“For more time than there has not been, but all of it before you were born. The Clone Wars made one thing abundantly clear—a supply of bacta could heal even the most grievously wounded soldiers and render them receptive to mechanical replacement limbs. This meant they could return to combat, saving the military the cost of training new warriors. As a pilot you know how much expense goes into training, so the saving is clear.”
“And I know many a pilot, myself included, who owes his life to bacta therapy.”
“So it is.” Qlaern nodded solemnly. “The Emperor decided that the only group that should have a guaranteed supply of bacta was his military. He systematically suppressed small manufacturers of bacta in favor of Zaltin and Xucphra. They realized greater profits by letting the marketplace set the price and utilized Imperial soldiers to wipe out independent growers and to round up all the verachen to return them to Thyferra.”
Wedge frowned. “Twice now you have used the word ‘verachen.’”
“We are verachen.” Qlaern tapped his free hand against his thorax. “Bacta is an organic product made through the blending of alazhi with kavam. Kavam is itself a compound made of other ingredients. Alazhi, because it is grown, comes in various potencies depending upon location, soil content, rainfall, and even spontaneous mutation. Verachen oversee the proper combination of these components into the bacta. Each lot has a minimum potency, but sometimes the bacta will be most potent and work extremely well. Such is the batch we have presented to you as our gift.”
“Gift?” Wedge placed his hand atop Qlaern’s hand. “Please do not think me dense, but there are some things you say as if you expect me to already understand them.”
“Forgive us. We have been foolish.”
“That’s partially my fault, Wedge.” Mirax added her hand to the pile on Wedge’s knee. “The Vratix are not exactly a hive mind, but there does appear to be surface thought exchange among Vratix who spend a lot of time in close proximity to one another. The reason ‘verachen’ is plural is that while Qlaern here might be the supervisor in charge of a batch process, Qlaern will have subordinates who act almost as remotes, reporting back and receiving orders on a subsensory level of some sort. Qlaern may have been under the impression you and I similarly shared thoughts.”
“So you know what he’s talking about?”
“I think so—and, actually, Qlaern is not a he per se. The Vratix can both father and bear young, depending upon stages in their life cycle, which I guess is rather long.” She inclined her head toward the Vratix. “When it speaks of the Clone Wars, it’s speaking from life experience.”
“Huh?” Wedge smiled. “So, will you clear up this gift thing for me?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind, Qlaern.”
“We are grateful for your aid.”
Mirax drew in a deep breath. “The Vratix have made you a gift of the bacta and all that entails.”
“Why me?”
Qlaern’s antennae twitched. “Your fame has made you known to us. You are known as a fair and wise man who values loyalty. This we value as well.”
Wedge’s eyes narrowed. “I appreciate that, but I still don’t understand. What’s in this for the Vratix?”
The Vratix inclined its head toward Mirax. “This you must explain, for you will do it better than we will.”
Mirax nodded, then took another deep breath. “The Vratix are giving this bacta to you because they want you, Wedge Antilles, to represent them before the Provisional Council. They want to join the New Republic.”
“What?” Wedge’s surprise at being asked to represent the Vratix immediately faded beneath a sense of disaster. Thyferra was the sole supplier of bacta, but the world had steadfastly remained neutral in the civil war. Everyone believed that this was so they could gouge both the Empire and the Alliance, thus enriching themselves while the war raged. To keep Thyferra happy, the Alliance had even inducted two of its human residents—one from a Zaltin family and the other from a Xucphra family—into Rogue Squadron. Bror Jace, the pilot representing the Zaltin corporation, had been killed fighting against the Empire. Erisi Dlarit, the other Thyferran, still flew with the squadron, and viewed the Ashern as murdering terrorist monsters.
