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Tyria looked delighted. “But where have you been all these years?”

“With some members of my extended family. I grew up on Pantolomin, but my people were from Lorrd originally, so when I got back to civilization my parents arranged to send me there. From Lorrd it was an easy step to reach the Alliance. My parents had invested my earnings pretty well, so I never lacked for money when hiding out.”

“If you don’t mind the question …” Tyria looked a little distressed. “Are you allergic to bacta? Is that why you still have your scar?”

“No. I just kept it. A little reminder I earned from people I helped quite a bit when I was young.” He shrugged.

Phanan held up a hand. “I’m the one allergic to bacta. That’s why I’m twenty percent mechanical, and gaining.” He smiled at Tyria. “But every human cell longs to become better acquainted with this lady.”

She shot him a look of amused scorn. “Is this going to be one of those units where there’s one female pilot, me, constantly being pursued by every jockey with nothing better to do?”

Phanan sat forward and grasped her hand. His voice became low, melodramatic in tone. “Tyria, I’ve just met you, and already I love you. And don’t think I love you for your looks, which are stunning, or your body, which is stellar, or your manner, which is bold and inflames me with desire. No, I love you because I hear you’re a Jedi in training, and I need all the powerful friends I can get.”

She looked distressed and yanked her hand away. “You heard wrong. And you have the manners of a womp rat.”

Kell said, “Are you really a Jedi in training?”

“No. I have just a little, a very little, control over the Force. But I’ve been working on it for years and haven’t improved on it much.” She managed a wry smile. “The Force is weak in this one.”

Satisfied that his forehead was as close to normal as he could make it, Kell discarded his napkin. “Have you ever met Luke Skywalker?”

She nodded. “He put me through some exercises. A lot of them, really. And he was so nice when he told me he didn’t think I’d ever progress very far in my control of the Force. That this dream I’d had for so long was never going to come true.”

The scarred pilot said, “You know, if I had even the tiniest control over the Force, what I’d do with it?”

She shook her head.

“On those long missions, I’d scratch that little spot in the center of my back I can never reach …”

She stood up fast enough to rattle her tankard of lum. “Go ahead, make fun.”

“Oh, come on. You think Skywalker doesn’t do that?”

“I don’t have time for this. I have things to do.” She headed off toward the exit, her stride suggesting she was furious.

Phanan twisted to watch her go. “Can I walk you to your quarters?” he called after her.

“No!” She didn’t look back.

“Can I help you with your things?”

“No!”

“What can I do for you?”

“Shoot yourself!” Then she was out the entry way.

Phanan settled back in his chair, looking morose. “I’ve done that a couple of times. Shooting myself. Accidents. It’s not fun.”

Kell glared. “Thanks, Phanan, Face. That helped a lot.”

The scarred pilot shrugged, apologetic.

Phanan ignored him. He looked around, raised his hand. “Waiter? Hey, you, the bucket of bolts. We could use some service, right now.”

Kell grinned. “Phanan, you just named your own punishment.”

The next simulated mission was an ambush on a volcanic world. Kell escaped that one damaged but alive. He heard that Runt had once again been vaporized without scoring a kill, and that Lieutenant Myn Donos, senior ranking pilot candidate, was not required to undergo the scenario; Kell wondered why.

On another simulator mission, Kell was paired with Runt again. In the exercise, Green Squadron and a squad of TIE interceptors converged on an asteroid field; Green Squadron was to defend the space station concealed there, the interceptors to find and destroy it.

Eight klicks from the engagement zone, Runt let out another wild, warbling whoop and kicked his thrusters, moving