Standard Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, Wraith Squadron belongs to Aaron Allston and Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ron More and Co. The idea to cross them was mine. Please don't sue.

Author's Note:

I really enjoy Battlestar Galactica, and am also a huge fan of the Star Wars X-wing novels from a very young age, especially the ones written by Aaron Allston. His lifelike characters are a joy to read. This is a tribute to pilots everywhere, fictional and non, the job they do, why they do it and the all the crazy things that can happen to them along the way. The story has been in the planning stages for a while, although I've only recently started writing it, so updates may come slowly. However, I wanted to get out at least one chapter out to test the proverbial waters, so let me know what you think. Consider it a holo-day gift (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Please enjoy:

Rogues' Gallery: a Battlestar Galactica/Star Wars X-Wing Crossover

Dramatis Personae:

New Republic Forces:

General Wedge Antilles-Human Male from Corellia

Colonel Tycho Celchu-Human Male from Alderaan

Major Wes Janson-Human Male from Taanab

Major Derek "Hobbie" Klivian- Human Male from Ralltiir

New Republic Intelligence Agent Iella Wessiri Antilles-Human Female From Corellia

NRI Agent Winter-Human Female from Alderaan

R5-G8, "Gate"-Wedge's Astromech Droid

The Twelve Colonies Remnant:

Civilians:

President Laura Roslin-Human Female from Caprica

Doctor Gaius Baltar-Human Male from Aerilon

Tom Zarek-Human Male from Saggittaron

Battlestar Galactica:

Commander William "Husker" Adama-Human Male from Caprica

Colonel Saul Tigh-Human Male from Aerilon

Captain Aaron Kelly-Landing Signals Officer

Lieutenant Felix Gaeta

Doctor Cottle- Galactica CMO

Sergant Hadrian-Galactica Master-at-Arms

Gunny Erin Mathias

Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol

Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla

Pilots:

Captain Lee "Apollo" Adama-Human Male from Caprica

Lieutenant Kara "Starbuck" Thrace

Lieutenant Sharon "Boomer" Valerii

Lieutenant "Racetrack" Edmondson

Lieutenant Alex "Crashdown" Quartararo

Lieutenant George "Catman" Birch

Nuggets:

Cadet Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza

Sergeant Donald "Chuckles" Perry

Cadet Louanne "Kat" Katraine

Cadet Lindsay "Stepchild" Robinson

Chapter 1: Honeymoon

"We're going to try to subvert an Imperial admiral"
"Oh," Hobbie said. "Something easy. While you're doing that why don't Wes and I smuggle ourselves onboard Agonizer and destroy her with thrown rocks."
Wedge gave him a grin. "With the right tools-say, a hundred thousand ewoks and a month to prepare, you could probably do that. In the meantime, we have the right tools to subvert our Imperial admiral."
"What tools?"
"Oh, Wes's maturity, your optimism and my diplomatic skills."
Hobbie buried his face in his hands. "We're doomed."

- Starfighters of Adumar,

By Aaron Allston

TOGORIA,

ONE MONTH AFTER THE EVENTS OF STARFIGHTERS OF ADUMAR

Togoria is perfect, thought Wedge Antilles, as he rolled over in bed to look at the beautiful woman with dark blond hair who was lying next to him, still asleep. Her name, as of two weeks ago, was Iella Wessiri Antilles.

The ceremony had been relatively quiet, for one of the Heroes of the New Republic (with an action figure and everything;) held in the Corellian Section of Coruscant's famed Botanical Gardens, and with only the attendance of the Solos, Luke, the surviving Rouges and Wraiths, and a few other acquaintances, among them, the private owner of an Imperial Star Destroyer MkII, his daughter (in attendance as a bridesmaid,) and "that panty-waisted CorSec bastard she married" hiding from the aforementioned Star Destroyer owner behind the bar.

It was nice of Booster to offer a honeymoon cruise on the Errant Venture, but I've still gotta thank Han for giving our bona fides to the Togorians. Beautiful beaches, nice weather, and oh yeah; they exile or imprison anyone who tries to land without authorization. No autographs to sign on this leave.

Wedge looked at his wife again, and smiled.

My wife. Never thought I'd use those words in that order.

Oddly enough for a New Republic Intel Operative, she liked to sleep in when she could, which, during three weeks they had spent here, was often.

Not that Wedge was an early riser; a pilot got what sleep he could, whenever he had the chance.

