• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“I think he’s in that same sort of transitional phase of his life. For better than a decade he’s been responsible for the life-and-death decisions that have cost a lot of people their lives. That’s not saying someone else wouldn’t have caused more people to die by making worse decisions—that’s pretty much a given—but he’s been going like that since before you joined CorSec. He’s, what, two years older than you? That means he’s had a lot of pressure since a time when you were still a kid. Given the death of his parents and his trying to make a living shipping …”

“And his time spent with Booster Terrik …”

“… right, he’s never had a chance to cut loose and be himself. I think that’s what he’s doing and I’m not certain he wants that many reminders of his previous life around right now.”

Her analysis of Wedge’s situation seemed to hit pretty well dead on, but she’d always been a good judge of character. “So that means you’re just going to back off?”

She nodded, then smiled at our server as the Twi’lek female placed our meals in front of us. “That smells wonderful. Thank you.”

I glanced down at a bowl filled with gravy. A lump floated to the surface and a couple of bubbles thinned from brown to khaki, then burst. “And the thing is, I’m pretty sure this will be lots better than the academy food.”

The server gave me an “I told you so” twitch of a lek and wandered off.

Iella popped a forkful of her mynock into her mouth, closed her eyes and sighed. “This is really very good.”

The aroma of her meal wafted over my way, starting my mouth watering. To curb that behavior, I poked my fork at a lump of what I hoped was gornt, but it just sank away out of sight. “I’m so happy for you, Iella.” A growl from my stomach underscored my sarcastic remark.

She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to me. “It’s your own fault. Twi’leks consider gornt to be tourist food. You might as well walk into a cantina and order nerfmilk.”

“Hey, I’d order it straight up.”

She laughed and I realized I was going to miss that sound. “If I didn’t feel I had to go to the academy, if I didn’t feel my father wanted me to go, I don’t think I would.”

“Yes, you would, Corran.” She shook her head at me. “Once you heard about the academy you would have been going—even if Mirax wasn’t missing.”

“What do you mean?” I manfully speared a chunk of gornt and tucked it into my cheek. “How can you say that?”

“I was your partner, remember? You’re very competitive, which can be cute and endearing at times, as long as someone stays out of your way. You want to know why you were the first person ever to escape from Isard’s Lusankya prison? Because there was no way you were going to let her beat you.”

“What’s that got to do with the academy?”

“You’ve always wanted to be the best, and becoming a Jedi Knight will be that for you. Look at yourself. You’re already beginning training before you begin training. You’ve figured out that Master Skywalker will be bringing in folks who are younger than you are, and you’re already figuring out how to be better than they are.”

I chewed on the gornt and thought. And chewed some more. Actually I was finding acknowledging the truth in Iella’s words about as tough as the gornt I was chewing, and swallowing either would hurt. Despite the impending discomfort, I knew she was right. I swallowed the gornt, then coughed lightly and nodded to her.

She reached out and tapped a finger against my forehead. “The one thing you haven’t figured out yet is that the person you’re really in competition with is yourself. Luke Skywalker will be a tough taskmaster. Of that I have no doubt. And I know Wedge was, but they weren’t as hard on you as you’ll be on yourself. I know you well enough to know you won’t back off, so I just hope you remember that when you feel all that pressure on you, the majority is coming from right inside your thinkbox.”

I thumped a fist against my breastbone to help the gornt go down. “You know, you could have told me this a long