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The pilot’s grey-green flesh clashed with the bright orange of his flight suit, and the knobby bits of his exoskeleton poked bumps in odd places from beneath the fabric as he walked. “May Ooryl assist?”

“I’ve been curious about something since we were assigned the same quarters, but didn’t think to ask you about it until right now.” Corran frowned. “I hope you don’t mind—you might take it personally and I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

The Gand just watched him with multifaceted eyes. “Qyrgg would hope to avoid embarrassment as well, but you may ask.”

Corran nodded in what he hoped was a friendly manner. “Why do you speak of yourself in the third person?”

“Qrygg is embarrassed by not understanding your question.”

Lujayne smiled. “You do not seem to refer to yourself with the pronoun ‘I.’ ”

“And you alternate the names you use.”

The Gand’s mouth parts clicked open in what Corran had decided was a Gand’s best approximation of a human smile. “Ooryl understands.”

“And?”

Ooryl crossed his arms, then tapped his trio of fingers against his body’s deltoid armor plates. “On Gand it is held that names are important. Any Gand who has achieved nothing is called Gand. Before Ooryl was given Ooryl’s name, Ooryl was known as Gand. Once Ooryl had made a mark in the world, Ooryl was given the Qrygg surname. Later, by mastering the difficulties of astronavigation and flight, Ooryl earned the right to be called Ooryl.”

The woman frowned. “This still does not explain why you do not use pronouns to refer to yourself.”

“Qrygg apologizes. On Gand only those who have achieved great things are permitted to use pronouns for self-designation. The use of such carries with it the presumption that all who hear the speech will know who the speaker is, and this assumption is only true in the case where the speaker is so great, the speaker’s name is known to all.”

Corran found the system curious, but somehow satisfying. It always does seem that those who use I the most are the ones who have the least in the way of accomplishments to justify it. The Gands have formalized a system we should have come up with long ago. “So Ooryl is the equivalent of Corran, and Qyrgg is the same as Horn for me?”

“Exactly.”

“Then why do you sometimes refer to yourself by your family name, and sometimes by your own name?”

The Gand looked down for a moment and his mouth parts closed. “When a Gand has given offense, or is ashamed of actions, this diminishes the gains made in life. Name reduction is an act of contrition, an apology. Ooryl would like to think Ooryl will not often be called Qyrgg, but Qyrgg knows the likelihood of this is slender.”

Whistler tootled jauntily at Corran.

“People would know my first name was Corran even if we did use this system.” He rolled his eyes. “And any droid who wanted to keep his name would have run his little diagnostic program and told me if the extractor was adjusted correctly or not by now.”

Lujayne glanced over at him. “Trouble with the engine?”

“Nothing major.” Corran pointed down into the hole. “I had to replace an extractor a while back and keeping it trimmed up over the first fifty parsecs is important.”

Lujayne nodded. “Until it seats itself properly. Looks like you’re working on the housing when you really ought to be just putting a spacer on the axle.”

“You know about fixing these things?”

She shrugged. “Landspeeder repair was one of the trade skills my father used to teach. The T-47 uses virtually identical debris extraction systems for the engine. What you’re doing will work, but you’ll keep making adjustments for another six months. I can measure up a spacer and have it ground down to size for you in a half an hour or so.”

“Really?”

“Sure, if you want the help.”

Corran frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’d owe me a favor and you’d have to trust me.”

Trusting someone he did not know did feel odd to him, but not so much so that he could not do it. “I see your point. I think, though, I can trust you.”

“We have a deal then.”

Ooryl