Star Wars - X-Wing - The Bacta War

  apartments and offices. They'd been feted and celebrated and praised as if they

  were the only people in the galaxy who still had in them the rebel spirit that

  defeated the Empire.

  "Do you think the Provisional Council ordered the grounding of all skyhooks just

  to spite us?"

  Tycho shook his head. "That's a popular rumor after we were offered the SoroSuub

  skyhook, but we know the safety concerns over the things are well founded. The

  Lusankya blasted most of one out of the sky, and the falling debris

  obliterated a couple of square kilometers. Grounding the skyhooks in that area

  and where the Lusankya blasted out of Coruscant provides housing for the

  survivors of those disasters and allows the resources used to keep the skyhooks

  airborne to be diverted to other projects."

  "Too bad for us, because a skyhook would have been perfect. It would have enough

  storage to let us house our equipment when we get it."

  Tycho raised an eyebrow. "I think you're more concerned that it would provide

  Isard with a single target to hit when she comes after us, which she will. It

  minimizes collateral damage."

  "Unless you're living beneath us."

  "True."

  "As was your speculation." Wedge frowned. "The fact is that we've declared war

  on Isard, but we're not going to be indiscriminate in waging that war. She knows

  no such restriction on her actions. In reality, we shouldn't be looking at any

  headquarters anywhere near Coruscant. There are a bunch of old Rebel bases we

  could convert."

  "Even if we could get it, I'm not going back to Hoth." Tycho shivered. "I saw

  enough snow there to last me a dozen lifetimes."

  "Which is about what it takes to burn that Hoth cold from your bones." Wedge

  shook his head. "No, I was thinking about Yavin 4 or Talasea. Endor would be

  nice, but the Ewoks would be targets for her."

  A chime sounded from the door. Wedge looked up and said, "Open."

  The door slid open to reveal a flame-haired man of above-average height wearing

  the uniform of a Captain in the New Republic Armed Forces. He started to salute,

  then hesitated, then completed the gesture in a crisp and respectful manner.

  Wedge smiled and stood behind the table. He returned the salute, then waved the

  man into the office and toward a chair. "Good to see you again, Pash. I see

  you've got your rank back. You're rejoining your flight group?"

  Pash Cracken nodded, then shook hands with both

  Tycho and Wedge before seating himself. "Good to see both of you as well." His

  green-eyed gaze flicked down at the floor for a moment. "I really wish I were

  going to be with the rest of you. Just say the word, Wedge, and I'm a civilian."

  The pain in Pash's voice started a sympathetic aching in Wedge's chest. "We'd

  love to have you with us, but there's no way you can resign and join us. Your

  father's the head of Alliance Security. If you came with us there would be no

  way anyone would believe we're operating independently. I know you'd not be

  reporting to your father, but the appearance would cause trouble for the New

  Republic."

  "I know." Pash took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm back as part of

  Commander Varth's wing. While the bulk of the fleet is off chasing Warlord

  Zsinj, we're being pulled Core-ward to cover some of the sectors where Zsinj

  used to run around. It's going to be something of an adventure for our people,

  because we'll be staging from Folor, that moon base orbiting C ommenor."

  "I remember it well." Wedge smiled. "Not a lot of creature comforts there."

  "It'll beat what we've got out on Generis. It's backward enough that most folks

  there don't even realize the Old Republic has fallen."

  Tycho smiled. "And they're wondering why nothing new is being shipped from

  Alderaan."

  "That's pretty much it." Pash leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  "Our patrol area includes Yag'Dhul, the system that is home to the Givin. One of

  our initial exercises involves going in and rendering the space station there

  uninhabitable so Warlord Zsinj won't have it as a place to which he can

  retreat."

  Wedge frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Zsinj hasn't been anywhere near

  that station since we hit it and stole his bacta."

  "So it seems." Pash shrugged. "Anyway, my flight group has the job of denying

  this station to Zsinj. I was thinking that perhaps you might like to stage your

  operations out of that station. It would deny it to Zsinj and would provide you

  a decent fighting platform from which to work. It's conve-

  nient to Coruscant and Thyferra as well as to a number of other worlds."

  Wedge's brown eyes narrowed. "And would allow you to wander by and help out if

  we got into trouble."

  Pash sat back and feigned surprise. "Why you didn't think that was what I had in

  mind, did you? Not at all. I mean, yes, my people might avail themselves of the

  station if we needed to stopno way I'm going to set down on Yag'Dhul. The

  weather is too unpredictable to allow us to use it as a viable staging area."

  "Point taken."

  Tycho nodded. "The station would make for a good staging area. If Pash were to

  report that it had been rendered uninhabitable, then Isard might be led to

  believe it's junk. There's no doubt in my mind that at some point she'll find

  out where we are and come after us, but an operational space platform has to be

  a bit more daunting than a skyhook or a warehouse here on Coruscant."

  "Definitely seems like this is our best choice." Wedge nodded, then smiled at

  Pash. "Thanks a lot. You've solved one of our major problems. We now have a

  home."

