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The arrival of a tall human lieutenant interrupted the apology, as Ackbar turned away and ignored the major completely.

“What’s your name?” Ackbar demanded, noting the Corellian insignia in the place above the right pocket reserved for an affiliation pin.

“Lieutenant Warris, sir.”

“Would you care to explain to me your actions regarding Plat Mallar?” he asked.

The recruiter looked momentarily taken aback. “Sir, I don’t understand. He was unqualified,” Warris said.

“Unqualified?”

“Yes, sir,” Warris said. “The guidelines clearly specify that an applicant’s primary education must be through a certified school or program. Plat Mallar’s program isn’t even listed in the system.”

“Of course it isn’t, you dunderhead—did you happen to notice where he’s from?”

“Yes, sir. But that’s another problem, sir. He’s ineligible to join the Fleet—he’s not a citizen of the New Republic. In fact, it’s worse than just not being a citizen—he’s a citizen of Polneye, a planet that’s still officially listed as aligned with the Empire. I couldn’t possibly pass him through the interview, sir.” The recruiter looked to the major for help. “Are there special circumstances I wasn’t made aware of—”

“Admiral, Lieutenant Warris is quite right on the procedures,” the major said. “If this applicant doesn’t have a verifiable citizenship record with a member world, we can’t even consider him.”

“Bureaucratic nonsense,” Ackbar raged, his voice rising on a wave of righteous indignation. “Whatever happened to taking the measure of a man’s courage, his honor—the fight in him, and the reasons in his heart? Do they all have to be as stamped-and-pressed alike as stormtroopers to get your approval?” He dismissed the recruiter with a wave. “Get out.”

Grateful to be excused, Warris retreated as Ackbar focused his attention on the supervisor.

“Admiral, we could certainly reconsider the application if you could just give us the context for your concern—”

“The context,” Ackbar repeated disbelievingly. “It’s not enough that a man is willing to put on a uniform and fight alongside people he’s never met, just because he shares an ideal with them—no, his offer must come from the right context, and his school papers must be in order, and his arms not too long, and his blood type stocked in the combat medivacs.” Ackbar shook his head in disgust. “How things have changed. I can remember when we were glad for anyone willing to fight beside us.”

“Admiral—there have to be standards—”

The major’s tone was placating, and Ackbar did not wish to be placated. “Major, ask yourself how many of the everyday heroes of the Rebellion—not just the names everyone knows—would have qualified to fight for their freedom under your rules,” Ackbar said, leaning in. “And then ask yourself if that answer doesn’t make you look just a bit like a dewback’s cloaca.” Then Ackbar turned and stalked out of the office without waiting for a reply, much less a salute.

Halfway down the corridor, Ackbar’s outburst was already making him feel a touch foolish. But what he found when he reached the waiting area left him feeling a deep sadness.

For Ackbar found that all the seats in the waiting area were empty. Seemingly crushed by the rejection, Plat Mallar had not waited for him. Without a word to clerk or guard, the young survivor had left the recruiting office, exited through the main gate, and faded away into the city.

Ackbar turned to the gate guard and pointed. “I’m going to need that speeder.”

Chapter 12

From experience on Coruscant and Mon Calamari both, Admiral Ackbar knew that the line that divided the inner circle from the outer circle in any government was access. If you were part of the inner circle, you could see the President simply by walking down a private corridor and through the back doorway into her office; when you called, the President spoke to you directly; when you transmitted a letter, you got a personal response.

Ackbar had enjoyed that status throughout Leia’s tenure in the top office,