Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [152]
Wedge looked over the fighter pilots of Mon Remonda. The Rogues and Wraiths were present in nearly full strength; he had lost only one pilot from those squadrons yesterday, and had lost her only temporarily. A few survivors from Polearm and Nova Squadrons, pilots who had been knocked out of battle minutes before Iron Fist detonated, were also present.
This was the last time the four squadrons were ever likely to be assembled this way. The pilots stared at him, their expressions tired, solemn, battered, triumphant.
In spite of the high casualty toll, it had been a successful engagement. Iron Fist was gone.
“We’ll start with pilot updates,” he said. “Sadly, all the Nova and Polearm pilots missing at the site of Iron Fist’s last stand remain listed as missing in action and presumed dead. But our injured Rogue, Asyr Sei’lar, is out of danger, and the medics say she will suffer no permanent effects of her exposure.
“Most of the Rogues and Wraiths received a communication from an unknown craft as we were departing Selcaron. It turned out to be a lengthy message and data package from Lara Notsil, recorded before her death. It included many details about Zsinj’s brainwashing project that should allow Intelligence to dismantle Zsinj’s operation on Coruscant. We probably won’t have to worry again about the kind of circumstances that led to the deaths of Tal’dira and Nuro Tualin.” He spared a glance at Horn and Tyria. Both had been sobered by the mention of the pilots they’d been forced to kill, but Wedge could see no uncertainty in their expressions. Horn had always known whom to blame for his squadmate’s death. Tyria had apparently begun to understand the same thing.
“Many commendations will be resulting from our recent actions,” Wedge continued. “We’ll get to them later. I think I first ought to let you know that Fleet Command and Starfighter Command seem to be in agreement—that you all have seen enough carrier duty for a while. Squadron transfers are in order and will be coming through in the next day or two. Rogue Squadron can expect to see some planet-based duty, at least for a while. Polearm and Nova Squadrons will be returning to Coruscant so they can be rebuilt.”
Face’s hand shot up. “And the Wraiths? We’re still on Mon Remonda?”
“Not exactly. For you, I have good news, bad news, and news you’ll have to interpret for yourselves. Face, I’m obliged to inform you that your captaincy has stuck. It’s Captain Loran from now on.”
The pilots closest to Face treated him to backslaps. Dia tickled him, causing him to shy away from her until he could pin her hands. He turned back to Wedge, his expression serious. “And the good news?”
“The bad news is that as of today, Wraith Squadron has been decommissioned as an X-wing unit.”
Face released Dia’s hands and dropped back in his seat, looking as stunned as if Kell had just side-kicked him in the head. “What? Sir?”
Wedge heard intakes of breath from several pilots, not just from Wraiths. “It’s not quite what it sounds like. It seems you’ve done too good a job, accomplishing a broad set of objectives, few of which have anything to do with the perceived strengths of an X-wing unit. You’ve made quite an impression on General Cracken, the head of Intelligence. As of now, Wraith Squadron has been recommissioned as an Intelligence unit. Commandos, insurgents, pilots—it will do whatever the situation warrants. With, unfortunately, less celebrity than even the little an X-wing unit typically receives.” He offered them an expression of apology. “Obviously, the government won’t just yank you out of Starfighter Command and give you like presents to another branch of the service. But all you have to do is say yes and your transfer to the new Wraith Squadron will be accepted instantly—and with thanks. General Cracken offers his personal wishes that you do accept transfer, and that you stay together as a team.”
“I’m coming back to Rogue Squadron,” said Janson. “That was the deal.”
Wedge smiled at him. “Wes, the