Part 5 (1/2)

The door to the apartment slid open and Wedge's ner-vousness slackened when Iella smiled. ”Wedge. This is a sur-prise.”

”A pleasant one, I hope.” He glanced down at his hands for a moment, then back up into her brown eyes. ”I should have called before heading over, but I was going to get some-thing to eat and I thought, well, I hate eating alone and . . .”

The brown-haired woman's smile widened for a mo-ment and carried on up into her eyes, then shrank as if the corners of her mouth had slammed into walls and were re-bounding. ”I think you'd better come in.” She turned away from the door, and he followed the lithe woman down a short corridor to a modest-sized parlor. The door closed au-tomatically behind him, cutting off the brightest source of light and sinking the room into a grey gloom.

The man sitting in the corner chair looked every bit as if he were constructed from shadow-threads and slivers of grey. The sharpness of his features accentuated the gauntness of his frame. His shoulders and knees poked like k.n.o.bs against the grey fabric of the jumpsuit he wore. A few strands of black hair wove through the white and grey combed over his largely bald head but did nothing to dis-guise the shape of the skull beneath it. In fact, were it not for the spark of life burning in the man's brown eyes, Wedge would have believed him to be a mummified worker resur-rected from some tomb in the bowels of Coruscant.

Iella folded her arms across her chest. ”Commander Wedge Antilles, this is Diric Wessiri. He is my husband.” Husband! Wedge covered his surprise by taking a step forward and extended his right hand toward Diric. ”My pleasure, sir.”

Diric inclined his head forward and shook Wedge's hand with a long-fingered grip that was firm and even strong, though the strength faded quickly. ”The honor is mine, Commander. Your exploits bring glory to your world and fellow Corellians.”

”Glory wasn't our goal, sir.”

”Nonetheless . . .” The man smiled, then let his hand drop back toward his lap. ”Forgive me, Commander. At an-other point I would engage you in a lively discussion, but now I am somewhat fatigued.”

”I understand.”

Iella walked to her husband's side and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. ”The Imps caught Diric up in a sweep about a year ago. They interrogated him, broke his ident.i.ty, then imprisoned him. Six months ago or so they set up a bio-research project and made Diric part of the slave-labor force. They only used humans because the lab produced what we know to be the Krytos virus.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. ”General Cracken's people had Diric in quarantine, then debriefed him. I only learned he was alive when they brought him here four hours ago.”

”I should be going, then, and leave you two alone.”

”No.” The old man raised his right hand and gently patted Iella's hand.

”I have long been among Imperials and other slaves. It is good to have normal people here to ease me back.”

Wedge coughed lightly into his hand. ”I don't think you'll find my life normal at all.”

Iella laughed politely. ”Nor mine.”

”How fortunate. Normal can be quite boring.” Diric's head came up and he fixed Wedge with a steady stare. ”And I want you to know, Commander, if anything has happened between you and my wife, I bear neither of you malice. I have been dead for a year. While 1 dreamed of being alive again, I do not bear a grudge against those who lived while I was dead.”

Wedge held a hand up. ”First, no t.i.tles.”

”Where they kept me, we joked that t.i.tles were for when we were once again people. I use it to remind me I am again a man. And I use it out of profound respect for what you have done.”

”Don't. I'm just Wedge. Nothing I've done is the equal of your enduring Imperial captivity, so t.i.tles don't apply here. Second, Iella is intelligent, a wonder to work with, a joy to be around, and above all else, loyal to her friends. In fact, save one thing, she's just the sort of woman I could see my-self growing old with. That one thing is this: she's married to you. Her loyalty to you, her fidelity, has never been in ques-tion. You are undoubtedly one of the luckiest men on this planet.”

As he spoke, his mind raced on through thoughts and dreams of what he might have had with Iella had Diric not reappeared. It seemed as if the life they would never share was flas.h.i.+ng before his eyes even as his words killed it. The romantic in him just wanted to hold onto how wonderful it would have been, but the pragmatist knew from just looking at Diric that things would have fallen apart in the end. Iella had chosen Diric because he was a sanctuary. No matter what her life held in store for her, he was someone who would always be there to share her joys and ease her disap-pointments. Wedge realized that he could not have given her what Diric provided. It might have taken a long time for their relations.h.i.+p to destroy itself, and they might have over-come the difficulties, but Wedge knew he could never have been as perfect a match for her as Diric was.

Someday I'll find someone. Wedge smiled. When I'm ready to settle down.

Diric mirrored Wedge's smile and let his head sink back contentedly against the chair's padding. ”I am glad Iella found friends as generous and honorable as you are, Wedge. I do feel quite fortunate.”

”And I bet you're happy to be free.”

”Happy? Yes, though captivity wasn't as brutal as imag-ined. They can only control your body, not your mind.” Diric shrugged slowly as if the effort were all but beyond his ability. ”I knew I would be free someday.”

”That's what Tycho says.”

”Who?”

Ieila looked down at her husband. ”The man who killed Corran.”

”The man who is on trial for killing Corran,” Wedge corrected her. ”Your wife is working with the prosecution team.”

”Working to find the truth, mind you.” Iella gave Wedge a frank glare.

”There's ample evidence to bind him over for trial and to convict him.”

”And blasted little uncovered, st) far, to acquit him.” Wedge held his hands up. ”However, discussing that case was not my purpose for conling over here.”

Diric's bushy brows met over the bridge of his hooked nose. ”You think this Tycho is innocent?”

”I know it. Tycho Celchu is as much a victim of the Empire as you were.”

Iella gave Diric's hand a gentle squeeze. ”Tycho was once captured by the Imps. He's been working for them since his supposed escape, though Wedge would tell you he's been neatly framed.”

Diric looked up at her. ”And you know Wedge is wrong?”

Her immediate response died in a moment of open-mouthed hesitation.

Iella's gaze flicked up at Wedge, then back down again. ”We have found a lot to indicate Captain Celchu was an Imperial agent of extreme resourcefulness.”

”But there are gaps in the evidence.” Wedge smiled slowly. ”Everything that condemns Tycho is available, but those things that would acquit him have vanished. Given the timing, the only force that could provide with one hand and take away with the other is the Empire.”

Diric disengaged his hand from lella's and pressed it, fingertip to fingertip, against the other hand. ”This Tycho must be something to earn such loyalty from you.”

”I feel about Tycho what Iella feels about Corran.”

”Hence the impa.s.se between us.”

”Impa.s.se, indeed. Still, Captain Celchu sounds fascinat-ing.” Diric's voice became wistful and Iella straightened up.

”Don't even think it, Diric.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow. ”What's the matter?”

Anger creased Ietta's brow and put snap into her voice. ”He's going to meddle.”

The older man wheezed out a laugh and punctuated it with a wet cough.

”Meddle, is it? You see, Wedge, my voca-tion in life is to seek out people who fascinate me. I study them. I try to understand them. I share what understanding I have with others.”

Iella's brown eyes narrowed. ”On CoreIlia he found a defendant in a case fascinating. He got to know her and decided she was innocent.”

”Was she?”