Beyond - Legends X-Wing: Fleet Action - The Thrawn Campaigns (Rogue Squadron during The Last Command) (X-wing novel)

Chapter 35


The next evening saw a reception party in the Imperial Palace, to celebrate the news that had made the rounds of the Palace that day of Thrawn's death and the destruction of the Empire's cloning facility. Wedge, Mirax and Inryi were sitting at one of the tables, enjoying their dinner.The rest of the squadron was still at Bilbringi.

"I know your speech tomorrow will be good," Mirax said. "But it means by now Corran's lost nearly three hundred credits in bets this week."

"He's what?" Wedge asked.

Mirax sighed. "Corran's had quite the ego recently. Or perhaps a bruised one. It seems he's had a hard time accepting he's not actually as good as you. First he bet he could shoot down three squints in a row in a simulator without his targeting computer computing lead. He lost that one pretty bad. After he saw the sensor data of your dogfight at Bilbringi, he bet he could do the same thing against pilots who hadn't seen it."

"How'd that go?" Wedge asked.

"He got one before he got shot down. He tried doing what you did, mistimed it and everything got worse from that," Inryi answered.

"And I had to be the one to point out we had the simulator computer running the squints, which everybody knows is pretty poor," Mirax added. “At least I didn’t tell him about the pool when he tried out your custom simulator module. I made twenty credits there.”

"And then," Mirax continued, "Knowing you've been uncomfortable about publicity in the past, and how you've been recently, he bet you wouldn't make a speech tomorrow, or if you did you'd make a fool of yourself. He claimed that you didn't give a speech after he escaped from Lusankya as evidence."

"I wanted the focus to remain on the squadron, and I did give a speech at Corran's funeral, after all," Wedge replied.

"Except Corran was in Lusankya for that, and somehow he never found out about it, or never watched a holo of it."

"And nobody else in the squadron told him?" Wedge asked.

"He's been grating on the rest of the squadron recently, and I think they all wanted to put the final dent in it. He should be back to normal after this.”

“That’s good I suppose,” Wedge said.

“Speaking of ego,” Mirax added, “did the Bacta boy ever tell you he got a prosthetic leg after losing one when he got shot down at Ord Mantell?”

“No, he didn’t tell me,” he replied, irritated. “Although now he’s earned three days doing datawork when I get back.”

 

Chapter 35 (cont.)

Unexpectedly, Kiyrenaa Thrride walked over. She was wearing, strangely enough, a cloak that went down to her ankles. What’s she doing on Coruscant?

Wedge instantly found himself slightly on edge by her presence. Even without trying, she makes you uncomfortable. Her datafile may say she's 190 centimeters (6'3") tall, but in person you'd swear she tops 2 meters.

"Commander Antilles, nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand.

"What brings you here, I'd thought you'd be with the fleet," Wedge asked as he shook it. He thought he might have felt the raised line of a scar, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Inryi just stared.

"A little idea I cooked up with Terrik Horn here," she replied. "With her blessing, we leaked the Pulsar Skate's route taking you here to the Imps. She took a completely different route, of course, while my squadron followed her original one. Luckily the Empire decided to salvage some pride by trying to capture you. My squadron got pulled out of hyperspace by an Interdictor, and a Strike Cruiser and some TIE's were waiting."

Quite clever, actually. "I'm sure they were surprised," Wedge replied.

"They certainly were. They went to lightspeed without waiting to recover fighters. The Strike Cruiser even jumped out with only a partial nav solution, actually, once they figured out who they were facing."

"Even partially blind-jumping a capital ship is pretty unusual," Wedge stated.

"And with good reason," Thrride replied. "An analysis of their outbound vector showed they almost certainly hit a mass shadow, probably only enough to send it in for repairs. Too bad it was only a Strike Cruiser. We also captured four squadrons worth of TIE's. In deep space with no way out, a quick transmission was all it took to convince them to surrender. I'm giving them to Intelligence, who I'm sure will be happy to have them."

