Star Wars: X-Wing I: Rogue Squadron (11 page)

“You sent him my sensor data, right?”

Sharp scolding whistles followed an affirmative tone.

“I know I didn’t prohibit it.”

A curt squawk made Corran wince. “Yes, Whistler, I
did
approve your action. Never again give out that sort of data without my permission, got it?”

The little droid piped demurely, then shifted to the singsong tone he had used to warn Corran when Loor had entered the CorSec office. The pilot turned and saw the Headhunter Trainer come through the magcon bubble, followed closely by Rogue Leader. Purposely ignoring Whistler’s bleats, Corran watched the ship land.

“Time to get some questions answered.”

Corran felt a tug at his flight suit leg as Whistler’s pincer attachment closed on the cloth. He pulled away, tearing the material. “You betrayed me once here, Whistler, don’t compound the problem.”

The droid’s mournful tones played out in time with a funeral march as Corran closed with Wedge’s X-wing. He ducked beneath the nose and snapped to attention as Wedge descended the ladder. His throat thick with anger, Corran saluted and held his quivering hand in place until Wedge returned the salute.

“Do you want to speak to me about something, Mr. Horn?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wedge tugged his gloves off. “Well?”

“Permission to speak frankly, sir?”

“Knock yourself out, Mr. Horn.”

Corran’s hands convulsed into fists. “You gave everyone else
my
targeting data. I flew my heart out and flew that course as good as anyone possibly could on his first time through. You turned that data over to the others, so they were making a run based on the things I had done. You gave them my score as a base and they built on it.”

Wedge’s brown-eyed gaze did not waver as he met Corran’s stare. “And?”

“And? It’s not fair, sir. I’m one of the best pilots in this squadron, but it looks like I’m the worst. The others appear better but they’re not. I’ve been robbed.”

“I see. Are you finished?”

“No.”

“Well, you should be, or you
can
be. Do you understand me?”

The icy tone in Wedge’s voice filled Corran’s guts with frozen needles. “Yes, sir.”

Wedge nodded past him toward the exterior of the base. “You need to examine why you’re here, Mr. Horn. You’re part of a team and have to act like it. If I need you to shoot a trench like that and feed your data back to a Y-wing squadron coming through, I’ll have you do it. How good
you
are means nothing if the rest of the people in the squadron get killed. You might be the best pilot in the squadron, but the
squadron
is only as good as the worst pilot in it.

“Today the others learned to use data from a reconnaissance flight to help them through deadly territory.
You learned that you’re not more important than anyone else in this squadron just because you’re a gifted pilot. I’m pleased with those lessons having been learned by my people. If you’re not, I’m certain there are other squadrons who would love to have Rogue’s washouts.”

Corran’s cheeks burned and his stomach turned itself inside out.
He’s right—he saw the same thing Lujayne did and found a way to point out how serious a problem it can be. I’ve been an idiot
. He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, what, Mr. Horn?”

“I’m happy learning what I learned, sir. I want to stay with the squadron.”

Wedge nodded slowly. “Good, I don’t want to lose you. You’ve got the makings of a superior pilot, but you aren’t there yet. You have the skills you need, but there is more to being part of this squadron than flying well. The training you get will be a bit different from the others, but your need to learn is just as great. Do you understand?”

Corran nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Wedge handed his helmet and gloves to an astrotech. “And just so you know, you’re right to be angry. Remember this, though, giving in to that kind of anger in battle will get you killed. I don’t think you want that any more than I do.” The leader of the squadron tossed him a sharp salute. “You’re dismissed, Mr. Horn.”

Corran returned the salute, spun on his heel, and marched stiffly away, deeper into the hangar. He threaded his way through the fighters, stepping over power cables and around tool carts. He purposely steered himself away from where Whistler was recharging—the little R2 unit had perfected an “I told you so” whistle that Corran realized he’d heard far too often since his father’s death.

“Mr. Horn.”

Corran stopped and blinked away the gathering clouds of dark memories. His hand rose in a salute. “Captain Celchu.”

