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“Perhaps, sir, if you could provide me with your files, I can search our databases and see if I can locate other files that were similarly sliced, thereby determining if Mr. Bastra’s new identity is known to us.”

“Ooryl sees the wisdom of this.”

Corran smiled over his shoulder at the Gand. “So do I. I don’t see how it can hurt.”

“Sir, if you will permit me then, I will make inquiries of your R2 unit and try to solve this mystery.”

Corran nodded. “Do what you need to do.”

“Yes, sir, which reminds me.” The droid passed each of the pilots a narrow piece of plastic with an embedded black magnetic strip on the back. “These are your room assignments. Mr. Horn and Mr. Qrygg will continue to be billeted together. Mr. Ven, you will room with Mr. Jace, and Mistress Ynr will share a room with Mistress Dlarit.”

The Corellian looked back at the Gand. “At least I know you don’t snore.” Heck, I don’t even know if you breathe.

The soft tissues just inside Ooryl’s mouth wobbled around for a second. “Ooryl does not believe you do either. Ooryl does not sleep in the same manner as most others, so your occasional production of rhythmic nocturnal sound is not a problem. Ooryl finds it somewhat soothing, in fact.”

“First time I’ve heard it described as ‘soothing.’ ” Corran blushed, then stood and patted the Twi’lek on the arm. “I don’t think you can describe anything about your roommate as soothing, my friend.”

Nawara’s red eyes darkened slightly. “Since I won’t be fighting with Jace for mirror space to preen, I think our conflicts will be minimal—I shall take solace in that fact. Rhysati, on the other hand, will have more trouble with the other Thyferran.”

“Why? You think I’m going to worry about my looks to impress the lot of you? No chance.” Rhysati folded her arms across her chest. “I’m going to be spending my time becoming the best pilot there is in this squadron, so romance is not high on my list of priorities.”

Corran smiled. “Besides, you don’t need to work to be beautiful, Rhys.”

“Sure. Just you remember that when I turn your X-wing into slag.”

“Oh, I hope you would not do that, Mistress Ynr.” A plaintive tone warbled through Emtrey’s words and his arms flailed. “The forms I would have to fill out, the court-martial and requisitions for new parts—the work would be endless.”

“Easy, Emtrey, I was joking.”

“Ah, oh, yes, of course you were.” The black droid’s arms settled back down to his sides. “If you have no further need of me, I will find this Whistler of yours, Mr. Horn, and see what I can do to learn more about the fate of your friend.”

“Thank you, Emtrey.” Corran suppressed a smile as the droid turned about with tiny steps, then headed for the door. “Nawara, did you have to deal with protocol droids in court?”

The tips of the Twi’lek’s head tails recoiled. “They functioned as paralegals, but none were allowed into court without restraining bolts. A judge once threw a gavel at one.”

“Not your droid, I take it?”

“No. I was not a welcome sight in Imperial courts, so any droid I could have afforded would not have been allowed in.”

Rhysati frowned. “But then there was no chance that the defense you offered your clients would be as strong as it should have been. That’s not just.”

“Law and justice are seldom served at the same time.” Nawara shrugged. “The quest for justice has brought us all to the Alliance, has it not? Rhys, you want justice for the dislocation of your family when the Empire made them flee Bespin. I am looking for the justice I could not get for my clients. Corran wants the justice denied to innocent people oppressed by Imperial officials.”

Nawara stopped and turned toward the Gand. “And you, my friend, what is the justice you seek?”

Ooryl’s armored lids closed for a second over his multifaceted eyes. “Ooryl does not believe you would fully understand what it is Ooryl seeks. The acceptance Ooryl has known here is indeed a welcome relief from the prejudice of the Empire. This shall suffice as Ooryl’s justice.”

“A noble quest indeed,