CHAPTER TWO
“You’re positive this information checks out?”
“I wouldn’t be giving it to you if it didn’t.”
Hera Syndulla frowned as she reread the report on the datapad. The names of the three Star Destroyers—Vanquish, Ascent, and Vigilance—stood out to her as being the flagships of three prominent figures of the Galactic Empire. The Vanquish belonged to Moff Valco Pandion, who had since declared himself to be Grand Moff of the Trailing Sectors. He had attempted to declare his territory as separate from the greater Empire but ended up embarrassing himself after being driven off Malastare by the New Republic. He had been laying low since then, likely to evade the attention of both Isard and anyone taking up the bounties that had been posted on his head.
General Jylia Shale, commander of the Ascent, was a curious individual. If rumors were to be believed, she was part of a growing number of Imperials that advocated for some sort of truce with the New Republic. While she was not without her supporters, among them being Admiral Betl Oxtroe, she had yet to make any serious moves towards accomplishing this goal and, like Pandion, had laid low for the most part.
The third Imperial was the most baffling name on the list. Hera’s history with Admiral Rae Sloane went back sixteen years, having first run into her during an underground mission on Gorse. A mere captain back then, Sloane had since risen through the ranks and had been present for the Battle of Endor. Unlike Pandion and Shale, Sloane was firmly loyal to the greater Empire, answering to the command of Director Isard and the Ruling Council. The fact that she was on Akiva—in Warlord Zsinj’s territory, no less—with Pandion and Shale and not engaged in combat with them was certainly curious at the very least.
She was so focused on these three names that Hera barely registered the fourth one that was also on the list. Compared to the others, Arsin Crassus was hardly anyone of note, being nothing more than a financier for the Empire as well as a slaver. While he was certainly high up in the hierarchy, there was nothing notable about his presence, at least not on the surface. Hera idly wondered if perhaps Crassus was there to serve as a mediator for a meeting between Sloane, Pandion, and Shale, although she couldn’t imagine why any of them—especially Sloane—would agree to such an arrangement.
Whatever the case was, she knew it was worth investigating. And she knew exactly the people fit for the job.
Lifting her gaze from the datapad to her intelligence officer Caern Adan, Hera said, “I will summon Commander Antilles and Rogue Squadron to the briefing room. I think I have a mission for them.”
She heard the door behind her whoosh open and Adan inclined his head. “Looks like that won’t be necessary,” the Balosar muttered.
Hera turned to see Wedge Antilles standing there in the doorframe to her office, already dressed in his flight suit. He snapped off a quick salute. “General Syndulla, I would like to have a quick word with you.”
Exchanging a glance with Adan, Hera slowly nodded. “Of course, Commander. What would you like to talk about?”
Wedge seemed to briefly hesitate before speaking. “At the risk of sounding… pushy, General, I would like to know if there was an update on the search for Baron Fel’s wife.”
Adan noticeably tensed but Hera kept her expression neutral. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard anything, Commander. From what I understand, New Republic Intelligence has been handling that operation.”
“There have been no updates,” Adan said, a bit stiffly. “My apologies, Commander Antilles, but we have more pressing matters to attend to before we can find the time to find some ex-Imperial’s wife.”
“Baron Fel is not just an ex-Imperial,” Wedge said, a defiant look in his eyes. “He is a pilot of the New Republic now. But we promised him that, in exchange for his loyalty, we would help him find his wife.”
“I do not recall making that promise,” Adan said pointedly. “That was all your doing, Commander. And to be quite frank, I’m not sure how much we can trust Baron Fel if his loyalty hinges on our capability of finding a single human female in a galaxy of trillions.”
Wedge opened his mouth to fire back another retort but stopped himself as soon as Hera raised her hand.
“That’s enough,” she said sternly, giving both men a warning look. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I’m afraid Officer Adan is correct; we simply do not have the time or the resources to focus on locating Baron Fel’s wife at the current moment. I promise you that as soon as we do, we will make it our top priority.”
Wedge did not look assured by her words but nodded stiffly nonetheless. “I understand, General. My apologies for coming off a bit too fiercely.”
Hera smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Commander. I’m used to dealing with firebrands.” She glanced at the datapad in her hand before looking back to Wedge. “In fact, I’d say your timing here is perfect. I think I have a mission for Rogue Squadron. If you could bring your pilots to the briefing room?”
