Wedge nodded, unconcerned. “We can. This place has been screened so often and so well, by your side and my side, that I’d be more surprised to see a listening device than a rancor in a formal gown. But Tycho-we are talking strictly off the record. Correct?”
Tycho nodded.
“Corellia’s a coalition government,” Wedge said. “Saxan is riding herd on a vast number of ministers and subministers, most of whom want her job or want to decide who’s going to have her job next.”
“I know that.”
“Well, because of various pressures, she’s had to appoint Sal-Solo her Minister of War.”
“I’d heard that, too.” Tycho’s face showed his distaste for the longtime politician. “It’s sort of like appointing a piranha-beetle your Minister of Meat Supplies. How could the Corellians be so crazy as to let him do anything more important than sweep sidewalks?”
“People redeem their heroes,” Wedge said. He heard the weariness in his own voice. “Sal-Solo’s a convicted conspirator. Han Solo was a spice smuggler. Luke and Leia are children of the most notorious mass murderer in history.” He paused, realizing that he might have gone a step too far in his comparisons-Vader’s complicity in the destruction of Tycho’s homeworld, Alderaan, was well known-but Tycho didn’t twitch. “Anyway, Saxan needs someone to be on hand to interpret Sal-Solo’s moves, to give him strategic advice when it’s his glands rather than his brains moving units around on the war board, and so on. And to accompany her here and see what I can do to promote the cause of peace. Reunification.”
Tycho nodded. “If things go badly, you’re aware you could end up being listed as a war criminal.”
“I was thinking about that.” Wedge stretched and put his hands behind his head to become more comfortable. “It’s been a little over forty years since I was a smuggler.”
“Oh, don’t say it.”
“I bet I could get my hands on a good, fast transport. Find some of my old contacts-“
“One or two may still be alive.”
Wedge shrugged. “Syal’s on her career path, and Myri’s going to finish her education pretty soon. Iella and I can wander the spaceways, buy a little here, sell a little there. I could use a good copilot …”
Tycho fell silent, considering.
“You’re still keeping an eye on Syal for me?” Wedge asked.
“Oh, yes. She’s up for a transfer to a test squadron, if she wants it. She doesn’t know yet.”
“She fired on me at Corellia.”
“No.”
“Oh, yes. Came close to getting me, too, considering how green she is.” Wedge smiled proudly, then sobered. “Tycho, let’s get this situation patched up. If it comes to war, with you and Syal where you are, I’ll have family on both sides.”
“Aww. You’re going to make me cry.”
Both men smiled. They returned their attention to the stars above and settled into a companionable silence.
Chapter Eighteen
LATER THAT DAY, THE REMAINING SHIPS DEDICATED TO THE DIPLOMATIC mission drew in to land in hangars spaced around the perimeter of Narsacc Habitat. One hangar was larger than all the others, but neither set of status engineers could agree on the envoy from either side arriving there-it would be too great a slight to the diplomats’ perceived status-so it went unused. The Galactic Alliance and Corellian envoys landed in hangars of identical size, while the Jedi put in at a hangar slightly smaller than the others.
Then the three groups met in the habitat’s largest conference area, roomy enough for two games of zoneball to be played simultaneously. One set of tables had been arranged as a conference area, its seating carefully ordered by the rank of the individual assigned to it. Another set had food laid out upon it, a buffet of dishes from several worlds, including Coruscant and Corellia. A third area was bare of furniture, but a phalanx of musician droids was arrayed against one wall-the area’s purpose, as a floor for dancing, was obvious.
Han Solo, technically a consultant with the Jedi party, strode in beside his wife and took a quick look around the broad area. “This isn’t a negotiation meeting.”
Leia smiled up at him. “No, it isn’t.”
“It’s a party.”
She nodded.
“Why are we wasting time with a party when we’ve got two sides about to go to war?”
Luke, walking two steps ahead beside his wife, grinned over his shoulder at his brother-in-law. “Nobody’s going to war while the delegates are here. The only one with any likelihood of wanting to is Thrackan Sal-Solo, because war will give him a better chance to assume control of the entire Corellian system … and our Intelligence contacts say he doesn’t yet have enough influence over the other four Corellian Chiefs of State to manage that.”