Rogue Squadron (9 page)

Nawara stopped and turned toward the Gand. “And you, my friend, what is the justice you seek?”

Ooryl’s armored lids closed for a second over his multifaceted eyes. “Ooryl does not believe you would fully understand what it is Ooryl seeks. The acceptance Ooryl has known here is indeed a welcome relief from the prejudice of the Empire. This shall suffice as Ooryl’s justice.”

“A noble quest indeed, Ooryl,” Nawara assured him.

Corran led the quartet from the briefing room. Their route to their new homes took them out of the main complex through a tunnel to a smaller warren of rooms and suites. The Rebel base had once been an extensive mine complex on Commenor’s largest moon, Folor. The Commenor system had been chosen because of the high level of shipping traffic that passed through it and because of its proximity to Corellia and the Core worlds.

Corran let his right hand trail over the smooth surface of the tunnel walls. “Are we really after justice, Nawara, or do we really want revenge?”

“Or is this a case, Corran, where revenge and justice are two aspects of the same thing? We are all committed to seeing the Empire brought down. The Emperor’s death advanced our cause, but not
enough to bring the conflict to the conclusion we want. Three in ten worlds are in open rebellion and perhaps another twenty percent are nominally supportive of our fight, but half the worlds are still firmly allied against us. When the Emperor dissolved the Senate he gave the Moffs control over their provinces. While I do not believe Palpatine saw that action as a hedge against disaster, that is, in effect, what it has become.”

“I know. If not for some of the Moffs playing power games against each other, we’d be hard-pressed to keep from being driven away from the Core.” The Corellian frowned. “Then again, with Vader and the Emperor dead and the Death Stars destroyed, I wonder if the Rebellion hasn’t lost some of its fire.”

“I agree with that.” Rhysati moved to the front of the quartet, then turned to walk backward down the hallway and face them. “Vader was a symbol, just like the Emperor, and when they died the relief was palpable. I think a lot of folks believed the whole Rebellion was won there. I’m taking the revitalization of Rogue Squadron as a sign that at least Commander Antilles and Admiral Ackbar don’t share that belief.”

The Twi’lek looped one of his brain tails back over his left shoulder. “By defeating the Emperor at Endor, the Rebellion proved itself a legitimate power in the galaxy. Within a month after Endor the Alliance’s Provisional Council issued their Declaration of a New Republic. The Rebellion became a government—albeit one with very little in terms of real assets—and it presented an alternative to the Empire. Worlds joining the New Republic are doing so on their own terms, and those negotiations are far from joyous things. Destroying the Emperor did
bring a lot of nations into the fold, but primarily those who felt most oppressed or most threatened.”

Corran thought for a moment. “What you’re saying is that the victory at Endor transformed a military insurgency into a political entity.”

“Not exactly, but close. Politics was always part of the Rebellion, but it remained largely dormant while the war was being fought. With the death of the Emperor it became more important because it allowed the Rebellion to bring in more worlds without having to resort to military conquest.” Nawara pointed vaguely back behind them with a taloned finger. “Commander Antilles’s victory tour shows how important politics was and is to the Rebellion—a key military leader was taken out of service and forced into diplomatic duty.”

“And there are all the stories about Luke Skywalker and the possibility of reestablishing the Jedi Knights.” Rhysati smiled. “Even though the Jedi had been wiped out by the time I was born, my grandmother used to tell me stories about them and the Clone Wars.”

“My grandfather fought in the Clone Wars.”

The Twi’lek stared at Corran. “Your grandfather was a Jedi?”

“No, just an officer with CorSec, like my father and me. He knew some Jedi Knights, and fought alongside them in a couple of actions near Corellia, but he wasn’t one. His best friend was, and died in the wars, but Grandpa never talked about those times very much.” Corran glanced down. “When Vader started hunting down all the Jedi, CorSec resources were used to find them and my grandfather didn’t like that at all.”

“The sort of resentment such Imperial action engendered among the people is precisely the means by which the Alliance is able to bring worlds in to join
it. Princess Organa and the host of diplomats working for the Alliance have done more to strengthen the New Republic than the whole
Katana
fleet could do,
if
that legend were true and we had control of it. Even so, there is a limit to what the diplomats can do.”

