Star Wars - X-Wing - Rogue Squadron by Michael A. Stackpole

Author:Michael A. Stackpole
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-05-16T11:02:50+00:00

them prisoner." His Executive Officer winced. "The problem was we had a possible

security leak, but explaining everything we would have had to explain would

have made it impossible for us to get to Borleias in time to warn you, if that's

what we needed to do."

"Easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Wedge chuckled. "I was planning the

same sort of thing for the return trip to Borleias. You've got the security

problem under control?"

"I think so. Locking this thing down will mean a lot of time being spent with

Emtrey."

"Put Corran on it."

Tycho shook his head. "Eew, that's nastier than even I assumed you'd be."

"Well, leading a unit isn't a young man's game, after all." Wedge swung his feet

to the floor and set his tumbler on the table as Corran approached with two

pieces of ryshcate. "Smells good."

"Mirax made it." Corran handed the other piece to Tycho. "Corellians use it for

celebrations."

Wedge hefted his piece of the sweetcake. "Getting you back from Borleias is

worthy of celebration, as is having the Alliance's hottest new pilot being a

member of the squadron."

Corran looked surprised. "Me?"

"No." Wedge smiled past him at the man arriving late to the celebration.

"Congratulations, Bror Jace. The trio of kills you got on the Interceptors

following us out of the Pyria system puts you at twenty-two kills. You beat

Lie utenant Horn by one."

The Thyferran beamed, his blue eyes alive with pride. "Thank you, Commander." He

glanced down for a second, then accepted a piece of the cake from Mirax. "This

is good news and helps offset what I have just heard."

Wedge set his cake down next to the glass of whiskey. "And that is?"

"The message waiting for me was from Thyferra. My great uncle, our patriarch,

is dying. The Emdees give him two weeks at best. Even bacta cannot cure old

age."

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Jace, Bror." Wedge glanced at his XO. "Tycho, can you .

. . ?"

"No problem, Wedge." Tycho stood up. "Compassion leave won't work, but if we

send our pilot home on a recruiting run, I think the diplomatic corps will back

us up. You'll be on your way as soon as you can pack your X-wing, Mr. Jace."

"Thank you."

Corran offered Bror his hand. "I'm sorry to know your uncle is ill. I'm also

sorry to lose to you, but I'm not sorry about how well you did."

"Nor I about your performance." Bror pumped Corran's hand. "I would give you

another chance at such a contest, but I do not want even the slightest hint of

division within this squadron."

"I concur." Corran nabbed a small piece of cake from the serving tray on the

table and popped it into his mouth.

Everyone followed Corran's lead and as he chewed, just for a second, Wedge felt

himself back on Yavin 4, catching a hasty last meal before he and his friends

went off to attack the Death Star. He knew it wasn't the taste of the ryshcate

that brought the memory backon Yavin 4 there had been no time and no

ingredients to create something so indulgent. No, it's the sense of unity that

takes me back. The core spirit, it was there before Rogue Squadron was ever

formed.

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