Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [8]
“You haven’t heard any news?”
“No, sir. About what?”
Ackbar shook his head. “Please go on.”
“Well, that’s actually about it. I can dress it up in a formal report for you. But one other thing I think is important—I can give you a unit like this for free.”
Ackbar snorted, the sound emerging as a series of rubbery pops. “Can you, now?”
“Yes, sir. First, the replacement Rogue Squadron is being disbanded, its pilots and X-wings being returned to their original units. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“So you’ll be issuing a dozen new X-wings to us, won’t you? To the original Rogue Squadron.”
“Why would we? Your X-wings are in functional shape, are they not?”
“Well, yes, but they’re not New Republic property any longer. They were sold to my second-in-command, Tycho Celchu, at the start of our operation against Thyferra. They’re his personal property, held in trust for all of us, until and unless he decides to vest ownership in their pilots.”
“How uncharitable of you. You could donate their use to the New Republic. I believe one of your pilots has been using his personal X-wing all along.”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Horn. And Tycho would be glad to loan his snubfighters to the New Republic, for the use of Rogue Squadron, if …”
“If the next dozen X-wings out of the factories are assigned to your new commando squadron.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s blackmail. It’s unbecoming.”
“Most unconventional tactics are unbecoming until they succeed, Admiral. I direct your attention to the planet Thyferra …”
“Be quiet. There’s still the matter of pilots. Fresh out of the Academy, their training costing hundreds of thousands of credits apiece. That is not ‘free.’ ”
“No, sir. I don’t want new pilots. I want experienced ones.”
“Which is an even more significant expense.”
“No, sir, not with these pilots. I want pilots no one else wants. Washouts. Pilots staring court-martials in the face. Troublemakers and screwups.”
Ackbar stared as if he couldn’t believe his tympanic membranes. “In the name of the Force, Commander, why?”
“Well, some of them, of course, will be irredeemable. I’ll wash them out, too. Some of them will be good men and women who’ve screwed up one time too many, who know their careers are dead but would give anything for one more chance …”
“You’re more likely to get a proton torpedo up your engines than you are to get a functional squadron out of such pilots. The torpedo might be launched accidentally … but that’s no comfort to a widow.”
Wedge spread his hands, palms up, and smiled. “Problem solved. I’m not married.”
“I know you’re not. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What would become of Rogue Squadron?”
“I’d be happy to remain in charge officially, but for all squadron activities, Captain Celchu is more than qualified to lead … and now that he’s been cleared of the formal charge of Corran Horn’s murder and the informal charge of being a brainwashed double agent, there shouldn’t be any responsible objection to his full return to duties. I’d return Lieutenant Hobbie Klivan to Rogue Squadron as second-in-command and take Lieutenant Wes Janson as my own second-in-command. Once the new squadron is established, of course, I’d hope to return to direct command of Rogue Squadron.”
“You’re committed to this idea, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” Wedge considered what he was about to say. “Since the battle at Endor, the military’s public relations groups have represented Rogue Squadron as if we were the lightsaber of the New Republic. A bright, shiny weapon to cut down any dark Imperial holdovers who still stand against us. But, sir, not all battles call for lightsabers. Some of them are fought with vibroblades in back alleys. The New Republic needs those vibroblades too, and doesn’t have them.”
“I understand.” Ackbar nodded agreeably. “Request refused.”
Wedge couldn’t speak; suddenly all the air seemed to leave his chest. He’d thought he was