Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [54]
Wedge continued, “Rogues, Wraiths, I’d like to introduce you to Lara Notsil, newest pilot in Wraith Squadron. She hasn’t seen any action yet, but she’s already brought down a black-market ring operating on a New Republic training frigate. That’s a pretty good start.”
Over the other pilots’ applause, Lara settled in beside Face. He decided that she looked weary, probably from her long flight in, but alert. “Thank you,” she said. “But before anyone feels that his own sideline business is threatened, let me just say that I am susceptible to bribes.”
That got a chuckle, and Wes Janson drew a hand over his brow as if relieved.
Wedge waved to return everyone’s attention to him. “Back to Lavisar, the subject at hand … we will be sending down an Intelligence team, to plant our dud of a bomb … and to stay there after our task force leaves the area. We’re going to take Shalla’s analyses and present them to the planetary governor. Try to persuade him that Zsinj was setting him up and that we, in our pragmatic mercifulness, let him go. Maybe he’ll be grateful. Maybe he’ll side with the New Republic. Second best would be him remaining with the Empire … but as a confirmed enemy of Zsinj.”
Face said, “That’s pretty dangerous for our agents on the ground, isn’t it?”
Wedge nodded. “Only one member of the team will make contact with the governor. It’ll be a volunteer from our Intelligence pool. If he or she doesn’t return … the rest of the team will transmit the bad news and decide whether to stage a rescue operation or just try to get offworld.”
“He likes sunfruit liqueur,” Lara said.
Wedge stared at her. “Come again?”
“Governor Carmal of Lavisar. He likes sunfruit liqueur. I mean, just having some as a present for him might help a little bit.”
“How do you know this?”
She shifted, a little uncertain under the directness of Wedge’s stare. “When I was making my living on Coruscant, I worked for a shipping company, processing data for them. Lavisar was in their records as ‘lost by separation,’ a term meaning the company had trade relations with them before Coruscant fell to the New Republic but not afterward. There was a lot of data on worlds and companies ‘lost by separation,’ including information that the New Republic doesn’t have because it’s trade-specific, so the company representatives might have a slightly easier time resuming relations once contact was made again.”
“Good to know. Do you have some sort of perfect memory?”
“Well, a trick memory. Miscellaneous facts, trivia, statistical information, they all get pulled into my head and stay there forever. I’m not so good with faces, but I can tell you all the official holidays of more than fifty worlds, and some holidays from another five hundred or so.”
“Interesting.” Wedge turned to Squeaky, the 3PO unit with mismatched gold and silver body parts, who lurked, as was his custom, at the back of the briefing hall. “We—”
“You don’t need to say it,” the droid said, his tone admonishing. “We need sunfruit liqueur. And, doubtless, some of the good stuff from a tropical world that knows how to turn it out, not one of the Coruscant synthetics. I’ll get to work on it with my customary efficiency.”
“Well, in that case, let’s wrap things up with our customary efficiency. The squadrons’ senior staff will be putting together the mission profile, but anyone who wants to earn some extra points can work up his own version of this approach-balk-and-run mission, and we’ll take the best parts of what we get. Questions? No? That’s all.”
“A moment of your time, sir?” Tyria Sarkin stood in the doorway to Wedge’s quarters. She looked distinctly unhappy.
“Of course. Come in.”
She declined to sit, instead standing at ease—though her tense pose suggested that relaxation was impossible for her. “Sir, there are lots of rumors about Flight Officer Notsil and that black-market ring.”
“Yes?”
“And I think you ought to know …” An expression of dismay struggled across her face, but she managed to banish it. “No, you