couldn't see how much damage he'd done because of the light show produced by the
Interceptor's lasers eating away at his shields.
Corran stabbed the right rudder pedal with his foot, swinging the ship around a
full 180 degrees. Punching his throttle to full, he killed his momentum, then
dropped the engines to zero thrust. With his thumb he popped his weapons control
over to proton torpedoes and got a solid tone when he trapped the fleeing
Interceptor in the targeting box. His finger tightened once on the trigger and a
single torpedo shot away on a jet of blue flame.
The torpedo caught up with the Interceptor quickly enough, but the TIE pilot,
confirming his possession of the skill Corran had willingly granted him before,
juked his Interceptor out of its path at the last second. Unfortunately for him,
his maneuvering and run at Corran had taken him to the outer edge of Hensara's
atmosphere. While not particularly dense, impact with it at the speed the
Interceptor was traveling proved devastating. The starboard wing shattered and
the Interceptor ricocheted away in a wobbly somersault.
"Control, this is Skate. We're on our way back up. We have company that wants to
go home."
"Good job, Skate. Rogue Leader, mission accomplished."
"I heard that, Control. Rogues, regroup for egress."
Corran smiled as he heard Gavin's voice over the comm. "Leader, there are two
getting away."
"Let them go, Five. Flight Leaders, check your flights."
"Whistler, give me feeds on my people." A tracking chart replaced the targeting
data on Corran's screen. Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve. "Three Flight is all
here."
"Control to Rogue Leader, I have a dozen X-wings in-system, two Interceptors on
recovery vectors, and two deployed shuttles on pilot recovery missions."
Corran clapped his hands. "We didn't lose anyone?"
"Are you complaining, Nine?"
"No, sir, Commander, not at all. It's just ..."
"Yes, Nine?"
"This is Rogue Squadron. I thought most of the pilots didn't survive Rogue
missions."
"That was when there was still an Emperor, Nine." The grim tone in Wedge's voice
gave way to one somewhat lighter. "I guess that's the difference. Let's head
home, Rogues. This is one victory we can celebrate without having to toast dead
comrades and I, for one, like the change."
17
Wedge sat with his back against the thick wall of the Grand Room in what had
once been Talasea's Planetary Governor's Palace. The title sounded much more
important than the building and room it described. Built with heavy beams made
of the dark native wood and plaster slathered over wooden slats, it reminded him
of the sorts of reconstructions he'd seen in museums on Corellia. This is about
as primitive as it gets.
The incongruity struck him as he watched his pilots sitting around a couple of
central tables, using their hands to describe the twists and turns they went
through in what they had taken to calling the Rout of Hensara. They could have
downloaded their sensor packets and played them out on the wide-screen
holoviewer in the corner, but that device remained black. By telling the
storie s themselves they shared not only what they didwhich the sensor data
would have shown in exacting detailbut how they felt about it.
And in doing that they'll know they're all the same. Wedge tipped his chair back
against the wall.
He glanced at two Alderaanians who shared his table with him. "They did a good
job out there today."
Tycho smiled broadly. "They did better than goodthey were spectacular. We
recorded thirty-four kills out of a possible thirty-six with no losses. If I
hadn't been there, I'd think it was propaganda."
Afyon looked up from a barely touched tankard of the local lum equivalent. "You
know as well as I do, gentlemen, they were awfully lucky. They may be the
hottest pilots going, but vaping TIEs won't Coruscant take. That's going to take
an operation that will need more than snubby jocks to make it go."
Wedge lowered his lum mug. "Captain, I've been in this Rebellion for as long as
you have. I remember the righting at Endor and I know the Eridain fought hard."
"I appreciate that, Commander Antilles, but it was you who got paraded around
the New Republic as the hero who saved the Rebellion."
Tycho's blue eyes narrowed. "He did blow the Death Star, you realize, and
survived the previous Death Star run."
"I know, and I know you were there, too." Afyon sat back and frowned. "Look, I'm
not saying you don't deserve your recognition, and I'm not saying your people
don't deserve their little party here. Strapping yourself into a fighter isn't
the easiest thing to do, and more fighter pilots die than do the folks I have
crewing with me, but our contribution to this Rebellion is just as important as
yours is."
Wedge nodded slowly. "I know that, Captain, and if the Eridain hadn't been there
today to make the Havoc think twice about closing with us, we would have been
blind-jumping out of the system."
Afyon shook his head. "Don't take me for a
stormie, Antilles, I don't believe everything I'm told. You'd have gone in after
the Havoc itself. What's a Strike cruiser to a crew that turned two Death Stars
into black holes?"
The Corellian brought his chair down onto all four legs. "The New Republic might
promote me and this squadron as immortal and immune to danger, but I know
better than that. Two of us, just two, survived Yavin. A half dozen survived
Hoth and just four of us lived through Endor. As far as I'm concerned the Death
Stars lived up to their names.
