Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [149]
At night, when things began to cool off and the twin moons came up, I liked walking through the streets. Vlarnya had a small-town feel to it. While the spaceport had been built to Imperial specifications, the city itself had been crafted by local masons and workers using a lot of native material. The streets twisted and turned, snaking through narrow canyons with buildings on both sides, then opening out into small squares that had fountains in the center. The lack of a lot of municipal lighting meant most alleys were sunk in pitch blackness at night, but this was Vlarnya, so alleys weren’t too dangerous, unless you were wandering through the Aviary.
Caet Shrovl occasionally joined me while I wandered. Her condition made her very sensitive to light, so if she came out during the day, she wore a cloak that completely covered her and donned goggles dark enough to turn noon into the void of space. While she was very private, I did learn that she considered her albinism the fault of the Empire, since her mother had once been used in some sort of experiment by Imperial scientists. The Survivors were known to have a strong hatred for the Empire, so she had come to them and endured life on Courkrus for the chance to shoot up Imperials.
Through her I also discovered how Remart Sasyru had been voted out of the unit and into Bolt Squadron. She and I were seated back in one of the Crash’s darker corners, comparing data on our flights’ performances in a series of exercises, when Remart sauntered over toward our table. He came on slow, with a deliberate gait that allows his hips and shoulders to swivel slowly. It was definitely a strut—he was there to be seen, and seen as stalking prey. He wore his grey uniform trousers, black boots and a sleeveless grey tunic that had to be about four sizes too small because it was tight enough to show off every muscle and rib he possessed.
He gave me a cold smile. “Spending time with her? Watch you don’t get tiqcs.”
I looked up from my ale mug. “Funny, she says she hasn’t been bothered since you bolted. Coincidence? Can’t be.”
Remart looked at me, a bit surprised. He’d intended the jibe to sting Caet, but I’d deflected it. I could feel the anger rising in her, and traces of fear in there, too, but didn’t know why. I did decide real quickly, however, that she didn’t need to be provoked and that I could prevent it.
I slid my chair back noisily. “What’s the matter, Sasyru? You offer a smart remark and can’t handle a riposte? Or did my comment go over your head? Let me explain it, then. See, she hasn’t been bothered by vermin since you went away from Rock Squadron. That means, in my opinion, you’re a carrier of vermin. Does that break it down enough for you?”
Shock widened Remart’s blue eyes, then he recovered himself and posted his gloved hands on his hips. He laughed aloud, filling the sound void in the room. “Trust a Corellian to lead with his mouth and to venture in where he is not wanted.”
I stood. “What, no quick shot about how Corellians have no use for odds, so they don’t know when they’re stacked against them? No joke about the most famous Corellian being named ‘Solo’ because no Corellian will trust another Corellian? What other unoriginal and older-than-the-Empire slur could you have offered? Oh, yes, how about suggesting that Leia Organa took up with a Corellian because, hey, after the destruction of Alderaan, she had nothing else to lose.”
I moved out from behind the table. “How about this one? How many Corellians does it take to change a glowpanel?” I glanced at Timmser sitting at another table, but she shrugged. “None! If the room’s dark, you can’t see Corellians cheating at sabacc!”
That brought some laughter from the surrounding tables and even Caet began to relax. “You know why so many Corellians used to get caught and sent to Kessel?”
Remart’s eyes narrowed. “Because they were stupid?”
“No, they were lonely for the rest of their family!