And there’s the problem. If the New Republic granted the Ashern any sort of status, the Thyferran government would react harshly and swiftly. Any hope of getting bacta from the cartel—no matter how successful Erisi’s backdoor efforts in that regard might be—would die quickly and horribly. If the bacta supply dried up, the Krytos virus would ravage Coruscant and, quite likely, spread to other worlds and kill billions of individuals.
If I refuse the request… then what? Wedge looked up at Qlaern. “The bacta you made available to us, there’s nothing wrong with it, is there? We’re not in a situation where you have to mix something else in for it to be effective, such that if I refuse your request, the bacta will be useless or harmful, are we?”
Qlaern’s mandibles clicked open and shut again. “There was once a case where verachen fouled a batch of bacta. The reasons for that action were sound. The results of that action were unacceptable. The Vratix ask for your help, but cannot do so at the expense of your people. The bacta, it is a gift to you. So is this verachen.”
“What?”
“We have come here to Coruscant because we know you cannot jeopardize your people by taking up our cause. As verachen we have ways and means to mix up more than just bacta, or to make bacta more effective. We are here to learn of this Krytos virus and to stop it.”
“But this virus could kill you.”
Qlaern shrugged. “Great risk is necessary to defeat great evil. You know this.”
Wedge slowly smiled. “That I do. Your offer impresses me, but I cannot act alone in this. I have people to whom I must speak.”
Mirax raised an eyebrow. “Not the Council, right?”
“No, not the Council, not right off. I only really have one choice: General Cracken. If word of Qlaern’s presence gets out, or Erisi catches wind of the Vratix working with us, Thyferra will hear about it quickly and we’ll be stuck. Cracken can provide security and whatever resources Qlaern will need to do the job.”
Mirax smiled. “And it might distract him from persecuting Tycho.”
“It might do that, indeed.”
The Vratix hissed sharply. “It is a beneficent balm that soothes more than one wound.”
“Agreed.” Wedge stood and clapped the Vratix on both shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here, Qlaern Hirf, because there’re plenty of wounds to be found, and decidedly little soothing going on. If you can do anything—anything more than you’ve already done—to stop the Krytos virus, I’ll gladly represent you before the Council and, if need be, even take your case to Thyferra itself.”
Chapter Thirteen
A jolt ran through Nawara Ven and traveled out to the tips of his lekku, making them twitch. He immediately blushed, bluing the shadows on his grey cheeks and beneath his eyes. If I do not have more control than this, Tycho is lost. He pulled his braintails back so they dangled beneath the level of the defense table. No reason to let the opposition read involuntary motion as a sign of my nervousness.
His nervousness would not be denied, however. The trial was being held—staged was the term he preferred to use—in the old Imperial Justice Court. High vaulted ceilings had been covered with polished black marble panels streaked with white, giving the whole room the feeling of actually being on a high promontory and open to the night sky. The black marble had also been used to build up the High Bench at which the Tribunal would sit, rather ominously; it reminded Nawara of the Imperial Palace’s towering edifice.
Below the ceiling level, stainless steel, molded ferrocrete, and duraplast castings completed the court’s design. While the forms meshed perfectly with the stone shapes, the rest of the room seemed artificial and not a little sterile. This room does not seem conducive to compassion. Nawara looked around at the upper gallery and the seats in the court, which were p
acked with individuals slavering for justice.
Justice, in this case, means they want my client shot into the sun. Admiral Ackbar had acquiesced to Nawara’s request that the trial not be sent out in real-time holo. While it could have been argued that news of the trial had already done as much damage to Tycho’s reputation as it would be possible to do, broadcasting the trial could easily serve to further inflame public sentiment and cause trouble. Nawara had already been questioned about defending a human, and that sort of thing would only get worse if everyone in the galaxy was able to watch the trial unfold.
The discussion about broadcasting the trial had been the subject of an executive session of the Provisional Council. Borsk Fey’lya had tried to argue that justice conducted in the shadows was just a continuation of Imperial policy. Nawara had countered that a publicly broadcast trial abandoned any pretense of justice and became a sporting event where a man’s life hung in the balance. He argued that how the Republic conducted the trial was as important as the outcome, because any perception of injustice, no matter how slight, would get magnified and form the core for discontent and dissent.