The prospect of a new mission seemed to put some of the fire back into the Corellian’s eyes. “Of course, General. I will do so right away.”
* * *
“Any update on Syal?”
Wedge sighed as he stood beside Soontir Fel in the Lodestar’s briefing room. Behind them sat the other Rogues, while seated on the rows opposite them sat other pilots whom Wedge did not recognize, likely belonging to other units under General Syndulla’s command. “I’m afraid not,” he whispered back to his brother-in-law. “Intelligence is bogged down with other matters. Seems like a new warlord pops up ever other minute.”
Fel grunted as he crossed his arms. “I understand,” he muttered, though he hardly sound happy about it.
Wedge frowned, unsure of what to even say at this point that wouldn’t sound hollow and pathetic. Fel’s defection to the New Republic at Brentaal IV had already been a shock unto itself, but the revelation that he was married to Wedge’s long-lost sister had turned it into a personal matter. Now he felt that he owed it to Fel to help him find Syal, not just to be reunited with his sister but also to not make Fel feel that his defection had been pointless. The last thing they needed was for Fel to return to the Empire and fight once more on their side.
He forced himself to attention when he saw General Syndulla step up to the large holotable in the center of the room, Caern Adan on one side and her avian captain Giginivek on the other. Hera pressed a command into the holotable and the image of a planet materialized before the audience of pilots, with several Star Destroyers orbiting it.
“We have recently received intelligence that four notable Imperials have convened on the planet Akiva,” Hera began. “According to the reports, the identities of these four Imperial are Grand Moff Valco Pandion, Admiral Rae Sloane, General Jylia Shale, and financier Arsin Crassus.”
The names sounded vaguely familiar, and Wedge glanced at Fel in time to see a hint of recognition flicker in his eyes, although he could not tell which of the names his brother-in-law was reacting to.
“We do not know for what reason these Imperials have gathered on Akiva, which is located in the territory of Warlord Zsinj,” Hera went on. “What we do know is that Admiral Sloane is decidedly loyal to the Empire—as now ruled by Director Isard—while Moff Pandion and General Shale are decidedly not. Crassus is an unknown factor.”
A red spot appeared on the hologram, highlighting a specific region on the planet. It zoomed in to show a detailed map of a city.
“We believe that the Imperials are convening in the capital city of Myrra. Akiva is currently under the rulership of Satrap Isstra Dirus, who is loyal to the Empire. The Satrap’s palace is located in the northern region of Myrra.”
Hera’s green eyes focused on Wedge and his Rogues. “Rogue Squadron, your mission is to infiltrate the city of Myrra and gather intelligence on the reason for the Imperials’ presence. You will be aided in this mission by Alphabet Squadron.”
Wes snorted. “Alphabet Squadron? Are we that short on names?”
Wedge beckoned for him to quiet down before once more looking to the pilots sitting opposite them. He noticed for the first time that each of them was dressed in a different flight suit, each one corresponding to a specific type of fighter; a blonde-haired woman wore the typical orange fatigues of an X-wing pilot, a bronze-skinned Theelin the grays of a B-wing pilot… the only one who stood out from this theme was a humanoid figure whose face was concealed by a mask, their dark garbs making them look more like an intelligence operative than a pilot. All in all, it was quite the mismatched collection of pilots… which Wedge wondered was the point behind it.
“You will be both split up into separate teams,” Hera continued, bringing Wedge’s attention back to her. “Commander Antilles, you will lead the ground team to Akiva itself. Alphabet Squadron has a U-wing transport that will get past the Imperial fleet with clearance codes obtained by Intelligence. Meanwhile, Commander Quell will lead the rest of the fighters in an attack on the Imperial forces once the ground team has been extracted.”
Wedge glanced around him to gauge the expressions of his fellow Rogues and he could tell that many of them were wary of following the command of a pilot they were unfamiliar with. However, he knew General Syndulla well enough to have confidence in this plan of hers. Besides, the mission seemed simple enough and sounded no more dangerous than any of the other operations they had dealt with.
His only hope was that Fel was assigned to his team. He did not want to think what sort of grief Quell and her pilots would put him through given his past as an Imperial pilot.
The rest of the briefing proceeded; the teams were assigned, and sure enough Fel was assigned to Quell’s team. Wedge fought against the urge to protest and instead glanced at Fel. His brother-in-law hardly reacted to the assignment, and Wedge realized then that he had not told Fel about what he had told Wes regarding a squadron assigned to hunt down a TIE squadron. It probably wouldn’t do well to speak up about it now; he would have to wait until they were on their way to the hangars to do so.
