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The black-and-white-furred Bothan bowed her head respectfully, then stood at attention as the door closed behind her. “I am honored a member of the Provisional Council noticed me.”

“Noticed you? My dear, you are quite impossible to refrain from noticing. Aside from your performance in the squadron, you were positively stunning at the Dan’kre party the other evening. Please, be seated. No need for formality here, is there?” Fey’lya remained standing until she had taken her seat. She moved with an ease and strength he recalled possessing in his youth. Though he was not that long past his physical peak, he could already see how much he had lost from when he was her age.

Borsk Fey’lya also realized that had he been her age again, he would have been lovestalking her. He found her quite attractive, freely acknowledging that the white blazes in her fur gave her a dangerous look. The fire in her violet eyes likewise threatened to seduce him, but with maturity—unlike humans—he had moved away from personal vanity. Whereas a man might take a mistress her age to prove his continued virility, for Fey’lya that choice would prove he had not yet sufficiently focused himself on what was truly important in life.

The pursuit of power.

“I wish to communicate to you, Asyr, the congratulations and adulation of the people of Bothawui. You are well on your way to taking your place in the constellations of Bothan heroes like the Martyrs and even your predecessor in Rogue Squadron, Peshk Vri’syk. You liberated Coruscant and now fly with the New Republic’s most famous fighter squadron. Your parents are very proud of you, and other Bothan parents everywhere have virtually no reservations when it comes to their children choosing you as a role model.”

“Thank you, Councilor.” Asyr’s violet eyes blinked. “I would think parents could find far better role models for their children than me.”

“Perhaps, but I should not be concerned about your liaison with the human, Galen.” Fey’lya purposely misidentified her lover and was rewarded by a flash of anger rippling the fur of her neck and head. “Xenophilia is not unknown among us, and your dalliance adds a hint of romance to your image. Your Galen seems very capable of handling himself in a wide variety of situations—case in point being the way he defused the Kre’fey problem. Moreover, you are quite discreet—admirably discreet, actually.”

“His name is Gavin, Gavin Darklighter. His cousin was one of those who died destroying the first Death Star.”

“And our Martyrs died to enable the Alliance to destroy the second Death Star. It is fitting that heirs to two heroic traditions should find comfort together.” Fey’lya raised a hand to calm her. “Please, forgive me if this mention of your personal affairs angered you. I did not mean to cause you any discomfort. I fully understand the sort of bonds that can be forged between people who endure adversity together. Others are not so accepting of things they see as different.”

“Thank you, Councilor.” Asyr frowned heavily. “Some other members of the Bothan community here are positively imperial in their xenophobic attitudes.”

“That is not good at all. If you will permit me, perhaps I can help you with this problem. I have ample opportunity to speak with various groups—Bothan and other—here and back on Bothawui. It does no one any good for you to be persecuted for things that really are beyond your control. I was young once. I know how hot one’s blood can be. I will use my influence to get attitudes to change.”

“That would be most kind.”

“I’m glad to be of service.” Fey’lya smiled. “In fact, I had hoped to be of service to you when I invited you here, but this was not the subject I wanted to address.”

Asyr met his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes, sir?”

“You were part of the mission to Alderaan, as I recall, yes?”

“Yes. I flew wing for Commander Antilles. I got the kills I did because he hung back and covered me.”

“I see.” Fey’lya pressed his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. “The timing of your arrival in the Alderaan system has become a point