Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [145]
A hand landed on Wedge’s shoulder and he spun, knocking Tycho’s arm aside. “I lost another one.”
“Maybe.” The outline of his gas mask had left red lines on Tycho’s face. “But maybe, just maybe, Corran managed to punch out before the ship went down. Maybe he’s lying on top of that pile of rubble just waiting for someone to help him.”
And maybe he’s buried so deep we’ll never find him. Wedge drew in a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re right, that’s probably what happened. He’s probably waiting for us right now.”
“He’s a Rogue, after all.”
“Right, come on.” Wedge headed for the door. “He’s a Rogue and we take care of our own. No matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, we take care of our own.”
46
Wedge Antilles found the duracrete and transparisteel barrow improbably neat. The off and on rain for the last four days had washed the dust away and granted the fractured pieces of pseudogranite sharp edges that looked almost decorative. Nothing moved in the mound, nothing showed colors outside reflective silver, black, and grey. The hill of debris rose less than seven meters above the level upon which he stood because the falling stories had telescoped into the floors below.
And somewhere in there are the mortal remains of Corran Horn, Wedge shook his head. The building Corran had hit had been on the line of the construction droid’s advance, so when Mirax used the warning beacon to get the computer center evacuated, this building had likewise emptied of people. Most of the newly unhomed already picked up on Rebellion phrases and said that the Force had truly been with them when they got out. And yet others had determined that Corran, knowing his Headhunter was going down, had deliberately driven it into a tower he knew had been evacuated. They said that made him a hero.
As if that’s what it took for him to be a hero. As if nothing else he had done would have made him one. Wedge realized his hands had knotted into fists again. He forced them open, as he had found himself doing numerous times since Coruscant had fallen. When it came down to it, because of the efforts of his people, Coruscant had not been drenched in blood. In fact, aside from the casualties in the space battle and limited actions on the planet, virtually no one had been injured. “Yet another miracle, another sign the Force was with us.”
Wedge hated the mocking tone that came with his words. People all around had gone berserk with joy when Coruscant fell. Even he had celebrated, albeit a bit subdued, because Aril Nunb had been found alive and nearly well in Invisec. Her return did not cancel the pain of Corran’s loss, especially with Mirax Terrik wandering around as if her heart had been torn out and Iella Wessiri not being much better off. The big hologram, the liberation of Coruscant, became hard to focus upon with such an immediate loss.
While he pointed to Corran’s death as the wellspring of his anxiety and frustration, he knew he did so because he did not want to consider the question that all members of the Rebel staff had been asking themselves: Why hadn’t it been harder? To even consider that question somehow seemed to cheapen their victory that was, by all accounts, hard fought and won through superior planning and execution. Even so, an average deck of sabacc cards had more computing power than the whole of the Imperial Naval staff left to conduct the defense of the planet.
The inescapable conclusion that could be drawn from the utterly inept defense of Coruscant was that Ysanne Isard wanted the New Republic to take the world. The Provisional Council had seen Coruscant as a symbol.