Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [127]
Janson said, “I’ll get your information to Wedge. And you get some real sleep.” He rose.
Atril rose and added, “The painkillers should start firing off pretty soon. You’d better be horizontal when they do.” She shrugged. “Sorry I can’t do more. I wish Dr. Phanan were here.”
“It’s fine,” Falynn said.
Janson and Atril left her quarters, but Donos lingered, kneeling beside her chair. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m going to stab the next person who asks me that.” But she kept her tone light and there was no sting in her words.
“You scared me to death. Falling and not moving. I was getting a retrieval team in position when you reached me via comlink.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached out to stroke his chin, felt the harsh stubble of a day’s worth of beard there. And she began to laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“That mustache. You look like a complete idiot.”
“Oyah.” He bobbed his head in an exaggerated nod and kissed her on the third bob. Then he rose. “Like they said, sleep. We’ve got more planned tonight.”
“Someone else gets to climb.” A wave of tiredness washed across her. She half rose, unwilling to straighten completely up and suffer the muscle pulls such a motion entailed, and crawled onto her bed. “G’night.”
Plague Group returned from Scohar tired but triumphant. They met with the mustachioed idiots of Yokel Group in Wedge’s hostel quarters.
“Effortless, as I predicted,” Grinder said. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “My companions, inspired by my sheer versatility and competence, themselves showed acceptable performance—”
Kell glared at him and he shut up. “We got in,” Kell said, “we got out with the goods, and the only thing we did that would indicate someone was there was spray a sealant all over the inside of a trash flue. I even reconnected the plasma bomb.”
Wedge came upright. “The what?”
“They had a high-temperature device set to trigger if any of the disease agents breached their security seal and threatened to escape the complex. The thing would have instantly incinerated the Institute and a few city blocks around it—which I assume they consider an appropriate measure to keep some of those diseases in check.” Kell shrugged. “I bet that little safety feature is a secret to their neighbors. Anyway, I disabled the array so Grinder could foul up if he liked—”
“Never happen,” Grinder said, his voice a growl.
“And then, once he was very, very sure everything was safe, reconnected it.”
“Where’s the plague?” Wedge asked.
Phanan held up two plastic cylinders, each no larger than a standard comlink.
“Will those … containers … hold?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. But to be safe, I’ll be inoculating all of us and the rest of the Night Caller crew against these little bugs. Kell is going to help me mount these containers in little detonation units, nothing explosive, they’ll puncture the sides with a needle. All we have to do is get them into the shuttles’ air-circulation gear.”
“Good.” Wedge leaned back and tried to relax. “We go tonight, then. The sooner we’re offworld, the sooner we can get out of these mustaches.”
Tyria quirked a smile. “Not to mention the lavender short pants.”
“Not to mention them, Flight Officer Sarkin.” Wedge pulled his wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes. “Or else.”
· · ·
They drove at a slow pace toward Bunker 22-Aleph—slow so Piggy, pacing them on foot, could keep up. Not that the Storinal-made refueling and maintenance skimmer was a particularly speedy craft, but it could still outrun a fully armed and armored Gamorrean.
The two human guards and one leather-clad Gamorrean at the bunker’s main entrance came on attention as they neared. In the skimmer’s cab, Kell fingered his blaster to make sure it was still snug in its holster. Beside him, Tyria gave him an amused look and refrained from doing the same. Back in the skimmer’s main bed, hidden among the refueling