The blue-eyed man returned the salute, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Still walking and talking?”

“Sir?”

“Either Commander Antilles is losing his touch in dressing down recruits or”—Tycho smiled lopsidedly—“you’re made of sterner stuff than I might have otherwise imagined.”

Corran’s green eyes narrowed. “I don’t think the Commander cut me any slack, sir.”

Tycho held a hand up. “Forgive me, Mr. Horn, that did not come out the way I wanted. From your CorSec record and the way you tend to excel in scenarios where you act alone, you have struck me as a loner. Loners don’t tend to like it when they’re made to be a team player.”

But that’s not how I am. Is it?
Corran frowned. “I can work with others, but I know I can only rely on myself when things fall apart. I can’t help that attitude because it kept me alive in tough times.”

Tycho pointed toward the passage deeper into Folor base and Corran fell into step with him. “The problem with that attitude, Corran, is that it keeps others away. It makes it more difficult for them to help you when you need it. It keeps them uncertain that you will help them when the time comes that they need you.”

“Hey, I’ll never leave a buddy in trouble.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you define buddies on
your
terms. Others may not see themselves as your
friends.” The taller man pressed his lips together in a grim line. “It’s clear that being here is not easy for you.”

That’s an unwarranted assumption. I’ve adjusted as well as anyone
. Corran glanced to the right at Tycho. “Why do you think that, sir?”

“You were with the Corellian Security Force and spent a good deal of your time hunting down people who are now your allies. That transition isn’t something you can make overnight.”

“It couldn’t have been any easier for you, sir. You were an Imperial pilot.”

Tycho did not reply immediately and Corran sensed a window of vulnerability that had opened, then slammed shut almost immediately. He knew it with the certainty he’d known when he’d hit on lies suspects told him during interrogation. He wanted to pounce and push, but the hint of pain he saw flash through Tycho’s eyes stopped him.

“Let’s just say, Corran, that my situation was quite different from yours.” Tycho’s face slackened into an emotionless mask. “Different time, different circumstances.”

Corran heard pure honesty in Tycho’s words and decided against pushing. That honesty cleared his mind and punched through walls he didn’t realize he’d erected. “You may be right, sir. Looking around here I see the sort of smuggler’s hideaway my father and I ached to bust wide open. Just looking at this place I know it had to have been used by smugglers before the Alliance turned it into a base. If I’d known then what I know now …”

“You would have been even more convinced that the Rebellion was wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess I would have.” Corran slapped his own belly with his right hand. “I remember being in the CorSec Academy when the Imperial warrants
for Han Solo and Chewbacca were issued. They were charged with the murder of Grand Moff Tarkin—no word about the Death Star, of course. I remember thinking that if I were already in CorSec I’d have gotten Solo. I thought he was a blot on Corellia’s honor.”

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Tycho’s mouth. “And you still do.”

Corran winced. “He smuggled spice for a Hutt. I understand that he made some choices that made his life fall apart. I can sympathize with his freeing Wookiee slaves—no one on Corellia liked the idea of slaves—but he sank pretty low after that.”

Tycho nodded. “When your life disintegrated,
you
didn’t sink that far, so
he
shouldn’t have?”

“Something like that.” Corran stopped just before they entered the corridor out of the hangar. “Is that your assessment of my opinion, or your assessment of Solo in relationship to your leaving Imperial service as he did?”

Tycho’s smile broadened. “Interesting insight. I think there was a time that Solo, who had bound his conception of honor to his service to the Empire, forgot that honor could exist outside Imperial service. This seems to be a misconception that has been corrected.”

“And correcting it won him fame, glory, and Princess Organa.”

“True, but what’s important is that he knows honor exists inside you and can only radiate out. What goes on outside can’t change it or kill it unless you abandon your honor. Too many folks give it up too easily, then do whatever they can to fill the void in their hearts.” Tycho shook his head. “Forgive me this little lecture. I’ve had an unfortunate amount of time to think about this sort of stuff.”

