"Michael Stackpole "Rogue Squadron"" - читать интересную книгу автораThe message itself had been neutral and routine in wording-even 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 un-warranted 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 Acad-emy straight out of secondary school and continued the Horn family tradition by establishing new rec-ords 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 Corran flashed the Gand a big smile-he'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 space-ports and stations on Corellia, had spotted Gavin as being young despite his size. It's in the eyes-the 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 |
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