Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [2]
Wedge sagged back against his chair. At last her words had become her own again.
“And I am at fault,” she continued. “I have—oh, this is hard to say.”
“Go ahead, Qwi. I’m not angry. I’m not going to make this harder for you.”
She flashed a brief smile. “No, you wouldn’t. Wedge, when we came together I was a different woman. Then, when I lost my memory, I became someone else, the woman I am now, and you were there—brave and modest and admired, my protector in a universe that was unfamiliar to me—and after I realized this, I could not bring myself to make you understand …”
“Tell me.” Unconsciously, he leaned over to take her hand.
“Wedge, I feel as though I inherited you. From a friend who passed away. You were her choice. I do not know if you would have been mine. I never had the chance to find out.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then a laugh escaped him. “Let me get this straight. I look on you as a comfortable old simulator, and you look on me as an inheritance that doesn’t match the rest of your furniture.”
She started to look stricken, then she laughed in return. She clapped her free hand over her mouth and nodded.
“Qwi, one of the things I truly admire is courage. It took courage for you to say what you’ve said to me. And it would be irresponsible, even cruel, of me if I didn’t admit that I came here tonight to break up with you.”
She put her hand down. Her expression was not surprised. Instead, it was a little wondering, a little amused. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t think I have your eloquence on this matter. I don’t think I’ve thought it through the way you have. But one reason is the same. The future. I keep looking toward it and I don’t see you there. Sometimes I don’t see me there.”
She nodded. “Until just now I had a little fear that I was wrong. That I might be making a mistake. Now I can be sure I was not. Thank you for telling me. It would have been so easy for you not to have.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“Well … maybe it wouldn’t for Wedge Antilles. For many men, it would have been.” She turned a smile upon him, a smile made up, he thought, of pride in him. “What will you do now?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. I’ve been looking at the two sides of my life. My career and my personal life. Except for the fact that I’m not flying nearly as much as I want to, I have no complaints about my career.” That wasn’t entirely true, and hadn’t been ever since he’d been convinced to accept the rank of general, but he tried not to burden her with frustrations he was convinced arose from his own selfishness. “I’m doing important work and being recognized for it. But my personal life …” He shook his head as though reacting to the death of a friend. “Qwi, you were the last part of my personal life. Now there’s nothing there. A vacuum purer than anything in space. So I think, in a few weeks, I’m going to take a leave of absence. Travel a bit, try to sneak a visit into Corellia, not think about my work. I’ll just try to find out if there is anything to me except career.”
“There is.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Keep your visual sensors turned up, then.”
He laughed. “What about you?”
“I have friends. I have work. I am acquiring hobbies. Remember, the new Qwi is less than two years old. In that way, I’m still a little girl experiencing the universe for the first time.” She looked apologetic. “So I will learn, and work, and see who it is I am becoming.”
“I hope you’ll still consider me a friend,” he said.
“Always.”
“Meaning you can still call on me. Send me messages. Send me lifeday presents.”
She laughed. “Greedy.”
“Thank you, Qwi.”
“Thank you, Wedge.”
He packed as though he were still an active pilot. Everything went into one shapeless bag, a bag chosen for its ideal fit within the cargo compartment of an