"Four squadrons of captured TIE's can let Intelligence get up to all sorts of mischief," Wedge replied with a slight smile. “I’ve also seen holos of your fleet engagement, and I’ve never seen capital ship’s helms used so aggressively. I also didn’t realize Assault Frigate’s and Star Cruiser’s turn radius was small for a capital ship.

Thrride let out a sigh crossed with an irritated growl. “Nearly all capital ship captains and officers have never actually handled the helm themselves, let alone aggressively. So since they’re not sure quite what their ship’s limits are, and have no flying experience of any type that would assist them in judging relative speeds, rates of turn and such of multiple ships, they tend to play it careful. After all, a capital ship is an extremely valuable and expensive asset.”

“And as a result,” she continued, “the helmsmen never get to use the full control range since their commander never orders it, junior officers rise with in rank without knowing it, and so the cycle continues. They may order emergency evasive maneuvers, but there’s nothing special with those, it’s simply full helm, and it doesn’t hurt the ship any. But they seem to think it’s only for emergencies. Besides, that was a unique situation, with Assault Frigates fighting Dreadnaughts and Imp captains thinking I was willing to pointlessly ram them. If it were somebody else commanding and they were facing different ships, there wouldn’t have been any real point fighting that way anyway.”

Wedge and Mirax both nodded. Inryi continued staring at Thrride with a huge smile and her eyes wide open, unblinking and watering.

Mirax spoke up. “What about the rumors about the bridge of your flagship getting hit, and that your were commanding the Star Cruiser from the engine room at one point?” Mirax asked.

“They’re true,” Thrride replied. “Although it only happened when my flagship was fighting the last Impster-duece, where the rest of the Imps had been destroyed and the Assault Frigates sent after the shipyard. Nobody could coordinate the fighting going on earlier from outside the bridge. It’s not my first explosive decompression, although probably the farthest to go to get to an intact compartment. At least to date. Not my worst though.”

“What was that?” Mirax asked.

“Getting half the canopy shot off the cockpit of a YT-2400. Vacuum pretty much instantly, small compartments, and lost all the air in the next compartment getting out before the door got closed again. Even with all the extra bulkheads I put in it was a couple compartments until the pressure equalized enough to be breathable. Even then we lost a lot of air. You try fighting a light freighter from a crude simulater we had aboard and little displays not meant for it in the engine room with an atmosphere just barely thick enough to technically count as ‘breathable.’”

“I’ll think I’ll pass on trying that,” Mirax replied.

Inryi, who had been looking at Thrride with obvious admiration in her eyes, suddenly spoke up. "Long story, but I was born on and grew up on Kessel, and was asked for my assessment of you. You could intimidate even the worst of the worst there, and well, um, do you think you could give me a demonstration?" she blurted out in a rush.

"Only if you won't report it."

"Certainly," Inryi replied happily.

Thrride smiled. A twisted smile, Wedge thought.

"Follow me. There's a supply closet nearby, and I'd like some privacy."

Inryi followed her away, like a pet following it's owner, Wedge thought. Or a Nerf eager for slaughter.

 

Chapter 35 (cont.)

A minute later, Han Solo came by their table. "Wedge, it's been too long!"

"With Thrawn on the offensive it seems longer than it was," Wedge replied. "I've been wanting to ask you, though. Apparently the Imperial agent turned smuggler Mara Jade knew about the cloning facility and killed a dark Jedi Master. What I don't understand is what kind of Imperial agent would know something so secret, let alone how a smuggler could kill a dark Jedi Master."

Solo glanced around, than lowered his voice. "Do you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I do, although the rest of the squadron would like to know as well."

"Fine, you can tell them if you make it classified and order them to keep quiet."

"Consider it done."

"Well," Solo began, "Apparently during the war she was the Emperor’s Hand."

Wedge racked his memory. "I think I've heard that term before, back during the war. Some sort of vague rumor about some sort of new agent that answers directly to the Emperor and nobody else. I didn't think it was true, though."

