Wraith Squadron (21 page)

There was general applause, and Piggy said, “Can I keep the ship?”

“If you mean as a personal possession, no. If you’d like to remain in command, the answer is probably yes.”

Piggy looked startled. “I was joking.”

“Well, the question would have been a joke in the Imperial navy or the Corellian fleet or a lot of other places, but it’s actually a reasonable one in the fleet of the New Republic. It’s all because many of our traditions are rooted in the more piratical times of the Alliance’s first days. Still interested?”

Piggy nodded, silent. His expression was made up of surprise and confusion.

“The first thing you’d do is transmit an informal request for command of
Night Caller
to Fleet Command. Then you’d submit a formal application for transfer out of Starfighter Command and into Fleet Command. I’d have little choice except to approve it, and the Navy is nearly one hundred percent likely to accept you. They have a keen appreciation of officers who capture ships to add to the fleet, after all.

“Then you’d receive a crash course in naval traditions and capital ship command, along with a promotion to naval lieutenant … and an immediate
temporary
promotion to captain. Because of your lack of experience, you’d be given very simple missions for your first several months—guarding convoys of ships carrying nonessential goods, for example. Eventually, within the year, I’m certain, they’d become aware of your competence, begin giving you more critical missions, and make that last promotion a permanent one.

“Let me just say, though, I personally think it would be a shame to take a promising fighter pilot like yourself and turn him into a barge driver. But I have to admit that those are the words of an irredeemable X-wing jockey.”

Janson barked out a laugh, which Wedge ignored. Wedge continued, “What about it, Piggy? Naval captaincy within a year? Still interested?”

Piggy was still for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Perhaps I am selfish. But everyone remembers Lando Calrissian and Wedge Antilles and what they did at Endor. Who remembers the name of the captain or the gunner on the
Home One
at the same battle?”

Wedge smiled. “I do. But I know what you mean. And I appreciate the fact you’re staying.” He turned back to the others. “All right, back to
Night Caller
and our current situation. Cubber, fuel?”

“We’re good.
Night Caller’
s tanks were almost full, and they have proper refueling equipment. I’ve siphoned off enough to top off the
Narra
and all the X-wings except Jesmin Ackbar’s.”

“As soon as we’re done here, I’ll bring her down and send Myn up so you can refuel her as well.”

Jesmin’s voice came out of the intercom on the table. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oops. Forgot you were listening. Grinder, did you transfer the nav data?”

The Bothan nodded. “We can jump out of system at any time.”

“Phanan? Your status?”

Ton Phanan looked less pallid than he had up in orbit, but he looked no less unhappy. “They blew up my snubfighter.”

“Your physical status, I mean.”

“Oh. The damage to flesh was all trivial. I didn’t lose any limbs or organs this time, which is quite a treat, I assure you. The damage to the prosthetics is not all fixed yet, though. My left leg isn’t receiving proper neural input and drags a bit. And my right hand works just fine for most things, but when I start to work with a datapad, there’s some sort of leakage of signals and it just goes crazy.” Phanan waved the hand in question. It ordinarily looked like a normal hand, but now it twitched continually, the ring finger jerking rhythmically and the flesh on the back of the hand crawling in an inhuman fashion. Phanan did not seem disturbed by the phenomenon. “But with a little more work with the ship’s computers, I should be able to set everything right.”

“Cubber, Kell, the attachment on the shuttle?”

Kell shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with its memory blown out, but I think it was some sort of parasitic communications device. It was mobile and had a camouflage coating; it can alter its color to match whatever vehicle it’s attached to. It also has a very small, very limited hypercomm ability … but again, with its memory gone, I can’t find out where it was transmitting to. My guess is that it went from ship to ship and occasionally broadcast its current location to its maker.”

Grinder said, “Which is nothing if there’s only one of them … but important if they could build hundreds or thousands. They could build up a map of anomalous hits and find all sorts of things. Smugglers’ bases. Deep-space assembly points.”

Wedge said, “And hidden Alliance bases. Jesmin, add that to the report we’re sending to Command. ‘All ships, be advised …’ ”

“Understood.”

