Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [6]
Wedge descended his access ladder and turned to face the delegation. He felt and heard his own pilots fall into line behind him. He extended his hand toward the highest-ranking officer. “Captain Salaban. I was glad to hear you’d been promoted off Battle Dog.”
The captain, a lean, bearded man with skin the color of tanned leather, still breathing hard, hesitated. Obviously confused for a moment as to whether he should salute properly or follow Wedge’s informal fashion of greeting, he chose the latter and shook Wedge’s hand. “Thank you, sir. And welcome aboard. Allow me to introduce you to my senior officers …”
It was a ritual Wedge knew from countless repetitions in the past. He committed each officer’s name and face to memory, hoping his retention would last until the end of the mission; it usually did.
Then the captain gestured to the two-headed woman. “And the mission documentarian, Hallis Saper.”
Wedge could finally give her his full attention. She was a tall woman, taller than he by two or three centimeters, with long brown hair worn in a braid and wide-open features; she looked as though she’d recently arrived from a one-shuttle agrarian world. He could not read her eyes, as they were concealed behind goggles darkened almost to opacity. She wore a brown jumpsuit festooned with belts, pouches, and pockets.
And on her right shoulder, held on a bracket affixed to her clothing, was the silver head of a 3PO protocol droid. Its eyes were lit.
“I’m so happy to meet the most famous pilot of Starfighter Command,” she said; her voice was pleasant but loud, unrestrained.
“Thank you,” he said. “Um, I couldn’t help noticing that you have two heads.”
She smiled. “This is Whitecap, my holo-recording unit. I put him together from a ruined protocol droid and a standard holocam. I added memory and some basic conversational circuitry and programming. He looks wherever I look—the goggles have sensors that track my eye movement—and records whatever I see.”
“I see,” Wedge said. He didn’t, but the words served as building tones useful for plugging up holes where conversation should be. “Why?”
“I record a lot of interviews with children. Studies suggest that they find 3PO units nonthreatening.”
“Ah. And have you had much luck with this approach?” He was pretty sure he knew the answer to this one.
“Well, not yet. I’m still working out the kinks in the system.”
It would help if you started with the fact that you’re a two-headed lady with eyes that children can’t see, Wedge thought, but kept it to himself. “And now you’re taking a temporary break from children to record starfighter pilots.”
She nodded. The 3PO head remained stationary on her shoulder, unaffected by her motion. “It’s a wonderful opportunity. Thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome. But I’m afraid that Whitecap is going to have to suffer some additional coding. I need to be able to issue a verbal command and shut him off. Circumstances sometimes demand privacy.”
Hallis fidgeted. “That was never part of the arrangement. I’ll have to refuse.”
“Very well. You’ll be getting some very good footage of the inside of your cabin.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, I accept. I’ll do the coding myself.”
“And then hand Whitecap over to the Allegiance’s code-slicers briefly for, oh, code optimization.”
Hallis’s smile flickered for a moment and Wedge knew he’d guessed correctly. Hallis must have intended to arrange things so that a second code issued by her would secretly override Wedge’s shutoff command. “Of course,” she said, but there was now just a trace of brittleness to her voice.
Wedge returned his attention to Captain Salaban. “Allow me in turn to introduce you to my pilots. I present Colonel Tycho Celchu, leader of Rogue Squadron.