I think Janson actually tried getting some rack time while in the 'fresher after Brentaal. Brought a pillow and everything. The man's committed-or he should be.

However, being woken up by a balmy gust of air through the window did give him the chance to do other good-husbandy things like cooking breakfast, and making the caf.

Especially making the caf, as one could stand a spoon upright in the brand the New Republic Bureaucracy and Military survived off of, and according to Iella, CorSec had its own formula, the so called "Morning Madness." Although purported to be an occupational secret, Wedge had resolved to obtain the formula (to be used for the greater security of the galaxy) through the use of 'creative interrogation techniques.'

That was when I found out I was more ticklish than she was. Not by much, mind you, but tactics still had to be re-evaluated.

He grinned as he remembered what happened after. And after, and after.

Blast! Still didn't get the formula. But I've got the rest of my life to try.

He was just setting the percolation alarm when Iella began to stir.

"Wedge?" she asked sleepily.

"Actually, the name's Loran. Garik Loran, teen heartthrob. You may remember me from such films as the Black Bantha, or Desert-mppph!."

A thrown pillow to the face derailed his train of thought. Iella got up from the bed wearing a flimsy-something-to reclaim her pillow, managing to send the aforementioned train to a bizarre parallel dimension.

The vision of beauty snorted,

"Oh please, you're far too handsome to impersonate that scarred-up reprobate with delusions of wit."

"Maybe I'm that Wes Janson the Adumari kept talking about, something about a 'Darling One?'"

"Having eliminated the scarred-up-reprobate category, we've moved on to the immature children? Besides, I've always appreciated diligence more."

"I'll say you have-"

"Diligence in cooking your wife breakfast, and in the making of the caf. It shall be rewarded."

She walked over and kissed him.

"Oooh," said Wedge, when he could talk again, "incentive."

Iella grinned,

"And we've still got another…" she checked the alarm chrono that had been hurled against the wall when it insisted on waking her up, "…three hours before the other members of the Coral Vanda Inspection Team arrive."

Holding hands, they sat on the room's sofa, sipping two steaming cups of caf on the small table, luxuriating in the warmth of the cups, and each other.

"It was nice of Cracken to set that up," said Wedge, "That's one of those places you need to reserve months in advance. I think it was an apology for the whole 'Tomer-Darpen-Trying-to-Kill-Us thing,' and as a continued apology to Tycho for the whole 'Using-Him-as-Bait-While-Tracking-Down-Isard's-Agent' thing…"

"Thus explaining why his and Winter's vouchers were included a prepaid two-week cruise on the Tinta Sunrise before meeting us," Iella interjected, "But I thought Tycho didn't ask for anything in compensation?"

Wedge nodded; "He didn't. Cracken made the Vanda offer for all of Red Squad-the cruise was separate-and Winter-ah-talked him into accepting it. You NRI Operatives can be-"

"Persuasive?" Asked Iella, as she ran a hand down his tunic fastenings.

"Yeah. Something like that," Wedge grinned, "Sooo, three hours, huh?"

Iella gave a smile that would not appear amiss on a Trandalon eyeing an unprotected herd of Nerfs

"More like six. I talked to Mrrov, Wes is getting "detained" for smuggling."

Wedge raised an eyebrow,

"By the Togorians? For three hours? Isn't that a bit-"

"Harsh? No. This is vengeance for the Girls' Night before the wedding."

"Still not letting that one go?" he chuckled, looking into her beautiful brown eyes, "Sooooo. Six hours, huh?"

Iella's arms encircled his chest, the smile unchanged

"Shut up and kiss me, hotshot."

"Work, work, work…" Wedge muttered, as their lips met.

SENTINEL-CLASS SHUTTLE PHANAN'S INTELLECT

TOGORIA ORBIT,

SIX AND A HALF HOURS LATER

"Three hours." Moaned Janson, "Three Vader-dammed hours sitting in that holding cell watching Gungans coming to Dinner over and over and over. It's enough to convince me never to have kids if I have to watch that again. How could you do that to me, Boss?"

The perpetually youthful Tanaabian pilot had a shell-shocked look on his face that would induce guilt and pity in any who had not known him for years. Unfortunately for Wes, and to Wedge's never-ending exasperation, he had.

"Oh?" Interjected Hobbie, "I thought Shalla finding you with her sister and kicking you there repeatedly had kinda-uh removed kids from your future plans. Along with-well, you know- other fun stuff."

