Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [72]
Other Bothan females wore similar gowns, but none so well. Though he was not wholly adept at reading Bothan body language and facial expressions, the rippling of fur on necks and shoulders of those they passed by told him that Asyr’s gown was making quite an impression indeed. Gavin thought he looked pretty sharp in his Rogue Squadron uniform, but he was a black hole compared with a supernova, and quite content with that role.
As they reached the courtyard, a lithe female Bothan with black and tan markings excused herself from a circle of individuals who were listening to Borsk Fey’lya holding forth on something. She wore a gown similar in design to Asyr’s, though it had been made of cloth of gold and had been accented with jet beadwork in the form of stripes. She beamed broadly as she approached them. “Asyr Sei’lar, you are a vision!”
Asyr gave her friend a big hug. “Thank you for the invitation, Liska.”
Liska pulled back and looked up at Gavin. “And you are Asyr’s friend.”
Gavin executed a semiformal bow. “Gavin Darklighter of Rogue Squadron, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He took her hand in his and shook it gently.
Liska sighed contentedly, then smiled at Asyr. “So mannerly, no wonder you find him so attractive. How did you meet him?”
Asyr hesitated for a moment. “I was part of an operation in Invisec before the liberation. We met then.”
Gavin smiled. “She was trying to get me executed as an example to the Imps.”
“You always did play a little rough, Asyr.”
Asyr shrugged. “Luckily he had Nawara Ven defending him, so the execution was delayed. Imps showed up, Gavin saved my life and I his in the ensuing firefight. Not much more to tell than that.”
“Quite the first date, Asyr. It’s a wonder he dared go out with you again.” Liska linked her arm through Asyr’s. “You never seemed to get into this sort of trouble when I’ve been there to keep you safe.”
“True enough.”
Liska looked up at Gavin. “I’m going to steal her away for a moment or two, just to get caught up. You don’t mind, do you?”
Gavin gave her a big smile and shook his head. “Not at all—seeing you again is all she’s talked about since the invitation came. I’ll just find myself something to drink.”
Asyr reached out and gave his right hand a squeeze. “Won’t be but a minute.”
“Have fun.” Gavin watched Liska lead her away, then looked around, surveying his surroundings. Knots of individuals—almost exclusively Bothans—dominated the landscape. About the only place they were not predominant was at one bar where a couple of humans, two Ithorians, and a handful of other non-Bothan individuals seemed to have taken up residence. Gavin drifted off in that direction, keeping his strides even and his head up even though something in his belly made him want to hurry over there.
He looked at the bartender. “Lomin-ale, please.”
A short, balding man smiled over at him. “You should drink the expensive stuff—the Bothans are paying for it.”
“Perhaps, but I like lomin-ale.” Gavin accepted the frothy green glass of ale, sipped, then licked the foam off his upper lip. The ale was good, though not nearly cold enough for his tastes. Bothans don’t seem to like particularly cold drinks, so that’s not a big surprise, I guess.
The shorter man offered Gavin his hand. “Herrit Gordon, Ministry of State.”
“Gavin Darklighter, Rogue Squadron.”
Herrit shook his hand firmly. “Glad to meet you. I did a tour of duty with the Diplomatic Corps on Bothawui, so they felt they had to invite me.” He pointed off toward a woman who looked positively dowdy amid a circle of Bothan females. “That’s my wife, Tatavan. She learned to speak Bothan, so she’s quite popular among the Bothans.”
“A useful skill, I have no doubt. I only know a few words.” Gavin sipped his ale again. “I came with Asyr Sei’lar. She’s a friend of Liska Dan’kre.”
“I know the family. I liaised with her father on Bothawui. Minor nobles,