Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [32]
Swooping up and out of the rock slit, Corran’s X-wing spat fire. He started with the lowest target, hit it squarely with the first shot, then tracked his fire up and to the starboard with a roll and climb. He blasted the second target, then continued his roll until he was inverted. Firing two controlled bursts got him the third gunnery station and Ooryl, threading Corran’s loop, tagged the last one.
Corran came down, around, and shot past Ooryl as they headed out of the range. Hauling back on the stick, he stood his X-wing on its tail and rocketed away from Folor. Rolling out into a long loop, he traded distance for time and pulled up on Ooryl’s wing as they both headed in toward where the rest of the squadron orbited.
Commander Antilles’s voice filled Corran’s helmet. “Very impressive flying, Mr. Horn. Your score is 3250 out of a possible 5000. Quite good.”
Corran smiled broadly. “Hear that, Whistler? Rogue Leader was impressed.” He activated his comm unit. “Thank you, sir.”
“You can head back to base now, Mr. Horn. Your participation in this exercise is at an end. Consider yourself at liberty for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, sir. Rogue Nine heading home.”
Yeah, I was at liberty—liberty to be humiliated. Muscles bunched at the corners of Corran’s jaw as he ground his teeth. He’d waited in the hangar for the others to come back to base, hoping to hear his mark had stood through the rest of the exercise. He knew he was looking for congratulations on his great flying, but not in the egotistical way Bror Jace would have been. He didn’t want to lord it over the others, but he did want to know they thought he was good.
The others had come back in pairs and, for the most part, had tried to avoid him. Lujayne Forge and Andoorni Hui had been the first to return. As he saw their ships come in his smile became broad. He knew he had blown past any score they could set. They’re good pilots, but I was really flying out there. They couldn’t touch me today.
Andoorni had remained silent, possibly brooding—but who could tell with Rodians? Lujayne had been almost apologetic. “I got 3300, Corran. Andoorni hit 3750.”
“What?”
Lujayne hesitated, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her left ear. “It was just our day to fly well. You inspired us, really.”
“Inspiring, Horn.” The Rodian’s ears rotated toward him, then back again as Andoorni wandered away.
Lujayne gave him a sympathetic smile. “Want to head to DownTime and get something to eat?” The tone of her voice suggested strongly that he wanted to take her up on her offer to spare himself from what was headed in his direction.
Despite the unspoken warning, he’d shaken his head. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you at the tapcafe later.”
Corran continued to wait for the rest of the squadron to return. Peshk Vri’syk and Ooryl came back together. The ruddy-furred Bothan took great delight in reporting a score of 4200. The Gand had been very quiet and when he finally spoke he said, “Qrygg scored 4050.”
That answer told Corran something very strange was going on. In reverting to calling himself by his family name Ooryl had shown himself to be ashamed of his score, but Corran knew he should have been ecstatic about it instead. The fact that Ooryl clearly didn’t want to speak with Corran, and only relented after Corran insisted, meant that whatever Ooryl was ashamed of had to do with Corran.
The others in the squadron didn’t say much of anything except to report their scores. Each pilot had scored better than Corran and most had done so by over 1000 points. That didn’t seem possible to Corran. He knew he had flown that course as best as he could. On subsequent runs I might score up in that range, but not first time out. That’s not possible. Unless …
Corran jogged over to where Whistler had plugged himself into a recharging outlet. “Whistler, at the start of our run, you set up a communications link with someone. Who?”
The droid’s holographic projector began