Janson's shell-shocked look morphed into one indicating the astounding betrayal his friend had just committed.

"I thought we agreed,-Derek- that we would never speak of that again."

Wedge gave a snicker completely unbefitting a General and Hero of the New Republic,

"Please-Who do you think got the security holocam footage-and sent it to Coruscant's Funniest

Holotapes?"

Janson shot a pleading look at his C.O. "You wouldn't-Would you?"

"That depends." Said Wedge, turning to his wife, "Dear, have you had enough vengeance for what Wes did on your Girls' Night?"

Janson looked at Iella and blanched, "It was you. You did this to me. That Togorian said she had needs. I could either watch the holo or- or…" he shuddered, drawing himself up, and looking imploringly at Iella,

"Agent Wesseri Antilles, I humbly beg pardon for the offence- yes, that one, that I caused. Please don't kill me or humiliate me further."

"Good enough for now." Iella grumbled, "I'm going to go strap in, I think Tycho and Winter have had enough 'alone time.' Well, don't just stand there Wedge, fly the ship. She cocked her head, "I know you want to, you've been planetside for two weeks, and mosgoth riding just doesn't cut it." With that, she walked into the rear cabin, leaving Wedge to the questionable mercy of his fellow, single pilots.

SHUTTLE PHANAN'S INTELLECT

TWO JUMPS FROM PANTOLOMIN

While Wedge was busy enough navigating a shuttle, sorting out the chaos that was Wes and Hobbie left him with a warm feeling that he had trouble placing. He had either missed them, or the urge to kill them was rising again. This was about par for his interactions with the duo.

After laying in a shorter course used by the military for the next to last leg of the trip, wedge turned to Tycho, who had joined him in the cabin,

"I'm confused, Tych, Why bring Gate along?"

Tycho's aristocratic features contorted themselves into a smile, a rare occurrence for the solemn Alderaanian.

"Did you want the official reason, or the actual reason?"

"Official first please,"

"Officially, he's here to keep an eye on the new Hyperspace Motivator Emtrey 'found' and to repair it if needed"

"And the actual reason?"

"Actually, he's going along because Whistler hasn't been there yet, and wants to rub it in his er…"

"Photoreceptors?" Wedge offered.

"Yeah," said Tycho, "Let's go with that. Course plotted?"

"Just about…"

The sensor board lit up, and the dagger shape of an Interdictor cruiser resolved in front of them.

This can't be good.

Without bothering to verify ID, Wedge sent the shuttle into a stomach-straining turn-loop to port, narrowly avoiding the Ion Cannon blast that passed through the space that Phanan's Intellect had just occupied. His eyes flicked over to the Navicomputer, numbers still ticking down to a precise course, and a quick check of sensors reported increased mass anomalies as the Cruiser powered up its Gravity Well Generators.

No Choice.

"Close enough- punch it, Tycho!"

As the blond man pushed the Hyperspace Activation lever, a near miss from the Interdictor Cruiser's Ion cannon fried part of the heavily modified Hyperspace Motivator acquired by Rogue Squadron's rogue quartermaster. Instead of the normal white streaks, the stars turned red-

And everything else went black.

COCKPIT, PHANAN'S INTELLECT

LOCATION UNKNOWN

As Wedge came to, he noticed several things. First, he noticed that most of the cockpit systems were offline, even the backups, the exceptions being inertial compensators and environmental systems, the most redundant of all. Secondly, he noticed that the Intellect was in a lateral clockwise spin, judged by staring out the viewport, and observing a red moon and a gas giant.

Third, he saw Tycho come to.

"Tych. Status?"

"Green boss. What in the Seven Hells was that?"

Wedge shook his head to clear the cobwebs before checking the other occupants of the shuttle. As he did, he noticed several bright glints out the viewport. Eight, to be precise. As they grew closer, Wedge could see them in detail. They were silver-gray in color, fighter sized, and comprised of what looked like a central control area extending to curved wings swept forward into points.

He pointed towards them,

"Better question: What in the Seven Hells are those?"

The ships grew larger, and Wedge felt a sense of foreboding as he was able to make out cannon in the wing roots, and an oscillating red light coming from the center of each craft.

He glanced at Tycho, who was shaking his head.

Don't say it, don't you dare-

"Boss, I've got a bad feeling about this."