Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Or the girls. Or the universe.

Chapter 9

Wedge blinked. His entire body felt cold. And it hurt. His arms ached, and he couldn't move them.

He moved his head slightly, in a vain attempt to find some focal point in the darkness. But he could see nothing. He could feel nothing, except cold. Cold metal against his hands, cold duracrete against his back and legs.

After a moment, he was able to determine that he was sitting, at least, and that his hands were secured tightly behind his back. Where he was, why he was there, how he'd gotten there - those were all questions for a less fogged mind, which he didn't have right now.

"We'll do our best to make you comfortable, General," a disembodied voice said from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling. "You'll only be with us a couple of days, just long enough to teach someone a lesson."

"Tierney," he rasped, realizing for the first time how dry his mouth and throat were, "if this is you, what happened to Darpen will be nothing compared to what I'll have them do with you."

The voice laughed. "This is not 'Tierney,' General. But we thank you for giving us her name and confirming our suspicions." There was a pause. "And, to aid your peace of mind, we aren't too fond of dear Tierney either. We'll talk to you later, General. If you need anything, just yell."

Wedge blinked again and mentally added Ralltiir right below Adumar on the list of places he never wanted to see again.

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Corran felt something touch his arm and opened his eyes, seeing the face of his Gand wingman. "What happened?" he mumbled.

"Ooryl is not certain, but he thinks the room was filled with gas. Everyone but Ooryl lost consciousness." He gave an apologetic look and Corran wondered if he was feeling bad for them, or for the fact that he hadn't passed out too.

A second later, he realized it was something else. "What's-Wedge!" Their CO wasn't Force-sensitive by any stretch of the imagination, but he had a strong presence in the Force, strong enough for Corran to notice when he couldn't feel him anymore. He stood quickly and spun around - a very, very bad idea for a man who'd just been drugged - letting his gaze travel over the still forms of his squadron mates. Wedge was not among them, he realized, as he sagged back against Ooryl.

The other pilot slowly lowered him to sit back down. "What happened to him?" he asked.

"A man came in while Gand was checking on Kalara. Before Gand realized that he was here, he had grabbed Wedge and was dragging him away. Gand tried to shoot but missed, and he reached the turbolift before Gand could catch him."

That figured. The only thing in this building that still worked, and it had to help the other guy instead of them. "Wake up the others. Start with Tycho, Janson, and Hobbie. I'm gonna stay here until the room stops spinning."

Ooryl gave him an odd look. "The room-"

"Figure of speech, Ooryl." Corran sighed and slowly leaned back until he was lying flat on the floor. He made a mental note to ask Iella how she could stand to be involved in Intelligence when they pulled things like this.

It never even occurred to him to think that Intel might not be responsible.

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Hobbie stood shakily and looked around. Tycho was kneeling next to Gavin, and Wes was helping Inyri to her feet. She looked pale in the dim li- "Light?" he mumbled, glancing toward the windows. Then he looked at his chrono. 0500. They'd been out for nearly three hours.

He caught Ooryl's arm. "What did you do after whoever it was dragged Wedge out of here?" he asked.

"Qrygg tried to wake everyone. Qrygg went to each pilot several times. Qrygg thought it better not to leave the others unconscious and alone." He looked as if he regretted the decision. Sounded it, too.

Hobbie patted him on the arm. "You did the right thing. I just wondered, because I didn't realize we were out for so long."

The Gand glanced at his own chrono. "Qrygg did not realize either." He hung his head slightly.

Boy, but the Gand race really hammered humility and guilt into their people. "It's all right. Don't worry about it. Just…go see how Corran's doing. He doesn't look good." The man had been lying down but was now sitting on some overturned boxes, leaning over with his head between his knees.

"Ooryl shall."

Hobbie headed over toward Gavin, who looked about as bad as Corran. "How is he?" he asked Tycho, kneeling down.

"Looks like he reacted to it badly," Tycho said, reaching forward and putting a hand on the younger man's forehead. "His face is flushed and hot, and he's not responding when I talk to him."

"Hospital?"

"Not if we can avoid it." Tycho met Hobbie's eyes. "Someone needs to go to Tierney."

He stared at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Seeing as she most likely is the person behind this?"

Tycho shook his head. "I don't think she is. It doesn't seem like her style, and there's no way that kidnapping Wedge would help her. She's smart enough to realize that if she pulled something like that, our attention wouldn't be on doing whatever she wants us to anymore. It'd shift to finding Wedge and getting him back. And that would cause problems for her."

Hobbie sighed. Leave it to Tycho to think logically. "You think I need to go to Tierney?"

"There's no one better. Besides, your cover requires you to be around her anyway. Any of us trying to contact her would be risky."

"The woman already wants to kill me, Tycho."

The Alderaanian gave him a slight grin. "She hasn't yet, has she?"

