Star Wars_ X-Wing 04_ The Bacta War - Michael A. Stackpole [54]
As he came through the doorway, Mirax stepped forward and enfolded him in a hug. She kissed his lips, then his right ear. “I can’t tell you how good you feel. I was afraid you’d not make it.”
“And give your father the satisfaction?”
She laughed lightly. “I’ll tell him that the Horn tenacity is, in fact, good for something.”
Corran kissed the side of her face and held on tight. One of the most unnerving things about being in a bacta tank, with its temperature control and neutral buoyancy, was the feeling of floating in a void. If not for the touch of the breathing mask on his face, he would have had no connection to the outside world. Just being able to hold on to Mirax and feel her body through the thin material of her clothes brought him fully back into the world.
“You weren’t hurt, were you?”
Mirax shook her head. “Nope, I kept my head down and came out in one piece.” She grinned. “And I even managed to recover your lightsaber for you. It and your Jedi credit are safe.”
“Great. Thanks.” He released Mirax and gave Iella a hug. “Yet one more time you’ve had to watch me bobbing in bacta.”
Iella smiled. “As long as you keep coming out whole, hale, and hearty, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks.” Corran let her go, then nodded to Elscol and Sixtus. “Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
The big man just shrugged. Elscol’s eyes narrowed. “The crossfire was a bit more inconvenient than this. We’ve gotten some work done while we’ve been waiting.”
“And good work it has been.” A tall, slender man came through the archway and gave Corran a once-over. “I’m glad to see you healed. You were in a bad state when I first saw you.”
Corran hesitated. While he’d floated in the bacta he’d mulled over the identity of the man he’d seen standing above him in the spaceport. He’d looked like Bror Jace, but Corran knew that was impossible because Bror Jace had been killed by the Empire. Corran had decided that the man he’d seen was someone affiliated with the Zaltin corporation, as Jace had been, and perhaps was even closely related to Jace. That solution made perfect sense to him and seemed to satisfy all the facts in his possession.
But there’s no mistaking that tone of voice. Corran’s jaw hung open. “You are Bror Jace.”
“Indeed I am.” Jace bowed his head, then graciously waved Corran toward one of the day beds. “You’d like an explanation on why I’m not dead?”
Corran sniffed. “I’ve been reported dead myself. Those things happen.”
Mirax slapped him playfully on the belly. “You’re dying to know what happened to him, just like the rest of us.”
“Well, if the rest of you want to indulge him, then I think the only polite thing for me to do is listen.” Corran sat and adjusted the towel to preserve his modesty. “Go ahead, Bror, knock us out with the story.”
Jace, whose blond hair picked up green highlights from the bacta tank, smiled easily. “I hardly think the tale engrossing enough for you to endure a second telling of it, so I beg your forbearance.”
Corran glanced at Mirax. “You’ve heard this before.”
“Yes, and I’d rather have him tell you instead of having you get it out of me later.”
Corran winced. “Right. Okay, Bror, do it.”
The Thyferran began to pace, clasping his hands behind his back. The short pants he wore and the thin shirt rustled with his movements—and Corran found the whole ensemble a little hard to reconcile with the pilot he’d known and competed with in his early days with Rogue Squadron. The pacing is right, as is the imperious tilt of the chin, but the clothes are what kids wear.
“I joined Rogue Squadron for a number of reasons, not the least of which was to maintain parity between Zaltin and Xucphra. This