Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [153]
“That’s right,” Elassar said. “You’re unlucky.”
Dia said, “I hate how serious he is all the time.”
Runt said, “We don’t like the way he chews his food.”
Shalla said, “But we’ll miss his rear end.”
Janson grinned as he took it, and accepted handshakes from the Wraiths and Rogues around him.
“Those Wraiths who do not intend to accept General Cracken’s offer can tell me more privately than Wes here,” Wedge said. “And regardless of where you choose to go, drop by the pilots’s lounge this evening for one last drink together. You can celebrate where you’ve been and where you’re going.
“Now, for those commendations. Flight Officer Dorset Konnair, step forward …”
Face leaned against the pilot lounge bar and felt the brandy ease its way down his throat, warming him from within.
There was also warmth from without. The lounge was filled with pilots and friends—and tonight, with the mechanics, other technical staffers, and astromechs that had supported the starfighter squadrons. The heat of so many bodies raised the temperature in the lounge to a level no Mon Calamari would want to bear for long.
It was the end. Tomorrow, his profession would be different, and his surroundings would be changed, and so much of what he’d known for so long would be left behind.
“How is the voting running?” Wedge asked him.
“We’ll be staying together,” Face said. “Not everybody has talked to me yet, but most of the Wraiths will be Intelligence Wraiths tomorrow.”
Wedge nodded. “I think that’s the right choice. I thought the New Republic needed a unit like the Wraiths. Now others have bought in as well.”
“Does that mean Admiral Ackbar has let you off the hook? You don’t have to accept the generalship?”
Wedge smiled. “I had a congratulatory message from him this morning. ‘Even I wanted you to win,’ he said. ‘How could I vote against a starfighter unit proving its worth?’ ”
“Good point.”
Donos moved through the crowd to stand before them. He extended his hand to Face.
Face took it. “You’ve already congratulated me.”
“And now I’m leaving you.”
“Staying with Starfighter Command?”
“Yes. Flying is what I want to do.” Donos gave a helpless shrug.
Face grinned. “And staying with X-wings, too?”
“I hope so. I put in my request for transfer to any X-wing unit with openings.”
“Ah,” Wedge said. “I forgot to mention. Your approval for transfer came in earlier today. You have a new unit.”
“Really? Which one?”
“Rogue Squadron.”
Donos took a half-step back. “You’re kidding.”
“No, no, no.” Wedge shook his head. “Kidding sounds like this. The next candidate’s name is Kettch, and he’s an Ewok.’ See the difference?”
Donos’s mouth worked for a moment. Finally he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Go talk to your new squadmates. Maybe you could manage to be a little less distant with them than you were with the old ones.”
Donos managed a smile. “Yes, I guess I could use the practice.”
The descent to Coruscant’s surface was uneventful, but Dr. Gast, seeing the former Imperial throneworld for the first time in years, was thrilled by every moment, by every glimpse the shuttle’s viewports afforded her of the world’s soaring buildings and rain-filled skies.
Nawara Ven, beside her—far too close for her peace of mind, but that, too, would soon change—obviously did not share her enthusiasm for the world’s attractions. He sat ignoring her, stonily facing forward throughout the landing. And that, too, gave her a little thrill of victory: to discommode the subhuman who had offered her so much grief was simply lovely.
An hour later, she and the Twi’lek neared the head of the customs entry line. It was one of many such lines in a cavernous hall that was broken, mazelike, by transparisteel barriers designed to keep arrivals from entering Coruscant unexamined and untaxed.
“Where do you go from here?” Ven asked her.
“I’m not fool enough to tell you,” she said. “You can be sure it’s somewhere well away from Rebel space. Somewhere far from bad-smelling, bad-tempered Twi’leks. Somewhere orderly, where the cutting edge of