Tycho has been missing for two weeks when Wedge receives the message. The full weight of it is just beginning to hit him: that Tycho is in trouble, that he might never be coming back, that he might already be dead, that Wedge might never see him again.

It makes the publicity tour he's been sent on even more painful. Command refuses to withdraw him; there's nothing he can do to help, his superiors say. They have no leads on might have happened to Tycho aside from him not returning from his mission at the appointed time.

Another long day ends, and Wedge retires to his room – another nondescript hotel on another nondescript planet – and idly pulls up his HoloNet messages. The one at the top is untitled and marked important, the sender field blank. Curiously, he opens it. A video starts playing automatically – and Wedge gasps at the image he sees.

It's Tycho. He's on his knees on a duracrete floor, hands bound behind his back. His blond hair is dirty, covering his face as his head hangs low.

Wedge can't breathe. His fingers spasmodically press to the screen.

Then Tycho turns, staring into the camera, and a cold shiver runs through Wedge. Tycho's eyes are bloodshot, the expression in them dazed, pained. He's been hurt, Wedge can tell, without needing to see the blood on his face. Tortured probably, and Wedge aches with the knowledge.

And yet, still, there in his eyes is a spark. No one who didn't know him as well as Wedge would probably see it. Wherever he is, whatever his captor is doing to him, he's fighting. He's still alive. There's still a chance to get him back.

It slams into Wedge all at once. This a ransom video. Yet – there's no demand. Not that, then. A taunt. Yet another example of Ysanne Isard's evil. She has Tycho in her grasp and wants Wedge and everyone else to know it.

He forces his attention from the video and examines the rest of the message. There's no point of origin, no list of the communications nodes it would have pinged on its way to him. Wedge growls in frustration. Isard has smart people working for her if she could manage to erase all traceability like that.

The only other thing there is a small file datalocked onto the video: a list of Incom Corporation stock trade statistics. Wedge is confused for a moment until a quick search proves his suspicion: the listings are from today, proof that the video is current.

Wedge scrolls up and it video again, throat tight. Tycho looks so helpless. Even if he hasn't given up – and Wedge would never expect him to – he's still alone and afraid. Wedge wants more than anything to go in guns blazing and rescue him, but he has no idea where to even start. The last place he knows Tycho was is Coruscant, and it's not like he can search the entire city-planet until he finds him.

Yet the message may be a start. Wedge creates a copy, appends his thoughts and as many pertinent details as he can think to include, and addresses it to General Cracken. With any luck at all, his people will be able to find something in the data Wedge couldn't and set them on the path to getting Tycho back to them. He can only pray it's in time.