Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [16]
My threat to petition the New Republic’s ruling council wasn’t an idle one, but Cracken knew he had little to fear from it. In theory, any citizen of the New Republic could communicate with a senator and, if their case warranted it, might even get an audience with the Council. In my case I could go more directly to Doman Beruss, the Corellian Councilor, and seek an audience that way. I was fairly certain the Council would let me speak to it, but that still put me far from getting what I needed from General Cracken.
Even before going to the Council, I needed to enlist support of various members so I had a chance of getting my request approved. In reality I knew it would be fairly easy for my request to be dismissed in the name of security, but if a couple of Council members backed me, I might win the day anyway.
To enlist that sort of support, however, I needed to ask friends for favors. My first stop in that quest—at least my first stop after returning home and changing into my service uniform—was the office of General Wedge Antilles. I did not call ahead and Wedge’s executive assistant, prim and cold though she was, seemed to accept my dropping in as a matter of course.
The nature of Wedge’s office revealed a lot about the man I had come to know and trust over the years. The whole of the wall behind his desk had been formed of transparisteel, providing the illusion that he worked on a balcony. It gave him a great view of Coruscant and, more importantly, a lot of sky. The desk he had been given was big enough to land an X-wing on, and Wedge kept it clear enough so he could land an X-wing there. Off to the left side of the room Wedge had a couch, a low table, and some battered chairs that would have looked more at home in some squadron debriefing lounge.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, General.”
Wedge gave me a big smile that pulsed some warmth back into me. “Corran, it’s good to see you. Been too long.”
I gave him a salute, then shook his hand. “It has, General, far too long.”
He frowned and waved me to a couch off away from his desk. He came around from behind the desk and took a chair facing me, leaving the low table between us. I noticed it matched the one I’d tripped over in my bedroom and my shin throbbed sympathetically. A scattering of datacards from military historical reviews and architectural publications littered the table.
Wedge regarded me carefully as he sat. “You needn’t be so formal, Corran.”
“Sorry, Wedge.” I forced a smile onto my face. “In the squadron we understood command moving you into fleet ops while the reborn Emperor threatened the New Republic, and even during the last four months you’ve been flying around pulling debris out of low orbits so it wouldn’t crash down and kill more folks here. Then when you took this ground assignment instead of coming back, well, some of us wondered if you hadn’t gotten used to the sound of General Antilles.”
He smiled in that easy, open way he had about him, with his brown eyes bright. “Nothing I’d like better than to be back with the squadron, but, you know, I’ve spent the last eleven years of my life blowing things apart. When I returned to Coruscant and I saw all that had been destroyed here, and all the folks left homeless—like you and Mirax—I don’t know, something in me wanted a change.”
Wedge leaned forward in his chair and one lock of brown hair swung down onto his forehead. He picked up one of the architectural journal datacards. “Way back when, when I lived on the Gus Treta station with my parents, I used to dream about having a home on the ground and building incredible buildings. The Rebellion and all intervened and I’d pretty much forgotten that dream, but flying over the destruction here rekindled it. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it, but for now it’s something I want to do.”
Part of me wanted to protest and convince him to rejoin the squadron, but he just sounded so happy that I couldn’t begrudge him his change of jobs. “You know we’ll be happy