Coronet, Corellia


Wearing only shorts and a blue undershirt bearing the symbol of the original Rebel Alliance in black now fading to gray, Wedge Antilles moved to the front door of his quarters and activated the security panel on the wall beside it. The screen flickered to life and showed a man and a woman standing in the hall outside. Both were young, in their mid-twenties, and despite the fact that they were in the gray jumpsuits and overcoats that constituted one form of anonymous street dress on Corellia, their haircuts-- military short rather than slightly shaggy-- and an indefinable quality about their body language and facial expressions marked them as outsiders.

They shouldn't have been able to reach the front door of Wedge's quarters without him knowing about it. His building was given over to military retirees such as himsef. Some were retired from the New Republic, some from CorSec-- Corellian Security-- some from other Corellian armed forces. There were very basic security measures in place at all the entrances into the housing complex, so if these two were here without having been announced by security, it was because some other resident had let them in.

Wedge shrugged. The complex's security was designed to keep ordinary folk out of their building, not to prevent agents with contacts from getting in.

He glanced over his shoulder. His wife Iella stood in the doorway to their bedroom. She wore a simple white robe, and her hair, normally a wavy, gray-brown cascade, was a touseled mess, including one tuft sticking almost straight up. She had one hand cupped over her mouth as she yawned, and the other held a full-sized blaster pistol at her side. Yawn done, she gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.

He shrugged, then turned back to the door and activated the exterior speakers. "What is it?"

The female visitor, a well-muscled blond woman who looked to be at least as tall as Wedge-- not that this was unusual, as Wedge stood slightly shorter than the average human male-- said, "General Wedge Antilles?"

"He moved," Wedge said. "I think he's over in Zed Block. He left the carpets a mess, too."

It was a test, of course. If the visitors showed confusion or retreated, then they were simply admirers or children of colleagues, people who could stand to contact him through ordinary channels and during daylight hours. If they didn't--

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, Miri, from wandering into the living room if she awoke. An intelligent and stubborn girl, Miri had inherited her mother's inquisitive nature and it would not be beyond her to try to eavesdrop on a late-night conversation if she were 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 pair straightened, an ordinary at-attention courtesy for a retired general, but they couldn't quite keep the dubious expressions from appearing on their faces. Wedge 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.

He kept any annoyance out of his voice. "Come in."

"Thank you," the woman said. The two moved inside and Wedge tripped the door just as soon as they cleared the doorway; 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 asked.

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 to Corellian datasources 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 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?"

Wedge shrugged. "'Retired' is such an imprecise word.... Did they check out?"

Iella nodded. "They're the genuine article. In fact, I worked for a year with Barthis's father. The family is Corellian." She moved up to put her arms around Wedge's neck. "Sometimes I wish you hadn't been as influential as you were in your job, so that they'd stop coming for you anytime the military discovers it's forgotten how to coordinate an X-wing engagement."

Wedge wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. "And who was it they came for last time? An hour before dawn, sweeping the hallway for listening devices before they even rang the chimes?"

"Well, me." Iella had spent her professional career as a security officer, first for CorSec and then for New Republic Intelligence, and the demands on her post-retirement time matched the demands on her husband's.

Wedge kissed her. "Wake Miri up so I can say good-bye. I'll grab my go-bag and get dressed."

She reached past him to unlock the hallway, then turned toward that door. Not looking back, she said, "I don't like Titch."

"Yeah." It was a bit of verbal shorthand. She didn't mean she didn't like the man; she didn't know him. But Titch was the sort of intelligence officer brought along to ensure security-- to ensure that the person being transported didn't cause trouble. It led to the question, was Titch actually Barthis's regular partner, or had he been brought in because someone anticipated Wedge's causing trouble?