CHAPTER EIGHT
Home One, Mon Calamari system
“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?!”
All thoughts of the New Republic’s victory at Mon Cala vacated Soontir Fel’s mind as he stood before Admiral Ackbar. The Mon Calamari regarded the ex-Imperial evenly with his bulbous eyes.
“General Syndulla tells me that her officers failed to find your wife and child in their quarters,” Ackbar said. His tone was so calm and matter-of-fact for the situation that it made Fel’s blood boil. “They have searched every inch of the ship but have found no sign of her.”
“Meaning what?” Fel snapped. “That she was captured? How could you have let someone slip through like that? Are your security standards that low?”
Standing to his left, Wedge reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Steady yourself, Fel. Try to keep your composure—”
“Can it, Antilles!” Fel snapped, swatting Wedge’s hand away. “This is your sister we’re talking about! Are you not the least bit concerned for her safety?!”
“Of course I am!” Wedge fired back, despite himself. He seemed to catch himself as he paused to take in a deep breath, releasing it as a heavy sigh. “But we need to think this through and approach this logically. We will find her again, Fel. I promise.”
Fel sneered at his brother-in-law. “And look where your promises have brought us, Antilles. We found her and your Rebels lost her again! How can I trust that you won’t lose her again even if we do find her?”
“We will make it our top priority in locating her, Baron Fel,” Ackbar said. “It is clear that whoever took her knows how to bypass our security, which likely means this is the work of the Imperials, possibly even Isard herself. This is clearly a much larger issue than we had previously assessed.”
“You don’t say?” Fel whirled on the Mon Calamari. Damn all decorum; he had about had it. “With all due respect, Admiral, I no longer have any confidence in your assessments, let alone your capabilities. I will find Syal… but I don’t need your help to do so.”
“Yes, you do,” Wedge said. “We have the necessary resources. You can’t find her without them.”
Fel glowered at him. “Actually, I can. In fact, I’ve known how to find her this whole time. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now I know what needs to be done.”
Wedge frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Fel did not answer him. He shouldered past his brother-in-law and moved for the door. Wedge tried to intercept him but was called back by Ackbar; being the loyal rebel pilot that he was, Antilles stopped dead in his tracks and could only watch as Fel stormed out of the room.
His ears were ringing as he moved through the corridors of the ship, making his way for the hangar. He avoided the gazes of any and all officers and pilots that he passed by, ignoring their attempts to congratulate him on their latest victory. Upon reaching the hangar, he made a beeline for his X-wing fighter. As he put on his gloves and helmets, he told the technicians that the Admiral was sending him out to do a quick survey of the surrounding area, to make sure they hadn’t missed any stragglers. The fact that they didn’t question him made him wonder if Ackbar had already authorized his departure. Or maybe they were just glad to see him leave. He imagined the Quarren would be happy to be rid of him.
It was just as well. He was glad to be rid of them. His only regret was that he needed to take one of their blasted X-wings.
As soon as he had cleared the hangar, he set in the coordinates for his next destination. As he prepared the ship’s hyperdrive, he took one last moment to look out at Home One. He wondered briefly if perhaps he had been too rash with his reaction.
But it was too late for regrets now. He no longer cared about either the New Republic or the Empire; only his wife and child. He knew what he had to do to save them… even if it would perhaps be the largest sacrifice he would ever make in his life.
He reached up, pulled the hyperdrive lever, and leaned back in his seat as the stars stretched on into infinity.
* * *
“You let him leave.”
“I did,” Admiral Ackbar said as he sat back down at his desk.
Wedge turned away from the door to face the Admiral. His face was a mixture of emotions, sadness and anger chief among them. None of it was directed at Ackbar however, and he did his best to keep his expression even as he spoke.
“Why?” was all he could think to say.
Ackbar blinked slowly, his species’ preferred method of expression. “It is clear he no longer trusts us. To be quite frank, I cannot fully blame him. We put off locating Syal Antilles in favor of other priorities, and by the time we did find her, we ended up losing her in half the time it took to locate her. How do you think that reflects on our capabilities? Especially to an ex-Imperial whom we are trying to convince to stay?”
