approximation of a human smile. "Ooryl understands."
"And?"
Ooryl crossed his arms, then tapped his trio of fingers against his body's
deltoid armor plates. "On Gand it is held that names are important. Any Gand who
has achieved nothing is called Gand. Before Ooryl was given Ooryl's name, Ooryl
was known as Gand. Once Ooryl had made a mark in the world, Ooryl was given the
Qrygg surname. Later, by mastering the difficulties of astronavigation and
flight, Ooryl earned the right to be called Ooryl."
The woman frowned. "This still does not explain why you do not use pronouns to
refer to yourself."
"Qrygg apologizes. On Gand only those who have achieved great things are
permitted to use pronouns for self-designation. The use of such carries with it
the presumption that all who hear the speech will know who the speaker is, and
this assumption is only true in the case where the speaker is so great, the
speaker's name is known to all."
Corran found the system curious, but somehow satisfying. It always does seem
that those who use I the most are the ones who have the least in the way of
accomplishments to justify it. The Gands have formalized a system we should have
come up with long ago. "So Ooryl is the equivalent of Corran, and Qyrgg is the
same as Horn for me?"
"Exactly."
"Then why do you sometimes refer to yourself by your family name, and sometimes
by your own name?"
The Gand looked down for a moment and his mouth parts closed. "When a Gand has
given offense, or is ashamed of actions, this diminishes the gains made in
life. Name reduction is an act of contrition, an apology. Ooryl would like to
think Ooryl will not often be called Qyrgg, but Qyrgg knows the likelihood of
this is slender."
Whistler tootled jauntily at Corran.
"People would know my first name was Corran even if we did use this system." He
rolled his eyes. "And any droid who wanted to keep his name would have run his
little diagnostic program and told me if the extractor was adjusted correctly or
not by now."
Lujayne glanced over at him. "Trouble with the engine?"
"Nothing major." Corran pointed down into the hole. "I had to replace an
extractor a while back and keeping it trimmed up over the first fifty parsecs is
important."
Lujayne nodded. "Until it seats itself properly. Looks like you're working on
the housing when you really ought to be just putting a spacer on the axle."
"You know about fixing these things?"
She shrugged. "Landspeeder repair was one of the trade skills my father used to
teach. The T-47 uses virtually identical debris extraction systems for the
engine. What you're doing will work, but you'll keep making adjustments for
another six months. I can measure up a spacer and have it ground down to size
for you in a half an hour or so."
"Really?"
"Sure, if you want the help."
Corran frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"
"You'd owe me a favor and you'd have to trust me."
Trusting someone he did not know did feel odd to him, but not so much so that he
could not do it. "I see your point. I think, though, I can trust you."
"We have a deal then."
Ooryl looked up at Lujayne. "You will need a spacer and laser calipers? Ooryl
will obtain them, if you wish."
"Please."
Corran leaned back on the S-foil. "I appreciate this help."
She smiled slyly. "I hope you think that after you hear what my favor is."
"Name it."
"After we fix up your X-wing, you come with me to DownTime and get to know some
of the others who are likely to make it into the squadron. We've all got the
thing pretty well figured out Gavin's a wild card, but Bror Jace thinks he will
probably knock him from the running. A few of us are at the lower edge of what
we assume will be acceptable scores, but we hope to make it. Anyway, we
congregate down there, swap stories, and get to know each other. Since you'll
undoubtedly be in, you should join us."
Corran nodded. "Okay, I'll do that, but that's
the favor I owe you."
"If that's the way you want it."
"Definitely," Corran smiled at her. "I owe you for more than just helping with
the engine. Asking me to become friends with folks I should already be getting
to know isn't a favor I'd be doing you, but one I'll be doing myself. One thing
though, I'm not going to have to get along with Bror Jace, am I?"
"Why should you be the first?"
"Good." As Ooryl returned with the part and the tool, Corran winked at Lujayne.
"Well, let's get this engine working, then we can see if there's a way to fix up
my relations with the rest of Rogue Squadron."
5
Corran Horn tried to kill his smile as he entered the white briefing
amphitheater, then he saw all the other pilots who could smile were absolutely
beaming. Not a one of the nervous expressions we were all wearing the other
night in DownTime. The first message in the queue on his datapad had informed
him that after breakfast he was to report for Rogue Squadron's first briefing.
The message itself had been neutral and routine in wordingeven though it was
the first official notification that he'd made it into the squadron.
He'd had a pretty good idea that he'd make it, but despite assurances from the
other candidates, he'd never allowed himself to assume he would make it. In the
past he'd been burned by making unwarranted assumptions. Granted those
assumptions had eventually led him to join the Rebellion, which was not a wholly
bad thing, but it took him well away from where he had imagined he'd be at this
time in his life.