"Well now, this squadron has to live up to its name. The New Republic is using
us as a symbol because it's easier to blind people to the blood-cost of war
when you get to celebrate the heroic efforts of a half-dozen people. Luke
Skywalker is easy to admire and want to follow. Han Solo is a man who rose from
nothing to become a hero and consort with royalty. Me, I'm the quintessential
soldier who does his job very well. But what is that job? Two things
neutralizing Imperials and, the part I take most seriously, keeping my people
alive."
Wedge raked fingers back through his brown hair. "It doesn't matter if we were
good or lucky out there todayand I'd rather the former than trust in the
latter. What does matter is that we all survived, and that's as close to a
miracle as I ever expect to see in my lifetime. The key thing to remember is
that I can't trust in our luck or skill. I can't allow myself to believe we were
that much better than the opposition and I can't let my people believe it. If
they do, they'll die taking chances they should never take."
Afyon sucked on his teeth for a second. "You're right. I guess I just remember
the Clone Wars and how the 'hero' labels were handed out. You'd think a dozen
Jedi and two dozen snubby jocks won the whole thing. Even all the years I spend
pulling for
peacesame as most of the rest of the folks on Alderaannever dulled that
feeling of injustice I had concerning credit for the war. Weird, eh, wanting
peace enough to
agree to disarmament of my home planet, yet still burning about
getting credit for my part in a war?"
The other Alderaanian at the table shook his head. "One of the problems we all
have is that we try to think of ourselves in general terms, and that smoothes
over some of the inconsistencies that make us who we are. We see all Imperials
as rancors and they see all of us as nerfs. The very fact that we see them as a
united front is ridiculous, just the same as we're not all unitedas this
discussion proves."
Afyon smiled. "I've not heard that kind of philosophy since, you know, our
world ..."
Tycho nodded solemnly and squeezed Afyon's shoulder with his right hand. "I do
know." He smiled and looked over at the knot of pilots in the center of the
room. "I'm afraid this group does not inspire that much philosophy. I appreciate
being able to share some with another Alderaanian."
Wedge glanced at his pilots, then tipped his chair back up against the wall as
the Twi'lek stood. Nawara Ven flipped one of his brain tails around and over his
shoulder as if it were a scarf, then stumbled slightly. Wedge wasn't sure if it
was the cavalier way he tossed his brain tails around or the drink that made the
pilot stumble. The lum brewed up by the ground crew had the potency of Corellian
brandy and the piquant bouquetaccording to Gavinof a Tatooine dewback in heat.
Nawara remained almost completely upright as he wove his way through tables to
where Wedge sat. "Forgive me, noble leaders, but we require your esteemed
personages to act as a tribunal to adjudicate a question." The Twi'lek pressed a
hand to his own
chest. "Owing to my legal background, I have been appointed a neutral advocate
to present the cases to you."
Wedge couldn't keep a smile from his face. "Please proceed, Counselor."
"Thank you, sir." Nawara turned back toward, the other pilots. "First we have
the case of the worst pilot in the unit. May I present Gavin Darklighter, who
won this award by virtue of the fact of not getting anything out there today."
Easier to read than the scowl on Gavin's face was the open relief on the faces
of Lujayne Forge and Peshk Vri'syk. Wedge knew the award had to sting Gavin
badly, but he was young. The rest of the squadron had been willing to cut him a
lot of slack because of his youth, but that latitude would last only so long. In
Wedge's opinion Gavin wasn't the worst pilot by far, but his lack of kills
allowed his squadron mates to rib him a little.
Nawara gestured at Gavin. "The accused will stand."
Gavin remained seated.
Bror Jace grabbed him by the shoulder of his flight suit and hauled him up out
of his seat. "Here he is, the worst we have. Just like the TIE pilots, he got
zero kills."
The edge in Jace's voice provoked a snarl from Gavin's wingmate, Shiel. Color
flooded Gavin's face and muscles bunched at his jaw as he ground his teeth. Jace
laughed and tugged on Gavin's shoulder, Like a puppeteer manipulating a
marionette.
The Twi'lek, seemingly oblivious to Gavin's discomfort, smiled at the tribunal.
"We have determined there should be a punishment of some sort, to encourage an
improvement in performance."
Wedge turned his head to face the other two members of the tribunal. "Ideas,
gentlemen?"
Tycho held a finger up. "Strikes me that apprenticing Gavin to the best pilot,
having him run errands and the like for him, might provide the perfect
situation for Gavin to learn how to be better."
/ like that, Tycho. Corran won't be too hard on him and the added responsibility
will give Corran something to think about other than your situation. Wedge
nodded. "I think that is a good idea. Captain Afyon?"
"Sure. I know I'd love to have an aide to draft the performance reports for the
Eridain."
Captain Afyon's suggestion brought a groan from the squadron, so Wedge
catalogued the threat of report preparation for future disciplinary use. "I
believe, Counselor, you have your judgment rendered."
