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“It is always my pleasure to see you, Commander Antilles.” Without moving his head, Ackbar glanced with one eye toward the other man standing in his office. “General Salm and I were just discussing the impact of having Rogue Squadron back in the fleet. He feels you are all but ready to go. The unit roster is impressive.”

The brown-haired fighter pilot nodded. “Yes, sir. I wanted to speak to you about the roster, if I could, sir.” Wedge saw Salm’s face close up. “There have been changes made to the roster without my consultation.”

Salm turned away from the floating blue globe hanging in the corner and clasped his hands behind his back. “There are circumstances beyond your control that made those changes necessary, Commander Antilles.”

“I’m aware of that, sir. Lieutenants Hobbie Klivan and Wes Janson will do well bringing new training squadrons along.” I didn’t want to lose them, but that was a battle I lost a long time ago. “And I understand why half the slots in my squadron are going to political appointees …”

Ackbar’s head came up. “But you do not approve?”

Wedge bit back a sharp comment. “Admiral, I’ve spent a good deal of the two and a half years since the Emperor died touring worlds new to the Alliance because someone decided our new allies needed to see we had heroes—that we weren’t all the bandits the Empire made us out to be. I gave speeches, I kissed babies, I had holograms taken with more world leaders than I ever knew existed. I was there as our propaganda machine built Rogue Squadron up into the needle that exploded the Emperor’s Death Star balloons.”

The human General in command of the Rebellion’s starfighter training center at Folor smiled coolly. “Then you do understand why it is important that our allies have representatives within our most celebrated squadron.”

“Yes, but I know the difference between a real fighter squadron and the monster you’ve made Rogue Squadron out to be. The Empire isn’t going to lie down and die just because they see a dozen ships jump into a system.”

“Of course not.”

“But, General, that’s what our diplomatic corps is suggesting. The Bothans want a pilot in Rogue Squadron because they found the second Death Star and we killed it. And I understand why having two Thyferrans is important—we have to appease the two conglomerates that control bacta production …”

Ackbar held up a webbed hand. “Commander, a question to the point is this: Are the pilots selected inferior to other candidates?”

“No, sir, but …”

“But?”

Wedge took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Luke would be telling me that anger isn’t good. He’s right, because anger won’t get me any closer to what I want. “Admiral, I’m commanding a fighter squadron. We’re an elite squadron and the only thing I want to change about it is our survival rate. You’ve let me have the pick of the new pilots coming over to us, and I’ve got a fine group of them. With some more training I think I can make them into the sort of unit that will strike terror into Imperial hearts. And,” he added, nodding at General Salm, “I concur with the selection of all the pilots listed on the roster you have, except for two—Rogue Five and my Executive Officer.”

“Lieutenant Deegan is an excellent pilot.”

“Agreed, General, but he’s from Corellia, the same as me and Corran Horn. It strikes me that having Corellia overrepresented in Rogue Squadron is not politically wise.”

One of Ackbar’s eyes shifted slightly. “You have someone in mind to replace him?”

Wedge nodded. “I’d like to use Gavin Darklighter.”

Salm shook his head adamantly. “He’s just a Tatooine farm boy who thinks the ability to shoot womp rats from a speeder can make him a hero.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but Luke Skywalker was just a Tatooine farm boy whose ability to shoot womp rats from a speeder did make him a hero.”

The General snarled at Wedge’s riposte. “You can’t mean to suggest this Darklighter has Commander Skywalker’s control of the Force.”

“I don’t know about that, sir, but I do know Gavin has every bit as much heart as Luke does.” Wedge turned