Wedge sighed. “Not that good,” he muttered.
“We are now more pressured than ever to exceed expectations,” Ackbar continued. “We are no longer the Alliance to Restore the Republic; we are the Republic. A legacy of mistakes and successes worth a thousand generations now precedes us and we are beholden to live up to that legacy. We must learn from the mistakes of the past and create successes for a future that will long outlast us. Any slip up we do make will be analyzed with far more scrutiny than ever before. And people like Isard knows that, which is perhaps one of the reasons why she captured your sister in the first place.”
Wedge raised an eyebrow. “You’re certain that this was her doing, sir?”
“I am almost confident. It reeks of her handiwork. Still, I would need to have our own Intelligence agents confirm it to be sure.”
Wedge nodded slowly, his eyes forlornly drifting back to the door through which Fel had just left. He let out another sigh before turning back to Ackbar. “It looks like I’m down to seven Rogues. We’ve lost Xarcce, Fel’s just left, and Plourr’s been talking about returning to Eiattu to make sure her people are properly fortified in case the Empire targets them next. Hell, I’m not sure how long Beruss and Ardele are going to stick around.”
Ackbar closed his eyes as he folded his hands over his desk. “That is something I wish to discuss with you, Commander. I have already spoken with General Salm about it and he is in agreement with my views on the matter.”
Wedge didn’t think he liked where this was going. “What would that be, Admiral?”
“I believe it might be time for Rogue Squadron to disband.”
“What?” Wedge could not help himself from sounding incredulous, even a bit mad. “But, sir, we have accomplished so much for the Alliance—for the New Republic! I know we’ve suffered some losses, but that doesn’t mean—”
Ackbar raised a webbed hand to stop him. “I am not contesting that, Commander. In fact, it is because of your successes that I believe Rogue Squadron needs to take a break… at least for the time being.”
Wedge frowned, his anger settling down into confusion. “What do you mean by that, sir?”
“Your reputation precedes you. The entire galaxy knows of your exploits by now… which means the Empire does as well, especially Director Isard. I imagine she has studied your tactics extensively and has already made preparations on how to deal with you should we ever make the move to take Coruscant from her. And she will have a lot of data to go off of, based on how public your actions have been.”
“Ah.” Wedge allowed himself to relax, catching on to what he believed Ackbar was suggesting. “You’re proposing I form a new unit then—one specialized for black ops?”
Ackbar’s mouth opened slightly, the Mon Calamari equivalent of a smile. “You’re on the right track, although I wouldn’t use the word ‘specialized.’”
“Why is that, sir?”
“The idea is to form a unit that Isard and the Empire knows nothing about—no intelligence on tactics, experience, or capabilities. Which means you can’t recruit your remaining Rogues—no Captain Celchu or any of the sort.”
“Who can I recruit, then?”
Ackbar brought out a datapad and slid it across the desk. Wedge picked it up and perused its contents.
After a moment, he said, “I don’t know who any of these people are.”
“That’s the idea,” Ackbar said. “They are all pilots who have either flunked out of the academy or haven’t logged in a single flight. They are completely new—or, as you humans like to say, ‘green.’”
Wedge squinted his eyes as he continued to go down the list. There was one name that popped out to him, but he decided to keep it to himself for the time being—there were more than twelve names on the list, meaning he would have to weed some of them out before he could put together a full squadron.
“You’re basically asking me to train a full flight of pilots while also leading them into dangerous combat scenarios in which they could easily die.” Wedge raised his eyes back to the Admiral. “That is what you are asking of me, isn’t it, Admiral?”
“If I didn’t think you were capable of it, Commander, I would not be requesting this of you.”
Wedge held his gaze for a moment, considering his words, before stuffing the datapad into his pocket and saluting. “I will get to it as soon as possible, Admiral.”
“I am glad to hear it. Dismissed, Commander.”
As Wedge walked away from Ackbar’s office, he found that his mind was flooded with mixed thoughts and emotions. The more he thought about it, the less sure he felt that he would be able to pull this off. What made him feel worse was the fact that he wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to the rest of the Rogues, nor how they would react. They still didn’t even know about Fel yet….