  "I hoped you'd say that." Pash smiled broadly. "I ship out at the end of the

  week. I'll be back in an A-wing, but that's not so bad. We'll keep the station

  safe for you until you can come out and take possession, and we'll transmit

  reports about its destruction just to keep folks guessing."

  "I appreciate it." Wedge frowned for a moment. "Pash, when you joined Rogue

  Squadron, you said you wanted to join to get a perspective on how well you fly

  and fight. You wanted to be part of the best unit going to find out if you

  really were as good as you have been told you are. Did you get that perspective?

  Are you comfortable going back to your own unit?"

  Pash sat back, his brows knitted with concentration. "I think I did get that

  perspective, Wedge. Granted, I've only been with the Rogues for a short time,

  but we did some fairly nasty flying. I don't think any fight I've been part of

  before or since flying a Headhunter through a blacked-out city in the middle of

  the mother of all thunderstorms will match that

  experience. That was flying by instinct, by skill, and by luck. I made shots and

  pulled maneuvers I never would have thought possible. After that performance I

  almost wish there was another Death Star up there for me to take a shot at."

  "I'd not go that far, Pash." Wedge shared a grin with Tycho. "You are good, very

  good. The Imps have every right to fear you."

  "Thanks, Wedge. It means a lot coming from you." The pilot brushed fingers back

  through his red hair. "As for my being comfortable returning to my unit, yeah,
>
  I'm okay there, too. One thing being with Rogue Squadron taught me is that to be

  a unit, everyone has to pull their own weight. I've been afraid that my people

  wouldn't think for themselves and would follow me into disaster if I make a

  mistake. What I'd missed is exactly what you do. You give your people

  responsibilities and make them rely on each other. If we'd just followed your

  lead while on Coruscant, the Imps would still own this world. I need to do just

  that with my people. If I give them responsibility, they'll learn that I trust

  them. Once they realize that, they'll also trust in themselves and won't follow

  me blindly when I do something stupid."

  Wedge stood and offered Pash his hand. "You'll be sorely missed, Captain

  Cracken, but our loss is your unit's gain. We'll see you soon at the Yag'Dhul

  station."

  "Thanks, Wedge, Tycho. I look forward to seeing you there."

  The door closed behind Pash, prompting Wedge and Tycho to exchange glances

  again. "Well, Tycho, it seems our housing problem is solved. Now all we need is

  a dozen or more X-wings, munitions for same, droids, techs, foodstuffs, and

  other supplies, not to mention all the equipment necessary to repair any damage

  to our new base."

  Tycho winced. "That's quite the tall order. Dare I say it?"

  "What?"

  "I wish we had Emtrey to help us put this whole package together."

  Wedge smiled as he thought of the black 3PO droid with a spaceport controller

  droid's clamshell head. Installed as the

  unit's Quartermaster, the droid had really been meant to keep an eye on Tycho in

  case he was a spy in the Empire's control. Despite his espionage duties, he had

  been a wonder at procuring supplies in a timely manner. Even so, he could be

  annoy-ingly voluble, which is why Wedge spent as much time as possible away from

  him.

  Wedge sighed. "Yeah, I guess I miss him, too." He shrugged. "In his absence, I

  guess we'll just have to do the best we can."

  "True, and hope that's going to be good enough."

  3

  His move to Thyferra left Fliry Vorru in a perpetual state of simmering anger.

  After years spent in the spice mines of Kessel, with its thin, arid atmosphere,

  and then his short stay on Coruscantsimilarly dry but decidedly more

  metropolitan and to his tastesThyferra was all but unendurable. Green

  predominated, from the deep and dark tones of the tropical planet's rain forests

  to the lighter shades used in decorating, fashion, and even cosmetics. After

  Kessel's barren mines and the gray canyons of Coruscant, Vorru found the

  omnipresence of verdant life oppressive.

  The world's humidity dragged on him as he walked the halls of the Xucphra

  corporate headquarters. One does not breathe the air here, one drinks it. The

  heavy humidity meant most of the fabric used on the world was light and thin, in

  many cases quite sheer, while the fashions themselves tended to be abbreviated.

  Although this did offer some distractions for the women of Thyferra tended

  strongly toward tall, lean, and beautifulmany of the people he had to deal with

  were short, hairy, lumpen creatures who should have been swathed in bolts of the

  most opaque cloth available. Their positions as the scions of the various

  families that ran the Xucphra corpo-

  ration and, now, the civil government, required him to be polite and even

  deferential.

  This requirement to courteously entertain the most stupid of ideas ground on

  him most of all. Under the Empire's rule, the Xucphra and Zaltin corporations

  had been given a monopoly on the production of bacta. Thyferra served as the

  heart of the operation, with alazhi harvesting and kavam synthesis taking place

  primarily on Thyferra, but also at a few colony worlds elsewhere. The monopoly

  had resulted in both corporations becoming slothful and greedywith their

  profits guaranteed, there was no need for expansion or diversification. As a

  result, people rose to positions of importance with no eye toward merit, just

  seniority.

