Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [67]
“That would explain the taking of Gamorreans.” Aril’s garnet eyes sparkled in the backlight of the glowing drink the service droid placed in front of Rhysati. “Why the Quarren?”
Nawara dropped a ten-credit piece in the slot on top of the droid’s head and drew his brandy from the tray. “Quarren share the same world with the Mon Calamari, but the two populations are not wholly united. Perhaps they want to exploit the enmity between them.”
A petite, black-furred female Bothan came walking over to their table and smiled invitingly in Gavin’s direction. A diamond of silken white fur covered her from throat to navel—it being visible beneath her sleeveless jacket’s loose lacing closures. White also sheathed her hands and carried on up to mid forearm. A blaze of white fur blossomed in the middle of her brow and splashed across her left eye and cheek to where it narrowed again at the corner of her jaw. Her light violet eyes shone brightly in contrast to the fur surrounding them, giving her a penetrating stare that sent a quick jolt through Gavin.
Nawara looked up at her. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I think not, sir.” She picked up Gavin’s identification card, read it, and gently set it down again. “I noticed how you dared defy that stormtrooper, Vin Leiger, and I thought perhaps I would like to learn more of a man who can be so casual in a place where so few of his kind are found. I thought we might discuss this … privately.”
It took Gavin a half second to remember he was Vin Leiger, but that was because he’d not recognized himself in her description of the encounter with the stormtrooper. She must have somehow confused me with Nawara, but she’s looking right at me. “Urn, I, ah, I’m here with my friends.”
She nodded politely. “Of course, you would not want to abandon them. I understand.” The Bothan glanced back over her shoulder toward where people were dancing. “Surely they would not begrudge my stealing you away for one dance?”
“Ah, we’re discussing something right now. Perhaps another time, Miss …”
“I am Asyr Sei’lar.” Her smile slackened slightly. “Another time, then?”
“Yes, certainly.”
A Gotal seated in the next booth over turned around. “He’s lying, Asyr. Your approach made him nervous and your retreat filled him with relief.” As the horned humanoid came around to face Gavin he produced a blaster and pointed it at the Rogues. Out of the corner of his eye Gavon saw Asyr move and a small blaster appeared in her right hand. While he saw no more guns, he heard a crescendo of safety switches being snapped off, so he instantly rejected the idea of digging for his puny hold-out blaster.
Nawara’s voice took on an edge, the sort of edge Gavin imagined it had when the Twi’lek had fought for his clients in court. “Would someone care to explain what my friend has done wrong here? Is it a crime to refuse to dance in the Azure Dianoga?”
“Not at all, but his relief shows him to be as much a bigot as the stormtroopers who just left here.” Asyr tapped Gavin’s ID card with the muzzle of her blaster. “If he’d not lied, if he’d accepted my invitation, we’d have known he’s like your woman—someone to whom species makes no difference. Since he’s a bigot, we have other uses for him.”
“And those would be?”
The Bothan smiled coolly. “The Imps have been kidnapping people from Invisec and they’ve not returned them. Something has to be done, so we have formed the Alien Combine. We need someone to take a message to the Imps to let them know we’ll tolerate their prédation no longer. Your friend has elected himself to fill that post and this will be one time when a dead man will tell a tale.”
20
Kirtan Loor’s ears popped as the lift ascended to the rarefied precincts where Ysanne Isard lived. She does not live, she lairs. As much as he hated her intrusive holo-visitations to his tiny office, being summoned