X-wing_ Iron Fist Part 28

Wedge listened to Face's report, asking for clarifications here and there, letting the man - who, despite his skill as an actor, could not quite conceal the fact that he was stricken with guilt over Castin's death-pour out the entire story of the meeting with Zsinj. It was a report Face had practiced; he'd given it to Janson on the day he'd returned to Hawk-bat Base, and had to repeat it to Wedge now that the rest-and-recreation unit had returned from Coruscant. Yet in spite of the extra practice, Face's emotions were still raw and on the surface, concealed not at all by his proficiency with acting.

When it was done, Face said, "1 take full responsibility for Castin's death, sir."

Wedge gave him a look of surprise.

"You take full responsibility."

"Yes, sir."

"So Castin Donn played no part in his own death. None of the blame falls on him."

"Well..."

"I knew even better than you of his history of insubordination, of rebellion. And I'm the commanding officer of this unit. Yet I bear no responsibility? It somehow is all yours?"

"Well..."

"Face, what do you think you could have done to prevent his death?"

"I could have ordered the smuggling compartment searched, rather than just looked into."

"Why would you have, when looking into it showed that he wasn't there?"

"I could have accounted for his whereabouts before we took off."

"But you did. You accounted for his whereabouts as they pertained to your mission. He wasn't with you, so far as you could tell, so the rest of the information about his whereabouts was irrelevant. He was just one step ahead of you, ahead of all of us. Did you know he'd rigged the duty roster so he wouldn't be on duty until after your return, that he'd set up a dummy and mechanism on his bunk to make it look and sound as though he were there sleeping?"

"Not at the time, sir. Lieutenant Janson told me about that."

"Castin Donn wasn't your responsibility. And though his death was very unfortunate, and took place in a.s.sociation with your mission, it's not your fault. Now, you tell me who is your responsibility."

"Well, me, sir. And Kell and Dia."

"What have you done about them?"

"I've asked the other Wraiths and support crews, and especially her roommate, Shalla, to keep an eye on Dia. She doesn't seem suicidal anymore, but she seems... different. Like a sh.e.l.led animal that's suddenly had the sh.e.l.l ripped away. Injured and frightened and a lot more vulnerable."

Wedge nodded.

"Your measures seem appropriate. And Kell?"

"I don't understand. What do I need to watch out for with Kell?"

"He was the one who searched the smuggling compartment. He didn't detect Castin. How do you suppose he feels?"

Face winced.

"About like I do, I suppose."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Talk to him, I suppose. Make him understand that it's not his fault."

Wedge waited, not speaking, just watching the young lieutenant, until Face finally looked startled.

"Yes, sir," Face said. "The same way it's not my fault."

"Correct. Anything else ?"

"Yes, sir. I can't stress enough that I felt there was something very significant about the look Zsinj and Melvar exchanged when I was discussing Piggy's background. In the guise of Lieutenant Kettch's background, I mean. That really spooked them. Either they're involved with a project like that, or they know of one and are very interested in it."

"I'll a.s.sume that this is very significant, then, and see what I can make of it."

"Thank you, sir."

"That'll be all for now." As Face was leaving, Wedge added, "Oh, by the way..."

"Sir?"

"You're a good officer, Face, but you have to know that means you'll be doing this again. This was a successful mission. It may be the key to Zsinj's undoing. If I'd known, if I'd been absolutely sure, that to accomplish it would mean the life of one of my pilots, I'd have to have set it in motion anyway. You would, too."

Face looked as though he was considering that possibility, then gave Wedge a brief nod.

"Yes, sir. I suppose I would."

He closed the door behind him.

Wedge sat, motionless, long enough for Face to get thirty or forty paces away from the cargo module that served as the command office. Then he slammed both hands on his desktop and swept every pointless datapad, doc.u.ment, and knickknack from the desk surface.

Another pilot dead, this one for no good reason. Another letter to write.

Another report in which he had to explain just why it was that two subordinates had died under his command in just a few days.

He came out of his office at a fast walk and headed for the hangar area.

On the other side of the Trench, Janson, sitting alone on the mess patio, rose and trotted to catch up.

"How did it go?"

"As well as it could."

"So, what's with this sudden brisk exercise?"

"I'm not ready yet to begin a.n.a.lyzing the data Zsinj gave us."

"Ah."

"I don't want to write Castin's folks."

"Ah."

Both men returned a salute from Runt, who was headed the other way. "Unit morale is bound to take a serious. .h.i.t from this."

"Ah."

"I'm leading children, and I'm getting them killed."

"That's true."

Almost at the door into the hangar, Wedge skidded to a stop.

"What did you say?"

