The Bacta War (3 page)

Wedge forced himself to smile and looked up at the light-brown-haired man with bright blue eyes sitting across the table from him. “Have we bitten off more than we can chew?”

Tycho Celchu shrugged. “It’s a mouthful, but with some more teeth, we might be able to choke it down. There is some good news on this whole front you know. We have the ten million credits that Ysanne Isard placed in accounts to frame me. That money is mine, which means it’s
ours
. We have the five Z-95 Headhunters that were used to help liberate Coruscant.”

“But they’re not hyperspace capable.”

“True, but that’s not going to be their value for us.” Tycho began to smile. “The Z-95s are part of history. They’re
collectable
. I’ve already had offers from museums and amusement parks to buy them. We can probably get one point five million for each of them—the Bothan Military Academy wants the one Asyr flew so badly they’re not even trying to hide their desire for it.”

Wedge’s jaw dropped. “That would give us quite a war chest.”

“It should take care of many of our needs.”

“Provided we can find places where we can buy weapons that are restricted or illegal on most civilized planets.”

Tycho nodded. “Winter and Mirax are working on that problem. Winter, from her work locating Imperial supply depots for us to raid, knows where there are bits and pieces of things that we can buy, borrow, or steal. Mirax is fairly certain she can locate sources for pretty much anything else we need. And we are getting donations of material.”

Wedge smiled and looked around the small office in which he and Tycho sat. After their resignation, they had been forced out of Rogue Squadron’s headquarters facility. Various citizens had turned around and offered the ex-Rogues 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 Commenor.”

“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 convenient
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 stop—no 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 annoyingly 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 Coruscant—similarly dry but decidedly more metropolitan and to his tastes—Thyferra 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 beautiful—many 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 corporation
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 greedy—with 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 anyway—though 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 inbreeding—though Vorru thought
that
was only a generation or two away—there certainly was philosophical inbreeding that led to sinecures
being created for incompetent members of the corporate family.