death, but I can't be so sure. I wish I could, really, because
Tycho helped me save Corran at Borleias."
"Don't forget that Tycho saved me and the rest of the
Squadron on Coruscant."
"I've not forgotten that, but while he wa s saving you,
Corran and I were saving each other from the Empire and
the traitor in Fliry Vorru's organization." She patted Wedge
on the knee. "We've been over this a dozen times and I'm
getting better about it, I really am. I don't cry nearly as much
right now as I did."
Wedge tipped her face up with his left hand and brushed
a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Hey, being sad
doesn't reflect badly on you at all."
"Thanks." Mirax sniffed a little. "It's just that it seems
so ridiculous sometimes. We'd not even dated. We didn't
know each other that well. For his death to hurt this much
we should have been a lot closer."
"That's the trick of it, Mirax, you were a lot closer than
you imagine. The two of you shared a lot of the same quali-
ties." Wedge smiled. "Your father and Corran's father were
mortal enemies. Why? Because they were a lot alike, too.
Both of you had strong relationships with your fathers,
which is reflected in how you turned out. Under different
circumstances old Booster and Hal Horn probably could
have been friends. You and Corran became friends because
you met under those different circumstances."
She frowned for a moment. "You are probably right. I
could also help myself get over this, I think, if I could just
finally accept the fact that Corran's dead. Listening to the
comlink call when he went in, that was pretty nasty, but we
never found a body. I know it's stupid to make anything of
that, what with the building coming down on him and all,
but my father always said that if you don't see a body, don't
count on someone being dead. He did once--"
"And it cost him his eye. I remember the story." Wedge
laughed lightly. "Now I remember it. That explains a lot."
"What do you mean?"
"Biggs, Porkins, Corran, my parents--I never saw their
dead bodies. Partly because of your father's story, I suspect,
and just human stubbornness, I find myself sometimes ex-
pecting to see them walk into my office."
Mirax's face brightened. "Or you think you see them
walking along in a crowd. You catch a glimpse of them." She
glanced down. "Part of me thinks that we see them because
we don't truly believe they're dead. Maybe the barrier that
separates the living from the dead is permeable as long as
there is someone who doesn't accept death. Sithspawn, listen
to me. I'm talking like a glitbiter."
"That's not a problem, Mirax, I understand." Wedge
leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "And I don't
think your theory is all that wrong. I don't imagine we can
bring people back to life by hoping, but letting their memo-
ries live on inside us is not a bad thing to do at all."
The Sullustan cheebled something at Mirax, prompting
her to spin around in her command chair. She hit several
switches above her head, then punched a button on the con-
sole. "Landing gear deployed, repulsorlift drives engaged.
Kill thrust and set her down gently."
Liat's melodic grumble accompanied the delicate thun-
der of the Pulsar Skate's landing. Mirax slapped a button on
the command console and Wedge immediately felt a rush of
warm air as the ship's gangway lowered itself. Mirax nodded
toward the aft and the opening. "After you, Commander
Antilles."
"Thank you, Captain Terrik."
Mirax smiled. "By the way, I think you look slicker than
a Hutt's slime trail in that native garb."
"Thanks." Since the mission was diplomatic in nature,
Rogue Squadron had been supplied with clothes like those
their counterparts on Ryloth would wear. Because of the
planet's oppressive heat, the natives tended to wear loose,
bulky, hooded cloaks over their other garments. The nature
of the clothes they wore beneath the cloaks depended upon
loincloth, wrapped leggings to the knee, fingerless gloves,
and a highly decorative bandoleer that did still serve a mar-
tial function. Their cloaks also tended to be abbreviated, as if
their whole costume was meant to show they were tough
enough to endure even the harshest of conditions on the
planet.
Wedge's attire varied only slightly from that Twi'lek
warriors wore. His brown boots came up to his knees and
beige trousers had been tucked into them. To that he added
an emerald green loincloth and a bandoleer of the same
color. All of his battle ribbons and awards had been embroi-
dered on the bandoleer, starting with two Death Star repre-
sentations at his right shoulder and ending with a symbol
representing Coruscant near his left hip. The crests of the
Alliance and Rogue Squadron stood side by side over his
heart. His cloak was a darker green than his bandoleer and
had been lined with a shiny red fabric that formed two red
wings when he folded the cloak back behind his shoulders.
He descended the gangway and looked up. Kala'uun
Starport occupied a colossal cavern which had been hol-
lowed out of the heart of the mountain that sheltered it.