"It was, and it was her. She was Palpatine’s personal agent. That's how she was placed high enough to know about it."

"Even a highly placed agent, though, surely couldn't kill a dark Jedi Master?" Wedge asked.

"She was trained as a Jedi herself."

"You went on a mission with a dark Jedi?" Wedge asked incredulously.

"Not a dark Jedi, not at all. But not light either. Something, in between I suppose. I don't pretend to understand it."

"Nor do I," Wedge replied. "Luke's Jedi stuff has always been beyond me.”

"Whatever happened to Calrissian's Nkllon project?" Mirax asked. "Fried, I take it?"

"No, Thrride happened to it. She decided that its strategic value made it worth saving. She detached an Assault Frigate from her squadron, found some heavy lifters, and pulled it off planet into the outer system for repairs."

"So did she get approval for that, or not?" Mirax asked.

Solo laughed. "By the "don't ask for permission first, and don't tell anyone afterwards" method."

"It doesn't surprise me," she replied.

"Lando's not happy with her though."

"How?" Wedge asked. "You'd think he'd be grateful."

"Thrride left it in the outer system and is making demands on Lando before she tells him where she put it."

The table shared a laugh.

"Leave it up to Thrride to pull something like that!" Mirax said.

Inryi walked up, holding the back of her head with her hand. And with plenty of bruises, and marks around her throat, Wedge noticed. Inryi’s normally fair skin had gone as white as a sheet, and her eyes were unfocused.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Mirax finally spoke up.

"So, did you get what you wanted?" She asked.

"More than that,” she replied distantly. “I absolutely knew she was going to kill me the moment she looked at me. And that there was nothing I could do to stop it," Inryi replied distantly. "If I had a blaster there would've been no point shooting it."

"Knew that, or thought that?" Wedge asked.

"Thought, I suppose. But it felt like knew at the time," Inryi replied. "Although given her past history it might not have made much difference," she added, slowly returning to normal.

"Under her cloak was her old battle outfit, which nearly proves there really is no point."

"That doesn't explain those marks," Wedge asked.

"She interrogated me," Inryi replied. "She wanted to know more about Asyr and where she stands politically and with Bothan Intelligence."

"So, what did you tell her?" Mirax asked with a touch of discomfort.

"Everything she wanted to know. Or anything I thought she might have wanted to know, even if she didn't ask. I'm glad there's no reason for Thrride to hate Asyr, since the thought of hiding something didn't even occur to me."

"I know none of us have ever been through an Imp interrogation, but how do you figured it would compare?" Wedge asked.

"Actually, when I was 11 I got to watch one in Kessel," Inryi replied, all eyes shooting toward her.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Inryi herself broke the silence.

"You see, I asked to watch, since there was all the stories of this kind of thing I'd been hearing for years, and…"

Wedge cut her off.

"I think we'd all rather be spared any more details."

“He didn’t survive.”

“I said we don’t want to hear any more of it.”

"And," Solo spoke up, "I was tortured by Vader back at Bespin, but he didn't ask any questions, so I wouldn't know how that compares."

"How do you figure a Thrride no-equipment interrogation would compare to a full blown Imp one?" Mirax asked.

"I was so terrified that I almost might as well have been brainwashed.”

"So where is she now?" Wedge hesitantly asked.

"Oh, that's right. She's going to, what was it… That's right, go pay Fey’lya a visit."

"She's What?" Wedge asked. This doesn't sound good.

"Probably something unpleasant, or that she wanted to do for a while."

"I think."

Wedge turned toward Solo. "Do you think we should intervene? Or alert Palace Security?"

He thought for a moment. "Not alerting security. But I think we should go watch. And decide whether to do something then."

 

Thrride to visit Fey'lya? That will be fun.

 

Yes, it will be fun. [evil grin]. I enjoyed when Booster beat him up too. And I certainly agree Corran needs to be less then perfect sometimes, and I hope I succeeded with this novel.

