There's a funny feeling in Wedge's chest as he watches the X-wings of the remaining Wraiths rise from the hanger deck, leaving Mon Remonda one by one to head off to their new assignment. It's pride, he thinks. Maybe a bit of relief.

They're going to do well with Intelligence, he knows that. He thinks they would do well with anything that was put in front of them. Those men and women have survived so many trials by fire already, he can't think of much that would defeat them.

A smile curves his lips as the last X-wing clears the magcon shield, S-foils waggling in salute. He remembers the people who said the Wraiths would never work, that a squad formed from castoffs and misfits never stood a chance. Crespin, Ackbar, all the others, Wedge remembers their incredulous looks, their scowls, and now he's looking at a successful squadron he's proud to have shepherded into being.

Sure, there were hard times. Some of the hardest he's been through with any unit he's been a part of or commanded. There were tragedies, losses of good people who didn't deserve to die, but the victories were greater. He watched a group of strangers come to form bonds of friendship and brotherhood that carried them through everything. They-

“You gonna stand here staring out into space all day?”

Wedge mock-glares at the man who's suddenly popped up beside him. “I was just seeing the Wraiths off.”

“The last ship left five minutes ago,” Wes points out.

“I was thinking.”

“You were dwelling.” Wes hooks his arm through Wedge's and drags him toward the door. “Those kids are Cracken's problem now, but it's not like we'll never see them again. Come on, Commander, the Rogues are waiting to welcome you back officially.”

Wedge grins as he pulls his arm away but keeps pace with Wes. His time with the Wraiths was good, if challenging, but it's nice to be home.