"It's true." Janson shrugged. "Wedge, you asked for misfits. You had to have known that even with the ones who made the grade, they were going to take losses that were heavier than in a normal unit. So many of them are dragging around these weights of emotional problems. It makes it tougher for them to hop in the right direction at the right time."

"Well... maybe."

"Even with that, as a group they're doing better than they ever had a right to. Some of them are fit to eat with real people. Even to fly with other units. That wasn't the case when you founded the Wraiths."

"I suppose you're right." Wedge suddenly felt weary, all the manic energy of a minute ago having left him. He turned back toward his office.

"What's the situation with Lara ?"

"She's doing pretty well for someone whose brother just tried to kill her. Donos is keeping an eye on her."

"Those of us who still have family..." Wedge waited as memories of his surviving relative, his sister Syal, missing for so long-as her husband, Soonfir Fel, had also been missing - rose and abated.

"We need to notify them. Just in case Zsinj tries to get at another of us through family connections. That would be just like him."

"It would. I'll inform the Wraiths, let them know what they need to tell their people."

"Yes, but not yet. I want you to work with me on the Zsinj data."

"Ah, thank you. The adventures of Wes Janson, Ace Statistician..."

Wedge and Janson spent most of the rest of the day working on the data Zsinj had provided to Face.

The planet that was their target was of average size and ma.s.s, according to the planetary radius and gravity information provided. And it was heavily guarded. Ten Imperial Star Destroyers and seven Mon Calamari cruisers were shown on-station, supported by impressive numbers of planet-based starfighter squadrons-including an unusually high number of A-wing fighters.

Janson gave him a bleak look. "This is Coruscant. He's going to hit Coruscant."

Wedge shook his head. "That's what the data tells us if you dig down from the top layer. But I don't understand some things. Zsinj's mission will take place soon-otherwise he wouldn't give us this much information about it. Yet this complement of s.h.i.+ps isn't an exact representation of Coruscant's defenses-I was just there, and he's got the strengths wrong.

So is he wrong because his intelligence is incomplete, inadequate?"

"That doesn't sound like him, does it?"

Wedge sighed. "Then there's the question of what sort of cargo Zsinj is going after. Our task is to protect Zsinj's forces while they load a cargo s.h.i.+p - why not wait until the goods are already loaded? What does the government of the New Republic store on Coruscant's s.p.a.ce stations that can't be acquired on the surface, or in transit?"

Janson thought about it. "The Inner Council?"

"What? No. It would be a real coup to capture or kill them, of course.

But they hold all their meetings on-planet."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"No, but I have no reason to suspect otherwise. And holding meetings on a s.p.a.ce station would be more problematic, less secret, and less secure than doing so on the surface. I think you're speculating wildly."

"All right, then, your turn. What's on s.p.a.ce stations that isn't better found on-planet or between worlds?"

"Well, the stations themselves. Maybe they plan to tow one out to s.p.a.ce."

Janson snorted.

"Big cargo carriers." Wedge frowned. "You know, scuttle-b.u.t.t has it that Princess Leia's big, secret mission involves bringing back additional resources for the fight against Zsinj. If he's aware of that, if he knows what those resources are, if he knows when they're coming back to Coruscant..."

"Now you're speculating wildly."

"True. Then there are cargo s.h.i.+ps." Wedge frowned as a shadow of a new idea crossed his mind. He stared down at the statistics on the datapad before him. "Wait a second. I have an idea of what he's after." He found a sc.r.a.p of flimsi and a writing instrument and scribbled a very brief note, then folded it several times and handed it to Janson. "Tuck that away. Take it out when we have our answer and it will make my reputation as a military wizard."

Janson pocketed the note. "You already have that reputation."

"Well, then, I'll have two. Now tell Castin to come in here."

"Uhh, Castin's, uhh..."

Wedge put his face in his hand. "Right. I'm tired, too. With Castin gone, who's our best code-slicer and computer handler?"

"Probably Lara Notsil."

"Get her."

She was slightly out of breath when she arrived, probably having run the distance froin her quarters to Wedge's office.

"Flight Officer Lara Notsil reporting, sir."

Wedge waved her a casual salute. "No need for all the formality now, Notsil. Tell me something. With what you know of our computers on hand, how good is our ability to translate statistical data of large military forces-their strengths, capabilities, that sort of thing - into the equivalent forces of other cultures? Say I had the statistics for a New Republic strike force and wanted to come up with a Corellian force with exactly the same characteristics ?"

Janson looked at him, confused.

Lara considered. "I don't think our translation efforts would be very good, sir. That calls for specialized programs, and we don't..." Then she looked startled.

"Depending on the forces involved, sir, I think we can do a pretty good job."

"That's quite a switch of opinion."