“Hence the reconstitution of Rogue Squadron.”

“I think so, Corran.”

Rhysati frowned. “What am I missing?”

Corran jerked his head toward Nawara. “He’s saying that the diplomats have pretty much mined all the ore they can find. The worlds who want to join us have; those who don’t, haven’t; and those who aren’t sure will need some convincing. Thyferra, for example, is the source of ninety-five percent of the bacta in the galaxy. They’re neutral right now, and making grand profits selling to all sides, but we want them in our camp. Putting two of their people in Rogue Squadron sends a message to the Thyferrans that we value them. The same goes for having the Bothan in the squadron.”

“And the unit
is
commanded by a Corellian and has another Corellian pilot in it.” Nawara tapped himself on the chest. “I’m either a token Twi’lek or a token lawyer.”

Rhysati laughed. “I’m a token refugee, I guess.”

Ooryl snapped a trio of fingers against his billet datacard. “Ooryl is token Gand.”

“So, if this unit is a symbol that’s filled with symbols, the supposition is that we have to do something very symbolic to get more worlds to join the New Republic.” Corran smiled. “As long as that means I get to bring justice to a bunch of Imperial pilots, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, I think you’ll have that opportunity, Corran.” The Twi’lek’s rosy eyes darkened to the
color of dried blood. “I’d guess Rogue Squadron will have the greatest of that sort of opportunity.”

“You think you know what target will be coming up next, Nawara?”

“It’s only logical, Corran.” Both of the Twi’lek’s head tails twitched in tandem. “Before too long we’ll be going after the biggest symbol of all. Let’s hope they train us very well because Rogue Squadron is bound to be the tip of the spear the Alliance stabs into the heart of the Empire.”

A chill ran down Corran’s spine. “Coruscant?”

“The sooner it falls, the sooner the Empire falls apart.”

“I never wanted to go to Coruscant.” The Corellian pilot smiled. “But if I have to go, doing it in the cockpit of a Rebel X-wing will make the visit just that much more memorable.”

7

Wedge Antilles killed his proud smile as he began his walking inspection of his X-wing. He brushed his fingers along the underside of its smooth nose cone. “Newly refinished, good.” He emphasized this judgment with a firm nod of his head so those who could not hear him could determine what he was saying and thinking.

Throughout the cavernous hangar the pace of work had slowed as he came to inspect his ship. His squadron had already cleared the area and waited for him on the dark side of Folor, leaving him alone with the technical staff. Aside from his X-wing, three other X-wings being worked on, and a scattering of other broken-down fighters, there was little to occupy the attention of the crews. While they made a show of rolling up cables and sorting tools, they watched him and his reaction to their work.

He continued on around to the starboard side of the craft, noticing how clean the crew had gotten the proton torpedo alleys. Another nod. The background hum of conversation picked up in volume
and speed, but Wedge ignored it and continued his walk-around.

He could have cited dozens of reasons for doing a preflight inspection of his fighter, and all of them would have been good and right and militarily proper. The starfighter had seen him through seven years of pitched battles with a minimal amount of failure. The inspection allowed him to spot anything that might be trouble before he got out into space—and
that
would save him a long cold wait for a rescue crew.

More importantly than that, his taking a tour around his ship set a good example for the rest of Rogue Squadron. He wanted to fight the belief that because they were elite pilots they were above the mundane sort of duties all other pilots had to endure. Most of his people weren’t like that, but he didn’t want laziness by one person to slowly spread to the rest of the squadron. While they weren’t there to see him, he knew news of his inspection would get back to them.
And if I do this right, they’ll be sorry they missed the show
.

He paused for a moment and looked at the rows of TIE fighters, bombers, and Interceptors painted on the side of the ship. Big Death Stars bracketed the collection of smaller ships on either side, and Ssi-ruuk fighters had started a new row, right at the top of the red stripe bisecting the fuselage.
It
has
been a long fight. And will be longer still
.

Behind him Wedge heard some chittering that Emtrey translated. “Master Zraii apologizes for not being able to fit all your kills in the space allotted. The ships rendered in red are meant to represent a squadron worth of kills—meaning a dozen.”

