Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [23]
Melvar gave Zsinj a little theatrical bow. “Allow me to present Doctors Novin Bress and Edda Gast, from our special operations division of Binring Biomedical on Saffalore. After due investigation I decided to bring them to speak to you personally.”
Zsinj folded his hands over the imposing swell of his stomach. He noted with satisfaction that his white Imperial grand admiral’s jacket was spotless, nearly gleaming; it would be inappropriate to lead two doomed people before a shabby warlord. “Doctor, Doctor, delighted to meet you.” He was charmed to see the first flicker of hope appear in the older man’s eyes; this one would be fun to play with.
“Ask them,” Melvar said, “about missing test subjects.”
Zsinj gave him a blank look, as if struggling to recall something of little consequence, then said, “Oh, yes. Doctors, tell me where a Gamorrean and an Ewok might obtain the necessary skills—and temperament—to fly starfighters.”
Dr. Bress, the male, tried to catch the eye of his younger colleague. Dr. Gast ignored his attempt; she kept her gaze on Zsinj.
“Well,” Bress said, “they might have escaped from our facility.”
“Ah,” Zsinj said. He picked up a datapad and brought up his day’s schedule. He’d have a massage in an hour, then sit down to a stimulating meal an hour after that. “It says here that I sent out a memorandum asking about possible test-subject escapes some time ago, and that you replied in the negative. Correct?”
Dr. Bress flinched. “Correct.”
Zsinj slammed the datapad down on the edge of his desk, snapping the device in two. Bress jumped. Interestingly, Gast didn’t. Zsinj modulated his voice to a snarl and allowed some color to creep into his face. “May I ask why didn’t you tell me then, when I sent out the memorandum? Why do I learn about it now?”
“Because we weren’t sure,” Bress said. “We’re not sure now.”
Zsinj stared at him a long moment, then turned his attention to Gast. “I’m not sure I understand this man. Perhaps you could explain a little more clearly.”
“I believe I can,” she said. “Might I have a chair? We walked some considerable distance to get to your office.”
Zsinj forced himself to mask the genuine surprise he felt. It took a lot of nerve to make such a request when she should have been wondering how best to preserve her life. He took his first really good look at her. Adult human female in the prime of life, not beautiful but with cheekbones that made her striking and would do so throughout her life … and her eyes, dark, calm, unapologetic, were unsettling.
He forced a smile. “Of course. General Melvar, where are your manners? Give the doctor a chair.”
Bress spoke up, his voice wavering: “I, too, uh, could use—”
“Do be quiet, Doctor Bress.” Zsinj waited until Melvar situated a chair behind Gast. He gave her a moment to compose herself. “Now, you were saying?”
“My uncle, Doctor Tuzin Gast, was also on this project,” she said. “He was the real pioneer on the cognitive-stimulation side of things. But he wasn’t really suited to the project emotionally. He became rather too close to his test subjects. He developed real affection for them. Not a good idea, considering their intended use.”
Zsinj nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“One day, a couple of years ago, there was a tremendous explosion in Epsilon Wing. My uncle and several test subjects were killed. Some were so close that their bodies were incinerated.”
“I remember,” Zsinj said. “It promised to be a tremendous loss until Doctor Bress told me that the dead doctor’s assistant—and niece—was at the very least his intellectual peer and would be able to continue his work, without much loss of time. And he turned out to be right.”
Gast nodded, acknowledging the compliment without smiling. “We reported the losses and continued as scheduled,” she said. “Although we discovered some interesting things about the accident.”
“Such as?”
She began counting items off on her fingers.