Rogue Squadron (35 page)

“I like the idea of popping up over the last turn and gliding on down in, but that might attract some of the TIEs the bacta boy is lighting up.”

“I agree that going up and out of the valley to avoid that last turn is probably the most simple way of handling the problem, but we go in first to provide the data for others to make their runs. Mr. Jace
and Mr. Ven will decide if they want to hop past the last turn or go through the valley.”

Bror Jace came out from around the corner of Corran’s simulator with his wingman. “Valley, I think, unless our fuel estimates are lower than expected because of dogfighting.”

Corran winked at him. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them off you while you squirm your way into the tunnel.”

“I’ll do the job.”

The Twi’lek laid a hand on Bror’s shoulder. “We’ll do the job.”

Wedge smiled. “Only because our near misses will weaken the structure for you.”

“Of course, Commander.” Bror looked at Corran. “Even clean misses must ionize the air and do some harm.”

The Corellian Lieutenant levered himself away from the simulator. “Last I looked, I’ve hit more targets than you.”

Gavin and Rhysati joined the group. “If not for me not holding my end up, Corran would be winning your contest, Bror.”

The Thyferran waved that comment away. “Corran has one more kill than I do. If this simulation is at all accurate, I will eclipse his mark by three kills.”

“So it’s just you and me, head-to-head?”

Bror looked down at Corran. “Just you and me. Head-to-head. As it has always been.”

Wedge stepped between them. “At ease, gentlemen. Let me remind you of two things. First, Gavin’s got the best record for hitting the tunnel, which means the second flight didn’t do so well. Second, that tunnel is our target, not all the eyeballs and squints flying around.”

He rested a hand on each man’s shoulder. “I’ve
not discouraged this contest because there’s no way to stop you from keeping score. It’s given you a competitive edge which is good—neither of you has allowed the other to become complacent or bored. A bored pilot gets overconfident, careless, and, rather quickly,
dead
. And, in spite of planning and promoting this difficult mission, I don’t want to see any of us die.”

Wedge took a step back and folded his arms. For the barest of moments he looked far older than his twenty-seven years. Corran saw the weariness as Death’s fingerprints.
Death’s never gotten Wedge, but it’s been close enough to leave marks on him. There’s undoubtedly a nightmare for every pilot Rogue Squadron has lost, and I bet he runs through them far more regularly than he’d like
.

The squadron commander forced a smile onto his face. “Back when I first welcomed you to this squadron I told you that most pilots die during their first five missions. We were very lucky in our first three, but it all caught up with us on the run at Blackmoon. Looking at the numbers there is no reason to assume it will go any better for us this time.”

Corran nodded and fought the shiver coursing up his spine. In the first run they had eleven ships to take against Blackmoon’s fighters. They engaged two squadrons then and would likely face that much opposition this time. While the best pilots in Rogue Squadron were going in on the mission, fuel considerations limited their ability to perform.

“I want you people to know I’ve flown with the best the Alliance has to offer. Luke, Biggs, Porkins, Janson, Tycho, all of them. I don’t feel their lack here. This isn’t a Death Star we’re going after, and this mission doesn’t have that sense of urgency. That’s because back then we were fighting for the very survival of the Rebellion.

“The fact is, though, this mission is just as important as either of the Death Star runs.” Wedge glanced down at his hands, then back up. “This time we’re fighting for the future of the Rebellion and all the people who want freedom from the Empire. That’s a lot less immediate than what we fought for in the old days, but in many ways it’s far more noble a goal.”

Corran smiled in spite of himself. The nagging sense of doubt and doom that had been grinding away at his consciousness didn’t go away, but it became muted. Wedge’s words muffled it. Fear and insecurity were issues about
himself
, but their mission was about others. He was going off to make the future a bit brighter for people like Iella Wessiri and her husband and Gus Bastra and his family.
And even folks like Booster Terrik
.

