Star Wars - X-Wing - Rogue Squadron Read online

  in open rebellion and perhaps another twenty percent are nominally supportive

  of our fight, but half the worlds are still firmly allied against us. When the

  Emperor dissolved the Senate he gave the Moffs control over their provinces.

  While I do not believe Palpatine saw that action as a hedge against d isaster,

  that is, in effect, what it has become."

  "I know. If not for some of the Moffs playing power games against each other,

  we'd be hard-pressed to keep from being driven away from the Core." The

  Corellian frowned. "Then again, with Vader and the Emperor dead and the Death

  Stars destroyed, I wonder if the Rebellion hasn't lost some of its fire."

  "I agree with that." Rhysati moved to the front of the quartet, then turned to

  walk backward down the hallway and face them. "Vader was a symbol, just like the

  Emperor, and when they died the relief was palpable. I think a lot of folks

  believed the whole Rebellion was won there. I'm taking the revi-talization of

  Rogue Squadron as a sign that at least Commander Antilles and Admiral Ackbar

  don't share that belief."

  The Twi'lek looped one of his brain tails back over his left shoulder. "By

  defeating the Emperor at Endor, the Rebellion proved itself a legitimate power

  in the galaxy. Within a month after Endor the Alliance's Provisional Council

  issued their Declaration of a New Republic. The Rebellion became a

  governmentalbeit one with very little in terms of real assetsand it presented

  an alternative to the Empire. Worlds joining the New Republic are doing so on

  their own terms, and those negotiations are far from joyous things. Destroying

  the Emperor did

  bring a lot of nations into the fold, but primarily those who felt most

  oppressed or most threatened."

  Corran thought for a moment. "What you're saying is that the victory at Endor

  transformed a military insurgency into a political entity."

  "Not exactly, but close. Politics was always part of the Rebellion, but it

  remained largely dormant while the war was being fought. With the death of the

  Emperor it became more important because it allowed the Rebellion to bring in

  more worlds without having to resort to military conquest." Nawara pointed

  vaguely back behind them with a taloned finger. "Commander Antilles's victory

  tour shows how important politics was and is to the Rebelliona key military

  leader was taken out of service and forced into diplomatic duty."

  "And there are all the stories about Luke Skywalker and the possibility of

  reestablishing the Jedi Knights." Rhysati smiled. "Even though the Jedi had been

  wiped out by the time I was born, my grandmother used to tell me stories about

  them and the Clone Wars."

  "My grandfather fought in the Clone Wars."

  The Twi'lek stared at Corran. "Your grandfather was a Jedi?"

  "No, just an officer with CorSec, like my father and me. He knew some Jedi

  Knights, and fought alongside them in a couple of actions near Corellia, but he

  wasn't one. His best friend was, and died in the wars, but Grandpa never talked

  about those times very much." Corran glanced down. "When Vader started hunting

  down all the Jedi, CorSec resources were used to find them and my grandfather

  didn't like that at all."

  "The sort of resentment such Imperial action engendered among the people is

  precisely the means by which the Alliance is able to bring worlds in to join

  it. Princess Organa and the host of diplomats working for the Alliance have

  done more to strengthen the New Republic than the whole Katana fleet could do,

  if that legend were true and we had control of it. Even so, there is a limit to

  what the diplomats can do."

  "Hence the reconstitution of Rogue Squadron."

  "I think so, Corran."

  Rhysati frowned. "What am I missing?"

  Corran jerked his head toward Nawara. "He's saying that the diplomats have

  pretty much mined all the ore they can find. The worlds who want to join us

  have; those who don't, haven't; and those who aren't sure will need some

  convincing. Thyferra, for example, is the source of ninety-five percent of the

  bacta in the galaxy. They're neutral right now, and making grand profits selling

  to all sides, but we want them in our camp. Putting two of their people in Rogue

  Squadron sends a message to the Thyferrans that we value them. The same goes

  for having the Bothan in the squadron."

  "And the unit is commanded by a Corellian and has another Corellian pilot in

  it." Nawara tapped himself on the chest. "I'm either a token Twi'lek or a token

  lawyer."

  Rhysati laughed. "I'm a token refugee, I guess."

  Ooryl snapped a trio of fingers against his billet datacard. "Ooryl is token

  Gand."

  "So, if this unit is a symbol that's filled with symbols, the supposition is

  that we have to do something very symbolic to get more worlds to join the New

  Republic." Corran smiled. "As long as that means I get to bring justice to a

  bunch of Imperial pilots, I'm all for it."

  "Oh, I think you'll have that opportunity, Corran." The Twi'lek's rosy eyes

  darkened to the

  color of dried blood. "I'd guess Rogue Squadron will have the greatest of that

  sort of opportunity."

  "You think you know what target will be coming up next, Nawara?"

  "It's only logical, Corran." Both of the Twi'lek's head tails twitched in

  tandem. "Before too long we'll be going after the biggest symbol of all. Let's

  hope they train us very well because Rogue Squadron is bound to be the tip of

  the spear the Alliance stabs into the heart of the Empire."