 

@Sinrebirth
Sinrebirth

 

Chapter 36

The Turbolift doors slid open on the President’s Residential Floor. "Stay behind me," Solo told them. As they stepped out of the turbolift into the hall, they saw Thrride turn a distant corner. The four of them followed quickly but quietly. Turning the corner themselves, they saw Kiyrenaa standing in front of the massive wooden door to Fey’lya quarters, a huge old-style hinged door that Palpatine had left unchanged when he renovated the place. Probably for some physiological political reason, Wedge thought to himself.

"Hurry, but quiet," Solo said as Kiyrenaa unfastened her cloak, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her battle outfit underneath. They were almost there when Thrride took a step back.

And much to Wedge’s shock kicked the door down.

"Fey’lya, it's nice to finally see you," Thrride said he she walked into the room. "This moment I've been waiting for a long, long time," she said, her voice full of threat, cruelty and hatred more than Wedge had though possible. That, and a sick, twisted sense of pleasure.

As Wedge and Solo reached the door, Thrride had slowly strode nearly all the way to Fey’lya, standing with his back to a table set with his dinner. The Bothan’s unsteady grip held a tiny hold-out blaster, his expression that of a person about to die.

As she reached him she ripped the blaster out of his hands, tucking it in her belt. Fey’lya momentarily regained his senses and took advantage of the opening to reach back and grab a large knife from the table behind him.

Thrride ripped it out of his hand by the blade, than grabbed the handle with her other hand. Than snapped the knife in two over her bare thigh, a tiny trickle of blood coming for her hand.

Kiyrenaa grabbed Fey’lya by the throat and tackled him into the table, breaking it in half.

Wedge stood there peaking around the doorway, transfixed.

"Are we going to do something?" Mirax whispered.

"The one time I don't have a blaster," Solo whispered back. "And she does. And I don't like the guy. I'm not getting myself killed over him."

"I don't suppose any of you…" Solo began, turning toward them.

Wedge and Inryi shook their heads no. Solo spotted a large sheath at Mirax's waist, and she gestured towards it. Solo reached back, opened it, and drew…

A datapad.

"I'm not your kind of smuggler, spice jockey," Mirax replied to him with a glare of contempt.

Wedge glanced back into the room. Fey’lya was sprawled on the floor, Kiyrenaa on top of him with her hands around his throat. "Let me remind you about something. A certain officer of mine got kidnapped and killed by Bothan Intelligence," she snarled. "And I recall it was somebody who came up with and authorized that operation."

"Oh right," she said, a puddle of a spilled drink on the floor providing Wedge a reflection of a sick, twisted smile. "It was YOU."

"You're going to prison for this," Fey’lya gasped out.

"Do you think I care," Kiyrenaa shot back and she slammed the Bothan’s head into the floor.

"But I'm not," she said with a twisted sense of pleasure. "Because I have permacrete proof of how you sold out the Rebellion to the Empire during the war for personal gain."

"I, I did nothing of the sort. It was solely my superior who…" Thrride not giving him a chance to finish as she slammed his head into the floor again.

"No," she hissed. "It was you. You framed him to get his position. And that captured Star Galleon full of Imp walkers that got lost as a result? That was mine."

"B-but the distress message clearly said who sold them out," the Bothan stammered out.

Thrride tightened her grip on Fey’lya throat. "But it wasn't until very recently I got to listen to it. And those were my men. And my men have a verbal code you didn't know about.

Wedge, watching, noticed in an overturned glass the reflection of one of Fey’lya’s aides peaking out from behind a cabinet, holding a tiny hold out blaster. He fired, hitting Thrride squarely in the side of her waist and burning a hole nearly the size of a fist.

Kiyrenaa didn't even twitch. She slowly turned her head to look at the aide. "Drop it," she snapped with a voice that shook even Wedge.

The aide dropped the blaster. Wedge wouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't of been watching her. Having watched her he couldn't imagine anything else.

Thrride drew a blaster, and fired a stun burst at the aide, who dropped like a stone. She than returned the blaster to a holster in her belt.

