Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [75]
“Oh, yes, Lieutenant.”
“Good. I look forward to sampling some of your fungus. Narol out.”
Jesmin cut the signal.
Face slumped and pulled off the hat and goggles. “I hate improvisation.”
They gathered in the ship’s conference room.
“What in the name of the Sith is Zsinj up to?” Wedge asked. “A trade of supplies for protection I understand. But land deals?”
“There’s more,” Jesmin said. “The records they sent us have the land transfer registered to a person named Cortle Steeze. I must assume that’s an alias for Zsinj, but we should look for the name anyway. Whoever Steeze is, he has his choice of how the land is to be subdivided and zoned.”
“How much of it is there?”
“A good-sized island. Fifty klicks long by about thirty wide.”
“Interesting.” Wedge glanced at Face. “Good work. By the way, you still have some of that paint on your face.” Around the lines and spots of paint, the unscarred portion of Face’s skin was red from scrubbing.
“I know.” Face’s voice held a hint of complaint. “It won’t come off.”
Cubber snorted. “It’s not supposed to. It’s supposed to mark work sites. Very reflective, and shows up very well under ultraviolet. You need the solvent to get it off.”
“Solvent? Do you have some?”
There was malice in Cubber’s smile. “Sorry. Used the last of it cleaning out my goggles.”
14
When they jumped into the Doldrums system, two ships were on station waiting for them: the transport Borleias and the Mon Cal MC80 Star Cruiser Home One.
Wedge, piloting Night Caller, whistled as he saw the smooth, almost organic lines of the cruiser. “Admiral Ackbar’s command ship. Maybe our recent communications struck a nerve.”
Ton Phanan, at the sensors station, snorted. “Let’s hope we can off-load a whole lot of whining, mewling, boring prisoners and take on some decent food to replace the slop they stock their galleys with.”
“Communication from Home One” Jesmin Ackbar said. “A request from the admiral to come aboard. He’s sending a shuttle over.”
“Acknowledge, with permission and greetings, of course. Starboard docking station, please.”
Wedge’s tour of Night Caller began and ended at the bridge. Admiral Ackbar looked off through the viewports at his own vessel in the distance and said, “Am I mistaken, or are your methods becoming even more unorthodox?”
Wedge smiled. “I think you’re mistaken. It may just look that way because the new unorthodox methods are stacking on top of the old ones.”
Ackbar’s barbels twitched with amusement. “So. Well, I come with news in addition to congratulations.” From a pocket he pulled a datapad; Wedge brought his own out in case Ackbar decided to transmit files.
“First,” Ackbar said, “based on this training squadron’s exemplary performance at Folor, Xobome, and Viamarr, I have the pleasure of declaring you fully commissioned and operational.”
Wedge rocked back on his heels. “I’m … delighted to hear that. Thank you.”
“You are also worried that it is premature?”
“No, sir. The Wraiths are a little rough around the edges, but they perform like a unit that has completed training. I’d just forgotten that we weren’t officially operational.”
“Ah. How anticipatory of you, General Antilles.”
“How anticipatory of you. It’s still Commander Antilles, sir.”
“Of course. Second, we are in the process of alerting the armed forces about the small parasitic droids you described. We’d already had reports of rectangular apparatuses with melted parts aboard some ships; it appears the devices do have a self-destruct mechanism that fuses their interiors when they are forcibly detached from their host vehicles. But with your examination of the one you captured—and the device itself, if it is still intact—”
“I’ll have Grinder deliver it to you, sir. And one or more of the Empion bombs.”
“With a sample to examine, we should be able to capture more of the parasites ‘alive’ and begin releasing