Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [107]
Wedge’s expression became serious. “Well, not after the holorecording of tonight’s events has been circulated.”
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
“What, and deny the universe the chance to see a rear end that the Wraiths have proclaimed so hologenic?”
Janson didn’t even try to keep the dismay off his face. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’ll decide tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate.”
Donos leaned in. “And remember what a very wise man once told me. ‘You can’t look dignified when you’re having fun.’ ”
“If I knew who that wise man was,” Janson said, “I’d shoot him.”
The next morning, the last pilot to enter the briefing amphitheater was Donos. He remained standing until Wedge noticed him. “Permission to sit in, sir?”
“Why? You’re still off the active list.”
“I’d like to volunteer for this mission.”
Wedge looked momentarily baffled. “Did I misstate myself? You can’t fly.”
“I’m not volunteering as a pilot, sir. Nothing in my current reevaluation indicates that I’m unfit to handle a ship’s guns. I’d like to volunteer as a crewman on the Millennium Falsehood. I’m a Corellian, I know the equipment, and I’m a good shot.” That was understating it somewhat; though his greatest talent was with a sniper’s rifle, Donos was marksman-rated with most sorts of blaster and laser weapons.
“Good point,” Wedge said. “Yes, you can attend the briefing; I’ll decide on your request later.” He stood behind the lectern and turned to the assembled pilots.
“Today is a standard ‘let them see the Falsehood then run’ exercise. Our target is the Comkin system. Comkin’s security measures are more extensive than some we’ve recently encountered, so we can’t count on smuggling in our TIE interceptor escort. However, Chewbacca has temporarily attached plating to the surface of the Falsehood that gives it a sensor echo much more like that of a YT-2400 freighter, and that plating will contain a bit of a surprise for Comkin’s defenders. We have transponder data corresponding to that of a real YT-2400 mercenary trader, so we should be able to make it to the planet’s surface; however, if we’re identified on entry, we just evacuate and achieve our primary objective, another appearance by the Millennium Falcon.
“Another modification we’ve made to the Falsehood will allow for quicker response time by the support squadron when it’s supposed to come in for rescue: we’ve installed a miniature holocomm unit worth more than the rest of the ship put together. Yes, Face?”
“Sir, is it a bad time to point out that a good shot of brandy is worth more than the rest of the ship put together?”
“Yes. Wraith Squadron will be our primary escort …”
Melvar appeared silently beside Lara’s station. His mild words contrasted with the cruelty of his features. “Baron Fel would like to see you fly.”
“Really.” Lara made a face suggesting that she was surprised and pleased. “You mean, for real, not in a simulator.”
“For real. Broadaxe Squadron will be supplementing the One Eighty-first, and they’re a pilot light. Would you care to suit up and fly with them?”
“I’d be delighted.”
“Report to their ready room at thirteen hundred.” Melvar gave her a mirthless smile. “Don’t do too well. We’d hate to lose you as an analyst.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you, sir.”
When he was gone, she stared at her screen, seeing none of the data on it, and tried not to shake. She prayed that she’d been wrong in her initial assessment, that the next Mon Remonda strike would be on any system other than Comkin Five.
For if she’d been right, she might end up facing her former squadmates in mortal combat.
Comkin Five was a green-blue world circling a yellow star. As the Falsehood neared the planet’s surface, blotches of color resolved themselves into blue sea, deep green tropics, and bands of cloud cover, with only the smallest patches of arctic ice.
“Pretty,” Donos said. “What do we blow up first?”
Wedge, ahead of him in the pilot’s chair, turned to glance at him. “Write that down,” he said. “That ought to be the Wraith