"Now, back to business. Those were my men you got killed there. And you. Don't," she said, alternating words with punches to the Bothan’s face, "Mess. With. My. Men. And. Get. Away with. It!"

"So you're not going to be telling anyone, unless you want me to release the Imp files I captured with the proof of your treason on it. You'll wind up in prison."

"Then again, maybe I'll get worse. Remember that Bothan base I burned down? Tell me, how many heads and how many platters were there?"

"Two?" Fey’lya croaked.

"WRONG!" Kiyrenaa snapped as she slammed his head into the floor again. "Looks like I was right. You never visited the place, only read the reports. You were never the one to get your hands dirty, were you?"

"Well I am. And it seems somebody omitted something in those reports. There were two heads, but two notes and three platters. The first note said we were even. But the second note on the empty platter? It said ‘except for you, Fey’lya. Someday your head will be here too.’"

"And oh look," she said, "a platter. How convenient."

Wedge quietly spoke up. "I think now we have to do something."

Kiyrenaa saw Inryi's reflection in a spilled pool of liquid, and through it they momentarily locked eyes, without any chance of the Bothan seeing. Thrride made some gesture behind her back that Wedge didn't recognize with one hand as she gave Fey’lya another punch in the face with the other.

But apparently Inryi did. Inryi twitched as understanding came, than pulled the four of them watching at doorway away from Fey’lya’s view. "Let her kill the traitor," Inryi quietly snarled as she grabbed Mirax's datapad and began typing.

But Wedge noticed her tone didn't match her face. Before he could say anything Inryi put a finger to her lips and turned the datapad around.

On it was typed, "She won't kill him." Wedge was wondering how in the Galaxy Inryi knew that until she showed them more typing. "It's an old con artist sign I learned in Kessel."

The four of them returned to the door to watch.

Thrride had stuck a large plate under Fey’lya’s head and was holding a vibrodagger to his throat.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Kiyrenaa said in a mock official tone that showed nothing but cruelty and hatred.

"The… The Star Galleon. The Empire wasn't supposed to actually capture it. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. But they acted too fast."

"NO, they acted normally. You're no fighter, you’re a damned politician. If you were a fighter you would have known that."

She drew a blaster from her waist. "But I prefer to take heads that can't fight back. Stunned or killed," she said, rapidly flicking the blaster's selector switch back and forth without looking. "It makes no difference."

Kiyrenaa held the side of the blaster up to Fey’lya's face, the side with the selector switch down.

"Now, what does the switch say?" Kiyrenaa asked with sick amusement.

"Kill?" The Bothan replied almost to quietly to hear.

Thrride hit Fey’lya across the face, than slid the blaster to the side of his head. "And those will be your last words. Now DIE!" Thrride said as she pulled the trigger.

A blue stun burst came out, much to Wedge's surprise.

Thrride pulled a piece of flimsiplstast from a pocket and tucked it in Fey’lya’s clothing. She got up, and brushed herself off, and walked toward the door, and them, her face a mix of joy with a touch of sadness. Thrride stopped in front of the four of them. "Thanks for keeping them out of it, Inryi," Kiyrenaa said.

Inryi picked a credit chip up off the floor next to the doorframe. "I believe we just missed seeing you use this to jimmy the door before you kicked it in?”

"Of course. Leaving a broken door behind would make too many people ask questions. Bedsides, even a Wookiee couldn’t kick that door down. But never underestimate the value of making an entrance."

"Oh, and you and Wedge? I'm still your superior officer right now, so what just happened is now classified one level higher than whatever clearance you ever get, and I'm ordering you to keep quiet about it."

"I, I can do that,” Wedge replied.

"Mirax, what about you?"

"I value being alive.” Mirax replied. "I can keep quiet."

"And you, Solo?"

"I really should report this, but I always kind of wanted to punch him in the face, so you're good.”

Wedge's curiosity built up past the point he could keep it in. "If you don't mind me asking, why did the blaster stun him when you had it set on kill?" he asked Thrride as she closed the door.