Above his head lay level upon level of Twi'lek clan warrens,
comprising the living quarters and work areas of over
100,000 Twi'!eks. He could only guess at what the warrens
looked like--according to Nawara, few were the non-
Twi'leks who ever saw them, and those individuals were peo-
ple a clan had acknowledged as a friend.
The Courage of SuUust had landed off the Skate's star-
board wing. Nawara Ven disembarked and came walking
over toward Wedge. They wore similar clothes, though
Nawara's loincloth, bandoleer, and cloak were all a deep
shade of purple. His cloak had been lined with a grey that
was slightly darker than his skin tone. "Are you ready, Com-
mander?"
Wedge nodded. "Lead the way."
Nawara did, and Wedge followed a step behind him and
one to his left. "It looks like our welcoming party. Is the
Shak clan still the Head-clan here?"
One of Nawara's braintails ran back along his spine.
The tip of it jerked up and down in what Wedge had been
told was the Twi'lek equivalent of a nod. "Koh'shak is still
the master of the starport. It would appear, from the colors
of the individual next to him, that someone from the Olan
clan has chosen to greet us as well." "Cazne'olan, perhaps?"
Nawara shrugged. "Possibly. I don't know him. The
Olan clan and mine do not mix much--no animosity, just
little association with each other. His presence here could be
good or could be very bad."
Wedge smiled, stepping up beside Nawara as they both
stopped before their hosts. Nawara Ven bowed deeply,
bringing both
his braintails down to dangle limp by his
knees. Wedge aped his bow, then opened his hands and
pressed their backs against his thighs. The gesture was
slightly awkward but was meant to symbolize exactly what
the limp braintails did a lack of negative feelings and
thoughts about the people in front of him. Without braintails
he had to rely on the universally peaceful symbolism of an
empty, open hand to make his intent clear.
Wedge and Nawara straightened up at the same time,
then their hosts bowed to them. Scarlet cloth swathed the
corpulent Koh'shak. The gold badges of his office and clan
held his outer cloak closed at his throat, though his round
middle poked through the central opening. Wedge got an
eyeful of Koh'shak's red robe and a wide cloth of gold sash
pressed into the double duty' of containing his girth and sup-
porting a pair of Sevari flashpistols.
Cazne'olan would have seemed thickset except by com-
parison with Koh'shak. His black cloak covered a bright
yellow robe and blue sash. The gold office and clan badges
he wore were smaller than Koh'shak's, but the craftsmanship
on them seemed more delicate and less overpowering.
Cazne'olan held his bow for a second longer than Koh'shak,
but straightened up with less effort.
The heavier Twi'lek opened black-taloned hands. "In
the name of Kala'uun's Clans, I bid you welcome,
Nawar'aven."
"In the name of my clan, I am pleased to be accepted at
Kala'uun." Nawara turned to his left. "I am pleased to pre-
sent to the Clans of Kala'uun my commanding officer .... "
Cazne'olan stepped forward between Nawara and
Koh'shak, extending his hand to Wedge. "Nawar'aven, you
have no need to introduce Wedgan'tilles to us. We remember
him from his last adventure on our world."
Wedge smiled and shook Cazne'olan's hand. "Good to
see you again."
"And you." Cazne'olan took a step back and paused for
a second before his headtails began to twitch up and down.
"You have done much and learned much in the time since we
have seen each other. Not the least of which is learning how
to dress."
Nawara glanced over at Wedge. "Commander, I did not
realize--"
"No reason you should have Nawar .... "Wedge
hitched a moment. The way the Twi'leks ran Nawara's name
together, he couldn't be certain exactly what Nawara's clan
name was. When in doubt, go with indigenous custom.
"... Nawar'aven. It was an adventure the squadron had
well before you joined it. Suffice it to say it was resolved to
the satisfaction of all interested parties."
"It was indeed, Wedgan'tiiles." Koh'shak stretched the
last syllable of Wedge's name into a whole sibilant phrase of
its own. "And now you are come here seeking satisfaction of
another kind."
"Quite true, Koh'shak." Wedge half-turned and pointed
back at the two Alliance ships. "We have for you some won-
drous things drawn from the various worlds of the New
Republic." As he turned back to face the starport's master,
he noticed Nawara and Cazne'olan speaking to each other in
low tones, with their braintails convulsing wildly.
Koh'shak closed his pinkish eyes and settled interlaced
fingers over the bulge in his middle. "I am certain what you
have brought will be impressive. Shall we begin our negotia-
tions?"
His offer seemed a bit abrupt to Wedge, and the sur-
prised look on Nawara's face indicated he also thought
something was amiss. What's going on here?
Before Wedge could venture a reply, Nawara gently
grabbed Wedge's right forearm. "While the Commander ap-
plauds your alacrity in seeing to his needs, we have been
traveling for days to get here. He chooses to invoke
twi'janii."
