Project Boussh: Winter Chill
by "Prophet" Kristy

"How does that field look?" crackled Tycho's voice over the comm.

"Looks like it's in the middle of nowhere," Wedge replied through a burst
of static.  "I've got the radar interference flipped on; let's set her
down."

Moments later, two X-wings had come to a rest on a wind-swept stretch of
sagebrush plain somewhere in the middle of Wyoming.  In her cramped
position in the droid socket behind Wedge's canopy, Kristy curled up a
little tighter, trying to conserve her rapidly dropping body heat.  Her
entire body ached with exertion from shivering.  The shelter (it was
really too high-tech to be a mere "tent") in which they had spent the
night was much warmer than this crazy jump seat.  *Was this a Stupid Boy
Plan (tm)?  I'm not sure I can call Tycho stupid...*

Tycho leaped from his cockpit to the ground and stood watching, both fists
planted on his hips, until Wedge helped Kristy out and handed her down to
his XO.  Kristy was shivering uncontrollably; Tycho stood next to her and
rubbed a hand briskly up and down her back, trying to impart some warmth
through friction.

"How are you doing?"  Wedge asked her, dropping off his port S-foil and
landing in a crouch that made her knees ache to just see it.

"I'm okay," Kristy replied through chattering teeth.

"You know, you don't have to hang on to that comlink all the time," he
nodded toward the white cylinder clutched in her fist.

"I, uh, can't move my fingers."  Kristy raised the comlink in front of her
face, brown eyebrows drawn together.

Wedge's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, and he looked at
Tycho.  "This is not going to work," he said ruefully.  "We've still got
several thousand klicks to get to this Galapagos place."  Kristy shivered
harder at that thought, making Wedge's point better than any words he
could have said.

"Okay, so I'm assuming you have a backup plan, Boss."

"You're assuming that?"

"It's in your job description to always have the answer, you know."

Despite being chilled to the bone, Kristy had to smile.  She didn't know
an AFW'er alive who would ever believe that Wedge was wrong about
anything.  *We don't call him The Great One for nothing.*

"Well, we obviously can't go back to Idaho; the Imperials here on Terra
have found that location."  *Took them long enough,* he didn't say, but
eack of them thought.  *As backwaters go, it was a pretty good hideout.*
"We really can't fly anywhere else; Kristy may be used to cold winters but
she doesn't need to get hypothermia."

"So we call Winter and have the girls come pick us up?" Tycho finished
Wedge's thought, earning an approving nod from the general.  "I'll get
right on it."  He turned smartly on his heel and strode back to his X-wing
and its communications gear.

"Meanwhile," Wedge said, turning concerned greeny-brown eyes on Kristy,
who now had the sleeves of Wedge's oversized flightsuit pulled down over
her hands, "we get you warmed up.  I'll crank up the heat in my X."

Soon she was ensconced inside the cockpit of Wedge's X-wing, trying not to
go wild with excitement.  Even after spending almost a week with these two
amazing men who had before only existed in her dreams, she couldn't quite
get used to it.  At any moment now she would wake up.

Rather than pinch herself and have the adventure end prematurely--the
coolest dreams invariably ended just when they were getting really good
anyway--Kristy savored the moment, slowly relaxing as blessed heat crept
down her tired limbs.  She was inside the X-wing of *Wedge Antilles*!!  It
was more amazing than she would ever have thought possible.  Never having
quite lost that little-kid fascination with all the nifty gadgets,
buttons, and gauges to be seen inside the cockpit of an airplane, she
found this even more interesting.  She couldn't read any of the labels, of
course, but she could still marvel at the sight.  The small space was
crammed with controls--and with the GFFA level of technology, its
simplicity compared with the Terran equivalent, that meant there was a
*lot* of stuff that all this controlled.  The main monitor was dark, but
the upper half of what Kristy guessed was the secondary glowed with a more
modern-ish, streamlined version of an air traffic control display.

The ejection seat probably hadn't been re-upholstered in a while, even
with overzealous Zraii and Koyi Komad taking care of the Rogues.  Kristy
blushed a bit as she observed that there was a distinct "Wedge-print" in
the seat, the edges a bit more springy than the squished-down
middle.  Somehow that only made it a bit more comfortable, as if the
renowned pilot was taking care of her, even in his absence. . . .

*

Tycho crunched up to Wedge through the frosty grass, lugging a
quarter-meter case of equipment.  General Antilles was perched on a rock
hunched over his datapad, apparently impervious to the biting Wyoming
wind.  "Slight change of plans," Tycho said.  "Everyone's gathering in New
Hampshire, so after Winter and them pick up Kristy in the _Skate_, they're
going to head in that direction.  Anyway, they'll be here in a few hours,
if they don't run into any trouble."

Wedge didn't reply.  After a minute, Tycho stopped setting up the small
field heater [think GFFA electronic campfire thingy] and looked up at his
friend and commander.  Wedge's eyes were glued to his screen, but it
didn't look like he was reading anything.  "What is it?"

"Fel's here," Wedge replied shortly, still staring at his datapad. 

"Sithspawn." Tycho sat down abruptly.  "What do you suppose he's doing
here?"

Wedge was quiet for a long minute, long enough for Tycho to feel the cold
from the frozen ground through the seat of his pants, and he resumed
getting the heater activated.  Finally Wedge said, "I wish I knew.  Stars,
you don't suppose Syal has been *here*, on Terra, all this time?"

Tycho rubbed his hands briskly as the heating element finally glowed to
life.  "If she is, we'll find her, Wedge."

The platitude didn't seem to help his mood any, and the two sat in silence
for a while.  Finally Wedge stirred himself enough to ask, "How's Kristy?"

"She's all ready for long hyperspace jumps; she fell asleep in your
ejection seat."