Even though he'd not allowed himself the luxury of believing he'd make the cut
before he actually
made it, he was proud of his being selected for the squadron. Corran had never
been one to hold back. He'd gone into the Corellian Security Force Academy
straight out of secondary school and continued the Horn family tradition by
establishing new records in the training there. One of the last marks he
surpassed had been set by his father, Hal, twenty years earlier, and Hal had
beaten the record set by Hal's own father.
And now I'm a Rebel, an outlaw. What would my father and grandfather have
thought? A cold sensation raised goose bumps on his skin. Whatever, they would
have thought much worse things if I'd become an Imp.
Rhysati Ynr waved Corran over to the bench where she sat. "We made it, we
actually made it."
"It was nice of Commander Antilles to agree with our group consensus." He
mounted the steps up to Rhysati's row and slid in next to her. "It hasn't sunk
in yet in some ways."
The Gand, sitting behind them, leaned forward. "Ooryl learned your Redemption
run had the highest score of our training cycle."
Corran flashed the Gand a big smilehe'd found exaggerating his expression did
indeed help Ooryl catch its import. "Who came in second? Bror Jace, I bet."
The Gand shook his head. "Gavin Darklighter beat the Thyferran."
"The kid beat Jace?" Corran glanced over at where the tall, brown-haired pilot
from Tatooine
sat talking with the black-furred Shistavanen wolfman, Shiel.
Corran, with years of experience in the spaceports and stations on Corellia,
had spotted Gavin as being young despite his size. It's in the eyesthe years
just aren't there but apparently the piloting skill is!
The Twi'lek sat down next to Ooryl, looping one of his brain tails back over his
left shoulder. "Jace isn't any happier about it than he was about losing to you.
He volunteered to fly in an eyeball in Gavin's exercise and got hit with a
missile at range. He never had a chance."
Corran nodded his head and looked up toward the front of the room where Bror
Jace stood. Tall, slender, and handsome, the blond-haired, blue-eyed pilot had
proven himself to be very good during the selection exercises. The Corellian
thought he might even have liked Jace, but the man's ego was as big as an
Imperial Star Destroyer and likely to be just as deadly. The ego-cases Corran
had known in CorSec had always burned bright but burned out early. At some point
they got themselves into a situation they could have just as easily avoided had
they been thinking clearly.
Corran smiled in Jace's direction and caught a return nod from the black-haired
woman to whom Jace was speaking. "Ooryl, how did Erisi Dlarit do in the
exercise?"
"Middle of the hunt, after Nawara Ven and ahead of Ooryl. Lujayne Forge came in
at the back of the group, with the others in between. The scores were still very
good, but competition is stiff here."
Wedge Antilles entered the room and marched down front to where the holographic
briefing display grew from the floor like a mechanical mushroom. Joining him
at the front of the room Corran saw the mystery pilot from the day before and a
black 3PO droid with a nonstandard head. It looked more like the clamshell
design seen on flight controller droids, where the concave upper disk
overlapped the lower one,, but left a facial hole. The unusual construction made
sense, both given the lack of spare parts for droids and the fact that this
droid
was assigned to a fighter squadron. The little bit of a sagittal crest on its
head made it look somewhat martial.
"People, if you would be seated. I'm Wedge Antilles, the commander of Rogue
Squadron." The green-eyed man smiled openly. "I'd like to welcome you here and
congratulate you on being chosen for Rogue Squadron. I want to go over with you
the basic criteria we used in making our selections and let you know what will
be expected of you as your training continues and missions are assigned to us."
Wedge looked out at his audience and Corran felt a bit of a shock run through
him as their eyes met. His eyes have seen the yearshave seen more than they
should have. Corran knew of Wedge's background because Hal Horn had been one of
the investigators trailing the pirates who killed Wedge's family at Gus Treta.
Hal had kept his eye on Wedge and had pronounced him a lost cause when he
started smuggling weapons for the Rebellion.
Wedge exhaled slowly. "You all know the history of this squadron. Even before
we were formally created, we were given the job of killing the first Death Star.
We did it, and lost a lot of fine pilots in the process. All of them were and
are heroes of the Rebellionthey'll be as famous as some of the old Jedi Knights
in the years to come. Rogue Squadron saw a lot of action guarding convoys and
raiding Imperial shipping after that. We covered the evacuation from Hoth,
fought at Gall, and a year later, at Endor, we killed another Death Star. From
there we went to Bakura and fought the Ssi-ruuk.