Hobbie made a face. "I don't know who's rubbing off on you, Wes or Wedge."

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A hooded face appeared in the small, barred window to the room in which Wedge was being held. "Do you need anything, General? We really don't seek to make you uncomfortable. However, nor can we afford your escape - at this point, at least."

"Water would be nice. Food, maybe," Wedge remarked snidely. "Just those little luxuries."

"I'll see what I can do, General. And we'll see about moving you to more comfortable accommodations."

Wedge leaned his head back, pleading with his mind to make sense. Then he gave up as it occurred to him that none of this had made any sense even from the beginning.

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In the end, Hobbie had demanded that Wes come along with him. The Tanaabian had to arrange his meeting with Cesra anyway, and he just really didn't want to face Tierney alone. The others had stayed at the warehouse they'd met in, except for Corran who, once he was feeling better, had gone to the nearest store to get a small medical kit in the hopes that it would help Gavin.

It was 0600 by the time they reached the suite. When Hobbie keyed the door code and it slid open, the first thing they saw was Tierney, clad in a sleep shirt and pants, pointing a blaster at the two of them. When she realized who it was, she lowered the weapon. "Where in the galaxy have you been?" she hissed, grabbing Hobbie's arm and yanking him inside. "Get in here," she snapped at Janson.

"Where have you been?" she asked again, setting her blaster down on the end table.

"Getting Wedge kidnapped," Wes muttered. "It's nice to see you again, by the way," he added, sending an exaggerated smile toward the agent.

She turned toward him for just a second. "Shut up." Then she faced Hobbie, but turned back to Wes just as quickly. "What did you just say?"

Wes glanced at Hobbie and snickered. "She's a quick one."

"What did you say, Major?" she asked, biting out every word.

"I said," he replied, dragging out every syllable, "We were getting Wedge kidnapped."

She dropped onto the couch and hid her face in her hands. "This isn't happening."

Hobbie frowned. This wasn't what he'd expected. He'd made a bet with Wes that there would be blaster bolts - well-aimed blaster bolts - and a lot of yelling. Possibly bleeding, as well. He'd expected fury, not resignation.

"You mean it wasn't you?" Wes asked.

Hobbie's eyes widened. His best friend was an idiot. Wes had taken his side in the argument with Tycho over who was behind the kidnapping. That was one thing. Saying it to her face was another thing entirely.

For once, Tierney looked uncertain. "No, it wasn't me. Why would I do something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know…you've threatened to kill Hobbie any number of times - and anyone else who does something you don't like. You send us all here with no information, and most of us with no contact. Nobody knows what's going on, and that seems to be just fine with you. Minister Cesra's daughter gets shot at, and you more or less TELL Hobbie that you were involved. Yeah, I can't imagine WHY we would think that you had ANYTHING to do with it!"

He shouted the last words and Hobbie winced, the expectations of blaster fire and bleeding returning in an instant. "Wes, we have other things…" he started to say, but the now-angry Tierney cut him off.

"I don't have to defend myself to you, Major, and I won't. I have a job to do, and now you've gone and botched it all up!"

"Wait a second," Hobbie interrupted. If he was going to get shot, it was going to be because he shot his own mouth off, not because he happened to be the unfortunate bystander to Janson's ranting. "You're the one who brought me here when you HAD to know that Cesra would recognize me. And it's a short jump from knowing I'm here to knowing that the rest of Rogue is here. We didn't screw this up. You did."

Her lips were set in a thin line. "There's a reason you're here. There's a reason you're all here. And if you hadn't met with each other - and you're all experienced enough with this to know how dangerous a move that would have been - this wouldn't have happened."

"No, then they'd just have broken into Inyri and Wedge's suite and kidnapped him that way!" Wes retorted.

Tierney stood and turned away. "I don't have to explain myself to you. But I know who has Wedge, and I can get him back - as long as you all stay out of it." The edge in her voice was gone, and she seemed a little smaller and less sure of herself than she normally did.

"We're not staying out of it," Wes snapped. "Wedge is missing, Gavin's sick…"

She turned back. "What about Gavin? Is he all right? What happened?"

"Whatever they knocked us all out with, Gavin's had a bad reaction to it. He's feverish and unresponsive. He's still back where we were meeting," Hobbie told her, surprised by her reaction. She seemed genuinely concerned about the man.

"Take him to a hospital. I think I know what they used on you, and if I'm right, that's an allergic reaction. He needs bacta treatment. Otherwise, he'll die."

"Won't that endanger the mission? I mean, his cover will probably be blown," Wes remarked snidely.

She didn't answer him directly. Instead, she said quietly, "I'm not as cold as you think I am, Major. It's my job to see that a certain person pays for his crimes. Justice has been too long in coming for me to watch this mission fail now."

Hobbie took an involuntary step back, feeling as if her eyes were boring holes right through him.