Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [59]
“There might be, sir.” The droid rotated his head around in a circle to scan the whole area. “I’ll prepare the forms requesting a general survey of the local sector.”
Dropping the datapad, Corran reached out and grabbed the droid’s head in both hands. He pulled Emtrey’s facial opening toward him. “You’re missing my point, Emtrey. Forms and requests will take time. Without that part, I can’t fly. If I can’t fly, I’ll be stuck in this fog and on the ground and that will make life miserable for me and I don’t want that. There are parts to be had …”
“And regulations to be observed.”
“Regulations be damned!”
The droid pulled back a step and the condensation on his head let him slip away. “Sir, of all the members of Rogue Squadron, I would have thought you would appreciate adherence to regulations!”
Corran sighed. “Regulations have their place, but not when they hurt. Can’t you just scrounge the part or something?”
The droid froze in position, the flashing light in his eyes being the only indication he was still working. The pilot luxuriated in the cessation of the droid’s chatter, but it went on far longer than he’d heard before in the droid’s presence. The eye-flashes became asynchronous, and this worried Corran a bit.
“Emtrey?”
The droid’s eyes went dark for a moment, then his limbs and head jerked as if he had been struck by lightning.
“Emtrey?”
The eyes lit up again and Corran would have sworn they were a bit brighter. “Scrounging protocol engaged, sir.” The droid bent down and smoothly retrieved the datapad. He glanced at the datapad, then shook his head. “I’ll shoot a requisition up through channels, but I think I can find you something sooner than anything we get from Command. You’re a pilot, and my job is to keep you flying. Consider it done.”
Even the voice sounded different to Corran. “Emtrey, are you all right? Is the moisture getting to you?”
“I’m fine, sir. The moisture is no problem.” One eye-light flashed on and off. “Touch of a virus, maybe, but nothing to worry about.”
Did that droid just wink at me? “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.” The droid saluted smartly. “If you have nothing further, sir, I’ll get on this right away. And I’ll have your gear sent around to your billet, sir.”
“Thank you, Emtrey.” Corran returned the salute. “Dismissed.”
The droid turned sharply on his heel and walked away. Corran stared after him, then shivered.
“Ooryl did not think it was so cold here.”
Corran spun and saw the grey-green-colored Gand standing behind him. Another who blends in with this fog. “Not cold, Ooryl, just fatigue. It’s been a long day, full of surprises.”
“Qrygg wanted to apologize for abandoning you.” The Gand Findsman clutched his hands together penitently. “Qrygg was too busy dodging Interceptors on Qrygg’s tail to see you were not there.”
“You followed orders, just as I would have.”
“Qrygg would give you a sign of Qrygg’s sorrow.”
Corran threw an arm around the Gand’s exoskeletal shoulders. “I tell you what. Guide me back to my billet and let me get a solid eight hours of sleep, and we’ll call it even. Will that assuage your Gand guilt?”
“Ooryl finds this acceptable.”
“Good.” Corran swept his left hand through the fog. “Lead on, Ooryl, and this time I promise I’ll follow right behind you.”
15
The officious, bulbous officer stared laser bolts at Kirtan Loor. “I can see your orders are all properly drawn, but I have never appreciated Intelligence operatives meddling in fleet affairs.”
“I appreciate your concern, Admiral Devlia, as well as your willingness to return from retirement to Imperial service, but Imperial security must take precedence at this time which, I believe you would agree, is most critical.”
The little man brushed his grey moustache with a finger and his expression eased. “Just so we understand each other.”
“Of course.” Kirtan cared little for the Admiral’s concerns, but the Interdictor cruiser Black Asp was part of Devlia’s command. Its report