Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [139]
In retrospect Corran’s message was rather funny. He watched his green-eyed lieutenant cut the warm ryshcate and hand it out to the other pilots in the squadron. They were all giddy with their success and his survival. Wedge knew they all had been as horrified as he had when the message began to play in their cockpits, but no one was more relieved than he had been when the truth of it was revealed to them.
As jokes go, Corran, it was good. You’ll pay for it, of course, but it was good.
Wedge glanced sidelong at Tycho. “I can’t believe you let him send that message.”
The Alderaanian shrugged. “The shocked expression on your face was even better than I imagined it would be.”
“I won’t forget that, Captain Celchu.”
“Besides, I can’t wait to see how you’re going to get back at Corran.” Tycho took a swallow of his lum. “I trust you’ll make it good.”
“You can be assured of that.” Wedge sipped a little more whiskey and let it sit on his tongue for a moment. Sucking air in through slightly parted lips let the crisp, woody aroma fill his head, then he swallowed and smiled. “Corran comes back from the dead and I understand you were resurrected, too. Three squints?”
Tycho nodded solemnly. “Two were at point-blank range—Emtrey could have shot them. The third was at range—decent shot.”
“Of course, the Alliance Security team is a bit upset at having been detained in your quarters.”
“No, they weren’t very happy when we took 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 Lieutenant 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.