Star Wars: X-Wing I: Rogue Squadron (7 page)

The Twi’lek sat down next to Ooryl, looping one of his brain tails back over his left shoulder. “Jace isn’t any happier about it than he was about losing to you. He volunteered to fly in an eyeball in Gavin’s exercise and got hit with a missile at range. He never had a chance.”

Corran nodded his head and looked up toward the front of the room where Bror Jace stood. Tall, slender, and handsome, the blond-haired, blue-eyed pilot had proven himself to be very good during the selection exercises. The Corellian thought he might even have liked Jace, but the man’s ego was as big as an Imperial Star Destroyer and likely to be just as deadly. The ego-cases Corran had known in CorSec had always burned bright but burned out early. At some point they got themselves into a situation they could have just as easily avoided had they been thinking clearly.

Corran smiled in Jace’s direction and caught a return nod from the black-haired woman to whom Jace was speaking. “Ooryl, how did Erisi Dlarit do in the exercise?”

“Middle of the hunt, after Nawara Ven and ahead of Ooryl. Lujayne Forge came in at the back of the group, with the others in between. The scores were still very good, but competition is stiff here.”

Wedge Antilles entered the room and marched down front to where the holographic briefing display grew from the floor like a mechanical mushroom. Joining him at the front of the room Corran saw the mystery pilot from the day before and a black 3PO droid with a nonstandard head. It looked more like the clamshell design seen on flight controller droids, where the concave upper disk overlapped the lower one, but left a facial hole. The unusual construction made sense, both given the lack of spare parts for droids and the fact that this droid
was assigned to a fighter squadron. The little bit of a sagittal crest on its head made it look somewhat martial.

“People, if you would be seated. I’m Wedge Antilles, the commander of Rogue Squadron.” The green-eyed man smiled openly. “I’d like to welcome you here and congratulate you on being chosen for Rogue Squadron. I want to go over with you the basic criteria we used in making our selections and let you know what will be expected of you as your training continues and missions are assigned to us.”

Wedge looked out at his audience and Corran felt a bit of a shock run through him as their eyes met.
His eyes
have
seen the years—have seen more than they should have
. Corran knew of Wedge’s background because Hal Horn had been one of the investigators trailing the pirates who killed Wedge’s family at Gus Treta. Hal had kept his eye on Wedge and had pronounced him a lost cause when he started smuggling weapons for the Rebellion.

Wedge exhaled slowly. “You all know the history of this squadron. Even before we were formally created, we were given the job of killing the first Death Star. We did it, and lost a lot of fine pilots in the process. All of them were and are heroes of the Rebellion—they’ll be as famous as some of the old Jedi Knights in the years to come. Rogue Squadron saw a lot of action guarding convoys and raiding Imperial shipping after that. We covered the evacuation from Hoth, fought at Gall, and a year later, at Endor, we killed another Death Star. From there we went to Bakura and fought the Ssi-ruuk.

“After seven years of nonstop fighting, the leadership of the New Republic decided to rebuild and revitalize this unit. This was a wise choice because all of us—those who had survived—had seen a lot of new pilots come into Rogue Squadron and get killed
in Rogue Squadron.” Wedge looked over at the mystery pilot. “All of the veterans wanted to see Rogue Squadron continue, but also wanted to see the pilots in it get the training they needed to survive.”

The TIE pilot nodded in agreement with Wedge’s statement. Wedge looked back at the new pilots. “About a year ago Admiral Ackbar, at the behest of the Provisional Council, presented me with the plans for re-forming Rogue Squadron. Rogue Squadron had become a symbol for the Alliance. It needed to live up to its legend and become once again an elite group of pilots who could be called upon to do the sort of impossible jobs Rogue Squadron has always managed to complete. As you know, we have interviewed and tested a lot of pilots—nearly a hundred for each of the dozen positions you now fill.

“The reason I mention all this to you is so that you’ll be aware of something that might not have sunk in during your selection process. You
are
elite pilots and you are
more
than just that, but no matter who you are, or how good you are, you’ll never be considered as good as Biggs Darklighter or Jek Porkins or anyone else who has died in service to Rogue Squadron. They are legends, this unit is a legend, and none of us are ever going to be able to be more than they are.”