Wedge checked the next item on his list. “All right. We’ve faked up a report in Captain Darillian’s name, with all the appropriate security checks on it, explaining that he jumped into this system, found the abandoned X-wing, assumed that the pilot had ejected, sent over a party to retrieve it—and it blew up, some nasty treachery on the part of its original pilot. We’ve sent that report off. We hope it will forestall any further inquiry on the matter of the Xobome system. Now, we’re going to take some time, rotating you among the guard duties, but giving everyone a chance for a few hours’ rest. When we’re all feeling a bit more recovered, we launch.”

Kell said, “Doldrums, here we come.”

“No, Mr. Tainer. Not Doldrums. First we’re going to three different uninhabited systems to pick up three unexploded Empion mines. Then we’re going to the Viamarr system.”

Kell frowned, confused. “If I may ask, sir—”

“Why this schedule? Because that’s the order of business for
Night Caller
. Ladies, gentlemen, I’m acting on my own initiative and sending off a request that High Command approve my new plan. Which is this: We’ve just become crewmen in Warlord Zsinj’s fleet … and we’re going to do his bidding until we can find a way to strike at him.”

Kell emerged from his temporary quarters wearing a black TIE fighter pilot’s jumpsuit—one that was, miraculously, large enough for him—and toweling his hair dry.

Night Caller
seemed eerily quiet. They were still on the ground, so the ship did not tremble from the efforts of her
engines, and she was massive enough to be immune to Xobome 6’s winds. With most of the old crew collected in the stern lounge under guard, and with Wraith Squadron spread thinly through the rest of the ship, there were few noises to be heard.

He headed forward, toward the bridge, along the main corridor running the length of the ship. When he was almost to the bow, he heard voices drifting down a stairwell to port.

He followed them up. Off the main corridor of Deck One, he found himself peering into the ship’s main communications bay, a smallish chamber whose walls were solid, modular blocks of communications gear.

Jesmin and Face were seated there, and another man was with them—a hologram, actually. The man, thin, cleanshaven, with hawklike features, was dressed in a sharp-looking black uniform with Imperial captain’s bars. He was seated in an imposing command chair and was much given to irritating theatrical gestures as he spoke. “We have been charged,” he said, “with weaving the net that will capture any Rebels who are so fortunate as to survive the destruction of the base on Folor and flee. Our assignment: lay Empion bombs along the four most likely escape routes and then wait at the astrographical center of that array to snatch up whatever poor insects fall into our trap.” He leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Personally, I hope some of them can effect repairs in the time it takes us to get to them. I could do with a bit of a fight.”

The Wraiths burst out in laughter. Jesmin hit a button on the main console and the captain’s image froze there, his expression still suggesting he had just let the viewers into his confidence with that little revelation.

“What is this?” asked Kell.

Face leaned back and stretched. “That’s our former ceiling decoration, Captain Zurel Darillian. He apparently kept the ship’s log in full holo.”

“What an ego.” Kell shook his head. “That must take up massive storage.”

Face said, “The ego or the graphics?”

Jesmin turned one eye admonishingly toward Face, then
nodded toward Kell. “Oh, it does. But I thought that since Face was an actor, he should see this man’s performance. I have seldom seen anything so florid, so self-satisfied, so … repellant.”

“Oh, I have,” Face said. “I once sat in Ysanne Isard’s lap.”

Kell and Jesmin stared at him. Kell said, “You’re kidding.”

“Oh, no, I’m not.
Win or Die
had just been released Empire-wide. I played a little boy, a son of two patricians of the Old Republic, only I know that the Empire is the way to go and I try to run away to safety with the new Emperor. But my dad doesn’t see it that way and shoots me in the back, and I die in the Emperor’s arms, begging him to finish conquering the galaxy so that the evil of people like my parents can be eradicated …”

Jesmin burst out in gales of laughter, then clamped both hands over her mouth while she shook. When she had herself under control, she said, “Face, that’s horrible.”

Face grinned. “That was the old propaganda machine. So I got a trip to Imperial Center, I mean Coruscant, to meet the real Emperor. But he’d been called away to deal with some problem—I heard later that he had just received one of the early reports informing him of the degree of organization the Alliance actually had, and he wasn’t in a very good mood. So I saw Ysanne Isard instead, and she sat me in her lap and told me what a good boy I was.”

