Solo Command Read Online Free PDF

Or my lucky gilding set. Or my—”
    Face interrupted. “What’s a gilding set?”
    “Well, you know. For my horns.”
    “I don’t know. What about your horns?”
    Targon shrugged. “For special occasions, important festivals, we sometimes—Devaronians I mean—put gold leaf on our horns. For decoration.”
    “And this is just a device to help you do that?”
    “That’s right.”
    “What makes it lucky?”
    “Well, the first time I used it, shortly before I entered the Academy, I attracted the eye of a certain young lady—”
    “Never mind.”
    Donos and Face exchanged glances. The Wraiths and Rogues were light on pilots who put much stock in good-luck charms, but such pilots were common throughout the New Republic and the Empire. Donos saw Face’s eyes light up, probably because of an idea for a prank.
    “I was Vyn Narcassan. In my twenty-year career with Republic Intelligence, I successfully completed over a hundred covert missions.” As they reached the display honoring the lastof the Old Republic’s Intelligence heroes, Donos gave the man one last look, took in his dimpling smile, then realized what it was the man reminded him of.
    Not what—who. The man’s skin tone, his dimples, his unusual physical beauty—they were all shared by another Wraith. Shalla Nelprin.
    That rocked Donos back on his heels. But the physical resemblance was dramatic.
    Donos smiled at the long-missing agent. “We’ll just let that be our little secret, Narcassan,” he said under his breath. “But I’m going to send Shalla a message and tell her to come visit this exhibit today. Not why. Just that she needs to. In case it means something to her.”
    “Who are you talking to?” That was Lara. Face and Dia were already a few steps ahead, arm in arm, with Targon trailing behind them.
    “I’ll tell you sometime.”
    “Edallia?” The voice, wavery and uncertain, came from behind them. “Edallia Monotheer, it’s so good to see you!”
    Donos glanced back. Approaching them was an old man, his hair a wispy white, his body so sparse of flesh that he seemed skeletal, but there was nothing menacing about the smile he was turning on Lara.
    Behind him a dozen meters but coming at a trot was a middle-aged woman, overweight and matronly, her expression anxious. “Father,” she called, and she sounded out of breath. “Not again.”
    The old man reached Lara, seized her hand, pumped it vigorously. “Edallia, it’s been so long. Did you ever marry that boy? Did you graduate? What have you been doing?”
    Lara tried unsuccessfully to extricate her thoroughly shaken hand. “Sir, I don’t—I’m not—”
    “I’m so sorry.” That was the daughter. Reaching her father, she took his hand, forcing him to give up his grip on Lara’s. “He’s … confused. He doesn’t always remember where he is. Or when.”
    “It’s all right,” Lara said, but she looked a little shaken.
    The old man said, “Child, I must introduce Edallia Monotheer. One of my best pupils.”
    His daughter asked, “When?”
    He looked confused. “What?”
    “When was she one of your best pupils?”
    The old man looked back at Lara, his eyes wavery, uncertain. “Why, it’s been thirty, thirty-five years.”
    “Look at her, father. She’s not thirty years old.”
    The old man leaned in close to Lara’s face and peered. “Edallia?”
    Lara shook her head, and though she maintained a cheerful smile, Donos decided that it was forced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m Lara.”
    “Oh.” The old man drew back and looked around. “Where is she, then?”
    “Maybe farther up the exhibition, Father. You go look. I’ll be along.”
    With a courteous, if distracted, nod to the Wraiths, the old man began to walk back the way he’d come.
    “I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “He was once with Old Republic Intelligence, so he likes to come here day after day. He was shot on a mission shortly after the Emperor came to power.” She indicated a