"A little slight of hand I picked up a long time ago.” Thrride had picked up her cloak and began putting it on as they headed for the turbolift.

"So it seems Fey’lya really was a traitor after all," Solo struck up. "You going to share those files and get him kicked out for good?"

"Sadly," Thrride replied, "I don't actually have any, although the part about the verbal code is true. So I can't prove it enough for somebody as high up as him, besides a confession we obviously can't use. Six years ago I would have left his head on a plate, but times have changed and this will have to do. And I believe him that nothing was supposed to actually happen to hurt the Rebellion. At least he didn't intend to do any damage to the cause."

"Clever," Solo replied.

"And tell your friend Asyr that she can claim I gave her a copy of those Imp files whenever she wants to blackmail Fey’lya."

"Thank you," Wedge replied.

"And that note I left him says, "I knew it was on stun. But I still have those files.""

 

Chapter 36 (cont.)

Wedge steeled himself for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, Defender Wing is under your command, is Major Salm still flying with them?”

Thrride scowled. “He’s gotten promoted out of the cockpit to Lieutenant Colonel. He came with the Nemesis as fighter commander. Perfectly solid bomber wing commander. But a perfectly average officer. Badly injured when the bridge got hit, I want better for my squadron, so I took the opportunity to replace him with somebody better.”

The turbolift doors ahead opened, and much to Wedge's surprise Luke Skywalker came running out, only to quickly come to a stop, breathing heavily.

"I had a feel..."

"You're a bit late," Thrride cut him off. "It's over now."

Luke looked like he was thinking for a moment, but Kiyrenaa interrupted him.

"Tell me, Jedi, what am I feeling right now?" she asked.

Luke looked distant for a moment, than quickly spoke up. "Your in pain. A rather large amount of pain."

She held her hand out to Luke. 
"Can any of your Jedi skills fix up some cuts?" She asked. "Or," pulling aside her cloak," fix a blaster burn?"

Wedge suddenly realized that he had completely forgotten that Thrride was by what all rights should be seriously injured. She's so completely unaffected by it that you really can't even tell.

Luke sighed. "Not me, right now, but maybe someday. But here, at least I can relive that pain while we get you to the palace medical bay," he said, reaching out a hand.

She swatted it away. "Back when I was just a smuggler I felt pain like everybody else, I suppose. After that night you couldn't deal with, it's just another feeling that lets you know you're injured. Mildly unpleasant, I suppose. That has its benefits, Imp interrogations rely on overloading you with pain to get you to talk. If pain isn't, painful, than all those wonderful narco-interrogations they have are suddenly useless."

"Should I ask what just happened?" Luke said.

"Don't find out," Thrride replied. "Willful ignorance is probably the best for all parties involved. And I'm not going to the medical bay. If you could fix up the cuts I'd be at the party for a while, but now I'll just head back to my ship, and get treatment there. I've dealt with worse for longer."

"And Wedge, give a good speech tomorrow. The New Republic needs a fresh face to put on the victory now that the Thrawn Campaigns are finally over. Jade deserves to be it but she'll never go in front of a holocam and shouldn't either, everyone else in that strike force doesn't deserve that, and yes Luke, that means you, I've read the reports, you literally accomplished nothing."

Luke seemed not to take it badly. Must be that Jedi training, Wedge thought.

"And Wedge, while I may have saved more lives than you ever could at Ord Mantell, and killed far more Imps than you have, that's because I'm running a fleet. Admirals aren't heroes. And while back during the war there were times my group was facing worse than twelve to one, and I've killed dozens by myself one at a time, I've never taken on twelve men alone at the same time like you did. So that makes you the moment's hero.

"Thank you," Wedge replied.

"And if I may give you a piece of advice. Stay a fighter pilot as long as you can. The New Republic can find plenty of Generals to match you there, but they won't find a fighter pilot to match you. You'll serve the New Republic better as a pilot. And flag rank isn't all it's cracked up to be. I miss the chance to kill face to face. And you have three more days leave, but after that, you're Commander Antilles to me again.

