Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [150]
Janson fell in step beside him.
“Wes, what in the name of the Sith is wrong with Tainer?”
“I wish I knew.”
“It’s a citation for bravery. He’s just made up for the mistake his father made. The day I picked up the Crescent, I could have flown without thrusters and knocked out TIE Interceptors just by spitting at them. But he looked like he was going to throw up.”
“He still confuses me, too. I say we just kill him,” Janson deadpanned.
Wedge snorted.
· · ·
Kell endured their well wishes and backslaps as long as he could, until a member of Night Caller’s replacement bridge crew rolled out a keg of lomin-ale and glass tankards. While the others were distracted by the prospect of alcohol, he drifted to the back of the gathering and then escaped to his quarters.
He sat shaking on his bed. When the knock came at his door, he ignored it.
The door chirped acceptance of Kell’s pass code and slid open. Tyria entered and closed it behind her.
“How’d you do that?” he asked.
“I got on the comlink and asked Grinder.”
“Damn him.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression worried. “Kell, what’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath. “Look, you’ll be better off if you just forget about me—”
She leaned in close, almost menacingly, cutting off his words. “Do not continue that thought. Do not give me some line about how I’m better off without you. You do that, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born, and I still won’t leave, so you’ll have soaked up a lot of hurt for nothing.” She pinned him with her stare. “Do you think we stopped being friends when we became involved with each other?”
“No, but—”
“No, nothing. Kell, do you really want me to stop being your friend? Don’t give me an answer based on what you think is good for me. Give me the truth. Set Honesty to On.”
Kell rocked as though in the grip of a wrestler as big as he was. Finally he slumped, defeated. “Honesty to On. No, I don’t.”
Her expression softened. “Then tell me what just happened in there. You look as though Commander Antilles had called you the scum of the galaxy.”
“I am the scum of the galaxy. Because I accepted this, this—” He gestured at the medal, then pulled it off him and threw it across the room. “This lie.”
She looked at the medal where it lay, then turned back to him. “It’s for superior flying skills and bravery. What part is the lie?”
“Both.”
“You’re not a good pilot?”
“If I were that good, Jesmin would still be alive.”
“Oh, I wish I could just beat some brains into your head. If Commander Antilles was impressed with your flying that day, who are you to tell him he’s wrong?”
He looked away and didn’t answer.
“And you don’t think your action was a brave one? I mean, no false modesty here, Kell. You don’t see anything courageous in risking your life to save Jesmin’s? Going through what amounted to a series of midair collisions, risking a crash with every one, getting half your fighter’s systems shorted out, in trying to keep her alive?”
“Maybe. Maybe just that one day. But every other time …” He rubbed his eyes. “Tyria, I’m my father’s son. I’m scared to death all the time. And it’s getting worse, not better. One of these days we’ll be in an engagement, and I’ll lose all pretense at self-control and run off for the stars, and Janson or Commander Antilles will shoot me down, and that’ll be it. Or I’ll be dragged back for court-martial and I’ll have ruined our family name. The second name in two generations.”
She was silent. He hazarded a look. She was without expression, taking what he was saying as input, offering nothing back.
“When I was a kid,” he said, “I thought it was a lie. I thought maybe Dad was a spy or something. He received orders at the last minute and had to rush off and carry them out. No one understood, and they shot him down. Or he was drugged, hallucinating. Or it was someone else in that cockpit and my real father was out there somewhere, alive. Then, when I went