He pulled out the datapad again to read the list of names, all of them unfamiliar… save for one. He was rather surprised to see it, although Janson had told him he had found that person practicing in the flight simulators shortly after they had left Akiva.
If nothing else, he knew it would be a good place to start, especially since he knew exactly where to find them….
* * *
“…And then bam!” Wes Janson smacked his fist into his open palm for emphasis, adding to the dramatization of the tale he was weaving. “He flies his snowspeeder directly into the AT-AT’s head! Down they go in a fiery explosion!”
“Okay, it didn’t happen quite like that,” said Hobbie Klivian, sitting next to him. “I did survive, you know.”
“You were in the bacta tank for weeks.”
“That doesn’t mean it happened like that!”
As the two Rogues bantered, Temmin Wexley couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed in awe. While he was old enough to recognize exaggerated stories when he heard them, the action he had seen the Rogues pull off at both Akiva and Mon Cala already showed him everything he needed to see. It was what had prompted him to sneak into the first flight simulator he found, and while Janson had found him and given him a stern talking to for formality’s sake, he had also been receiving private lessons from Janson in those same flight simulators whenever they found the time (and when they were sure no one would notice them).
Temmin had long since decided he was going to enlist in the Starfighter Corps. He just needed someone to drop him off at the closest academy, and Wedge had agreed to bring him along when the Rogues had transferred to Home One as Mon Cala had recently opened up a flight academy for aspiring New Republic pilots. Now that the battle for it was over, he imagined he would be taken down to the surface once the system was cleared.
He knew of the dangers that awaited him if he chose to go down this path. He had already heard of the Rogues losing one of their own in the battle. But that did not deter him; he had spent so much of his life on Akiva trying to figure out what he wanted to do with himself. Now, he had finally found the answer to that question.
He looked down at the table towards the other Rogues. Many of them seemed in a less jovial mood than either Janson or Hobbie, who were likely trying to use humor to cope with the pain and stress. The Quarren, Nrin Vakil, was silently nursing his drink; as the late Xarcce Huwla’s wingmate, he had apparently taken her death the hardest and perhaps even blamed himself for her loss. The buff woman named Plourr Illo also seemed dour, as from what Temmin had learned from Janson she had been a frequent sparring partner of the Tunroth. Avan Beruss and Feylis Ardele were huddled together, speaking quietly to each other, while Tycho Celchu was tapping his fingers on the table, glancing infrequently towards the door to the cafeteria.
It was at that moment that Temmin chose to look in that direction that he saw Wedge Antilles show up in the doorway. Janson immediately raised his arm and waved to him and the Corellian pilot headed straight for their table. His eyes briefly fell on Temmin and the young man could have sworn he saw a knowing smile briefly flicker across his face. But when the leader of Rogue Squadron, he was all business and did not appear to be in the best mood.
“Rogues,” he started to say, looking to each and every one of them in turn. “I’m not going to mince words: I have some bad news for you, and there is no good news to accompany it.”
“We’re fired, aren’t we?” Janson said, which drew a quiet chortle from Hobbie.
Wedge opened his mouth, stopped to think for a moment, and then nodded. “Essentially, yes.”
Janson and the others stared at him, as if waiting for the punchline. When the realization dawned that there was none, Janson sat up straighter. “Wait, are you being serious?”
Wedge raised his hands in a placating manner. “Don’t worry, none of you are being dishonorably discharged or anything like that. But Rogue Squadron is effectively dead as of this moment. I imagine Admiral Ackbar will be transferring you all to different units, but he didn’t divulge the details to me.”
“Did he say why?” asked Tycho.
“To put it simply, we’re too good at our job. The Empire knows now that we’re the go-to unit for the New Republic and are preparing accordingly. We won today, sure, but it did not come without losses. And I imagine it will only get worse from here, especially since we are down so many Rogues.” Wedge exhaled deeply. “Which leads me to my next bit of bad news: Fel is gone.”