Once the briefing had concluded, the pilots were dismissed and sent to prepare for their mission. Wedge walked with Wes, Hobbie, and Tycho—who had all been assigned to the ground team—on their way to the barracks to gear up for their mission.
“I take it from the look on your face that you didn’t tell Fel about the Shadow Wing thing,” Wes remarked.
“No, I didn’t,” Wedge muttered.
“What Shadow Wing thing?” asked Hobbie.
“I’ll explain later,” Wedge sighed.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Wes. “I’m sure these Alphabets know how to tell a TIE fighter from a non-TIE fighter. When you’re out there in space, you’re not really thinking about who’s at the controls. At least, that’s what I always tell myself to explain why none of you guys have shot me down.”
“The thought has crossed my mind before,” said Tycho.
Hobbie was shaking his head. “I still don’t get it. Alphabet Squadron?”
Wes chuckled. “Come on, it’s obvious, isn’t it? X-wing, A-wing, B-wing, U-wing… name a letter in the High Galactic alphabet, and we’ve probably got a ship for it. You just need twelve of them.”
Hobbie frowned. “I don’t see how you’d be able to make that work. A lot of those fighters work a lot differently from each other. It just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”
“So did the idea of starting a rebellion, I’d bet. Yet look at where we are at now.”
Wedge made a show of looking around. “I’m not sure you’re disproving his point.”
Wes spread his arms. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“For now,” Hobbie pointed out.
“Hey, don’t be such a downer. Besides, you’ve already died once, haven’t you?”
“Well, that makes two of us….”
“Let’s hope we don’t add to that tally,” Wedge said as they reached the barracks. “We’ve already lost enough Rogues. I don’t want to lose anymore.”
Tycho glanced at him. “How’s Nrin been holding up?”
Wedge grimaced. Ever since the failed extraction of Sate Pestage on Ciutric IV, the Rogues’ Quarren pilot Nrin Vakil had become dour ever since the loss of their Mon Calamari comrade Ibtisam, whom Nrin had become close to despite the historic hostility between their respective races. The others had done their best to console him, but they were lucky to get so much as more than two words out of the once-outspoken Quarren.
“I trust him enough to fly,” Wedge said, which he supposed was true enough. “He flew well at Mindor, so I still have faith in his capabilities.”
“That’s good enough for me,” said Tycho.
Let’s hope it will be good enough for all of us, Wedge thought silently to himself.
* * *
Temmin didn’t even realized he had dozed off at his work station until he was jolted awake by a loud bang at the door.
He already knew who it was and Mister Bones was already moving into position, knife-arm drawn and ready. Scrambling for the blaster he kept around for scenarios just like this, he carefully hid it in the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way towards the front door. On the way, he glanced at Syal’s door to make sure it was locked and could only pray that she would not poke out to see what the commotion was about.
With Mister Bones carefully concealed in the shadows, Temmin stepped up to the front door. The footage from the security cameras already showed him who was waiting outside, how many there were, and what sort of weapons they were carrying. The group was more or less the same size as the ones that usually came by to harass him, so he figured today would be no different than all the others. Taking a deep breath, Temmin braced himself and opened the door.
“Hello, gentlebeings,” he said, putting on the most casual tone and relaxed expression that he could muster. “How may I be of service to you?”
The leader of the gang was a male Abednedo whom Temmin recognized as one of Surat Nuat’s top enforcers. With him were a female Koorivar, a hulking Ithorian, and a humanoid figure clad in all-concealing armor. The Abednedo, whom Temmin knew by the name of Tooms, glared down at him with a baleful look that was all too familiar to him by this point.
“Let us in,” Tooms growled.
“Can I ask why?” Temmin asked innocently.
“No.” Tooms stepped forward, his burly chest brushing up against Temmin. “Step aside.”
“Come on, Tooms, I know the drill by now. If it’s money you want, just name the price and I’ll go get it for—”
“We’re not here for you.” Tooms grabbed him by the shoulder and hoisted him up. Temmin let out a yelp and he felt his concealed handout blaster fall out of his sleeve, landing on the floor. Tooms didn’t even look at it as he crushed it with his foot.
