, we’re all rebels.”
It made Wedge’s heart ache to hear this, though not necessarily out of love for the Galactic Alliance. Clearing his throat, he turned to Myri and asked, “Where is your sister?”
The way Myri’s face fell was already enough of an answer. Looking away to avoid his and the other Wraiths’ gazes, she said quietly, “I haven’t heard from her lately. As far as I know, she’s still working for the Defense Fleet.”
Wedge had figured as much, though it did not make his expression any less grim. Two years ago, just before all of this stuff had started, his eldest daughter Syal had enlisted in the Alliance Defense Force, legally changing her name to Lysa Dunter to escape the legacy of her father’s name. This move — the name change specifically — had been the culmination of Syal slowly drifting away from her family over the course of a few years. Their relationship had reached a breaking point when Syal had announced her engagement to her boyfriend of less than a year, Tiom Rordan, someone whom Wedge had been vocally disapproving of. After that, Syal had moved in with her fiance and contact between father and daughter became scarce; even when Wedge did hear from her, it was usually from either Myri or Iella.
What bothered Wedge about this the most — outside of his love for his daughter — was that it reminded him too much about how his older sister, Syal’s namesake, had left the family and ceased contact with them. It wasn’t until after the Battle of Endor that he had learned that she was still alive and that she had married and started a family with the Imperial ace pilot Baron Soontir Fel. Even now, after all these years, he still heard little from his sister and her family. The last time he had seen them was on Kashyyyk following the defeat of the Glorian Empire, where he learned that they had withdrawn their children from service in the Imperial Remnant to live with them in isolation in Chiss territory.
Wedge could only hope that his daughter did not follow in her aunt’s footsteps and become as distant from the family as the original Syal Antilles did. Then again, he had also once hoped to never be dragged into any sort of rebellion against the Empire. Evidently, his hopes and dreams rarely turned out the way he wanted them to.
To his relief, Piggy saBinring emerged from the cockpit of the ship to shift focus away from the difficult subject. He glanced once in Myri’s direction, concern entering his green eyes, before looking to Wedge. His unspoken question was met with an equally wordless gaze from the veteran pilot. The Gamorrean blew air through his nostrils in a quiet sigh before speaking.
“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon. Once we land, you’ll be whisked away to our base of operations on Corellia. I say ‘base of operations’; it’s actually just a farm that we purchased for less than five hundred credits.”
“I’ve been in worse,” Wedge said. “I take it I’ll see my wife there?”
“You know I can’t officially confirm that,” Piggy replied. “But yes.”
“And will I actually be told just what it is we’re doing on Corellia and why I’m needed?”
“Now that is not for me to say. I can’t guarantee that Fulcrum won’t not tell you… but I also can’t guarantee that she won’t not not tell you.”
“Any more negatives you’d like to add to that sentence, or are you done giving me a headache?”
Piggy’s mouth curved in the Gamorrean equivalent of a smile. “I was a math teacher for ten years, sir. Giving people headaches is second nature.”
Wedge looked from him to the other Wraiths. Myri had turned back around and was smiling slightly, though the redness of her eyes betrayed how she was truly feeling.
“So, who’s calling the shots around here?” Wedge asked, raising an eyebrow at Piggy. “You?”
“If you’re talking about Wraith Squadron specifically, then yes; Sharr Latt and I are sharing command duties. He and the rest of the Wraiths are busy elsewhere, though I don’t have permission to tell you where.”
“I figured as much,” Wedge said. “What does that make me then?”
Piggy gave him an inquisitive look. “What about you?”
“I feel that I should at least get some sort of honorary title, in exchange for essentially getting kidnapped by my daughter and my former wingmate.”
“You can be our mascot,” Turman said without missing a beat.
Wedge gave him a wry look. “I thought an Ewok was your mascot.”
“We do have an Ewok costume,” said Myri. “It should fit you just fine.”
“It’ll make him look like a Wookie, though,” Trey pointed out.
“He’s not that tall,” supplied Jesmin. “I don’t think anyone would notice.”
Wedge gave Piggy a long-suffering look. “What have you been teaching these kids, Piggy?”
“Yub yub, general,” was all the Gamorrean said.
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