Kell finished with his hair and slung the towel over his shoulder. “What was that like?”

“Something like being stroked by a poisonous reptile wearing a human suit, only not quite so comforting.” Face shuddered. “The most crushing blow I ever felt after joining the New Republic was learning that Rogue Squadron had killed Isard—meaning that I wouldn’t be able to. Anyway, Captain Darillian is nothing in comparison. He was just a petty guy who reached his ultimate level of usefulness driving a minelaying barge for a warlord and then had to be scraped off the floor.”

Jesmin said, “You’d better finish getting ready, Kell. We take off in half an hour.”

“How are we doing that? I mean, with most of us returning to the X-wings, who’s going to pilot
Night Caller
and who’s going to deal with the prisoners?”

“We landed four X-wings in the topside hold, strapped them down tight almost on top of one another so they’d fit,” Jesmin said. “And the
Narra
is hooked up to the corvette’s port docking station. Commander Antilles will be piloting the corvette—he says he used to pilot Corellian freighters—and Phanan, Face, Grinder, Squeaky, Cubber, and I will be aboard.” Her voice turned sarcastically sweet. “I think we will be able to manage.”

“Well … all right. You have my permission.” Kell reflected. “Say, since we’re sending messages to Warlord Zsinj, why can’t we just track them along the HoloNet and find out where he is?”

Jesmin said, “Face asked the same thing. And it might be that simple if we had regular communications with him in the usual fashion. But
Night Caller
is not actually using the HoloNet for reports. We’re to send hypercomm transmissions along specific courses.”

“Meaning Zsinj’s ship, or just relay satellites, can be anywhere along those courses … across hundreds or thousand of light-years.”

Jesmin nodded.

“That’s why I’m Demolitions and not Communications. Much simple just to blow things up.” Kell gave them a mock salute and left.

In the corridor leading back to the temporary quarters, Kell saw Wes Janson headed his way. The two men passed without comment, each moving as close to the opposite side of the corridor as decorum would allow.

At his quarters, he nearly bumped into Donos emerging from the cabin next door. “Myn. How is Shiner?”

Donos looked rested and uncharacteristically cheerful. “Shiner? He’s fine. Why?”

“Well, you seemed so concerned about him the other
day, I was wondering if he’d suffered some sort of physical damage I’d need to repair.”

Donos shook his head. “No. I, uh, we just …” He stopped for a moment and appeared to be organizing his thoughts. “Kell, we leave them hanging out in hard vacuum. I just think we need to protect them.”

“Right.” Kell tried to relate that answer to Donos’s behavior of a few hours ago and couldn’t. “Well, I’m glad to hear he’s in good shape.” He pushed into his quarters and escaped the peculiarly uninformative lieutenant.

It took them the better part of two days to retrieve the three undetonated Empion mines and return them to
Night Caller’
s belly hold. The X-wing pilots were rotated through duties on the corvette so that everyone got an almost-adequate amount of sleep.

Kell suggested some changes to Wedge and ended up pulling a succession of corvette shifts while he and Cubber implemented them.

They welded metal sheets approximately the size of TIE fighter solar array wings between the escape pods hanging from the corvette’s flanks. They stowed two of the ball-shaped escape pods in the belly hold and painted the others the same dark Imperial shade as TIE fighters. Then Wedge personally flew the two remaining TIE fighters to dock them at the empty escape pod hatches. The end result was that from any scrutiny except close examination, the TIE fighters looked like escape pods—and would actually be faster and safer to launch than out of the bow hold.

With the TIE fighters out of the bow hold, Kell and Cubber disassembled the braces designed to hold them. They used that metal and more from the belly hold to fabricate a new set of braces and rails, three rows of them, one above the other, built at the very rear of the hold.

It would require delicate piloting, but an X-wing could now use repulsorlifts to back into the bow hold and accept instructions from a ground-guiding crew member to slide into rails spaced to accommodate their strike foils. Once they
reached the rear of the rails they could be locked there by metal brackets lowered into place.