Except for someone like you, Commander, who already
is
more
. A grin blossomed on Corran’s face.
And I can dream, can’t I?

Wedge opened his hands. “Truth be told, most of you are already better pilots than a lot of the men and women who have died in this unit. You are an eclectic bunch—two of you had death marks against you before you joined the Alliance and the rest of you will earn them as soon as the Empire learns who has been assigned to this unit. You were chosen for
your flying skill
and
for other skills you possess because Admiral Ackbar wants this unit to be more than just a fighter squadron. He wants us to be able to operate independently if necessary and perform operations that would normally require a much larger group of individuals.”

Rhysati leaned over to Corran. “Baron-Administrator Calrissian had his own group of Commando-pilots back home. The idea’s got merit, even if they couldn’t stop Darth Vader from causing trouble.”

Corran nodded. “CorSec had its own Tactical Response Team. Wanting to make Rogue Squadron into something similar explains why some of us made it when others didn’t.” Corran still wondered what special skills Gavin was going to bring to the group, but he was willing to wait for an answer instead of assuming there wasn’t one.

The Commander continued his briefing. “Over the next month you’ll get the most intensive training you’ve ever had. Captain Celchu will be in charge of it. For those of you who do not know him, Captain Celchu graduated from the Imperial Naval Academy and served as a TIE pilot. He left Imperial service after his homeworld of Alderaan was destroyed. He joined the squadron shortly thereafter and participated in everything from the evacuation of Hoth to the Death Star run at Endor and more. He is a superior pilot, as some of you have already learned, and what he will teach you will keep you safe from the best pilots the Empire can throw at us.”

Wedge nodded toward the droid. “Emtrey is our military protocol droid. He will deal with all requisitions, duty assignments, and other administrative duties. You will be moving to a separate complex here to continue your training—Emtrey has your
room assignments and initial craft assignments and will give them to you at the end of this meeting.

“So you’re all now part of Rogue Squadron. What you can expect of the future is this: endless amounts of boredom and routine punctuated by moments of sheer terror. As good as you are, statistical studies of fighter pilots indicate most of you will die in your first five missions. While survivability goes up after that, the odds are still not good that you will live to see the complete destruction of the Empire. The reason for that is that you
will
be there to see bits and pieces of it being lopped off. Rogue Squadron will be given tough assignments and will be expected to complete them, specifically because we
are
the best there is.”

Wedge rested his hands on his hips. “That’s it for now, unless you have any questions.”

Jace stood. “Will our training consist of more simulator work, or will we be given actual X-wings to fly?”

“That’s a fair question. Emtrey has informed me that our squadron has been assigned a dozen X-wings. We have possession of ten at this time, with two more expected inside the week. When those ships arrive we’ll start training in them. Until then, and as a supplement to flight training, we will use a lot more simulator exercises.”

The Commander smiled. “And, yes, we could have been assigned A-wing or B-wing craft, but we’re using X-wings. You may debate the merits of the various ships among yourselves, but Rogue Squadron has always been primarily an X-wing squadron, and shall remain so. Any other questions? No? Then you’re dismissed until 0800 hours tomorrow at which time we’ll meet again and begin molding you into a true fighting unit.”

Corran stood, intending to head down to thank
the Commander for picking him for the squadron, but Jace approached Wedge first, and Corran refused to do anything that gave the impression he was following Jace.
Later, I can thank him later
.

Nawara Ven stroked his chin with his left hand. “So, two of us are already under death marks. I wonder who?”

Rhysati poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “You mean you aren’t, Nawara? You were a lawyer, after all.”

“Yes, and there are doubtlessly some of my clients still on Kessel who would love to kill me, but I’m not aware of having a death mark.” His red eyes narrowed. “The Shistavanen is a rough customer. I could see him as being wanted by the Empire.”

The blond woman frowned. “I’d taken his being one of them for granted. What about Andoorni Hui? She’s a Rodian and most of them tend to work with the Empire. Did she do something to anger her old employers?”

Ooryl blinked his big compound eyes. “Not her. Rodians are hunters who live and die by their reputations. Andoorni is a huntress who decided that joining the most celebrated hunting band in the galaxy—Rogue Squadron—is a way of furthering her reputation. Ooryl does not think she did anything to bring the wrath of her past patrons down on her head.”

