Star Wars_ X-Wing 04_ The Bacta War - Michael A. Stackpole [30]
“You know, with the right ambiance, that tauntaun would have tasted fine.”
“Sure, Wedge, believe that if you want.” Tycho pointed to the triangular landing extending out into space. “Ships land here, unload, pick up or exchange cargo, and head out again. If the crew wants to stop over, its ship is parked in orbit and the station shuttle service brings them to and from the station. Hangar space is rare, and what this station has is being reserved for us right now, though there is some space for repairs if a ship needs it.”
“Fair enough.” Wedge watched a small yacht make an approach on the station. Its sleek lines and down-curving wings reminded him of a native Corellian fish. “Looks like the Pulsar Skate is coming in. Have you had any word from them?”
“No, but there was a funds transfer to the account of Huff Darklighter, so I assume things went well.”
“Good.” Wedge pointed back at the lift. “Let’s go down, greet them, and see exactly what our money bought us.”
9
Wedge wondered if he weren’t really still trapped in a dream as the turbolift door opened and he stepped into the squadron hangar. A dozen X-wings occupied the deck, and techs swarmed over them. That wasn’t what had struck him as unrealistic, however, since the hustle and bustle of a hangar was something he’d witnessed countless times before.
He glanced over at Tycho. “What’s going on here?”
Tycho gave him a grin. “Well, since we’re no longer part of the New Republic’s Armed Forces, we can’t have ships bearing its insignia or colors, can we? Now, Corran’s ship has always been green with that black and white trim, like his droid, so I thought we might just go ahead and repaint our X-wings to look like whatever we want them to be.”
He pointed very specifically at an X-wing that was bloodred except for where white had been splashed at a diagonal down across the nose and the tips of the S-foils. A broad black stripe parted the white from the red. “That one’s mine. I did some checking, and before Alderaan disarmed, that was the color scheme the Alderaan Guard unit near my home used to sport. I’ve also had Zraii switch my Identify Friend/Foe beacon over to an old Alderaanian code—the one from the Another Chance, in fact. Individualizing the paint and switching our IFF codes to those of our home planets provides further evidence that we’re not a New Republic unit.”
Wedge chewed his lower lip for a moment. Makes sense, all of it. And the fighters do look a bit more, ah, ferocious with the new paint jobs. “I like it, Tycho, but I don’t know what to do with mine. Corran’s got the CorSec green, but he’s earned it.”
“How about a dark blue, with red stripes up the sides?”
“Corellian Bloodstripes?” Wedge chuckled. “I never was in the Corellian Military, so I never earned Bloodstripes. Han Solo wears them on his trousers because he went to the Imperial Academy and won them through his bravery.”
“Oh, and you’ve not been equally brave?”
“That’s open to debate, but the fact is I’ve never been sufficiently military to earn them.” He smiled slowly. “Make everything from the cockpit back black, including the S-foils, and give me a green-and-gold check pattern on the front fuselage.”
Tycho’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recognize the color scheme.”
“No reason you should.” Wedge hesitated for a second. “Back when my parents operated a fueling station at Gus Treta, my father was saving up to buy the station and start his own chain. The green, gold, and black were going to be the colors he used for the logo and the uniforms. Your colors tie you back to your home, Corran’s do the same thing for him, and I imagine the same is true for everyone else. Mine will tie me to the home I should have had.”
“I’ll put the order in immediately.” Tycho started walking over toward where the Pulsar Skate had come through the hangar’s magnetic containment bubble and was setting down. Following it in came a boxy station shuttle, but it landed further back.