Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [67]
He waved Cubber over, then carefully gripped the box and pried at it. It resisted him; then, as he applied more pressure, it came away from the shuttle. Four mechanical limbs, each articulated, half a meter long, and ending in gripping hands, hung limply.
“I think it’s dead,” Cubber said.
“What do you want to bet that the bomb that scrambled our droids’ memories did the same thing to this?”
“No bet. Let’s get inside where it’s warm and find out for sure.”
Jesmin remained at her station in orbit; Falynn and Runt guarded fifty-plus ship’s officers and crewmen now crowded into the stern lounge. The rest assembled in the small meeting room that was part of the captain’s quarters.
“First,” Wedge said, “I want to commend the principal parties involved in the capture of Night Caller. Piggy, Face, Kell—excellent work.”
There was general applause, and Piggy said, “Can I keep the ship?”
“If you mean as a personal possession, no. If you’d like to remain in command, the answer is probably yes.”
Piggy looked startled. “I was joking.”
“Well, the question would have been a joke in the Imperial navy or the Corellian fleet or a lot of other places, but it’s actually a reasonable one in the fleet of the New Republic. It’s all because many of our traditions are rooted in the more piratical times of the Alliance’s first days. Still interested?”
Piggy nodded, silent. His expression was made up of surprise and confusion.
“The first thing you’d do is transmit an informal request for command of Night Caller to Fleet Command. Then you’d submit a formal application for transfer out of Starfighter Command and into Fleet Command. I’d have little choice except to approve it, and the Navy is nearly one hundred percent likely to accept you. They have a keen appreciation of officers who capture ships to add to the fleet, after all.
“Then you’d receive a crash course in naval traditions and capital ship command, along with a promotion to naval lieutenant … and an immediate temporary promotion to captain. Because of your lack of experience, you’d be given very simple missions for your first several months—guarding convoys of ships carrying nonessential goods, for example. Eventually, within the year, I’m certain, they’d become aware of your competence, begin giving you more critical missions, and make that last promotion a permanent one.
“Let me just say, though, I personally think it would be a shame to take a promising fighter pilot like yourself and turn him into a barge driver. But I have to admit that those are the words of an irredeemable X-wing jockey.”
Janson barked out a laugh, which Wedge ignored. Wedge continued, “What about it, Piggy? Naval captaincy within a year? Still interested?”
Piggy was still for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Perhaps I am selfish. But everyone remembers Lando Calrissian and Wedge Antilles and what they did at Endor. Who remembers the name of the captain or the gunner on the Home One at the same battle?”
Wedge smiled. “I do. But I know what you mean. And I appreciate the fact you’re staying.” He turned back to the others. “All right, back to Night Caller and our current situation. Cubber, fuel?”
“We’re good. Night Caller’s tanks were almost full, and they have proper refueling equipment. I’ve siphoned off enough to top off the Narra and all the X-wings except Jesmin Ackbar’s.”
“As soon as we’re done here, I’ll bring her down and send Myn up so you can refuel her as well.”
Jesmin’s voice came out of the intercom on the table. “Thank you, sir.”
“Oops. Forgot you were listening. Grinder, did you transfer the nav data?”
The Bothan nodded. “We can jump out of system at any time.”
“Phanan? Your status?”
Ton Phanan looked less pallid than he had up in orbit, but he looked no less unhappy.