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“I hope that skill holds for Nawara’s efforts on behalf of Tycho.”

Mirax’s brown eyes narrowed. “I hope so, too, I think. I know you believe Tycho had nothing to do with Corran’s death, but I can’t be so sure. I wish I could, really, because Tycho helped me save Corran at Borleias.”

“Don’t forget that Tycho saved me and the rest of the Squadron on Coruscant.”

“I’ve not forgotten that, but while he was saving you, Corran and I were saving each other from the Empire and the traitor in Fliry Vorru’s organization.” She patted Wedge on the knee. “We’ve been over this a dozen times and I’m getting better about it, I really am. I don’t cry nearly as much right now as I did.”

Wedge tipped her face up with his left hand and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, being sad doesn’t reflect badly on you at all.”

“Thanks.” Mirax sniffed a little. “It’s just that it seems so ridiculous sometimes. We’d not even dated. We didn’t know each other that well. For his death to hurt this much we should have been a lot closer.”

“That’s the trick of it, Mirax, you were a lot closer than you imagine. The two of you shared a lot of the same qualities.” Wedge smiled. “Your father and Corran’s father were mortal enemies. Why? Because they were a lot alike, too. Both of you had strong relationships with your fathers, which is reflected in how you turned out. Under different circumstances old Booster and Hal Horn probably could have been friends. You and Corran became friends because you met under those different circumstances.”

She frowned for a moment. “You are probably right. I could also help myself get over this, I think, if I could just finally accept the fact that Corran’s dead. Listening to the comlink call when he went in, that was pretty nasty, but we never found a body. I know it’s stupid to make anything of that, what with the building coming down on him and all, but my father always said that if you don’t see a body, don’t count on someone being dead. He did once—”

“And it cost him his eye. I remember the story.” Wedge laughed lightly. “Now I remember it. That explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Biggs, Porkins, Corran, my parents—I never saw their dead bodies. Partly because of your father’s story, I suspect, and just human stubbornness, I find myself sometimes expecting to see them walk into my office.”

Mirax’s face brightened. “Or you think you see them walking along in a crowd. You catch a glimpse of them.” She glanced down. “Part of me thinks that we see them because we don’t truly believe they’re dead. Maybe the barrier that separates the living from the dead is permeable as long as there is someone who doesn’t accept death. Sithspawn, listen to me. I’m talking like a glitbiter.”

“That’s not a problem, Mirax, I understand.” Wedge leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “And I don’t think your theory is all that wrong. I don’t imagine we can bring people back to life by hoping, but letting their memories live on inside us is not a bad thing to do at all.”

The Sullustan cheebled something at Mirax, prompting her to spin around in her command chair. She hit several switches above her head, then punched a button on the console. “Landing gear deployed, repulsorlift drives engaged. Kill thrust and set her down gently.”

Liat’s melodic grumble accompanied the delicate thunder of the Pulsar Skate’s landing. Mirax slapped a button on the command console and Wedge immediately felt a rush of warm air as the ship’s gangway lowered itself. Mirax nodded toward the aft and the opening. “After you, Commander Antilles.”

“Thank you, Captain Terrik.”

Mirax smiled. “By the way, I think you look slicker than a Hutt’s slime trail in that native garb.”

“Thanks.” Since the mission was diplomatic in nature, Rogue Squadron had been supplied with clothes like those their counterparts on Ryloth would wear. Because of the planet’s oppressive heat, the natives tended to wear loose, bulky, hooded cloaks over their other garments. The nature of the clothes they wore beneath the cloaks depended