Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [9]
“Unless …”
Wedge found his voice again. “Unless?”
“I’ll make a bet with you, Commander. You get your chance at forming this squadron. If, three months after it goes operational, it has proven its worth—in my sole estimation—you can do as you please. Continue with the new squadron, go back to command Rogue Squadron, whichever you choose.”
“And if I lose?”
“You accept promotion to the rank of general and join my advisory staff.”
Wedge kept his dismay from his face. “I would seem to win either way, sir.”
“Stop it. You’re not fooling anyone. If you had your way, you’d continue flying snubfighters and commanding fighter squadrons until you were a century old. How many promotions have you turned down? Two? Three?”
“Two.”
“Well, if you lose your bet, you accept this one.”
Wedge sighed and thought it over. He needed to keep flying; he wouldn’t be happy in any other way of life. But the New Republic military needed this new tactic, needed many new ways of doing things, before they became as tactically fossilized as the Empire had been. “I accept, sir.”
Ackbar ground out a laugh. “In a sense, you’ve already lost, Commander Antilles. You’re wagering your career for the good of the New Republic. You’re creating new tactics, new weapons for the New Republic, not just for your squadron. You’re already a general … you just don’t know it yet.”
“I guess I’ll accept that remark in the spirit in which it was intended, sir.”
“I have another remark for you, Wedge. News, bad news that you’ll have to take to your subordinates. And I don’t envy you that task.”
Wedge met with the others in the hangar aboard the cruiser Home One where the Rogue Squadron X-wings were undergoing repairs and repainting. He watched with a trace of wistfulness as the black and green-and-gold checks of his snubfighter, colors his father had chosen for the family refueling station and never lived to see implemented, were erased and replaced by New Republic grays and the proud but strident Rogue Squadron red stripes.
Tycho frowned, but not at the repainting job. “So how is this going to work?”
“I act as commander for the combined unit—for both Rogue Squadron and the new squadron. I also act as squadron leader for the new squad. Tycho, until I return, you’re Rogue Leader, with Hobbie your second-in-command; Nawara, you remain executive officer. Wes, you’re my second-in-command. Rogue Squadron is going to be assigned to the hunt for Zsinj; the new squadron will be put together at Folor Base—”
Tycho winced. “Ah, yes, the center of New Republic entertainment and lunar beauty.”
“Once it’s commissioned, the new X-wing squad will also join, covertly, the hunt for Zsinj, assuming he hasn’t been taken out by then. Both squads will fly together when circumstances dictate.”
Wes turned to Hobbie, extended his hand. “Sorry to see that you’re stuck with the flying fossils, while I stay with Commander Wedge on the cutting edge of—”
Hobbie batted his hand away. “Oh, shut up.”
Wedge cleared his throat. “There’s something else. Tycho, Nawara, could you excuse us for a moment?”
The two Rogues withdrew, leaving Wedge with Hobbie and Janson. “I have some news for you two,” Wedge said. “You’re not going to like hearing it. Talon Squad is gone.”
Hobbie frowned. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Wiped out. Ambush. Everyone is dead except Lieutenant Donos.”
Janson leaned against the near wall. Hobbie looked as shocked as though he’d jammed his hand into a power generator. “How?”
“We don’t know all the details yet. Only that they were pursuing an anomaly, a standard TIE interceptor far from any hyperspace-capable ship, into an uninhabited system logged as recently secured by New Republic Intelligence. That secure designation turns out to have been false, sliced into our code at a point yet to be determined. The interceptor led them into a shooting gallery and eleven members of the squadron died. Lieutenant Donos is being debriefed now; I’m having him brought to Folor Base when that’s done. Even if he’s cleared, a lot of squadron