He cleared his throat and keyed the comm for a broad-band common frequency. “This is General Wedge Antilles and the New Republic unit Rogue Squadron calling the Leresen task force,” he announced. “You’re encroaching without permission on Bothan space. Please state your intentions.”
“This matter is none of your concern, Rogue Squadron,” a startlingly melodious voice responded. “It is a private dispute between the Leresen and Bothan governments.”
Wedge glanced at his scanners. No sign yet of Bel Iblis and the Peregrine. “May I ask the nature of this dispute?”
“Death and resolution,” the melodious voice said. “The death of two Leresai at the hands of the Bothans, and the Bothan refusal to resolve.”
Wedge grimaced, keying to the Rogues’ private frequency. Clearly, there was a terminology problem here, some Leresen concept or phrase that wasn’t translating properly to Basic. But even so, there was something else he wasn’t getting here. “Any idea what he’s talking about?” he asked.
“Hang on-I’m checking the records,” Rogue Eleven said. “I’ve got a hunch … yep, here it is. There were two Leresai killed in that riot at the Combined Clans Building. Both shot, one of them before the mob broke into the building.”
“Thanks,” Wedge said, switching back. “Leresen commander, I understand your anger over your loss. What is it you want the Bothans to do in restitution?”
“Leresen law is very precise,” the alien said. “Claw for claw, horn for horn, life for life. One guilty for himself, or ten innocent of his tribe.”
A cold chill ran down Wedge’s back. “What do you mean, ten innocent?” he asked carefully.
“The Bothans have refused to turn over to us members of the clans who killed two unarmed Leresai,” the voice said evenly. “Two lives will thus be paid by twenty.”
So mathematically precise, Wedge thought. But how exactly they thought they were going to pull off such a trick with all the Bothans huddling safe behind their planetary shield …
“Uh-oh,” Rogue Four said quietly. “Vector three-six by four-one.”
Wedge looked. Just coming into view around the planetary horizon behind and beneath them was a small space station.
“It’s a low-orbit, zero-gee-crystal manufacturing plant,” Rogue Four continued grimly. “Mon-Cal design. If I recall correctly, the normal worker complement is fifteen to twenty-two.”
Wedge bit back a curse, keying for private frequency. “Intercept course,” he ordered. “I want us between the station and the Leresai.”
He switched the comm back as be threw power to the drive. “I understand your anger and frustration with the Bothan government,” he told the alien commander. “But you must understand that we can’t simply stand by and permit you to kill innocent people. General Garm Bel Iblis will be here soon; perhaps he can mediate-“
“There can be no mediation,” the Leresai said with a note of finality in his voice. “The law is the law, and its demands must be fulfilled. Neither you nor any others will stop us.”
There was a click, and the conversation was over. “Maybe not,” Wedge muttered under his breath as he keyed back to the Rogues’ frequency. “But we can sure give it a good try. All right, Rogues, time to get serious. Lock S-foils into attack position.” He reached for the control&mdash
“No!” Rogue Nine snapped suddenly. “Don’t lock S-foils.”
Wedge paused his hand hovering over the switch. Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Rogue Nine said, his voice tight with strain. “There’s something wrong. I can’t quite … but there’s definitely something wrong.”
“Rogue Leader?” Rogue Eight asked.
“Stand by,” Wedge said, switching his comm to Rogue Nine’s personal frequency. “Corran? What’s up?”
“Like I said, I don’t know,” Rogue Nine repeated. “All I know is that I sensed danger when you ordered the S-foil lock. I’m running a diagnostic now, but so far I haven’t found anything.”
“Is this one of your-?” Wedge hesitated, not wanting to ask about the other’s Jedi skills even on a secure channel.
“I think so, yes,” Rogue Nine answered the question anyway.
Wedge glanced ever at the Leresen task force. They hadn’t moved from their position. Waiting patiently for their target to orbit over to them.
And clearly not expecting any trouble at all from Rogue Squadron …
He keyed back to the main Rogue frequency. “Everyone hold course,” he ordered, turning his X-wing toward Rogue Nine. “You especially, Rogue Nine. I’m coming in close.”