Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [112]
To Wedge, it was almost like being at home.
Almost. From now on, he knew, home would be where he and Iella chose to be together—quarters on Coruscant with its overwhelming press of population, a small house on some grassy patch on an insignificant colony world, even Corellia, someday, if things changed in the way that system was governed.
But that was a problem to solve tomorrow or the day after that. For now, there was Adumar.
Cartann City and a number of smaller metropolises had been seriously damaged during the Adumari Union raid. Hundreds of Blades and other vehicles on both sides had been lost, and many brave pilots. Wedge had been sorry to hear that Liak ke Mattino, captain of Strike the Moons Flightknife, who had risked his perator’s displeasure to give Red Flight a chance at escape, was among the dead, as were many of the pilots Wedge had trained against in the days before the outbreak of war.
The former perator was now hidden away on an estate somewhere within Cartann’s borders, formally protected by his son from prosecution at the hands of the Adumari Union Council. Many of the world’s other perators had protested, but Balass ke Teldan had stood fast by the terms he demanded for Cartann’s peaceful and quick admission into the union, so it appeared that Pekaelic would avoid prosecution for his poor judgment and autocratic politics.
That would not be the case with Tomer Darpen. The onetime regional head of New Republic Intelligence was safely locked away in prison quarters, plotting his trial defense, blissfully unaware of the recording Hallis had made of the conversation that would doom him.
Tomer’s temporary replacement would not be the detriment Tomer had been. Appointed by General Cracken, Iella Wessiri was now managing the New Republic’s Intelligence matters on Adumar with her usual efficiency.
“Are you sure you don’t want to direct your forces from Allegiance’s bridge?” Iella asked.
Wedge looked up, startled. Iella had appeared beside him, in deceptive clothing, a naval lieutenant’s uniform, and had joined Wedge in studying the skies beneath them.
Wedge looked around, saw that no one was near them, and affected surprise. “I’d swear you were talking to me. What an odd question to put to a pilot.”
Iella managed a little smile. “Sorry. Lost my head for a moment. You can’t blame me for trying.”
“No, I can’t.”
She put an arm around his waist, rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” she said.
“We haven’t won, yet.”
“Not for winning. For being willing to lose. For standing by your guns when the whole galaxy seemed to be arrayed against your decision.”
“That wasn’t fun. But when I was sure I was about to lose everything, and I discovered that I hadn’t lost you after all … that made it all livable.”
“But that leaves me with one big worry about the future.”
“That I’m still flying?”
He felt her shake her head. She said, “No, that you’re almost as stubborn as I am. I—”
Whatever her next words might have been, they were cut short by the single blare of an alarm, followed by words that echoed throughout the bay and, Wedge knew, throughout the ship: “Reconnaissance unit High Flight Three Beta reports arrival of Imperial vessels in Adumari space. Three repeat three Imperial-class Star Destroyers and numerous secondary vessels inbound. All personnel to battle stations. All pilots to muster stations.”
Wedge sighed. “That’s it.” He pulled her to him for a quick kiss.
“I can’t ask you to be safe,” she said.
He shook his head.
“So shoot straight. And faster than they do.”
“Count on it. I love you.”
“I love you.” She broke from him and hurried off to her station, casting one last look over her shoulder at him before she joined the personnel streaming out the exit and was gone.
They formed up a kilometer off Allegiance’s bow, an impressive fighter group: Wedge’s Red Flight, two shield-equipped