Rhysati looked over at Corran. “What do you think?”

“Me? I don’t know. I don’t think I ever ran into her when I was in CorSec, but I have trouble telling one Rodian from another and I can’t speak their language. I do know she wasn’t on any apprehension lists I ever saw, so she didn’t have a death mark before I left the service.” He shrugged. “Shiel probably
does
have a death mark on him, on the other
hand. A lot of the wolfmen were put out of the scouting business because of the Emperor’s restrictions on exploration. Some of them turned around and sold their services to the Rebellion and found havens like Dantooine and Yavin. I don’t think the Empire appreciates that sort of activity.”

“More correctly, Mr. Horn, Riv Shiel earned his death mark when he slew a stormtrooper team that tried to apprehend him, thinking he was Lak Sivrak.” The black protocol droid carefully ascended the stairs. “Forgive me for interrupting, and please allow me to introduce myself. I am Emtrey, human-cyborg relations and regulations with a military specialty. I am fluent in over six million languages and familiar with an equivalent number of current and historical military doctrines, regulations, honor codes, and protocols.”

The ends of the Twi’lek’s brain tails twitched. “As well as being familiar with the personnel files of everyone in the squadron?”

“Why, yes.” Golden lights glowed deep in the dark hollow of the droid’s face. “My primary function requires me to carry such data around with me. Without it …”

Nawara held a hand up. “So you could tell us who the other individual is with a death mark on him or her.”

“I could.” Emtrey’s head canted at an angle. “Shiel has made no attempt to conceal his death mark, but the other person has said nothing about it. Would revealing his identity be wise, Mr. Horn?”

Corran shrugged. “I stopped being a law enforcement officer a bit ago, so I don’t know if revealing that information would be a violation of the law. Counselor Ven might.”

The Twi’lek half closed his eyes. “Hardly. Death marks imposed by the Empire are meant to be a
matter of public record. And, in this company, it is hardly a disgrace.”

“Who is it?” Rhysati asked.

“Nawara’s right, it’s more a badge of honor here than anything else.” Corran crossed his arms. “C’mon, Emtrey, say what you know.”

The droid looked at Corran carefully. “Are you sure, sir?”

Why ask me?
“Of course.”

“Very well.” The droid righted its head again. “The other death mark was issued after the brutal murder and vivisection of a half-dozen people.”

Corran’s blood ran cold. “Who did that?”

The droid’s eyes burned bright. “You did, sir. You’re wanted on Drall, in the Corellian Sector, for the murder of six smugglers.”

Laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach, Corran sat down abruptly. He only partially landed on the bench, and ended up on the floor at Emtrey’s feet. “That’s nothing.” He swiped his hands at the tears streaming down his face. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

The Gand looked down at him. “Ooryl was not aware murder was seen as mirthful.”

Nawara Ven folded his arms. “It isn’t.”

About the time Rhysati stepped back, imposing Emtrey between herself and him, Corran realized he’d quickly destroyed what his previous socializing had accomplished. He scrambled to his feet and composed himself. “I can explain this, I really can.”

The Twi’lek lawyer twitched a brain tail at him. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Yeah, well, this is the truth, unlike what your clients were probably saying.” Corran looked at the droid. “Can you tap into registry files from here?”

“I am fully capable of a whole host of functions in that regard …”

“Good. See if you can pull up the death files for
the names in the reports about the murders, then match them up with birth bytes.” As the droid’s eye-lights started to flicker, Corran turned back to his squadron mates. “The short form is this—at CorSec, in my division, we had an Imperial Liaison officer who had enough ambition to dream about being a Grand Moff, and just enough talent for dealing with regs and bureaucracy to be a severe problem. He wanted us to bear down on all Rebel smuggling in the system, but we were more concerned about hunting down the kind of pirates who actually hurt folks—glit smugglers and the like. Loor—that was the Intelligence officer’s name—threatened to bring us up on charges of aiding the Rebellion. The Imperials fleeing to Corellia after the Emperor’s death gave the Diktat a lot of support, and that meant Imperial officers suddenly had the muscle to back up their threats.