Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [21]
Wedge could see calculations going on behind Phennir’s eyes. They probably matched what Wedge himself was thinking. Best-known New Republic pilot; best-known Imperial pilot. We’re here at the same time so Adumar can compare us. Can choose which of two options suits them better.
Phennir appeared to arrive at the same conclusion. He lifted his hand from his belt and extended it to Wedge. “It seems we’re here for the same reason.”
Wedge set his spoon down and shook the man’s hand. “I suspect so.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t wish you luck.”
“Likewise.”
Phennir turned away and raised his hand in a come-along gesture. Three other men in his vicinity followed as he departed.
Wedge turned back to his pilots, saw the last motions of Janson surreptitiously returning his vibroblade to his forearm sheath; the action was concealed from the sides by Janson’s ridiculous cloak, and few, if any, of the celebrants in the chamber could have observed it. Janson’s face, for once, was not merry in the least.
Wedge said, “Hallis, did you get that?”
The documentarian nodded.
“Give us a few moments of peace. Take that time to broadcast what you just recorded to the Allegiance.”
“Yes, General.” She turned and moved into the crowd, for once offering no protest to one of Wedge’s commands.
Wedge turned his attention to his native guide. “Cheriss, did you know that man was here? And who he was?”
She nodded, sober. “I did. My perator instructed me to say nothing until you two encountered one another. They had an arrival ceremony much like yours, at the same time as yours, on the far side of Cartann.”
“Please withdraw a few steps.”
She did, looking more distressed.
Tomer said, “Have you met him before? You acted as though you had.”
Wedge shook his head. “Not in person. We flew against him at Brentaal, years ago. Tycho went one-on-one with him. Which makes you, Tycho, the expert on what we’re facing.”
Tycho shrugged. “He was good. Nearly my equal at the time. But he was no Baron Fel, no Darth Vader.”
“He’s had years to improve.”
Tycho smiled. “So have we.”
“True.” Wedge thought back to his first debriefing of Baron Fel, shortly after the great Imperial ace’s capture by Rogue Squadron. “Fel said Phennir was ambitious, with little loyalty to Sate Pestage, who held the reins of the Empire after the Emperor fell. Phennir wanted Fel to strike out to achieve power on his own, and Phennir would be tucked in right there as his wingman.”
“Which doesn’t mean much to us,” Tycho said, “unless Phennir sees an opportunity for personal gain in this mission—enough gain to make him betray the Empire.” Then he lost his smile. “The Adumari have set us up.”
Wedge nodded. “That’s my guess. They’re going to play us against the Empire to see who can offer the best arrangement.”
Tomer’s face was nearly white with shock. “They’re far sneakier than I imagined. They pulled this off without our Intelligence people even knowing.”
Janson snorted. “How can you be sure? Maybe Intelligence just didn’t tell you.”
Tomer shrugged, unhappy. “Perhaps so. I’ll transmit them a request for further instructions.”
“You do that,” Wedge said. “But until we get further orders, we do just as we intended to—socialize, play the visiting dignitaries, make good impressions.”
“And keep eyes open in all directions,” Janson said.
Hobbie sighed. “Until now, I thought this was a really sweet deal.”
“The Cartann Minister of Notification, Uliaff ke Unthos.”
For the fortieth or eightieth time that night, Wedge offered the minimal bow and handshake required by the situation, and went to the special effort it took to keep from his face the dismay he’d felt ever since he’d recognized Turr Phennir. He also struggled to keep his nose from wrinkling; the minister’s perfume seemed as sweet and strong as an orchard full of rotting fruit. “And what is the role of the Minister of Notification?