"After seven years of nonstop fighting, the leadership of the New Republic
decided to rebuild and revitalize this unit. This was a wise choice because all
of usthose who had survivedhad seen a lot of new pilots come into Rogue
Squadron and get killed
in Rogue Squadron." Wedge looked over at the mystery pilot. "All of the
veterans wanted to see Rogue Squadron continue, but also wanted to see the
pilots in it get the training they needed to survive."
The TIE pilot nodded in agreement with Wedge's statement. Wedge looked back at
the new pilots. "About a year ago Admiral Ackbar, at the behest of the
Provisional Council, presented me with the plans for re-forming Rogue Squadron.
Rogue Squadron had become a symbol for the Alliance. It needed to live up to its
legend and become once again an elite group of pilots who could be called upon
to do the sort of impossible jobs Rogue Squadron has always managed to
complete. As you know, we have interviewed and tested a lot of pilots nearly a
hundred for each of the dozen positions you now fill.
"The reason I mention all this to you is so that you'll be aware of something
that might not have sunk in during your selection process. You are elite pilots
and you are more than just that, but no matter who you are, or how good you
are, you'll never be considered as good as Biggs Darklighter or Jek Porkins or
anyone else who has died in service to Rogue Squadron. They are legends, this
unit is a legend, and none of us are ever going to be able to be more than they
are."
Except for someone like you, Commander, who already is more. A grin blossomed on
Corran's face. And I can dream, can't I?
Wedge opened his hands. "Truth be told, most of you are already better pilots
than a lot of the men and women who have died in this unit. You are an eclectic
bunchtwo of you had death marks against you before you joined the Alliance and
assigned to this unit. You were chosen for
your flying skill and for other skills you possess because Admiral Ackbar wants
this unit to be more than just a fighter squadron. He wants us to be able to
operate independently if necessary and perform operations that would normally
require a much larger group of individuals."
Rhysati leaned over to Corran. "Baron-Administrator Calrissian had his own group
of Commando-pilots back home. The idea's got merit, even if they couldn't stop
Darth Vader from causing trouble."
Corran nodded. "CorSec had its own Tactical Response Team. Wanting to make Rogue
Squadron into something similar explains why some of us made it when others
didn't." Corran still wondered what special skills Gavin was going to bring to
the group, but he was willing to wait for an answer instead of assuming there
wasn't one.
The Commander continued his briefing. "Over the next month you'll get the most
intensive training you've ever had. Captain Celchu will be in charge of it. For
those of you who do not know him, Captain Celchu graduated from the Imperial
Naval Academy and served as a TIE pilot. He left Imperial service after his
homeworld of Alderaan was destroyed. He joined the squadron shortly thereafter
and participated in everything from the evacuation of Hoth to the Death Star
run at Endor and more. He is a superior pilot, as some of you have already
learned, and what he will teach you will keep you safe from the best pilots the
Empire can throw at us."
Wedge nodded toward the droid. "Emtrey is our military protoco
l droid. He will
deal with all requisitions, duty assignments, and other administrative duties.
You will be moving to a separate complex here to continue your trainingEmtrey
has your
room assignments and initial craft assignments and will give them to you at the
end of this meeting.
"So you're all now part of Rogue Squadron. What you can expect of the future is
this endless amounts of boredom and routine punctuated by moments of sheer
terror. As good as you are, statistical studies of fighter pilots indicate most
of you will die in your first five missions. While survivability goes up after
that, the odds are still not good that you will live to see the complete
destruction of the Empire. The reason for that is that you will be there to see
bits and pieces of it being lopped off. Rogue Squadron will be given tough
assignments and will be expected to complete them, specifically because we are
the best there is."
Wedge rested his hands on his hips. "That's it for now, unless you have any
questions."
Jace stood. "Will our training consist of more simulator work, or will we be
given actual X-wings to fly?"
"That's a fair question. Emtrey has informed me that our squadron has been
assigned a dozen X-wings. We have possession of ten at this time, with two more
expected inside the week. When those ships arrive we'll start training in them.
Until then, and as a supplement to flight training, we will use a lot more
simulator exercises."
The Commander smiled. "And, yes, we could have been assigned A-wing or B-wing
craft, but we're using X-wings. You may debate the merits of the various ships
among yourselves, but Rogue Squadron has always been primarily an X-wing
squadron, and shall remain so. Any other questions? No? Then you're dismissed
until 0800 hours tomorrow at which time we'll meet again and begin molding you
into a true fighting unit."
Corran stood, intending to head down to thank
the Commander for picking him for the squadron, but Jace approached Wedge first,
and Corran refused to do anything that gave the impression he was following
Jace. Later, I can thank him later.
Nawara Ven stroked his chin with his left hand. "So, two of us are already under
death marks. I wonder who?"
Rhysati poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "You mean you aren't, Nawara? You
were a lawyer, after all."