The others’ expressions were a bag of mixed emotions. Tycho raised an eyebrow. “As in, ‘gone’ gone?”
“As in he left. He got word that Syal has been captured again and he wasn’t too happy about us losing her. He stormed out of Admiral Ackbar’s office, took his fighter from the hangar, and left.”
Nrin Vakil scoffed. “Surprised it took him this long to show his true colors. Once an Imp, always an Imp.”
Wedge looked as if he wanted to say something to that but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he said, “Between that, losing Xarcce, and the factors I have already mentioned, Rogue Squadron is officially disbanded. There is a lot I wish I could say right now, but instead all I will say is that it’s been a honor serving alongside each and every one of you.”
The table suddenly shifted, startling Temmin, as Nrin abruptly got up from his seat. The Quarren seemed to glower in Wedge’s direction before turning on his heel and walking away from the rest of the Rogues. The others watched him as he left but no one said anything. Temmin looked to Wedge for clarification, but the Corellian offered none.
“Well,” Janson said. “I guess it’s true when they say you can be too good for your own health. Maybe that’s why I haven’t found a woman yet; I’m just too damn handsome. I’m dangerous for them.”
“You are, but not for those reasons,” Hobbie said under his breath.
That got a small smirk from Wedge, although it was fleeting. His eyes then fell on Temmin and the young man stiffened under his gaze.
“Wexley,” he said, “if you don’t mind, I would like to speak with your privately.”
Temmin blinked. “Um, okay.” He shifted in his seat, glancing at Janson. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
This time, Wedge smiled for real. “Well, that depends on how you define being in trouble. For some, what I am about to propose to you would be almost akin to a death sentence. But for others… it would be the dream of a lifetime.”
To that, Temmin grinned widely and eagerly rose to his feet. “Now that,” he said, “sounds like the kind of trouble I like looking for.”
Wedge nodded back. “In that case, follow me.”
* * *
The Ravager, somewhere in space
Grand Admiral Rae Sloane (that title still felt strange to put before her own name) stood at attention in a room full of shadows. The only light besides tiny red fixtures built into the floor and ceiling came from the blue glow of the holograms surrounding her. Beside her stood Fleet Admiral Rax, who, despite the fact that he technically ranked below her now, still seemed to carry an air of superiority around him. As if he was the one truly in charge… which, by all accounts, he very much was at this point. He remained silent as the members of the newly assembled Shadow Council spoke around him, airing their grievances and boasting their accomplishments.
“Word has it that the operation at Mon Cala has failed and that Captain Lennox has been been captured by the Rebels,” said Grand Moff Randd, a rigid and thin man who oversaw the Exterior out on the Outer Rim. “That is two worlds we have now lost to this so-called New Republic.”
“Mon Cala is an acceptable loss,” Rax said calmly. “I figured that world would be heavily fortified by the Rebels given the Mon Calamari’s strong relations with them. Which is why I tasked Captain Lennox with the operation; his loss will not be detrimental to the rest of our operations. Besides, the point of this all is to cull out the weak so that the Empire is stronger for it.”
“Indeed!” The agreement came from the hologram of Moff Gideon, the new self-proclaimed ruler of the Mandalore sector. “Think of all of the successes we have already cultivated, Randd. Vardos has been leveled, Burnin Konn has been adequately punished, and the Mandalorians have been successfully brought to heel.”
Randd narrowed his eyes at the other Moff. “Of course you would pat yourself on the back for that last one, wouldn’t you, Gideon?”
Gideon grinned. “Why not? I have already taken their precious Darksaber from them. And being as blinded by tradition as they are, they are now without a leader.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Grand General Kenner Loring. “I have heard rumors that the Mandalorian supercommandos led by Fenn Shysa are still in operation and actively supporting the New Republic.”
“Oh, you mean those mercenaries?” Gideon’s mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. “I am not concerned with them, General. What matters is that Mandalore has been broken and the Mandalorians’ faith has been shattered. Their numbers are now scattered across the galaxy, with clashing ideologies which ensure that they can never again be reunited. And a broken enemy is a defeated one.”