The realization that this blow struck at the Empire would make life easier for the sorts of criminals he and his father and grandfather used to hunt didn’t tarnish the mission. He’d never believed the “virtuous bandit” myth most criminals like to wrap around themselves—raiding the affluent to give to the destitute was a pattern often claimed, but he’d seen no evidence of it. Still he couldn’t deny the contribution of folks like Han Solo or Mirax Terrik to the Rebellion. And how could one compare the minor evil of a Hutt with the grand evil of a government that would conceive of, build, and utilize weapons that could destroy planets?

If we cap the wellspring of evil, cleaning up all the little puddles it leaves behind will be that much easier
.

Wedge looked at all of the pilots. “This mission isn’t going to be easy, but I know we can do it.”

Corran nodded to him. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a Rogue Squadron mission.”

“And if it wasn’t given to Rogue Squadron,” Bror added, “it would have no chance of being accomplished.”

“If ego could power shields, you’d be invincible.” Wedge shook his head. “You’ve got twelve hours to kill before you hit the line. No drinking and definitely get some sleep. You can’t use the holonet for obvious security reasons, but if you want to record some messages for friends and family and leave them with Emtrey, he’ll see to their disposition in the worst case. Get going, I’ll see you at 0800 on the line.”

“We’ll be there, Commander.” Corran tossed him a quick salute. “Nervous as Sithspawn in the glow of a Jedi’s lightsaber, but ready for whatever the Empire throws at us.”

Wedge watched his pilots walk away and saw both Shiel and Erisi catch up with them. He turned and smiled at Tycho. “Nice flying in the sim. You wouldn’t have bagged me if that belly pod hadn’t slowed my climb.”

The Alderaanian pilot shrugged. “Fifth time’s the charm.”

Wedge pointed toward the retreating knot of pilots. “Do they ever seem like kids to you—kids who shouldn’t be in this at all?”

“Gavin, yes, and Ooryl because of the insular life he’s led. The rest of them only surrender a year or two to us.”

“I know that, but it seems like the Emperor’s death was the end of an era. They’ve all jointed
after
the New Republic was established. Before that we were outlaws fighting the legitimate government. Now we’re a movement that is bringing freedom to countless worlds.” Wedge shook his head. “Sometimes I think they’ve joined us because of the romance
of the Rebellion’s having struck a blow against the Empire. We brought down Darth Vader, killed the Emperor, and destroyed the Death Stars.”

Tycho brushed a lock of brown hair from his forehead. “I hope you’re not heading toward the idea that they don’t really know what they’re getting into. I seem to recall hearing that same speculation about the new pilots in the squadron before Endor. Back then you saw the destruction of the first Death Star as what marked the end of an epoch.”

Wedge had memories flood back. “Yeah, I guess I did think about that then, didn’t I? The situation was different, though.”

“No it wasn’t. Look, Wedge, none of us have been through all you have. I joined up after Yavin, so I’ve been here for a long time, but for me Biggs and Porkins and the others are just legends. For you they’re memories—friends you’ve lost.” Tycho threw an arm across Wedge’s shoulders. “These guys have lost friends, too. There’s not a one of them that doesn’t know the odds of surviving this run are about …”

Wedge held up a hand. “Don’t give me odds. You know Corellians have no tolerance for odds.”

“Which is why you so willingly play sabacc.”

“And why so many of us are part of the Rebellion.”

The two of them laughed aloud and Wedge felt a lot of his tension bleeding away. As he wiped tears from his eyes he saw an Alliance Security Lieutenant come walking over. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Forgive the intrusion, sir, but I just wanted to remind Captain Celchu this area is restricted when he’s not actually involved in an exercise.”

“That’s all right, Lieutenant, he’s with me.”

“Yes, sir.” She glanced anxiously back toward the doorway. “I’ll wait out there.”

“I’ll be along presently, Lieutenant.”

Wedge frowned. “I’ll take responsibility for Captain Celchu, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

“Sir, my orders come from General Salm.”

“I know. Log your protest with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wedge looked over and saw a frown on Tycho’s face. “What’s the matter?” He glanced at the Security officer’s retreating form, then back at his friend. “Have you become involved with her? Did I break something up here?”

Tycho shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s very nice, and lived on Alderaan for several years, so we can talk about places we’ll never see again.
And
she works with two enlisted men, one of whom watches me all the time. I do find her intriguing, but I’m not of a mind to begin a new relationship without knowing if the old one is over or not.”