  A chill ran down Corran's spine. "Coruscant?"

  "The sooner it falls, the sooner the Empire falls apart."

  "I never wanted to go to Coruscant." The Corellian pilot smiled. "But if I have

  to go, doing it in the cockpit of a Rebel X-wing will make the visit just that

  much more memorable."

  7

  Wedge Antilles killed his proud smile as he began his walking inspection of his

  X-wing. He brushed his fingers along the underside of its smooth nose cone.

  "Newly refinished, good." He emphasized this judgment with a firm nod of his

  head so those who could not hear him could determine what he was saying and

  thinking.

  Throughout the cavernous hangar the pace of work had slowed as he came to

  inspect his ship. His squadron had already cleared the area and waited for him

  on the dark side of Folor, leaving him alone with the technical staff. Aside

  from his X-wing, three other X-wings being worked on, and a scattering of other

  broken-down fighters, there was little to occupy the attention of the crews.

  While they made a show of rolling up cables and sorting tools, they watched him

  and his reaction to their work.

  He continued on around to the starboard side of the craft, noticing how clean

  the crew had gotten the proton torpedo alleys. Another nod. The background hum

  of conversation picked up in volume

  and speed, but Wedge ignored it and continued his walk-around.

  He could have cited dozens of reasons for doing a preflight inspection of his

  fighter, and all of them would have been good and right and militarily proper.

  The starfighter had seen him through seven years
of pitched battles with a

  minimal amount of failure. The inspection allowed him to spot anything that

  might be trouble before he got out into space and that would save him a long

  cold wait for a rescue crew.

  More importantly than that, his taking a tour around his ship set a good example

  for the rest of Rogue Squadron. He wanted to fight the belief that because they

  were elite pilots they were above the mundane sort of duties all other pilots

  had to endure. Most of his people weren't like that, but he didn't want

  laziness by one person to slowly spread to the rest of the squadron. While they

  weren't there to see him, he knew news of his inspection would get back to them.

  And if I do this right, they'll be sorry they missed the show.

  He paused for a moment and looked at the rows of TIE fighters, bombers, and

  Interceptors painted on the side of the ship. Big Death Stars bracketed the

  collection of smaller ships on either side, and Ssi-ruuk fighters had started a

  new row, right at the top of the red stripe bisecting the fuselage. It has been

  a long fight. And will be longer still.

  Behind him Wedge heard some chittering that Emtrey translated. "Master Zraii

  apologizes for not being able to fit all your kills in the space allotted. The

  ships rendered in red are meant to represent a squadron worth of killsmeaning a

  dozen."

  Wedge frowned as he turned to face the droid. "I have a vague idea how many

  ships there are in a squadron, you know."

  "Yes, of course, sir. I know that, but given that the Verpine normally count in

  base six and humans use base ten, twelve, which to a Verpine is known as 'four

  fists,' the potential for confusion warranted explanation."

  The human held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. Just tell him that he can group

  kills by dozens or gross lots. It makes no difference to me."

  "Gross lots, sir?"

  "A dozen dozen, Emtrey."

  "One hundred and forty-four? Four wings?"

  "Yes, forty-eight fists in Verpine."

  Emtrey looked from Wedge to the brown insectoid trailing behind them. "Sir, if I

  knew you were fluent in Verpine ..."

  "Enough, Trey. I'm not fluent in Verpine, but I have a head for figures. Let me

  finish this inspection." Wedge took in a deep breath and slowly let it out

  again. I'm going to have to talk to Luke and find out how he puts up with his

  3PO unitwait, that won't work. I don't have a sister around here to foist the

  droid off on.

  He walked back to the starboard engines and inspected the cooling vanes and

  what little of the centrifugal debris extractor he could find. After looking

  over the engines he examined the lenses for the deflector shield projectors and

  saw new ones had been installed. Shields gave the X-wing its major advantage

  over TIE fighters and contributed to the X-wing's reputation for being able to

  take a lot of damage before it went down. Even though the lasers were being

  powered down for the training exercises, seeing the deflector shield equipment

  in good repair pleased him.

  He paid very careful attention to the twin laser cannons mounted on the ends of

  the ship's stab ilizer foils. He pulled down on the bottom one and felt a

  slight shift before the unpowered actuator prohibited movement. That was

  goodmore play than a couple of centimeters meant the lasers might shift out of

  alignment during use.

  "Emtrey, ask Zraii what range he zeroed these lasers at?"

  A click-buzz exchange took place between tech and droid. "He says he zeroed them

  at 250 meters, Commander."

  "Good." When they had flown against the Death Star the X-wings had been

  reconfigured so their zerothe point where the four beams convergedwas nearly

  half a kilometer. That allowed them to be employed very effectively in knocking

  out stationary ground targets. In space combat, where ranges shrank and targets

  moved quite a bit, keeping the focal point closer increased the chances of

  scoring lethal hits on the enemy. While the lasers could still hit another

  fighter at a range of more than a kilometer, the lasers were at their most

  powerful at the close ranges common in dogfights.

