Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [93]
And now I am here, but now I have the measure of the man, and a mission for which he is well suited. A quick message from the Errant Venture had alerted the Council to Rogue Squadron’s destruction. Terrik had returned immediately to Coruscant from Distna, bringing with him the debris which was all that was left of Rogue Squadron and those who had killed them. The ship also brought back a sole survivor: Wes Janson, and the body of one other pilot, the Quarren, Lyyr Zatoq. Save for ship scraps, there was no trace of anyone else.
Fey’lya looked out over the docking bay at the variety of ships occupying deck space. Aside from his own Lambda-class shuttle, with two Bothan warriors standing guard at the base of the gangway, the ships present all could easily have been described as salvage. While Fey’lya was fairly certain the Errant Venture’s aft docking bay was reserved for customers who patronized the Diamond deck, the level of deterioration in the forward bay marked how difficult it was for Terrik to keep his ship operational. At least one of the turbolifts didn’t work, and several of the winches that lifted small ships into storage racks were frozen. Terrik’s dream of a ship that would pay for itself clearly had become a nightmare.
“Welcome, Councilor Fey’lya. How good of you to grace my humble ship with your presence.” Booster appeared in the doorway of an office on the main deck and waved Fey’lya into its dim interior. “How may I be of service to you?”
Fey’lya flicked a finger toward his shuttle in a subtle gesture meant to tell his bodyguards to stay where they were. He strode past Booster and into the interior of a small office choked with datacards, cargo crates, enough parts to construct a half-dozen droids, and sufficient personal weapons to hold off an Imperial boarding team. The cloying scent of human habitation caused Fey’lya to wrinkle his nose, but he sat in the one chair that had been cleared of debris.
Fey’lya waited for Booster to take his place behind his desk, but the smuggler vexed him by perching himself on the corner of his desk and folding his arms over his chest. The Bothan smoothed the fur at the back of his head, then glanced up at the man’s face. “I have come to thank you for bringing back to Coruscant as much of Asyr Sei’lar’s ship as you did. The images recovered from her battleroms have confirmed her great skill and bravery in this, her final fight. Bothans everywhere will take pride in what she did.”
Booster nodded solemnly. “ ’Pears she even scraped a TIE or two off my daughter’s dead husband.”
Fey’lya noted that Booster did not refer to Corran Horn as his “son-in-law” and catalogued that fact away for possible use. “Her devotion to her squadron-mates was quite clear. Likewise her devotion to the highest of Bothan ideals. She is an example to the younger generation.”
“Indeed, appears you have another Martyr to hold up.”
“It is a pity you were unable to recover her body.”
Booster leaned back, pressing his hands behind him against the surface of the desk. “When we got there I sent recovery teams out. We found Captain Janson still alive—just barely. Got him into bacta. All the bacta on Thyferra wouldn’t have helped the Quarren. Your Asyr and the rest, I suspect they burned up in the gas giant. Kind of fitting for Rogue pilots—blaze of glory and all.”
“True, but this presents something of a problem because I had a different glory in mind for one of them.” Fey’lya shifted in his chair and studied the talons on his left hand. “I was wondering if you had considered going back to look for more bodies.”
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