tias and civil defense corps, so why not tolerate a similar
force created out of my people?"
Mon Mothma arched an eyebrow at Vorru. "Very few
others have as colorful a history as you do, Fliry Vorru."
"But some of those who have equally notorious back-
grounds are continuing in service to the government, though
the leadership and philosophy have changed."
Ackbar slowly nodded. The realities of governing a vast
panoply of worlds necessitated using the Imperial govern-
mental apparatus to maintain communication and order.
While a wholesale replacement of the bureaucracy would
have been ideal, the fact was that, just as the Rebel military
had relied on people with Imperial training, so the govern-
ment was being forced to rely on clerks and administrators
who had faithfully served the Empire until it fell. While most
of these people had an allegiance to their jobs and not to the
government, the tacit clemency granted to them in return for
continuing to work did not sit well with many of the Rebels.
Fliry Vorru presented an interesting case. He had di-
rectly contributed to the winning of Coruscant. While he
underplayed his contribution, Vorru could easily have turned
Rogue Squadron over to the Imperials, preventing the Rebel
conquest of the planet. His support, despite the betrayal of
subordinates, had facilitated the Rebel victory, making him a
valuable ally.
And his request of us is an ally's request for trust.
Ackbar half-closed his eyes. Vorru's request also made sense
from a purely pragmatic position. While Cracken's law en-
forcement organization would soon be functioning fully, it
would never have been as effective in the underworld as
Vorru would be. The Palpatine Counter-insurgency Front,
black marketeering, and a dozen other problems needed at-
tention on Coruscant, and yet Cracken still needed to attend
to intelligence matters involving Warlord Zsinj and Ysanne
Isard, wherever she was.
Vorru' opened his hands. "The question I place before
you is this will you grant me and my people the trust we
have earned?"
Leia's eyes hardened. "The Empire was a common en-
emy we had between us, hence our alliance. In acting against
them you have earned trust, but I suspect you see the account
more fully than we do."
"This is true, Leia, but Vorru's point is well taken."
Mon Mothma pressed her hands gently against the table top.
"The fight against the Empire is truly what bound the Alli-
ance together. We must build on that basic level of trust if we
expect the Republic to thrive. As long as Fliry Vorru's people
are willing to abide by the conduct standards we set for our
law enforcement and militia forces, they will remain within
the bounds of our trust. If they step outside those guidelines,
they will be outside their lawful duty and will be dealt with
in a suitable manner."
"You will find me a most able and loyal servant in this
matter, Mon Mothma."
"So I trust, Fliry Vorru."
"So we must all trust," Ackbar murmured.
Something dark flashed through Vorru's eyes as he
turned toward the Mon Calamari. "I would have thought
you above veiled threats, Admiral Ackbar."
"I am above them." Ackbar's mouth dropped open in a
Mon Calamari grin. "I merely meant that we must take your
word concerning your loyalty because your previous masters
are all dead, and the greatest of them through our efforts. If
you choose to read a threat in that set of facts, I cannot stop
you from doing so."
"But if I get out of hand you will destroy me?"
"You have earned trust." Ackbar leaned forward and
gave Vorru a wall-eyed stare. "Spend it unwisely and I will
do what I must to settle your account."
12
All the while in the back of the grav-cab, Wedge tried to
puzzle out what Mirax had found on the Pulsar Skate that
could threaten the Alliance. With anyone else Wedge would
have made an allowance for hyperbole, but Mirax had never
been prone to melodrama. In fact, she tends to see issues and
emergencies rather clearly.
Wedge shivered. Once before the Ashern rebels of
Thyferra had inserted a virus into bacta shipments that in-
duced an allergy to bacta in those who were treated with it.
This, in effect, left them without treatment for a whole host
of ills. If Mirax possessed evidence that the batch of bacta
stolen from Zsinj had been similarly contaminated, not only
would it doom millions of people to die from the Krytos
virus, but the withdrawal of the bacta from the health ser-
vices system on Coruscant would spark riots that would kill
many more people.
That would surely rip the Alliance apart. Non-humans
would say that the bacta was being hoarded for use by hu-
mans in case the Krytos virus jumped species and began to
kill them. Humans would also be blamed if non-humans
were hurt or killed by the contaminated bacta, and any at-
tempt to blame the contamination on the Ashern re bels
would be decried as false and part of a human conspiracy,
since it was well known that the Zaltin and Xucphra com-
bines were run by humans.
Let it be anything else but bad bacta.