  The cannons' barrels, flashback suppressors, gate couplers, and lasing tips

  seemed in good shape. Ducking beneath the cannons, he swung around to the aft of

  the X-wing. Power couplings, deflector generators, exhaust ports, and power cell

  indicators all seemed in order. The inspection of the port S-foils and cannons

  showed them to be in good repair.

  His inspection ended with his return to the nose of the craft, he bowed his head

  to the Verpine tech. "It looks as good as new, if not better."

  Emtrey translated and the Verpine started buzzing. Wedge couldn't figure out

  what was being said, but the friendly pat on the arm by the insect-man told

  Wedge the enthusiasm he heard was positive. "Emtrey, what did you tell him?"

  "I told him that you think this ship is superior

  to what it was in its pre-molt stage. That is high praise. He is saying that he

  has a passion for restoring antiques like this and has taken 'the liberty to

  make minor adjustments that will enhance performance."

  "Oh, wonderful." Wedge smiled and kept his tone light. The Verpine, with their

  fascination for technology and with eyesight that allows them to spot

  microscopic detailslike stress fractures without magnifying equipment, made

  for some of the best tech support in the galaxy. They were also known, however,

  for tinkering with the ships for which they cared. Wedge had never had a problem

  in that regard, but stories abounded about ships where the controls had been

  reconfigured into what a Verpine found would be a much better alignmentnot

  realizing most pilots did not have microscopic vision or didn't think in base

  six.

  Continuing to smile, Wedge mounted the ladder an assistant tech ran up against

  the side of the X-wing. Poised on the edge of the cockpit, the pilot looked at

  his astromech. He didn't recognize it beyond realizing it was one of the

  flowerpot-topped R5 droids. Though the R5 was a newer model astromech droid,

  Wedge actually preferred the dome-topped R2 astromech droids like the one Luke

  used because of the lower target profile they offered an enemy. "Then again, if

  they're close enough to hit you, you'll take the shots before they hit the

  cockpit, won't you?"

  The droid's panicked hooting brought a smile to his face. "Don't worry, the

  shooting is not going to start yet."

  Wedge dropped into the pilot's seat and got a pleasant surprise. One of Zraii's

  improvements had been a refurbishing of the padding in his ejection seat. This

  will make those long hyperspace jumps

  more comfortable. He strapped himself in, then brought his systems up. All the

  monitors and indicators came to life as expected. "Weapons are green and go."

  The R5 unit reported all navigation and flight systems were working, so Wedge

  pulled on his helmet and keyed his comm unit. "This is Rogue Leader requesting

  departure clearance from Folor Traffic Control."

  "Rogue One is clear for departure. Have a good flight, Commander."

  "Thank you, Control."

  With the flick of a switch he cut in
his repulsorlift generators and feathered

  the throttle so his fighter rose from the hangar deck in a deliberate and firm

  manner. Using the rudder pedals to keep the lift generators in tandem, he killed

  roll and yawing. He wanted there to be no doubt in the minds of anyone in the

  hangar that his was a steady strong hand on the controls. His performance, he

  knew, would be pulsed out through the base's rumor network and become fodder for

  every idle conversation until something truly worthy of discussion displaced it.

  Adding some forward thrust, he moved the X-wing into the magnetic atmospheric

  containment bubble and through it to the airless exterior. Once outside, he

  kicked the Incom 4L4 Fusial Thrust Engines in at full power and rocketed away

  from the craggy grey lunar surface. He rolled the X-wing and brought the nose up

  slightly, sending the fighter into a gentle arc toward the horizon.

  The datascreen in front of him reported the engines were working at 105 percent

  of efficiencyan increase he put down to Verpine tinkering. Throttling back to

  70 percent, then 65 percent, he dropped his speed and flipped a switch above his

  right shoulder. The stabilizer foils split and locked

  into the cross pattern that had given the X-wing its name.

  He glanced at the upper left corner of the screen and saw his R5 unit had been

  designated "Mynock." "Are you called Mynock because you draw a lot of power?"

  Urgent whistles and tweets were translated to a scrolling line of text at the

  very top of the screen. "A pilot once said I screamed like a mynock when we were

  in combat. A slander, Commander."

  "I can understand that. No one likes to be thought of as a space rat." Wedge

  shook his head. "I need you to adjust the acceleration compensator down a bit. I

  want .05 gravity."

  The astromech droid complied and Wedge immediately began to feel more at home

  in the cockpit. To combat the effects of negative and positive gravity because

  of maneuvers, the starfighter had a compensator that created a gravity neutral

  pocket for both the craft and pilot. It prevented a lot of problems with blood

  flow and black- or red-outs in pilots, but Wedge felt it insulated him from the

  machine and left him out of touch with his situation.

  Flying with all gravity negated felt, to him, like trying to pick up grains of

  salt while wearing heavy gloves. It might be possible, but it would be a lot