Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [36]
“Thanks, I can use it.” She accepted the mug from Mirax and inhaled the steam. “Where’d you get this caf? I haven’t smelled anything this strong since … since I left Corellia.”
Mirax stepped in from the doorway and Whistler warbled triumphantly as he rolled into Iella’s office. His head turned in a circle, and he stopped and extended toward her a small bag clutched in his pincer. A tone ran from low to high, and Iella accepted the bag with a gracious bow of her head.
Mirax smiled. “Whistler seems to recall the settings you CorSec folks used on your caf distiller back on Corellia. I don’t allow him to make it that strong at home, but I gather he still brews it that way at the squadron. I found a caf shop that let him play with the controls in return for some exotic blends I managed to get my hands on. The result is in your mug.”
Iella took a sip, then set the mug down on the desk. She opened the bag and peeked inside. “And the pastries, they were your idea, Whistler?”
The droid trumpeted triumphantly.
Mirax sighed. “I tried to convince him that something a bit more substantial would be better for you, but he seems to think all CorSec officers function on strong caf and foods full of fat and sugar and gluten.”
“Well, it couldn’t hurt at the moment.” Iella narrowed her eyes. “Um, how did you get in here, anyway?”
Mirax fished a security datacard from the pocket of her nerf-hide jacket. “General Cracken and I have an understanding. He uses me to keep tabs on my father’s Errant Venture. I pass on rumors that I hear while trading, offer opinions.”
“Cracken doesn’t worry too much when your cargo manifests don’t actually square with what arrives?”
“He knows he can trust me not to do anything harmful, and I did have a little to do with rylca production on Borleias, so it’s an easy détente.” Mirax smiled. “Neither Corran nor my father know of my arrangement with Cracken, and I’d just as soon keep it that way.” She reached out with a foot and tapped Whistler’s barrel body with a toe. “You got that, Whistler?”
The droid warbled emphatically.
Iella raised an eyebrow. “Whistler keeping secrets from Corran? How did that happen?”
Mirax winked. “When he retires, Whistler wants to be the navigator on the Pulsar Skate. We have an understanding, which is good, because he’s been on the Skate enough that he could run it all by himself. He probably knows more about it and my business than I do.”
“Whistler used to be that way with our caseloads in CorSec, too.” Iella laughed out loud. For years Whistler had helped Corran fight smugglers in and around Corellia. And now he wants to work with Mirax and her “exotics” trade. Interesting. She pondered this change of heart on Whistler’s part, but then decided it wasn’t that radical a shift. If Corran could fall in love with Mirax, there’s no reason why Whistler couldn’t do the same.
“Well, I think Whistler will be great at his new career. He was wired to be an overachiever.” Iella drank a bit more of the caf. “This is really good. I’m sorry to have canceled dinner with you, but analyzing the data from the prisoners’ debriefings is taking forever.”
Mirax tucked a dark strand of hair behind her right ear. “Don’t worry about dinner, we’ll do it another time. Corran got called back to squadron headquarters for briefings anyway. Looks like something big is going down.”
Iella looked up at her friend. “So then I cancel and you’re all alone.”
Whistler cheeped.
Mirax patted the droid on the head. “No slight against you, Whistler, but I can’t force you to order a dessert, then eat half of it.”
Iella offered up half a pastry. “I’ll split one with you.”
“It’s a deal.” Mirax cleared some datacards off the small office’s other chair and sat down. “Anything to clarify the report that Isard is alive?”
Iella chewed a mouthful of pastry, then washed the sticky sweetness from her mouth with caf before answering. “Corran shouldn’t have told you that.