Enemy Lines II_ Rebel Stand - Aaron Allston [56]
“Here’s one.” Wolam paused the image and then tapped the figure of one mechanic working energetically on an X-wing engine.
“A mechanic,” Tam said.
“A female mechanic.” Wolam dialed the image so that the woman expanded to fill the screen. “Corellian, unmarried. Good looking. I spoke with her for a few minutes while you were showing Tarc the zoom functions.”
“Ah. I see. We now take a break from work so you can once again try to set me up with a woman.”
“That’s correct.”
“And I should seek her out because she’s good looking. Not that she isn’t … but am I that shallow?”
“At your age, you should be.”
Tam sighed and took the recording off pause. It continued on, focusing for a few more moments on that X-wing and its crew, before blanking. A moment later, the image of the biotics building’s main lobby snapped into focus.
“More important, now’s not the time,” Tam said. “I have a few things to get through first. Such as my reputation as a traitor.”
“A reputation that exists only in your own mind.”
“And the fact that all my savings were on Coruscant. The fact that all my possessions fit in a bag that I have no trouble lifting.”
“So seek out a woman who isn’t as shallow as I wish you were.”
“What’s this?” The image on the screen became jerky, blurring across a sea of waists and belt buckles. Then it rose, and Wolam’s face appeared on the screen, saturated with light, recorded from about waist height. The recorded Wolam grimaced and tried to turn his face out of the glare.
“Oh, that’s young Tarc’s recording.”
“That’s right, our second tour of the building.”
“I think he was experimenting with the notion of using the holocam glow rod as a weapon.”
Tam snorted, then became serious again. “Wolam, he doesn’t belong here.”
“True.”
“And the Solos—well, I don’t have any criticism of them, they have their duties, but they’re not exactly around here much. They’re just momentary reassurances for him.”
“Yes. They’ve accepted responsibility for him, despite their inability to be available to him at all times, because he needs someone, and no one else is that someone.”
“Pretty much the way you accepted responsibility for me, ten years ago.”
Wolam shook his head. “Not quite. You were sixteen, more or less an adult.”
“Just like now.”
Wolam smiled. “Tam, listen. If you have a failing, it’s that you don’t seize the initiative, don’t grasp the opportunities that are before you. Such as going out and spending the occasional rowdy evening with people your own age—there are plenty here, including that mechanic. Such as finding out for yourself that your worries about your reputation as a traitor are unfounded. But that failing is not too great a sin. Its consequences eat at you, but don’t hurt anyone except you. You don’t hurt other people, you do a necessary job quietly and well, and when a hard task moves into your path—such as shaking off the domination of the Yuuzhan Vong—you accomplish that task.”
“Eventually.”
“I’m trying to say, as your friend rather than as your employer, that I’m proud of you, and I wish you were proud of yourself.”
Tam met Wolam’s eyes, then looked away, concentrating on the screen again rather than let Wolam see tears trying to form. “Wolam, that boy needs somebody. When it comes time to shove off Borleias, I want to take him along with me. With us, if you’ll have him along.”
“See there? Another task accepted. A gigantic one compared to shaking off Yuuzhan Vong brainwashing—accepting responsibility for a whole, entire child. But have you asked him? Have you talked to the Solos?”
“No. I will. And if any of them say no, then it’s no. But I think Tarc deserves the offer.”
“I think you’re right. And of course, I’d be happy for him to come along. If he can learn to stop spinning, he could be a useful backup holocam operator.”
Tam grinned.