They didn’t. The male visitor, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who looked as though he’d probably represented his military unit as wrestling champion, merely smiled. The woman continued, “I’m sorry for the late visit, General, but we really need to speak to you.”
Wedge flipped on the living room lights and looked back over his shoulder again. The door was open, but Iella was no longer in sight. She’d be hanging back in the darkness, wearing something far less visible than the white robe, the blaster in hand … just in case.
Wedge flipped another switch on the security panel. Now the door leading into the side hall would be sealed, preventing Wedge and Iella’s youngest daughter, Myri, from wandering into the living room if she awoke. An intelligent and stubborn girl, Myri had inherited her mother’s inquisitive nature; it would not be beyond her to try to eavesdrop on a late-night conversation if she was aware one was taking place.
Finally Wedge pressed the switch to open the front door. It slid down and out of sight, revealing the two visitors.
The two straightened, an ordinary at-attention courtesy for a retired general, but they couldn’t quite keep dubious expressions from their faces. He knew they were looking at a skinny, graying man with knobby knees, a man wearing a sentimental-value undershirt older than either of them. It was a vision that did not match his reputation.
Wedge kept any annoyance out of his voice. “Come in.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. The two moved in and Wedge tripped the door just as soon as they cleared the threshold. The door tugged at the man’s shirt cloth as it rose into place.
“I apologize for waking you,” the woman said. “I’m Captain Barthis with Intelligence Section. This is my associate, Lieutenant Titch.”
“Identification?” Wedge said.
Both reached into inner pockets of their coats. Wedge willed himself not to tense. But their hands emerged with identicards. Wedge held out a hand-not to take the identification, which by regulation these two would not have yielded in any case, but so that a green scanning light from the security panel would fall across his palm.
Captain Barthis waved her card across his hand, and Lieutenant Titch followed suit. Now Wedge’s computerized security gear would be processing their card information, comparing it with Corellian data sources and a few databases that Wedge was not officially supposed to be able to access.
He waved the visitors toward the cream-colored stuffed furniture that lined one wall of the room. “Have a seat.”
Captain Barthis gave him a little shake of the head. “Actually, we’ve been sitting for hours, on a shuttle-“
“Of course.” Wedge waited.
“The Galactic Alliance needs your help, General,” the woman said.
Wedge offered a faint snort. “Captain, the Galactic Alliance is teeming with officers who were compelled to retire after the war with the Yuuzhan Vong, for the simple reason that a peacetime military doesn’t need as many of them. Some of these folks are quite brilliant, and, unlike me, they’re anxious to get back into uniform. Me, I’m anxious to sit around in comfortable clothes all day, give my wife all the time my military career wouldn’t allow me to give her, and complete my memoirs. You’re looking for the wrong man.”
“No, sir.” Captain Barthis shook her head in vigorous denial. “The GA needs you and your specific help.”
The male visitor finally spoke, his voice softer than Wedge would have suspected. “It has to do with the events of nearly thirty years ago when Rogue Squadron did so much work preparing for the taking of Coruscant from Imperial forces.”
“I see. And it’s something that requires my presence instead of a simple holocomm call.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Barthis said.
“And if you’re here in the middle of the night, it’s because you need me in the middle of the night.”
The captain nodded, the expression on her face regretful.
Wedge flipped a switch on the door-side panel, and the entryway opened again. “Wait for me in the building lobby. I’ll be down directly.”
Now, finally, the two of them glanced at each other. Barthis said, “We’d prefer to remain here, sir.”
Wedge gave her a frosty little smile. “And will you be making a holocam recording of my good-byes with my family? Or perhaps you’d prefer to hug my daughter for me.”
Barthis cleared her throat, thought the better of it, and moved out into the hall. Titch followed. Wedge shut the door behind them.
Iella moved into the bedroom doorway again. She was now wearing a green-black rain drape. She looked annoyed. “What do they need that they couldn’t have asked you decades ago?”