Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [27]
Captain Barthis waved her card across his hand, and Lieutenant Titch followed suit. Now Wedge’s computerized security gear would be processing their card information, comparing it with Corellian data sources and a few databases that Wedge was not officially supposed to be able to access.
He waved the visitors toward the cream-colored stuffed furniture that lined one wall of the room. “Have a seat.”
Captain Barthis gave him a little shake of the head. “Actually, we’ve been sitting for hours, on a shuttle—”
“Of course.” Wedge waited.
“The Galactic Alliance needs your help, General,” the woman said.
Wedge offered a faint snort. “Captain, the Galactic Alliance is teeming with officers who were compelled to retire after the war with the Yuuzhan Vong, for the simple reason that a peacetime military doesn’t need as many of them. Some of these folks are quite brilliant, and, unlike me, they’re anxious to get back into uniform. Me, I’m anxious to sit around in comfortable clothes all day, give my wife all the time my military career wouldn’t allow me to give her, and complete my memoirs. You’re looking for the wrong man.”
“No, sir.” Captain Barthis shook her head in vigorous denial. “The GA needs you and your specific help.”
The male visitor finally spoke, his voice softer than Wedge would have suspected. “It has to do with the events of nearly thirty years ago when Rogue Squadron did so much work preparing for the taking of Coruscant from Imperial forces.”
“I see. And it’s something that requires my presence instead of a simple holocomm call.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Barthis said.
“And if you’re here in the middle of the night, it’s because you need me in the middle of the night.”
The captain nodded, the expression on her face regretful.
Wedge flipped a switch on the door-side panel, and the entryway opened again. “Wait for me in the building lobby. I’ll be down directly.”
Now, finally, the two of them glanced at each other. Barthis said, “We’d prefer to remain here, sir.”
Wedge gave her a frosty little smile. “And will you be making a holocam recording of my good-byes with my family? Or perhaps you’d prefer to hug my daughter for me.”
Barthis cleared her throat, thought the better of it, and moved out into the hall. Titch followed. Wedge shut the door behind them.
Iella moved into the bedroom doorway again. She was now wearing a green-black rain drape. She looked annoyed. “What do they need that they couldn’t have asked you decades ago?”
Wedge shrugged. “Retired is such an imprecise word…Did they check out?”
Iella nodded. “They’re the genuine article. In fact, I worked for a year with Barthis’s father. The family is Corellian.” She moved up to put her arms around Wedge’s neck. “Sometimes I wish you hadn’t been as influential as you were in your job. So that they’d stop coming for you anytime the military discovers it’s forgotten how to coordinate an X-wing engagement.”
Wedge wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “And who was it they came for last time? An hour before dawn, sweeping the hallway for listening devices before they even rang the chimes?”
“Well, me.” Iella had spent her professional career as a security officer, first for CorSec and then for New Republic Intelligence, and the demands on her postretirement time matched the demands on Wedge’s.
Wedge kissed her. “Wake Myri up so I can say good-bye. I’ll grab my go-bag and get dressed.”
She reached past him to unlock the hallway, then turned toward that door. Not looking back, she said, “I don’t like Titch.”
“Yeah.” It was a bit of verbal shorthand. She didn’t mean she didn’t like the man; she didn’t know him. But Titch was the sort of intelligence officer brought along to ensure security—to ensure that the person being transported didn’t cause trouble. It led to the question—Was Titch