Wedge frowned as he turned to face the droid. “I have a vague idea how many ships there are in a squadron, you know.”

“Yes, of course, sir. I know that, but given that the Verpine normally count in base six and humans use base ten, twelve, which to a Verpine is known as ‘four fists,’ the potential for confusion warranted explanation.”

The human held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Just tell him that he can group kills by dozens or gross lots. It makes no difference to me.”

“Gross lots, sir?”

“A dozen dozen, Emtrey.”

“One hundred and forty-four? Four wings?”

“Yes, forty-eight fists in Verpine.”

Emtrey looked from Wedge to the brown insectoid trailing behind them. “Sir, if I knew you were fluent in Verpine …”

“Enough, Trey. I’m not fluent in Verpine, but I have a head for figures. Let me finish this inspection.” Wedge took in a deep breath and slowly let it out again.
I’m going to have to talk to Luke and find out how he puts up with his 3PO unit—wait, that won’t work. I don’t have a sister around here to foist the droid off on
.

He walked back to the starboard engines and inspected the cooling vanes and what little of the centrifugal debris extractor he could find. After looking over the engines he examined the lenses for the deflector shield projectors and saw new ones had been installed. Shields gave the X-wing its major advantage over TIE fighters and contributed to the X-wing’s reputation for being able to take a lot of damage before it went down. Even though the lasers were being powered down for the training exercises, seeing the deflector shield equipment in good repair pleased him.

He paid very careful attention to the twin laser cannons mounted on the ends of the ship’s stabilizer foils. He pulled down on the bottom one and felt a
slight shift before the unpowered actuator prohibited movement. That was good—more play than a couple of centimeters meant the lasers might shift out of alignment during use.

“Emtrey, ask Zraii what range he zeroed these lasers at?”

A click-buzz exchange took place between tech and droid. “He says he zeroed them at 250 meters, Commander.”

“Good.” When they had flown against the Death Star the X-wings had been reconfigured so their zero—the point where the four beams converged—was nearly half a kilometer. That allowed them to be employed very effectively in knocking out stationary ground targets. In space combat, where ranges shrank and targets moved quite a bit, keeping the focal point closer increased the chances of scoring lethal hits on the enemy. While the lasers could still hit another fighter at a range of more than a kilometer, the lasers were at their most powerful at the close ranges common in dogfights.

The cannons’ barrels, flashback suppressors, gate couplers, and lasing tips seemed in good shape. Ducking beneath the cannons, he swung around to the aft of the X-wing. Power couplings, deflector generators, exhaust ports, and power cell indicators all seemed in order. The inspection of the port S-foils and cannons showed them to be in good repair.

His inspection ended with his return to the nose of the craft, he bowed his head to the Verpine tech. “It looks as good as new, if not better.”

Emtrey translated and the Verpine started buzzing. Wedge couldn’t figure out what was being said, but the friendly pat on the arm by the insect-man told Wedge the enthusiasm he heard was positive. “Emtrey, what did you tell him?”

“I told him that you think this ship is superior
to what it was in its pre-molt stage. That is high praise. He is saying that he has a passion for restoring antiques like this and has taken the liberty to make minor adjustments that will enhance performance.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Wedge smiled and kept his tone light. The Verpine, with their fascination for technology and with eyesight that allows them to spot microscopic details—like stress fractures—without magnifying equipment, made for some of the best tech support in the galaxy. They were also known, however, for tinkering with the ships for which they cared. Wedge had never had a problem in that regard, but stories abounded about ships where the controls had been reconfigured into what a Verpine found would be a much better alignment—not realizing most pilots did not have microscopic vision or didn’t think in base six.

Continuing to smile, Wedge mounted the ladder an assistant tech ran up against the side of the X-wing. Poised on the edge of the cockpit, the pilot looked at his astromech. He didn’t recognize it beyond realizing it was one of the flowerpot-topped R5 droids. Though the R5
was
a newer model astromech droid, Wedge actually preferred the dome-topped R2 astromech droids like the one Luke used because of the lower target profile they offered an enemy. “Then again, if they’re close enough to hit you, you’ll take the shots before they hit the cockpit, won’t you?”