[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(150)
“Agreed.” Organa Solo looked at Mara. “Come on, Mara. Let’s get you your ship.”
The comm beside Wedge Antilles’ bunk buzzed its annoying call-up signal. Groaning under his breath, he groped in the darkness and slapped in the general direction of the switch. “Come on, give me a break, huh?” he pleaded. “I’m still running on Ando time.”
“It’s Luke, Wedge,” a familiar voice said. “Sorry to drag you out of bed, but I need a favor. You feel like maybe getting your people into some trouble?”
“When aren’t we in trouble?” Wedge countered, coming fully awake. “What’s the deal?”
“Get your pilots together and meet me at the spaceport in an hour,” Luke told him. “Docking Pad 15. We’ve got an old transport; we should be able to fit all your X-wings aboard.”
“It’s a long trip, then?”
“A few days,” Luke said. “I can’t tell you any more than that right now.”
“You’re the boss,” Wedge said. “We’ll be there in one hour.”
“See you then. And thanks.”
Wedge keyed off and rolled out of bed, feeling a stirring of old excitement. He’d seen a lot of action in the decade he’d been with the Rebellion and New Republic; a lot of flying, a lot of fighting. But somehow, the missions he remembered as being the most interesting always seemed to be the ones where Luke Skywalker was also involved. He wasn’t sure why; maybe Jedi just had a knack for that.
He hoped so. Between politics on Coruscant and cleaning up after Imperial raids across the New Republic, things were getting more and more frustrating around here. A change would do him good.
Keying on the light, he pulled a fresh tunic out of his wardrobe and started getting dressed.
There was no problem getting the midnight transport off Coruscant; Leia’s authorization guaranteed that. But a freighter with a cargo consisting of a dozen X-wings was unusual enough to spark comment and speculation : and it was inevitable that the speculation would eventually reach the ears of one of Fey’lya’s supporters.
By morning, he knew everything.
“This goes well beyond internal political infighting,” he snarled at Leia, his fur rippling back and forth like short stalks of grain caught in a succession of dust devils. “It was blatantly illegal. If not treasonous.”
“I’m not sure I’d go quite that far,” Mon Mothma said. But she looked troubled. “Why did you do it, Leia?”
“She did it because I asked her to,” Karrde put in calmly. “And since the Katana fleet is technically not yet under New Republic jurisdiction, I don’t see, how any activity related to it can be considered illegal.”
“We’ll explain proper legal procedure to you later, smuggler,” Fey’lya said acidly. “Right now, we have a serious breach of security to deal with. Mon Mothma, I request an executive order be made out for Solo’s and Skywalker’s arrest.”
Even Mon Mothma seemed taken aback by that one. “An arrest order?”
“They know where the Katana fleet is,” Fey’lya bit out. “None of their group has been cleared for that information. They must be sequestered until the fleet has been entirely brought into New Republic possession.
“I hardly think that will be necessary,” Leia said, throwing a look at Karrde. “Han and Luke have both handled classified information in the past-“
“This is not the past,” Fey’lya interrupted her. “This is the present; and they have not been cleared.” His fir flattened. “Under the circumstances, I think I Lad best take personal charge of this mission.
Leia threw a look at Karrde, saw her own thought reflected in his face. If Fey’lya was able to personally bring back the Katana fleet- “You’re certainly welcome to come along, Councilor,” Karrde told the Bothan. “Councilor Organa Solo and I will appreciate your company.”
It took a second for that to register. “What are you talking about?” Fey’lya demanded. “No one’s authorized either of you to come along.”
“I’m authorizing it, Councilor,” Karrde said coldly. “The Katana fleet is still mine, and will remain so until the New Republic takes possession of it. Until then, I make the rules.”
Fey’lya’s fur flattened again, and for a moment Leia thought the Bothan was going to launch himself physically at Karrde’s throat. “We will not forget, this, smuggler,” he hissed instead. “Your time will come.”
Karrde smiled sardonically. “Perhaps. Shall we go?”