“Spoken like a true ISB agent,” another member of the council muttered under their breath.
Randd shook his head before returning his attention to Rax. “Regardless of what we have accomplished, or what we have not, I must ask what the endgame of this all is? The Messengers have all been sent out and we’re just waiting for the dust to settle at this point. Once Operation: Cinder is finished, what is our next move?”
Rax smiled and Sloane had to refrain from shivering. He looked so much more like a ghoul whenever he tried to express himself. “The next step will be to bring Project Necromancer to fruition.”
A hushed silence fell over the assembled members. Furtive glances were exchanged by a few members, while others seemed to be utterly clueless as towards the meaning of those words. Sloane herself was not sure she understood what Rax was talking about.
Randd cleared his throat as he seemed to recompose himself from his initial shock. “Project Necromancer,” he said the words as if they were verboten, “was shelved over twenty years ago, if I am not mistaken.”
“You are not, Grand Moff,” Rax said, still with that eerie smile of his. “But thanks to the efforts of myself and Commandant Hux, it has been revived.”
All eyes turned to a red-haired man in a black Imperial uniform. Brendol Hux, head of the Imperial Academy on Arkanis, beamed with pride at the Fleet Admiral’s acknowledgment.
“Do we even have the resources to continue it?” General Loring asked, his voice almost a hushed whisper.
“I have already allocated the necessary resources,” said Rax. “I need only await Warlord Zsinj to fulfill his duties so that we may commence the final step of our operations.”
He gestured to Sloane and she brought out a datapad, pressing a command on it. Almost simultaneously, all of the members seemed to receive something on their own devices or were given reports by their assistants.
“You have all been sent coordinates to the Jakku system,” Sloane announced to the rest of the council.
“Jakku?” Randd exclaimed. “That’s out on the edge of the Unknown Regions. Why are we being sent there?”
“We are gathering there,” Rax said, “for our final crucible against the New Republic. It will be there that our glorious Empire shall be fully reforged anew… and our enemies shall finally fall.”
Sloane studied the expressions of each council member. Some, such as Randd and Gideon, seemed doubtful about Rax’s claim, while others such as Hux seemed to have bought fully into it. Still, Rax had enough of a hold over all of them that they would all follow his orders regardless, if only to see Operation Cinder to its full conclusion.
Before long, the meeting was adjourned and the holograms of each member fizzled out, leaving Sloane alone in the room with Rax. The lights brightened and she could see that the eerie smile had dropped fully from his face.
“Is something wrong, Admiral?” Sloane asked carefully.
“The Messenger that was sent to the Chimaera has failed to report,” Rax said quietly. “As far as I know, the operation on Lothal has not yet commenced.”
“Does it even matter at this point? You’ve said yourself that Operation Cinder has already served its purpose. The weak have been culled from the Empire’s ranks and the New Republic is in disarray. What difference does it make that a single world was not targeted?”
Rax glared at her. “It makes a difference because it means someone has potentially disobeyed a Messenger droid… and was not executed for it. Because even if Captain Pellaeon had refused to obey the command, then the Messenger would have simply killed him and promoted his lieutenant to take his place… and repeat the process as needed, although I doubt his crew would have the bearings to disobey the Messenger after seeing the fate of the captain. No, something must have happened to the droid. Either it was intercepted or….”
He trailed off and Sloane waited for him to finish. After a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head.
“No. No, you’re right. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We shall move on to the next phase of the plan. The Empire’s rebirth is at hand.”
Sloane twisted his lips, wanting to question him further. But she already knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with him. Instead, she said, “Very well. I shall make preparations for the fleet to move to Jakku.”
“Yes, yes. Very good.”
Rax proceeded to walk out of the chamber, looking as if his mind was elsewhere. Sloane narrowed her eyes as she watched him leave before walking after him.
She knew there was more to this man than met the eye, and she would get to the bottom of it. And if she came to the conclusion that this man was not fit to rule the Empire—if that indeed was his end goal—then she would make sure that he would never get the chance to do so.
If he was right about one thing, it was that the Empire would be reborn. One way or another.
His way… or hers.
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