  Vorru's installation as Minister of Trade had given him oversight over the

  production and sale of bacta. His initial review of the whole production and

  distribution process had revealed to him hundreds of places where potential

  profit was being ignored. For example, bacta produced at a satellite facility

  would be shipped back to Thyferra before being transshipped to a world a dozen

  light-years away from the facility where it was produced. The only reason for

  such an activity was so the shipping firm, which was owned by Xucphra, could

  earn a profit, which ended up back in the pockets of the owners of Xucphra

  anywaythough it had been pared down by the cost of ship maintenance, crew,

  bookkeepers, and others.

  This hardly surprised Vorru because of the way the Zaltin and Xucphra

  corporations had been set up. Ten thousand humans formed the management cadre

  for the corporations, and they oversaw the operations carried out by

  approximately 2.8 million native Vratix laborers. The Vratix were very

  efficient, requiring little or no supervision, so the galaxy-wide operations

  hardly required the legion of administrative personnel in place. Each

  corporation discouraged mixing and mingling with individuals from the other

  corporation, hence they became insular and fierce rivals. While their isolation

  had not caused problems with genetic inbreedingthough Vorru thought that was

  only a generation or two away there certainly was philosophical inbreeding that

  led to sine-

  cures being created for incompetent members of the corporate family.

  / assume my last order to eliminate some of these fief-doms is the reason

  Iceheart wants to see me. Xucphra had displaced Zaltin in the recent coup and

  installed Ysanne Isard as the world's leader. Most of the Zaltin folks had fled

  or been killed, making the Xucphra family the sole masters of a world they had

  long shared. As such they had no desire to listen to or comply with the orders

  of an offworlder like him. Even so, they were so thoroughly socialized to accept

  a hierarchy of command, that they would complain about him to Isard, another

  offworlder. It made no sense to Vorru, and in this lack of comprehension he fe lt

  fortunate. The day I start thinking like my charges is the day I choose to die.

  Rounding a corner, Vorru strode past the desk of Isard's secretary, refusing to

  allow himself to be distracted by her spare costume. That is a pleasure I will

  save myself for solace after Iceheart is through with me. The secretary, a woman

  whose long black hair covered more than her clothes, smiled at him, but made no

  attempt to stop him or even announce him.

  The Imperial Royal Guards flanking the doorway to Isard's office did not react

  to him at all, which reinforced the pity Vorru felt for them. Unlike everyone

  else on the planet, they still wore the uniforms they brought with them from

  Imperial Center. A thick scarlet cloak covered the red armor and though no

  puddles formed at their feet, Vorru knew they had to be roasting inside it. Even

  more burdensome to them, though, had to have been the orders to relent and not

  treat everyone like a potential assassin. The T
hyferrans reacted badly to the

  strict security Isard's Royal Guard imposed initially, so she has orderd her

  bodyguard to relaxsomething that will probably require gene therapy before they

  feel at ease doing it.

  As he entered Isard's office, he immediately felt a bit more comfortable. The

  only greenery in sight was located outside the building and ensconced safely

  behind large, amorphous transparisteel viewports. The room itself had been

  paneled with very blond wood, giving it a Tatooinish cast. As had

  been the case with her office on Coruscant, it remained largely empty and free

  of clutter. Furnishings would be of use only if one wanted to linger here, and

  with her being present, this is not likely, even if she has gone native.

  On Coruscant the black-haired woman with white temple locks had been given to

  wearing a uniform similar in cut to that of Imperial Grand Admirals, though hers

  was colored blood red, not white. On Thyferra she had chosen to wear clothing

  that was more loose and flowing. The fabric she chose was still blood redin

  keeping with the uniforms worn by the Imperial Royal Guardbut she eschewed the

  nearly transparent cloth others wore happily. Pity, she is striking enough to

  wear it well. Vorru had long since heard the rumor that Isard had been one of

  Palpatine's lovers and could not deny she was attractive.

  Her eyes, and all that lies behind them, is undoubtedly what drew the Emperor to

  her. The Hothlike icy blue orb of her right eye contrasted sharply with the

  fiery molten red of her left. They seemed windows into the duality of her

  nature. She could be cold and calculating in the extreme, but also given over to

  towering incendiary angers. Vorru had, to date, avoided being immolated in one

  of them, but he had been scorched a time or two.

  He bowed his white-maned head toward her. "You sent for me?"

  "I have had information from Imperial Center that I thought you might find of

  interest." She kept her voice light, but that did not mean it lacked force. "You

  had been wondering after Kirtan Loor."

  Vorru nodded. The Intelligence agent and leader of the Palpatine

  Counter-insurgency Front had disappeared just hours before Isard had fled from

  Coruscant, bearing Vorru away with her. "My assumption was that he had been

  taken and broken in interrogation. That was the only explanation for why so many