The Twi'lek bowed and straightened up slowly, then turned back to his
compatriots. "Gavin Darklighter, you are sentenced to serve as aide to the best
pilot in the squadron until such time as you are no longer judged the worst
pilot."
Bror smiled broadly and gave Gavin's flight suit one last tug. "Good, you can
start your service by getting me more lum."
Wedge frowned. "How is it that you, Mr. Jace, are considered the best pilot? You
only had five and Mr. Horn had six. If we average them over the last two
engagements, then Mr. Horn has four and a half, with you, Mr. Qrygg, and me each
at two and a half. You fare no better when we total them."
Nawara smiled, flashing pointy peg-teeth. "You have hit upon the crux of the
matter, sir. Mr. Jace argues that percentages tell the true story. He killed
five of the six bombers he faced, meaning he downed eighty-five percent of the
TIEs he engaged."
Gavin sat down and snarled, "And they were
big, lumbering bombersno one could have missed them."
The Twi'lek clucked at Gavin, then continued his explanation. "Mr. Horn, on the
other hand, shot only six of thirty, giving him a kill percentage of twenty
percent."
Wedge shook his head. "This is ridiculous. Percentages have no place in this."
"If you don't mind, sir"Corran stood up and glared over at Bror"I'm willing to
let things be figured by percentages."
"Go head, Mr. Horn."
Corran folded his arms across his chest. "You want a real contest, Jace?"
The Thyferran raised his head and glared down at the shorter man. "It's an easy
offer to be made by the man in the lead."
"I'm willing to make it even, and I'll even concede this round to youdeclaring
you the best pilot until our next mission." Corran opened his arms and rested
his right hand on Gavin's shoulder. "What I'm willing to do is average Gavin's
kills in with mine. The one he got at Chorax adds to my nine, then we split that
in half. That puts us even at an average of five kills. You and I are both aces
and now so is he."
"Don't do this, Corran."
The small man winked down at Gavin. "I trust you, kid. You'll do fine."
"We start even?" the Thyferran asked.
Corran nodded. "We go straight kills from here on out, or average them, your
choice."
Bror raised a blond eyebrow. "You are still will-ing to average the kid's kills
in with yours?"
The Corellian nodded again and patted Gavin's moulder. "You willing to take the
challenge?"
Wedge watched conflicting emotions ripple over
Bror Jace's face. He clearly wanted to go one-on-one with Corran, to prove he
was better free and clear, yet the rules Corran was offering him played in his
favor. Any kill Corran got would only count half. Unless Corran excelledkilling
two for Bror's oneor Gavin started on a tear, Bror would win easily. The
difference between their skill levels was not significant enough to give Corran
a real chance of winning.
Bror's blue eyes thinned to arctic slits. "We'll average things, just to keep
Gavin in the game, but you and
I can go head-to-head whenever / choose."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"And you and I, because we did have the most kills at Hensara, will share the
best pilot crown until our next outing."
Corran smiled. "Done."
Wedge nodded once to Corran, then looked up at the Twi'lek. "So, by this
settlement, Bror and Corran are co-best pilots, and Gavin has five kills,
correct, Counselor?"
The Twi'lek nodded. "If you so agree, members of the tribunal."
The three judges agreed and Nawara smiled. "It is done, then."
"And the worst pilot is still apprenticed to the best pilot?"
Nawara nodded. "The worst pilot is still bound by that agreement."
"Good." Wedge stood and slapped the Twi'lek on the back. "Then since Gavin has
five kills to his credit, that makes you, with only one kill, the worst pilot."
Nawara's pasty complexion became ghostlike. "No appeal?"
Wedge smiled. "To you there probably is not,
but the idea of a lawyer getting the sentence instead of his client has some
appeal to me."
The Twi'lek frowned and caressed one of his brain tails. "Perhaps it is true
that a lawyer who has himself as a client is a fool."
"Which is why you're a pilot now, Mr. Ven." Wedge laughed lightly. "Consider
your sentence suspended, at least for the duration of this celebration. Today
we proved how good we can betomorrow we go back to training to make sure we
know how we did what we did, so we can continue doing it in the future."
Kirtan Loor scratched at the reddish raw patch of flesh behind his right ear.
Rachuk roseola was a virus, he was told, that got to everyone who came to the
world. Scratching it didn't appear to make it
worse, and nothing but time made it better. It annoyed him because he found it
distracting, and at this late stage in his calculations, distraction was the
last thing he needed.
He pored over the data from Hensara again, correlating figures and sensor tracks
with known performance parameters for X-wings. All the ships in the squadron
appeared to be operating within two standard deviations of the mean of Rebel
spec-
ifications. This told him that the ships were in good repair, which meant the
Rebels were expending con-
siderable resources on that squadron to keep the ships working.
That little factoid combined with the spectacular kill ratio led him to believe