Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [55]
So it pleased him that he had figured out just what the various requests for refreshments actually meant. They were like a code, and he had cracked it.
A request for one large pot of caf and a tray of sweet pastries for the captain’s conference room, for instance. That meant an unscheduled but routine staff meeting led by Han Solo, not by Captain Onoma. Onoma’s meetings were always smaller and didn’t call for quite so much caf.
The pilot briefings also called for caf, but if a request included both sweet pastries and meat rolls, it meant there would be a mission. So when the request came in this morning, he knew he had his opportunity to earn all that money.
He delivered the cart of refreshments to the pilots’ main briefing amphitheater and then loitered out in the hall with a datapad and a second cart of caf, offering cups to anyone who asked for them. Soon enough, the pilots of Mon Remonda’s four starfighter squadrons began filing in.
He waved at the huge Rogue, the one almost too tall to fit in his cockpit with the canopy down—Tal’dira, the Twi’lek. “Lieutenant, can I have a moment?”
Tal’dira frowned at this odd request. He glanced at the other Rogues, as though to gauge whether they, too, found it out of keeping, but they swept past him into the briefing chamber. “Well,” he said, “only a moment. The briefing is about to start. You’re Kaley, aren’t you?”
“Galey. And I have an important message for you. From someone who’s finally realized she’d like to meet you.” He beckoned Tal’dira and walked around the nearest corner.
The pilot followed, an intent expression on his face. “You don’t mean—”
“Here’s what she has to say. ‘Wedge Antilles hops on one transparisteel leg.’ ”
Tal’dira rocked back on his heels, his expression shocked. He swayed on his feet and reached out to steady himself against the wall. “No.”
“It’s true. He really does.”
The Twi’lek gripped his head as though to restrain some explosive force within it. “I hate that.”
“Me, too. We all do.”
Tal’dira stood upright again, with a new look in his eyes. “But I can put a stop to it.”
“And you should. But wait until after the meeting. Then you can do it in an X-wing.”
“You’re right.” The pilot slapped Galey on his shoulder, propelling him into the wall. “You’re a good friend.”
“As are you.” Galey thought about giving Tal’dira a return blow, then decided against it. “May the Force be with you.”
Tal’dira nodded briskly and turned back toward the briefing amphitheater.
Galey breathed out a sigh of relief and rubbed his shoulder where it still stung. He hoped the other Twi’lek wouldn’t be quite so violent.
“For the last few hours,” Wedge said, “we’ve been in hyperspace en route to the Jussafet system.”
A hologram starfield popped up to the left of the lectern where Wedge stood. It showed a cluster of stars near a fuzzy diamond-shaped nebula. One star blinked yellow in a decidedly mechanical fashion. Donos nodded; he remembered Jussafet from discussions of strategic moves into Warlord Zsinj’s territory.
Wedge continued, “Jussafet is in the nebulous border territory between Imperial and Zsinj-controlled space. Jussafet Four is a habitable planet with some mining businesses, but the system’s real wealth is in asteroid mining; they have an asteroid belt that is the remains of a large iron-core planet that broke up.
“Earlier today, Jussafet Four sent out a distress call to the Empire, talking about a full-scale invasion by Raptors, Zsinj’s elite troops. A Duros ship approaching the system to do some under-the-table trading heard the transmission and relayed it to the New Republic. We’re going in to stomp on the Raptors, and hopefully Iron Fist, as well as to do some good for the people of Jussafet.”
Donos raised a hand. “What are the odds that Imperial forces will also come in to stage a rescue? It’d be nasty to fight a three-way.”
Wedge nodded. “It would. Odds are low—the Empire’s having enough trouble with us and Zsinj that it is likely to mount a more meticulous response, determining enemy strength,