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Corran raked a hank of dark brown hair out of his eyes, then nodded, dropping it back down again. “Sure. I’ll run it by Mirax, but I’m sure she’ll agree. We’d be happy to help you.”

“Great, I’ll tell Asyr. She’ll be excited.”

“Where is she?”

Gavin shrugged his shoulders and chewed a mouthful of beans. He glanced around the room, then shook his head. “I thought she was going to try to join me for lunch. She got a message right when our briefing let out. She said she would try to be back.”

Corran glanced at his chronometer and stood. “Speaking of back, we’ve got fifteen minutes before we’re due in the simulators. I’m going to get come caf, then find Whistler. Anyone else need caf?”

Khe-Jeen Slee shook his head once, sharply, as if tearing a hunk of flesh from an invisible beast. “Our digestive system is too refined for your caf. If there is chokolate, I would take that.”

“Got it. Gavin?”

“I’m good to go, Corran.” Gavin fished some credits from his pocket and held them out. “Let me buy for you two, though. For the help with this adoption thing.”

Corran waved the money away. “Save it, Gavin. When you finally get kids, there will never be enough of it. Somehow, though, I think the two of you—and your family—will do just fine.”

Borsk Fey’lya turned slowly from the window looking out over Coruscant. He found Asyr Sei’lar standing just inside the door to his office, with the sunlight streaming past him making the white fur on her face and hands glow with a dazzling intensity. Her violet eyes still had the fire he’d seen in them years ago, and her expression had a determination to it that matched the fire. Good, she is prepared to fight, which means she is prepared to deal.

“You sent for me, Councilor Fey’lya?”

Borsk opened his hands slowly and let a little hurt tone play into his voice. “You feel the need to be so formal, Captain Sei’lar? I thought, between us, between Bothans, we could be more familiar.”

Asyr’s eyes tightened, as did her fists. “I merely wished you to know that I am aware of where the power resides, Councilor.”

“I see.” Borsk smiled carefully, then stroked his creamy chin-fur. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. Well deserved and long overdue. Just like a human to keep your rank artificially low.”

The black fur rose at the back of Asyr’s neck. “Rogue Squadron has never been overly worried about rank, Councilor. Getting our jobs done has been our paramount concern. The reward of rank has been more than justified by our actions. In fact, I would say that the New Republic has been quite penurious in rewarding heroes such as Wedge Antilles.”

Very good, Asyr. Borsk nodded and moved from the window toward his desk. You suggest that Antilles has been insufficiently rewarded, and allow the implication that we have been similarly neglectful of the rest of the Rogues to chastise me. You play the game well.

Borsk waved a hand toward the chair before his desk. “Please, be seated. I want you to be comfortable.”

Asyr moved forward, but stood behind the chair. “I’ve been sitting all day during briefings. It feels good to stretch my muscles, but do not let me stop you. Please, be seated.”

And let you look down upon me? Borsk nodded and seated himself in a massive chair. He tapped a datacard—the only datacard—on his desk with his index finger. He let the sound of his nail clicking on the datacard’s casing fill the room, then he scooped up the card into his hand and slowly turned it over. “You know what this is.”

Asyr stiffened, then gathered her hands at the small of her back. “I assume it is my application to adopt a Bothan orphan.”

“You do know, of course, that a hero of your stature would never be denied such an honor. There are doubtless Bothan families that would gladly give up one of their children to you, knowing their child would be raised in a home where power does not trickle, but flows and floods.” Borsk tapped the datacard against his muzzle, then lowered it and smiled. “After