"Yes, ma'am," Wedge replied.

"Don't use that honorific with me again," she replied. "I've never liked it, it lacks the dignity of "sir." With me, use "Thrride" instead. Thrawn may be dead, but his clones aren't, and there's that many more Imps left to kill. And we've lost too many sectors since his campaign started, and it's time to take them back.”

 

Borsk got what he deserved.
We all wanted to do that, and more than once.

 

That devious Bothan, Politican always a trouble but he got now what he deserved.

 

Apologies about making the mistake of tagging before the post had its final edits done, so...
@Sinrebirth
Sinrebirth

 

Yes, yes we have. Since Booster getting a chance to do that was only one of two redeeming things about Izard's Revenge, and I'm already wanting to retcon it out of existence (I've already overwritten the first few chapters with events in the this novel anyway, and eliminated a major plot point, both here and earlier.)
Next story post will be tomarrow, almost certainly.

 

Chapter 37


The next morning, Mon Mothma stood behind the podium on the dais overlooking the plaza below. At the front of the plaza stood the assembled news media, dozens of holocams filming. Behind them a crowd filled it to capacity. Everything was bathed in the brilliant white early morning sunshine.

"Citizens of the New Republic, I have the pleasure to announce momentous news. As I'm sure we're all aware, the past seven weeks have seen the emergence of an Imperial Grand Admiral, Thrawn. With his discovery and subsequent recovery of the lost Katana fleet to bolster his forces, the Empire has launched offensives that have pushed our forces back on every front. Every attack save one was a victory."

Wedge stood off to the side, largely out of sight. What attack failed?

"But during our offensive on the shipyards at Bilbringi, Thrawn suffered a major defeat, as I'm sure most of us are aware."

"But there is significantly more good news to report than that. The rumors that have been circulating are true. Thrawn had discovered the late Emperor’s secret storehouse, and had obtained a cloning facility, and was producing a vast army of clones at an incredible rate.

A murmur went through the crowd. They're probably thinking "about time you confirmed it,"Wedge thought. Probably everybody here knew that already.

"But three things have turned the tide on our favor. First, I would like to confirm that another rumor was true, and an Imperial entity named Delta Source was giving Thrawn information from the heart of the New Republic. But it has been silenced. I say entity because it was discovered to be nothing more than a highly exotic recording system. The New Republic can rest secure that there are no traitors in our ranks."

"The second piece of momentous news is that we have discovered the location of Thrawn's cloning facility. A strike force infiltrated it, and it has been completely destroyed. The Empire will not produce another single clone."

Another mummer went through the crowd. No mention of who made up the strike force I see, and not a single inkling of Mara Jade. Certainly better that way.

Finally, we have news of which we are absolutely certain. Grand Admiral Thrawn is dead."

The crowd stood there in stunned shock. Mon Mothma paused for a moment as it sank it. "Thrawn's tactical genius is no more. The crisis for the New Republic is over, and the threat has passed. Make no mistake, there is still much fighting to be done. Many sectors and countless planets have been lost, and casualties for our forces have been heavy. But the tide of eventual victory is once again in our favor.

No mention of how, I see. Probably for the best.

"And here today we have another purpose. With us today is the man who almost single-handedly foiled the only of Thrawn's planned attacks that failed.“

Wedge glanced around. Thrride isn't here, and I wouldn't call Ord Mantell a failed Imperial attack. I don't think she fought in any engagements I wasn't in, and shouldn't that be woman?

"Commander Wedge Antilles."

WHAT! Wait, she's referring to the failed ambush of us at Vicondor She means... me.

As Mon Mothma continued, Wedge listened as she told the crowd of Wedge Antilles’s fighting at Vicondor, and his exploits at Bilbringi.

Sounds about accurate. Strange, it seems I'm fine with this.