Two Alliance Security officers walked over to
where Corran and Tycho stood. The female Lieutenant spoke with a calm, even voice. “Captain Celchu, are you ready to return to your quarters now?”

The taller man suddenly looked very fatigued, as if his skeleton had just become one size smaller so his flesh hung loosely from it. “Yes, I believe so. Thank you for this conversation, Mr. Horn.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Tycho nodded to the woman. “After you.”

“No, sir,” she said, “after
you
.”

Her tone struck Corran as all wrong. He had assumed she had been offering to escort Captain Celchu to his quarters as a courtesy, but the edge in her voice transformed her words into an order.
Why would they be forcing him to return to his quarters? I don’t understand. She’s treating him like a criminal
.

He stared after them, trying to reconcile the Security officer’s action with a need to protect Tycho from some threat. He couldn’t imagine anyone in the Alliance base who would begrudge Tycho actions taken before he joined the Rebel cause. Becoming a Rebel was like starting over—the datascreen was wiped and the past forgotten.
Yet I still have reservations about Han Solo. Even so, I don’t want to murder him, so he doesn’t need protection
.

He realized he was attempting to rationalize why Tycho was being escorted by armed guards, and the most simple answer was because Tycho presented a threat to the Alliance in some way. The obvious ludicrousness of that idea shone like a supernova because if Tycho was a threat of any sort, no one would trust him to be teaching pilots how to fly.
Then again, he
is
assigned a Headhunter Trainer
.

“There you are.”

Corran’s head came up at the sound of the woman’s voice. Just a bit taller than he was, but
slender and walking on very shapely long legs, she entered the hangar from the corridor and stared right at him. Corran turned and looked behind himself to see who she was addressing, but when he looked back at her, she had stopped right in front of him. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Me?” Corran raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you were looking for me, Erisi?”

She nodded confidently. Sympathy played through her big blue eyes. “I was sent to find you. The rest of us are in DownTime, going over what happened out there.”

“Not enough laughs, so you wanted me to join you?” He shook his head. “Thanks anyway, some other time.”

“No, now.” Erisi took firm hold of his left elbow. “We
do
want you there. So we can apologize.”

Corran hesitated, covering his surprise. She sounded sincere, but she was from Thyferra and almost always in Bror Jace’s company. He tried to figure out if she was setting him up, but the gentle way her short black hair lay against the nape of her long neck distracted him. “I’m not sure I’d be good company.”

“You
must
come.” She tugged him gently toward the corridor. “Look, we all used your data because Commander Antilles told us our exercise involved doing just that. It wasn’t until we made our runs that he told each of us what had happened—what he had done to you. He ordered us to say nothing to you except to report our scores. None of us felt good about what happened and we want to make it up to you.”

He nodded and started walking with her. “So how did you get the job of coming after me? You pick the sabacc card with the lowest value?”

Erisi smiled at him, her eyes dominating a delicately
sculpted face with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. “I volunteered. Nawara Ven and Rhysati Ynr are trying to talk some sense into Bror and I had to walk away.”

“You’d abandon a fellow Thyferran to a conversation with a Twi’lek lawyer?”

Her laughter echoed faintly through the dim corridor. Strip illumination ran along the edges of the tunnel where the floor met the walls and gave them enough light to travel by, but most of the people in front of them were shadowed silhouettes.

“Bror Jace is from a family that owns a significant portion of stock in Zaltin. His people are known for being rather haughty and obstreperous.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“I would have thought you a keener observer than that.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “Besides, Bror has noticed you. He sees you as his chief rival for supremacy in this squadron.”

“He’s forgetting the Commander and Captain Celchu.”

She shook her head. “No, he’s not, he’s just ignoring them. As Commander Antilles said, those who have served with Rogue Squadron before are legends, and Bror doesn’t think it’s possible to defeat a legend. Become one, yes, but best one, never.”

“Erisi, I appreciate your candor, but I’d hardly expect you to be speaking of a friend in such uncomplimentary terms.”

“What gave you the impression we were friends?”

“Perhaps the fact that you spend a lot of time with him.”