And they agreed with Ackbar to keep things limited to news summaries. It’s not much, but it’s something. He shook his head. Now if I blow it, at least folks won’t know it until later.
Across from him, Commander Halla Ettyk rose from her place at the prosecution table. Athletically trim and tall, Ettyk cut a very commanding figure with just a hint of lean menace to her. She wore her black hair gathered back into a thick braid—somewhat reminiscent of Princess Leia’s current hairstyle—providing Nawara an unobstructed view of her strong-jawed profile. Fire filled her brown eyes as she glanced at him, then turned her attention toward the tribunal.
“If it please the court, we will call our first witness.”
Ackbar nodded. “Please, Commander.”
“The Prosecution calls Lieutenant Pash Cracken to the stand.”
Nawara hit a couple of keys on his datapad, calling up the deposition Pash had given him earlier. He let his eyes track over the Rylothean script, but did so only to cover his surprise at Ettyk’s choice of lead witness. He had fully expected her to start with Iella Wessiri or General Cracken to establish a connection between Tycho and Imperial Intelligence. Instead, by calling Pash first, she appeared to want to firmly set up Tycho’s having the motive, means, and opportunity for killing Corran, then work backward into the larger treason picture.
I should have seen that coming. Since the great public hue and cry about the case had pushed the treason angle, that was the vector he’d expected Ettyk to take in presenting her case. He’d thought she’d establish the treason, then show that Corran’s murder was necessitated to cover the treason. By coming at it the other way around and establishing the murder, she got treason by implication, and all the evidence she presented after that just went to bolster a fact she had previously proved.
“This pitches our defense into the Bright Lands,” muttered Nawara.
Tycho leaned over toward him as Pash stepped into the witness box and was sworn in. “What do you mean?”
“There is ample circumstantial evidence to show you killed Corran. Emtrey could convince a jury of droid-haters that you certainly could have killed Corran. I could baffle a jury by pointing out how many others could have done the job, but the Tribunal is going to be tough.” Nawara narrowed his pink eyes. “I had hoped we’d have to fight over treason first, since it’s a weaker charge, but we’ll have to deal with this first.”
Tycho gave Nawara a confident smile. “You’ll get me out of this.”
“I will.”
Ettyk moved out from behind the prosecution table with the supple ease of a taopari stalking prey. “Lieutenant Cracken, your service record has already been appended to the transcripts of this trial, so I will not ask for a recitation of your numerous citations and awards won in service to the Alliance. I would, however, like you to think back to the events that led up to the night when Coruscant fell to our forces. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Pash nodded and a lock of red hair curled down over his forehead.
“Good.” Ettyk gave him a polite smile. “Where were you at that time?”
“Here, on Coruscant.”
“And you were present on Coruscant as part of an assignment given to Rogue Squadron?”
“Yes.”
“Did that assignment include orders that posted Captain Celchu to Coruscant?”
Pash shook his head. “I only know my orders for the assignment, Commander. My orders contained nothing that referred to Captain Celchu.”
“So, at the time you left your base to travel to Coruscant, you expected Captain Celchu to be where?”
“Objection!” Nawara stood. “The question is irrelevant and the prosecution has provided no foundation to show the witness could answer it.”
Admiral Ackbar nodded slowly. “Sustained on the relevance grounds. Lieutenant Cracken’s expectations are immaterial, Commander Ettyk.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“And you, Counselor Ven, need not stack objections. We’ll take them as they come in, shall we?”
Nawara nodded. “I appreciate the court’s admonition and I shall remember it.” He returned to his seat and forced himself to breathe slowly. You aren’t going to win this case with the first witness. Be careful but not so eager.
