Part 15 (1/2)
Asyr hesitated for a moment. ”I was part of an opera-tion in Invisec before the liberation. We met then.”
Gavin smiled. ”She was trying to get me executed as an example to the Imps.”
”You always did play a little rough, Asyr.”
Asyr shrugged. ”Luckily he had Nawara Ven defending him, so the execution was delayed. Imps showed up, Gavin saved my life and I his in the ensuing firefight. Not much more to tell than that.”
”Quite the first date, Asyr. It's a wonder he dared go out with you again.” Liska linked her arm through Asyr's. ”You never seemed to get into this sort of trouble when I've been there to keep you safe.”
”True enough.”
Liska looked up at Gavin. ”I'm going to steal her away for a moment or two, just to get caught up. You don't mind, do you?”
Gavin gave her a big smile and shook his head. ”Not at all--seeing you again is all she's talked about since the invi-tation came. I'll just find myself something to drink.”
Asyr reached out and gave his right hand a squeeze. ”Won't be but a minute.”
”Have fun.” Gavin watched Liska lead her away, then looked around, surveying his surroundings. Knots of individ-uals-almost exclusively Bothans---dominated the land-scape. About the only place they were not predominant was at one bar where a couple of humans, two Ithorians, and a handful of other non-Bothan individuals seemed to have taken up residence. Gavin drifted off in that direction, keep-ing his strides even and his head up even though something in his belly made him want to hurry over there.
He looked at the bartender. ”Lomin~ale, please.”
A short, balding man smiled over at him. ”You should drink the expensive stuff--the Bothans are paying for it.”
”Perhaps, but I like lomin-ale.” Gavin accepted the frothy green gla.s.s of ale, sipped, then licked the foam off his upper lip. The ale was good, though not nearly cold enough for his tastes. Bothans don't seem to like particularly cold drinks, so that's not a big surprise, I guess.
The shorter man offered Gavin his hand. ”Herrit Gordon, Ministry of State.”
”Gavin Darklighter, Rogue Squadron.”
Herrit shook his hand firmly. ”Glad to meet you. I did a tour of duty with the Diplomatic Corps on Bothawui, so they felt they had to invite me.” He pointed off toward a woman who looked positively dowdy amid a circle of Bothan fe-males. ”That's my wife, Tatavan. She learned to speak Bothan, so she's quite popular among the Bothans.”
”A useful skill, I have no doubt. I only know a few words.” Gavin sipped his ale again. ”I came with Asyr Sei'lar. She's a friend of Liska Dan'kre.”
”I know the family. I liaised with her father on Bothawui. Minor n.o.bles, but they have a thriving trade busi-ness to support them, so they wield a bit more power than might be imagined by their place in the formal hierarchy.”
”Powerful, really?”
”She was able to bring you, wasn't she?”
Gavin frowned and drank again, killing the need for an immediate reply. I know she didn't bring me as a trophy-- she told me that much and I believe her. ”You make it sound as if she's trying to annoy some of the folks here.”
”Not the impression I meant to make, I'm afraid. Asyr is something of a renegade. She went to school with Liska and some of the others.”
”I know. She told me.”
”I'm sure she did. That school, however, was meant to prepare her for a life as a trader or in a governmental posi-tion. Without her family's permission she transmitted an ap-plication to the Bothan Martial Academy and was accepted. She did very well there, and her family is very proud of her accomplishments, but they wonder when she will abandon what they see as adventurism and get a real career.”
Gavin's smile returned to his face. ”I doubt that will happen very soon.
Asyr seems very at home in the squad-ron.”
”Don't underestimate the pull of the Bothan family structure. Their families are very tightly bound together.”
”Nothing wrong with that.”
Herrit nodded, then looked toward his wife and paled. Gavin followed his gaze and saw a trio of male Bothans approaching them. The leader stood as tall as Gavin, though he did not have Gavin's bulk. Creamy white fur and golden eyes contrasted with the black uniform he wore. His subordi-nates wore similar uniforms, but their fur was a motley riot of orange and black.
The lead Bothan stopped right in front of Gavin, but did not offer a hand in greeting. ”I am Karka Kre'fey, grandson of General Laryn Kre'fey. You were with Rogue Squadron at Borleias?”
”I was.” Setting his ale on the bar, Gavin aped Karka's stance by grasping his hands together at the small of his back. ”Is there something I can do for you?”
”Reports on the a.s.sault suggest my grandfather was poorly prepared for the a.s.sault and made foolish decisions in the battle.”
”And?”
The Bothan's golden eyes burned with anger. ”I would know if you feel these reports are correct.”
Gavin ignored the gasp from Herrit. ”In my opinion, they are.”
Karka's open-handed slap arrived with no warning and caught Gavin over the left cheek, snapping his head around. Gavin staggered back a step, but the bar kept him from going down. He grabbed onto it with his hands, then straightened up slowly. He wanted to shake his head to kill the ringing in his ears, but he stopped himself and instead looked Karka hard in the eyes.
”I understand your being upset over your grandfather's death.”
”I am upset because you have besmirched his honor.”
”Be that as it may, don't slap me again.”
”Or?”
Herrit stepped forward. ”Please, let's not have an alter-cation here.”
Gavin reached out and grabbed Herrit by the back of the neck. He directed the diplomat back to his place at the bar. ”We're not going to have a fight, sir.”
Karka's lip curled back in a snarl. ”You have sullied the honor of the Kre'fey family. I challenge you to a duel.”
Gavin shook his head slowly. ”No.”
”You refuse to accept?”
”I will not fight you.”
”Then you are a coward.”
Gavin laughed aloud. Just a year previous he would have leaped on Karka and done his best to pummel him, but his time with Rogue Squadron had changed him so that was not an option. Actually, it is an option, but not one I'm compelled to choose. In the last year Wedge and Corran and even Tycho had impressed upon him the fact that what oth-ers thought and said didn't matter---it was the person inside and what he thought of himself that mattered. That's what allows Tycho to endure everything he's going through. He's got a quiet kind of courage that doesn't require boasts and defenses because it's the courage that kicks in when it's really needed.
While part of him still wanted to know the satisfaction of using his fist to disa.s.sociate Karka's teeth from their sock-ets, another part of him reveled in his freedom to ignore the challenge. Because he would not allow himself to be aroused by the Bothan's taunts, those taunts had no power. They became pitiful in their efforts, and transparent. And ignoring them hurts Karka more than any physical damage I could inflict upon him.
Gavin met Karka's molten stare. ”Call me a coward if you wish, I don't care. You are not my enemy. My enemy is the Empire and its remnants.
Maybe you can't see that. Your grandfather could. Strikes me that you honor his memory more by continuing his crusade than in trying to hide mis-takes he may have made.” He extended his right hand toward the Bothan.