Rogue Squadron by Michael A. Stackpole

squadron get killed. You might be the best pilot in the squadron, but the squadron is only as good as the worst pilot in it.
    “Today the others learned to use data from a reconnaissance flight to help them through deadly territory.You learned that you’re not more important than anyone else in this squadron just because you’re a gifted pilot. I’m pleased with those lessons having been learned by my people. If you’re not, I’m certain there are other squadrons who would love to have Rogue’s washouts.”
    Corran’s cheeks burned and his stomach turned itself inside out. He’s right—he saw the same thing Lujayne did and found a way to point out how serious a problem it can be. I’ve been an idiot . He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
    “Yes, what, Mr. Horn?”
    “I’m happy learning what I learned, sir. I want to stay with the squadron.”
    Wedge nodded slowly. “Good, I don’t want to lose you. You’ve got the makings of a superior pilot, but you aren’t there yet. You have the skills you need, but there is more to being part of this squadron than flying well. The training you get will be a bit different from the others, but your need to learn is just as great. Do you understand?”
    Corran nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
    Wedge handed his helmet and gloves to an astrotech. “And just so you know, you’re right to be angry. Remember this, though, giving in to that kind of anger in battle will get you killed. I don’t think you want that any more than I do.” The leader of the squadron tossed him a sharp salute. “You’re dismissed, Mr. Horn.”
    Corran returned the salute, spun on his heel, and marched stiffly away, deeper into the hangar. He threaded his way through the fighters, stepping over power cables and around tool carts. He purposely steered himself away from where Whistler was recharging—the little R2 unit had perfected an “I told you so” whistle that Corran realized he’d heard far too often since his father’s death.
    “Mr. Horn.”
    Corran stopped and blinked away the gathering clouds of dark memories. His hand rose in a salute. “Captain Celchu.”
    The blue-eyed man returned the salute, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Still walking and talking?”
    “Sir?”
    “Either Commander Antilles is losing his touch in dressing down recruits or”—Tycho smiled lopsidedly—“you’re made of sterner stuff than I might have otherwise imagined.”

9
    Corran’s green eyes narrowed. “I don’t think the Commander cut me any slack, sir.”
    Tycho held a hand up. “Forgive me, Mr. Horn, that did not come out the way I wanted. From your CorSec record and the way you tend to excel in scenarios where you act alone, you have struck me as a loner. Loners don’t tend to like it when they’re made to be a team player.”
    But that’s not how I am. Is it? Corran frowned. “I can work with others, but I know I can only rely on myself when things fall apart. I can’t help that attitude because it kept me alive in tough times.”
    Tycho pointed toward the passage deeper into Folor base and Corran fell into step with him. “The problem with that attitude, Corran, is that it keeps others away. It makes it more difficult for them to help you when you need it. It keeps them uncertain that you will help them when the time comes that they need you.”
    “Hey, I’ll never leave a buddy in trouble.”
    “I don’t doubt that, but you define buddies on your terms. Others may not see themselves as yourfriends.” The taller man pressed his lips together in a grim line. “It’s clear that being here is not easy for you.”
    That’s an unwarranted assumption. I’ve adjusted as well as anyone . Corran glanced to the right at Tycho. “Why do you think that, sir?”
    “You were with the Corellian Security Force and spent a good deal of your time hunting down people who are now your allies. That transition isn’t something you can make overnight.”
    “It couldn’t have