Koh'shak's eyes popped open with the speed Wedge
would have expected if the starport master had felt a gun
being jammed against a spine. "! welcome Wedgan'tilles and
would have granted him twi'janii without reservation if I felt
he did not find our climate oppressive."
"Open your eyes yet wider, Koh'shak." Cazne'olan ges-
tured toward Wedge. "He is a warrior in truth as well as
dress. Even in the hot season he would not be discomfitted."
"Your courtesy in reminding me of that is appreciated,
Cazne'olan." Koh'shak's words came out light and even, but
the violent twitching of his braintails seemed to belie the
benign tone of the reply. "Wedgan'rilles, you and your peo-
ple are to consider yourselves our guests. We will see to your
pleasure, then to our business."
"You are most kind," Wedge said, believing Koh'shak to
be anything but. I don't know what he has in mind as our
pleasure, but I'm certain his will be business, and I don't
anticipate that being much fun at all.
23
Elbows planted on either side of the dataterminal's key-
board, leila leaned forward and rubbed her hands over her
face. The jolt of excitement she had expected had come, but
it faded far too quickly. Fatigue and an unfocused fear
flooded through her in its wake. She could feel herself begin-
ning to slow down, but she refused to surrender.
No, no giving up now. I won this one. She pressed her
fingers against her eyelids. I think.
She had begun her quest to locate the Duros captain, Lai
Nootka, in a most organized and methodical way. She pulled
as much as she could about him from Imperial and Alliance
sources and compiled a profile of him based on that informa-
tion. The most complete Imperial record came from a planet
named Garqi where Nootka and his crew had been impris-
oned for several months on charges of smuggling for the
Alliance. Nootka's presence on the planet had been well doc-
umented, and the Prefect Barris, Nootka's Imperial adver-
sary, had paid dearly for his brush with the Alliance.
Garqi was where Corran met Nootka.
Alliance files were far more generous in the amount of
information they provided. Nootka had indeed moved ship-
ments for the Alliance, but he acted on their behalf only
when it suited him. He didn't appear to have firm ties to the
Alliance--not even as firm as those Mirax Terrik had.
Nootka's distance from the Alliance, yet willingness to work
with it, certainly put him in a grey area that might have been
why Tycho chose to trade with him.
Iella's inquiries then went off in several directions at the
same time. She started a search for any records pertaining to
any of the aliases and various ship identification codes she
could find for the Star's Delight. She was less interested in
the Alliance material than she was the Imperial records, but
she did note that Nootka had not been off on missions for
the Alliance at the time Tycho said he met with him on Co-
ruscant.
She also dug deeper into the person who was Lai
Nootka himself. The Duros were a race of tall, slender,
blue-
skinned beings whose facial expressions seemed, to most hu-
mans, to be entirely dour. They remained aloof, and it was
often said that they lacked noses because they were disin-
clined to stick their noses into business that did not concern
them. Most Duros remained neutral concerning the Rebel-
lion, but a few brave individuals like Lai Nootka dared trade
with the Rebels. Only in this did Lai Nootka appear to be
different from the majority of his people, which made re-
searching him much easier.
Iella's greatest triumph was in locating the series of
young-adult Duros novels from which Nootka drew inspira-
tion for his various aliases and the new names of his ship. He
had mixed and matched first and family names of characters
to create aliases for himself, and then for each alias, gave his
ship a name that was not associated with the corresponding
characters in the books; but everything had indeed come
from that pool of names. When none of the aliases she al-
ready had for him turned up an Imperial record, she tried
inventing additional aliases, using the process she imagined
Nootka himself had used to create his new identities. She
started pumping these possible aliases through the Imperial
computer and hoping for the best.
The computer had reported back a lot of misses, but
finally she got a hit. Just four days before Tycho's meeting
with Lai Nootka, a modified CorelliSpace Gymsnor-3
freighter named Novachild entered the Coruscant system. A
Duros named Hes Glillto had been listed as the captain of
record. No departure for that ship or captain had been re-
corded, but this didn't surprise leila. The one record provid-
ing the information about his arrival was in a duty log filed
by Lieutenant Virar Needa of Orbital Solar Energy Transfer
Satellite 1127 after Coruscant had fallen to the Alliance and
after Tycho Celchu had been taken into custody.
Though officially part of their duty, OSF;FS officers sel-
dom maintained or filed such logs, but from what she could
see Needa had been obsessive about it. The log had data
concerning incoming and outgoing ships that traveled in-
system during Needa's watches on the station. The lack of a