Wedge noticed the frantic gestures for him to step forward. As Wedge walked forward, he was wearing his normal duty fatigues. That so called "laundry accident" on the Pulsar Skate was Mirax's way of making me wear these. Seemed to work out well enough.

He had opted not to wear any of his existing medals, save the Kalidor Crescent that was required in order to attach in the Silver Scimitar to its ribbon. And while the holocams are all over the kill markings on my X-Wing about now, at least they honored my request not to be recorded with it.

Each embellishment came with a longer ribbon to make room for it. Wedge, as per the usual custom, had been given a longer ribbon for the medal three hours earlier by the highest ranking officer below the one physically pinning the embellishment on. With the Chief of State herself pinning it on, Leia Organa Solo had been the one to do it. It had provided a good chance to catch up with Leia over the many things the both of them had been up too and gone through the previous few months. That also gave Wedge the impression that the last several months had made Organa Solo the second most powerful person in the New Republic, and perhaps even Mon Mothma's eventual successor.

Mon Mothma stepped down from behind the podium. She walked over to him, and turned to face him. "For almost single-handedly saving your squadron, its support staff, and stopping the only one of Thrawn's attacks to fail, you are hereby awarded the Silver Scimitar to the Kalidor Crescent, signifying a fifth receipt of the medal, the only one ever to be awarded."

Mon Mothma pulled the embellishment from behind a much smaller podium, and Wedge straightened as she pinned the jewel-encrusted silver award to the dark maroon ribbon for his Kalidor Crescent, right below the other four.

"At ease, Wedge," Mon Mothma said with a smile, too quietly for the news holocams to hear. His mind flashed back to scenes of Mon Mothma during the war, back when even high formality, let alone all this pomp and circumstance, was a luxury the fledgling Rebellion couldn't afford. Than back even farther, before Yavin, when even chain of command itself was barely formalized. We've come a long, long way since than.

The sound of cheering snapped him back to the present.

"For your single-handed destruction of two imperial warships and a defense platform, saving 5100 lives in the process, your are being awarded the Correlian Cross." Mon Mothma placed the medal, at the base of a long ribbon, over his neck.

Wedge knew he would never wear that ribbon again; when medals were worn a far shorter ribbon was used to hang it from his shirt; it was purely for the sake of the ceremony.

"And finally, for your attempted sacrifice of yourself against an entire squadron of the Empire's best starfighters, in order to make the attack succeed and save the fleet, and than your subsequent remarkable defeat of all of them, I have the pleasure to bestow upon you the New Republic's highest award, The Coruscant Star of Valor."

Mon Mothma draped the second medal on another long ribbon around his neck.

Wedge had internally debated what to say, or whether to say anything. But the memories that had flooded him in Ackbar's office had carried the day.

He turned toward the plaza, the crowd, and the assembled media. Wedge had agreed to do his duty, and allow, in a week's time, Mirax, only, to take a single still holo, only, of him wearing all his medals, without his X-wing, once in his dress uniform and once in his duty fatigues. It would be circulated for propaganda and recruitment, but it wouldn't be on the news or about him.

Wedge took a deep breath, and began his speech.

"One hundred and fifty three. That is the number of pilots who have died in Rogue Squadron. Sixteen. That is the number of pilots who have ever served in Rogue Squadron who are still alive. Save a Jedi Knight and a three retirements due to injury, every single pilot who has served in Rogue Squadron who is not flying in the squadron now is dead."

"For every pilot you see in Rogue Squadron today, there are a dozen and a half in the same cockpit who have died serving in it. I gave this message when Rogue Squadron was reformed two years ago, I still live by it and I will say it now. Any living member of Rogue Squadron, no matter what he or she may have accomplished, will never be a greater hero than any of those who have died in it. I accept these awards not on behalf of myself, but on behalf of those who have died in Rogue Squadron. Thank you.”

The crowd cheered.


THE END

 

@Sinrebirth
Sinrebirth

If you enjoyed this story, there's another (separate) one coming out in a few months.

 

Wonderful ending