“I can understand that.” Wedge recalled the woman Tycho had fallen for a couple of years earlier. She worked in Alliance Procurement and Supply and spent most of her time on covert missions directing operations on enemy worlds designed to liberate matériels from the Empire. Because of the importance and sensitivity of her work, learning anything about her from Intelligence was impossible, and Tycho’s status raised that difficulty level by an order of magnitude.

Tycho poked a finger against Wedge’s breastbone. “I think you’re changing the subject on me to avoid the real issue that prompted your earlier question.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and that is?”

“You’re afraid you’re getting too old for what we’ve always told ourselves is a young man’s game.”

“If you think that, you’re as confused as a Gamorrean placed between two full mugs of lum.”
The Corellian frowned. “First off, you’re a year older than I am.”

“Nine months.”

“Which is rather close to a year, my friend.”

“True enough, but years aren’t the only measure of time.” Tycho tapped the rank insignia at the collar of Wedge’s flight suit. “You’re a Commander. Luke was a General before he abandoned his rank. Han Solo and Lando Calrissian are Generals. Most of the officers who have been with the Alliance for as long as you have are at least Colonels.”

“You’re only a Captain, Tycho.”

“And there I will stay, if Salm has anything to say about it.”

“Well, I’ve had my say about my rank, and I’m happy where I am. I like leading a squadron.”

“I know that.” The Alderaanian shrugged and folded his arms. “You can’t help but wonder, though, if refusing those promotions was the right decision to make or not.”

“True.” Wedge looked up at his friend. “So,
am
I too old to be doing this?”

“Wedge, over the last four months I’ve flown against—and shot down—every one of the kids you have going on this mission. So have you.” Tycho let a low chuckle rumble from his throat. “If you’re too old for this, the New Republic might as well give up now. Barring a squadron of Jedi Knights winging their way in here, you’re the best we’ve got. That may not impress you, but there are plenty of Imp pilots out there who don’t sleep the whole night through because of dreams about you being on their tails.”

31

Corran smiled as Erisi caught up with the group. “You did well in the sim, Erisi.”

“It felt strange trying to shoot you down.”

“Emphasis on
trying
.” Bror flashed a predatory grin at her. “You had no more success than they will tomorrow.”

Nawara Ven glowered at his wingman. “If you
have
found a way to shunt ego into your shields, I wish you would share it with me.”

Rhysati shook her head. “Just have him expand his shields to cover us all. There’s ego enough there.”

Bror turned to Corran. “The mewing of our inferiors grows tiresome, don’t you think?”

The Corellian’s mouth hung open for a second. He wasn’t certain if he was more surprised with Bror’s put-down of the others or his own elevation into Bror’s peer group. “I wouldn’t call it ‘mewing’ and I don’t see them as our ‘inferiors.’ Everyone here has worked hard and come through a lot. Gavin and I have both been wounded, as has Shiel, and only you and Rhysati have avoided personal or ship damage.
We might have a few more kills than they do, but things will average out over time.”

The Thyferran looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “That is something to consider, certainly. And I did not mean my comment as a slight against any of you, though clearly it was taken as such. I respect you all and believe you all capable of more. I will be honored to fly with you tomorrow.”

“On that note …” Nawara Ven bowed his head to his companions, allowing his brain tails to hang down over his shoulders. “I shall see you all in the morning.”

“Wait a moment.” Rhysati held her hand out to him. “I’ll head off, too. Get some sleep—we’ll need it.”

Gavin smiled, then stretched and yawned. “I want to record a message for my parents. Biggs never got the chance and that kind of ate at Uncle Huff.”

Corran winked at the kid. “You’ll make them proud, Gavin.”

Bror bowed slightly. “I, too, shall record a message for my parents.”

They all departed, leaving Corran alone with Erisi. “Well.”

“Well, indeed, Corran.” She reached out and took his left hand in hers. “I wish I were going with you tomorrow.”

“We’d be thankful for the help.” Corran allowed her to gently pull him along toward the accommodations she shared with Rhysati. “Given how things are working out, you may be lucky that you’re not going.”