X-Wing Solo Command by Aaron Allston

Author:Aaron Allston [Allston, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 7 ABY
ISBN: 9780553579000
Amazon: 0553579002
Publisher: Bantam Books
Published: 1999-02-02T03:00:00+00:00

"If we're fired upon, yes," Wedge said. "Otherwise, you just get hazardous-duty pay."

Chewbacca grumbled something. Squeaky said, "Shut up, you."

Wedge grinned. He'd never met a 3PO unit as verbally abusive as

Squeaky.

Most of them, because of standard programming and because they knew

themselves to be defenseless, attempted to ingratiate themselves with

everyone they met-usually with so much talk they ended up aggravating

those they wished to befriend. But Squeaky was a manumitted droid,

owned by no one, and had a few quirks. "What did he say?"

"I don't have to translate comments like that."

"Translate everything. I'll decide what's important and what's not."

"He said he could guarantee I receive combat pay by pulling off my legs

and hitting me with them."

"Well, that was very generous of him. You should have said 'Thank you,

maybe later.'"

"Sir, I think you lack an understanding of this Wookiee's violence-laden

humor."

As soon as they dropped to within twenty kilometers of the planetary

surface over Tobaskin Sector, which was already under nightfall, Kell and

his fellow Drakes began receiving transmissions from sector businesses-

some data, some sight and sound, all extolling the virtues of various

entertainment spots in the region. One transmission was the city

government's visitor's package, including maps of the region with hundreds

of clubs, bars, hostels, and other businesses highlighted.

As if unsure as to which of the city's many offerings to choose, Kell led his

group out over one of the sector's deeper forest tracts. As his pilots

exchanged banal comm traffic about which sites would offer the most

recreation, Kell scanned the forest floor for life. And when he'd chosen a

spot that included a clearing large enough for the Falsehood but was so

deep within heavy forest that it seemed humans did not frequent it, he

transmitted that data back as well.

They found a personal-vehicle landing zone near a district full of brilliantly

lit entertainment businesses. They came to rest there and emerged from

the top hatches of their interceptors.

Kell pulled his helmet free, dropped it onto his pilot's couch, and began

removing other pieces of piloting paraphernalia he wouldn't be needing.

"Drake Two, Drake Four, keep all your gear on. You'll be staying with the

interceptors."

Shalla nodded. She slid down to the ground in full gear and stood at

attention before her starfighter, a guard on duty.

"Aw, no." Elassar sounded heartbroken. He clutched his chest as though someone had shot him. "Why me? I'm the youngest, I'm in the greatest

need of fun."

Dressed only in his black jumpsuit, Kell slid down to his wing pylon, then dropped to the ground. He clambered up Elassar's interceptor and leaned

in close to the younger pilot. "Let me ask you something, Elassar."

"Fire away, sir."

"You go into one of these wonderfully diverting bars."

"Yes."

"You put down your credits."

"Sounds good so far, sir."

"You take off your helmet."

"Well, I'd certainly want to at some point. Even if I were only getting a

drink."

"What do the other patrons see?"

"Well, they see the galaxy's best-looking-oh."

"Devaronian pilot."

"Right, sir, I get it."

"How many Devaronian TIE interceptor pilots do you suppose there are in

the Empire?"

"I understand, sir, I really do."

Kell shook his head and dropped to the ground.

Wedge set the Millennium Falsehood down

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