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Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [22]

By Root 777 0

The white-bearded man before him smiled, evidently delighted. “My role is notification of the families. When a pilot falls in combat, in training, in a duel, my office notifies all appropriate parties. I do not create the letters of notification myself, of course. I set policy. Will this week’s notifications bear a tone more of regret or pride? When siblings fall on the same day, does the family receive a joint notification or separate ones? These sorts of matters are very important …”

Wedge kept his smile fixed on his face, but he could tell he was hearing a speech, one that had often been replayed. He did what he could to tune the man’s voice out while still seeming to appear interested, but all the while kept some of his attention on the crowd, making sure he knew where Turr Phennir and entourage were at all times.

Then, over the minister’s shoulder, at a table at the outskirts of the crowd, he saw her.

She was seated alone and dressed in the height of Cartann finery. Her dark blue dress, a sheath from neck to ankle, was fitted to her slender form, except where its sleeves flared out in Adumari fashion, and was sprinkled with gems that glinted white like stars against a backdrop of space. Her hair, a dark blond, was piled high on her head, though some strands had worked loose—or, Wedge suspected, had been left loose and artfully arrayed to look like escapees—to frame her face. She did not wear the decorative skullcap so common in this court; instead, into her hair was worked a headdress that looked like blue contrails rising from above her forehead and curving back around behind her head. She held one of the ubiquitous comfans and was gesturing with it as she spoke to someone at a nearby table; her gestures, Wedge saw, included the subtle motions he was beginning to recognize as Cartann hand-codes.

She was beautiful, but it was not her beauty that jolted Wedge—not her beauty that made him feel as though he’d taken a punch in the gut.

He knew her. He knew her name. He knew the planetary system where she’d been born—the same as his, Corellia.

Yet when she glanced at him, when her gaze stopped upon him and then kept moving, there was no hint of recognition in her eyes.

Wedge forced himself to return his attention to the minister. “Would that we had someone with your skills and dedication in our armed forces,” Wedge said. “I’m sure we have much to learn from your techniques of notification. Could you excuse me a moment? I must speak to my pilots about this.”

The minister nodded, his smile fixed, and turned away, immediately speaking to his own entourage, something about the courtesy and attentiveness of New Republic pilots. Once he was a couple of meters away and still moving, Wedge gestured for his pilots.

They stepped in. So did Cheriss and Tomer.

Wedge looked at the two of them. “Shoo,” he said.

“I thought perhaps you needed some advice,” Tomer said.

“I am here if you need interpretation of some word or action you do not yet understand,” Cheriss said.

“Tell you what,” Wedge said. “From now on, when I gesture with two hands for people to move in, it means everybody. When I gesture with one hand, it means just the pilots. Will that work?”

They nodded.

Wedge gestured with one hand. Reluctance evident on their faces, the two of them backed off and hovered a few meters away at the edges of the crowd.

“What’s up?” Tycho asked.

“I’m going to allow Cheriss to put on whatever show it was she was talking about. I’m going to pay a lot of attention to it.”

Tycho offered a confused frown. “Why?”

“Because the hangers-on seem mostly to be concentrating on me right now. If I do this, it’ll give you some freedom to act.” Wedge turned to Janson. “Wes, at exactly ninety degrees to your right, about twelve meters, there’s a table with a woman at it.”

“Oh, good.”

“I want you to wait until the crowd is on me and Cheriss’s demonstration. Then break free and approach her. Tycho, Hobbie, make sure his actions aren’t being noticed. If they are, give him a double-click on the comlink to warn him off.”

Janson smiled. “Thanks,

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