“Lieutenant Cracken, there came a point during the operation here on Coruscant in which the squadron’s personnel were drawn together, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And Captain Celchu was not among those people, correct?”
“He was not there, no.”
“But there was news of him, was there not?”
Pash leaned back in the witness chair. “Yes.”
“One report was that an attack by Warlord Zsinj on the base at Noquivzor had hit Rogue Squadron’s staff hard and that Tycho Celchu was among the missing.”
“Yes.”
“Who delivered that report?”
“Commander Antilles.”
“After hearing that report, you believed what about Captain Celchu?”
Pash glanced down at his hands. “I thought he was dead. He was listed as ‘missing in action,’ but you learn that really means ‘dead, and we don’t have enough pieces left to fill a thimble, so we can’t prove it.’ I expected we’d get confirmation of his death fairly quickly.”
Ettyk gathered her hands at the small of her back. “There was another story told about Captain Celchu, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Who told that story?”
“Lieutenant Horn.”
“What did Lieutenant Horn say about Captain Celchu?”
“Objection, hearsay.”
“Exception, Admiral: The statement Lieutenant Cracken will relate was told against Lieutenant Horn’s best interest.”
“What?” Nawara Ven’s jaw dropped open. “How is what Corran said about the defendant going to be against Corran’s best interest?”
Ettyk smiled. “Lieutenant Horn prided himself on his observational skills, and when he related the story of what he had seen, he made it into a self-depreciating tale. Given his position of authority in the squadron, this was against his best interest.”
“Admiral, that is a gross misuse of the hearsay exception.”
“You won’t be able to keep the story out—Commander Antilles filed it as part of a report concerning the operation here on Coruscant.”
Nawara’s lip curled back in a snarl and gave Ettyk a view of his sharpened teeth. “If you want to bring that story in, by all means, lay the proper foundation and call your witnesses in order.” You may indeed succeed in bringing this stuff in, but I’m going to make you work for it.
Admiral Ackbar leaned over and consulted with General Madine for a moment, then straightened up and nodded. “The objection is overruled.”
Nawara felt his lekku twitch. “Admiral, this leaves me grounds for an appeal.”
/> “It may indeed, Counselor Ven, but the ruling stands.” Ackbar pointed toward the witness. “Lieutenant Cracken, you will tell the court what Corran Horn said, as best as you can remember.”
Pash nodded as a frown gathered on his face. “Corran said he’d seen Tycho on Coruscant on the same day Warlord Zsinj hit Noquivzor.”
“And what did he say Captain Celchu had been doing when he saw him?”
“Talking with someone in a cantina.”
“Who was he speaking with?”
“Objection. The question calls for a conclusion based on facts not in evidence.”
“Please, Commander, rephrase your question.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Ettyk glanced back at Nawara for a moment, then looked over at Pash. “Whom did Lieutenant Horn say he saw in conversation with Captain Celchu?”
“He said it was Kirtan Loor, but—”
“That’s quite enough, Lieutenant, thank you.”
“But—”
Admiral Ackbar looked down from the bench at Pash. “I’m certain Counselor Ven will allow you to finish your answer under cross-examination.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, Lieutenant, I want you to recall when it was that you saw Captain Celchu after the report of his death.”
“Three weeks ago. He showed up and saved us from stormies trying to kill us.”
“Did his presence cause you to reevaluate Lieutenant Horn’s story?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“No?” Ettyk’s expression sharpened. “You had been told Captain Celchu was dead, then you saw him again. You learned he had, in fact, been on Coruscant at the time Horn said he’d seen him. Did that not give you cause to wonder about what Horn had seen?”
“Things were very busy at the time. Desperate. I was given orders. I didn’t think about things I didn’t have to think about.”
“Not even a bit? Not even when your orders included taking precautions to keep a traitor in your midst from getting information out to Imperial sources?”
“That was normal for a covert op.”
“But you had to wonder if there wasn’t really a traitor in your midst, correct?”