“Herf, Makarial, search the place,” he then growled to the Ithorian and Koorivar respectively.
Before Temmin could object, the other two thugs moved inside. At that moment, Mister Bones jumped out of the shadows and lunged at them with his knife-arm. The Koorivar named Makarial avoided the stab while Herf grabbed the droid’s arm and tore it off before kicking Mister Bones to the floor.
“MASTER TEMMIN, I HAVE BEEN DISARMED,” Mister Bone announced.
Temmin rolled his eyes, still hanging from Tooms’ grip. “I can see that, Bones.” He then looked back to the Abednedo. “Hey, if you wanted a tour of the place, all you needed to do was ask. There’s no need for the tough and mighty act.”
“Shut it,” Tooms growled. “I don’t have time for your insolent babbling.”
Further down the main hall of the house, Makarial knocked on the door to Syal’s room before looking over to Temmin. “Any reason why this door is locked?” the Koorivar growled.
Temmin felt his stomach lurch. “Uh, it’s where I keep extra parts. Had a rodent infestation a few days ago, so I decided to keep it locked just to be safe.”
“A likely story.” Makarial grinned wickedly as she produced a lock-picking kit. Temmin could only watch helplessly as the Koorivar worked the lock of the door. His mind raced, unsure of how to stall them or whether he even should. If they were here for Syal, maybe they had a good reason for it. He didn’t even know who exactly she was or why she was on Akiva. For all he knew, Tooms and his gang could be doing him a favor by getting her out of his hair.
So why, then, was he worried for her safety?
There was a click and the door slid open… revealing that it was empty. There was no sight of Syal; there was only an empty cot… and a window that was slightly ajar.
Makarial did not seem to notice the latter, and with a huff she closed the door. Temmin refrained from breathing a sigh of relief, while also wondering how a pregnant woman could have gotten through a window like that.
The thugs continued searching before coming back to Tooms empty-handed. “She ain’t here, boss,” Makarial grunted. “On to the next one, I guess.”
“Not so fast.” With his other hand, Tooms raised a comlink to his mouth. “Anything?”
At that moment, Temmin realized that the fourth member of Tooms’ gang had mysterious vanished. A moment later, a modulated voice crackled through the comlink.
“Found her, Tooms.”
Temmin felt his heart drop as Tooms smiled wickedly at him. “Good work,” the Abednedo said. He then lowered the comlink and pulled Temmin closer to his face. “Looks like you’re coming with us, kid.”
Stomach lurching again, Temmin mustered a weak smile. “Great. Always wanted to check your place out.”
* * *
Syal panted as she pressed herself against the outside wall of Snap’s house. In hindsight, it probably was not a good idea to climb out of a window while pregnant, but she could think of nothing else to do. The voices she heard did not sound like Imperials, but that didn’t mean the Empire couldn’t have hired some local thugs to hunt for her. Her hunch was confirmed when she heard voices just outside her room.
Not wanting to stick around any longer than she needed to, she began to creep around the backyard… only to immediately stop when she found herself staring down the barrel of a blaster.
“Don’t move,” said the armored figure standing before her. “Don’t speak.”
Syal raised her hands, a pleading look in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “Just let me go. I’m not—”
“I said don’t speak.” A comlink chimed and the armored figure answered it. “Found her, Tooms.”
Clicking the device off, the figure started to walk towards Syal, keeping the blaster raised. Syal tried to speak, but her mouth was too dry and no words came to her. All she could do was resign herself to her fate.
As her captor came up to her and grabbed her arms to restrain them, the armored hunter leaned in close to speak into her ear. “Listen carefully, because I am only to say this once. My name is Sabine. I am an operative for the New Republic.”
Syal’s eyes went wide. “The New—”
“I said don’t speak,” Sabine hissed. “I am undercover as a member of Surat Nuat’s gang here on Akiva. The only reason I’m telling you all of this is because I know Intelligence is looking for you. I’m not sure why Surat wants you, but I’ll figure out a way to get you out. Just keep quiet and follow my lead.”
Syal could only swallow and nod her head. As Sabine secured the binders around her wrists, a trio of aliens appeared from around the fence. One of them was carrying Snap, who saw Syal and sent her an apologetic look her way.
“Looks like our work here is done,” said the Abednedo, a sinister grin crossing his face. “Let’s head back to the Alcazar. The Boss will be pleased when he sees the prize we’ve fetched for him.”
