Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [148]
Wedge cocked an eyebrow at him. Interesting that a very junior officer would be willing to perform that sort of display in his first few moments with his new unit. Either the reputation of Wraith Squadron had convinced him that it was appropriate … or he was another complete maniac, and Fleet Command had found another mental case for his command. Despite the laughter erupting from the assembled pilots, Wedge clearly heard Janson speak again, “I withdraw my objection.”
Wedge returned his attention to the pilots. “Targon, sit. Pipe down, everyone. Fifth, and last, there’s going to be a little reorganizing to do within my squadrons.
“Until and unless we persuade Starfighter Command that we need to participate in another prolonged field mission, we’ll be with Mon Remonda on active duty. I’ve been put in command of the ship’s four fighter squadrons. I’m also transferring back to and assuming direct command of Rogue Squadron, effective immediately. I’ll still fly with the Wraiths, as well as Nova and Polearm, when circumstances and opportunities warrant, but I’m relinquishing day-to-day command.” He saw the Rogues’s good cheer continue, but the Wraiths sobered with the realization that their very best pilot was leaving them. Wedge continued, “Lieutenant Loran, attention.”
Face stood. Wedge saw a flicker of suspicion cross his face, but it disappeared quickly as the actor regained control of himself.
Wedge said, “This isn’t a permanent promotion—yet—so we’re not going to do anything to you that will leave permanent marks. However, it is my pleasure to confer upon you the rank of brevet captain, which entitles you to command a unit such as Wraith Squadron. Congratulations, Face.” From a pocket he dug a semitransparent envelope, and this he tossed to the pilot. “Your new rank insignia.”
As the other pilots applauded, Wedge glanced among the other ranking pilots of Wraith Squadron, gauging reactions.
Wes Janson, who was the senior lieutenant in the squadron, was applauding and smiling easily. No surprise, as he had no real interest in command or, ultimately, in remaining with the Wraiths; he preferred to be just one of the gang back in Rogue Squadron, so this promotion of Face over his head was not threatening to him.
Kell Tainer, the biggest human in Wraith Squadron and, after Face, the most hologenic, also looked as though he were comfortable with the choice. Perhaps he had ultimately realized that, though he was a brilliant flyer and very capable technician, he didn’t have the temperament for or real interest in command.
The smile of Shalla Nelprin, the squadron’s newest lieutenant, was broad and genuine.
That left Myn Donos, a lieutenant with more years and more experience than Face. He looked serious and contemplative. But then, serious was merely a step up from his usual expression, that of dour intensity. Still, he had to know that this promotion reflected a lack of trust in his command skills. Mere months ago, while wearing the rank of brevet captain himself, Donos had commanded an X-wing unit that had been slaughtered by a Zsinj ally, Admiral Apwar Trigit, and had suffered serious emotional trauma resulting from that event. He probably thought that Wedge still held no trust in him.
Which wasn’t true. But Wedge Antilles’s units were largely meritocracies. The most meritorious pilots were promoted fastest, and Face had demonstrated more tactical savvy and more command skills than Donos, even though Wedge felt Donos was probably reliable.
As the applause died, Wedge said, “That’s it for now. Any questions?”
Face was first with a hand up. “If we’re launching tomorrow, sir, when do we get Piggy back?”
“We never lose him. He has requested that he be transferred to the bacta treatment facility aboard Mon Remonda. General Solo