Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [26]
They shouldn’t have been able to reach the front door of Wedge’s quarters without him knowing about it. His housing building was given over to military retirees such as himself. Some were retired from the New Republic, some from CorSec—Corellian Security—some from other Corellian armed forces. There were very basic security measures in place at all the entrances into the housing complex, so if these two were here without having been announced by complex security, it was because some other resident had let them in.
Wedge shrugged. The complex’s security was designed to keep ordinary folk out of their building, not to prevent agents with contacts from getting in.
He glanced over his shoulder. His wife, Iella, stood in the doorway to their bedroom. She wore a simple white robe and her hair, normally a wavy, gray-brown cascade, was a tousled mess, including one tuft protruding almost straight up. She had one hand cupped over her mouth as she yawned; the other held a full-sized blaster pistol at her side. Yawn done, she gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.
He shrugged, then turned back to the door and activated the exterior speakers. “What is it?”
The female visitor, a well-muscled blond woman who looked to be at least as tall as Wedge—not that this was unusual, as Wedge stood slightly shorter than the average human male—said, “General Wedge Antilles?”
“He moved,” Wedge said. “I think he’s over in Zed Block. He left the carpets a mess, too.”
It was a test, of course. If the visitors showed confusion or retreated, then they were simply admirers, or children of colleagues, people who could stand to contact him through ordinary channels and during daylight hours. If they didn’t—
They didn’t. The male visitor, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who looked as though he’d probably represented his military unit as wrestling champion, merely smiled. The woman continued, “I’m sorry for the late visit, General, but we really need to speak to you.”
Wedge flipped on the living room lights and looked back over his shoulder again. The door was open, but Iella was no longer in sight. She’d be hanging back in the darkness, wearing something far less visible than the white robe, the blaster in hand…just in case.
Wedge flipped another switch on the security panel. Now the door leading into the side hall would be sealed, preventing Wedge and Iella’s youngest daughter, Myri, from wandering into the living room if she awoke. An intelligent and stubborn girl, Myri had inherited her mother’s inquisitive nature; it would not be beyond her to try to eavesdrop on a late-night conversation if she was aware one was taking place.
Finally Wedge pressed the switch to open the front door. It slid down and out of sight, revealing the two visitors.
The two straightened, an ordinary at-attention courtesy for a retired general, but they couldn’t quite keep dubious expressions from their faces. He knew they were looking at a skinny, graying man with knobby knees, a man wearing a sentimental-value undershirt older than either of them. It was a vision that did not match his reputation.
Wedge kept any annoyance out of his voice. “Come in.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. The two moved in and Wedge tripped the door just as soon as they cleared the threshold. The door tugged at the man’s shirt cloth as it rose into place.
“I apologize for waking you,” the woman said. “I’m Captain Barthis with Intelligence Section. This is my associate, Lieutenant Titch.”
“Identification?” Wedge said.
Both reached into inner pockets of their coats. Wedge willed himself not to