Unfortunatly, Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, and the rest of Rogue Squadron belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm, Del-Ray, and other merchandising companies. This is a work of fiction and intends no infringement on thier rights. If you have questions or comments about the story, please consult my F.A.Q. or email me at email@example.com.
+5 since union +25 since ANH
"Hobbie, have you thought about this? I'm 45 years old. I have a family--children. You're older than I am. We have no place flying in combat anymore."
Hobbie didn't flinch. In a voice that was eerily calm and resolute, he replied, "Tycho, you and Wedge have been simming against Gavin's Rogues, haven't you?" At the colonel's nod he continued. "How low are your scores?" Tycho looked confused. "How many times have you been shot down? You ARE simming against the best our side has to offer. It should be a pretty good indication of how much our age shows. What about Wedge? He's been wanting to fly again for years now. How's he doing? Old and decrepit?"
"I hear what you're saying. Really, I do. But running off and reforming a squadron that has been retired just isn't the answer."
Hobbie stood. "Are you in or not?"
He turned on his heel and left.
As the door slid closed Tycho crossed his arms and leaned against the desk.
"Is he crazy?"
"That's what I thought, too. But he's serious. You really aren't going to come?"
He shook his head. "Wedge and I talked to Gavin yesterday. We're back as advisors to the squadron. Mission planning, tactics, training; that sort of thing."
"So you're in with this?"
Wes slumped in his chair. "No. I don't think it's going to go through. But I'm his wingman, retirement's not going to change that."
"Even if you get yourself killed?"
"It'll be better than dying of boredom. I'll keep you updated."
Tycho's office was in the back corner of the new Rogue Squadron Headquarters. It was small and makeshift--logical when he realized he hadn't even HAD an office there until yesterday. It wasn't as if he'd never worked with mismatched furniture before. His office had consisted of a table for much of his time in the service--although that had been the Rebellion, not with the New Republic. Still, he told himself, what he was doing was the focus, not where he was doing it. After all, he was technically a civilian now, had been for two years.
He sat and began calling up data on the Vong coralskippers. Traest Kre'fey had kept them supplied with the latest information on the skips, and he wanted to work up some exercises based on more sophisticated knowledge of battle scenarios. He didn't hear the door slide open, and jumped when a figure seated itself across from him.
"Can I help you?" he asked as he moved to kill the projection. A hand placed itself over the switch.
"So those are the skips. Unusual. I've not been able to get a visual of them."
The voice was smooth and confident--and familiar. Barely a hint of an accent, only recognizable as Corellian after one knew it was her home planet. Auburn hair tumbled over a black tunic banded in blue. Fair skin, blue eyes cold enough to freeze ice.
"It's been a long time, Kiz."
She inclined her head. "So it has. I've kept my eye on you, though. Agent Winter, Tycho? I was surprised, although once I adjusted to the idea it made sense."
"But you're not here to talk about my personal life. What brings you to Coruscant, Kisura?"
She laughed, and Tycho was mesmerized. This woman had the power to compel men to do her bidding, a fact she realized and took full advantage of. Simultaneously, however, she could reestablish a relationship that had ended twenty years before. She remained unlike anyone he'd met before or since, and suddenly he was very glad to see her.
"Reliving old memories, Tych?" That snapped him out of it, and he looked up sharply. "Ah, so that did get your attention. You asked me what I was doing here. Honestly, I came to help Hobbie."
"Hobbie contacted you?"
"No." She casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. "But it's long been worth my time to keep an eye on you boys. When Hobbie started looking for old Rogues, I didn't think it was for a reunion. I did some research of my own, then I shipped on the next freighter. What's your first move going to be?"
When he didn't answer immediately she leaned forward and studied him intently. "What did I miss?"
"I can't tell you the first move, Kiz. Hobbie asked me to help, and I told him no."
She looked at him as if he were a simulacron of himself. Several thoughts crossed her face before she finally replied, "Well, I'm certain you had your reasons. I'll just find Hobbie myself, then. I'm sorry to take up your time." She rose and turned to leave.
"Kiz, wait." She looked at him expectantly.
He scribbled an address on a piece of flimsy, then handed it to her. "That's a likely place to find him. Uh, the last time I saw him he was with--I mean that he's likely--what I'm trying to say is that Janson will probably be there, too."
She whitened, and when she took the slip her hand shook, but she smiled. "Well, then I'll be seeing more than two old friends today. Is. . . is Wes doing well?"
Tycho ran a hand through already touseled hair. "Depends on how you look at it. We haven't been in close contact for the last year or so--since we left the squadron. Hobbie could tell you more than I can. He hasn't been happy. He never quite got over you, Kisura."
"The feeling's mutual, then. But we're both grown-ups now, and that was a long time ago. I have missed having all of you in my life, though." She took a breath. "I'd better go. We have work to do."
(Thank you, I hope you enjoyed the story. Again, if you have questions about things I've written here, you're welcome to consult my F.A.Q. or to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.)