Wedge had the droid flying the cab let him off three
blocks and two levels from the hangar where Mirax kept the
Pulsar Skate. While he wanted to get there as quickly as
possible, the urgency in her voice kindled a desire for caution
in him. He'd learned a lot from Mirax's father, Booster Ter-
rik, about the need for caution, especially at those times
when events seemed to be moving too fast to allow any de-
lay. Wedge regretted the lack of a sidearm, but he did have a
comlink and took a moment to preset it to the squadron's
emergency frequency.
He forced himself to slow down as he wandered toward
the hangar. He stopped to look at the holographic displays
set in shop windows or to read the latest news as it sped past
on the omnipresent news-scrolls. With each stop he looked
around and tried to spot anyone paying over much attention
to his presence. He saw no signs he was being followed, but
took the added precaution of wandering into a tapcaf, going
out through the lower level, then coming back up and head-
ing to the hangar.
At the door Wedge announced himself. The computer
got a good voiceprint match, then opened the door. Wedge
stepped through into the security lock area. After the door
closed behind him, another door in front of him opened up
and allowed him into the hangar itself.
A smile slowly spread across his face as he looked at the
Pulsar Skate. The modified Baudo-class yacht had the overall
shape of a broad-bladed dagger. The twin engines at the aft
formed an abbreviated hilt. The broadest parts of the blade
curved down to form gentle wings that swept up to a
rounded prow.
The ship very much did resemble the Corel-
lian deep-sea skate for which it was named. It had sailed
through a lot of parsecs between the time its hull was first
welded and its current presence on Coruscant.
He quickly crossed the darkened hangar floor and made
his way up the loading ramp. At the top of the gangway he
nodded to Liat Tsayv. The Sullustan returned the nod with-
out comment, and raised the muzzle of his blaster carbine
enough so Wedge could pass unmenaced. The normally
voluble Sullustan's grim silence gave Wedge a measure of
how serious Mirax thought the situation was and filled him
with a sense of dread.
He made his way past the galley and crew lounge to the
hold. The hatch stood open, and through it he could see
Mirax sitting on a duraplast crate. She looked well, though
she still wore her brown hair in a long braid that she doubled
up and fastened at the back of her head. She'd started wear-
ing her hair that way since Corran's death and Wedge re-
membered her having done the same thing when her father
had first been sent away to Kessel. That's Mirax being seri-
ous and remote, wailing her feelings off so she doesn't have
to deal with the pain.
A single red light provided all the illumination for the
globe within which Mirax sat. Everything else remained in
shadow, yet from the way Mirax looked out into the dark-
ness, Wedge could tell something alive lurked there.
A cold chill shot down his spine, and all manner of irra-
tional thoughts exploded in his brain. He paused in the
hatchway and stared out into the blackness, trying to see
what captivated Mirax's attention. He thought he saw red
light glint off a rounded black dome, which he translated
into Darth Vader's helmet. No, he's dead. It can't be him
again.
Wedge smiled at Mirax. "I'm here. How are you do-
ing?"
"I'm holding it together, Wedge, really." Her tone
matched the hopeful nature of her words, giving Wedge rea-
son to feel slightly relieved. "Thanks for getting here so fast.
I don't know who else could help me with this, but it turns
out you were their choice anyway."
Mirax gestured off into the darkest part of the hold.
"Wedge Antilles, this is Qlaern Hirf, a Vratix native of
Thyferra and a proud member of the Ashern Circle."
"The honor is ours, Commander Antilles." The voice
from the shadows came deep and deliberate. Wedge heard
his name pronounced with respectful precision; the hard
sounds--the C in Wedge's title and the t in his name--were
slightly abbreviated, as if snapped instead of spoken. Ooryl
Qrygg, the squadron's Gand, produced similar sounds when
he spoke, though even bringing to mind the image of the
exoskeletoned pilot did not fully prepare Wedge for his first
sight of the Vratix.
Qlaern moved from the shadows and into the circle of
light slowly and benignly. The insectoid creature's head fea-
tured two bulging compound eyes, and Wedge realized it was
light reflected from one of these that his imagination had
transformed into Vader's headgear. The Vratix's bent anten-
nae dangled over its triangular face, and its curved mandibles
remained pressed one against the other.
The Vratix's stalk-like neck broadened into a cylindrical
thorax and abdomen. The first of three pairs of limbs, which
hung from the point where the neck joined the thorax, con-
sisted of two trifold arms that ended in three long, delicate
fingers and a thicker thumb, and sprouted stout hook-claws
from the middle arm segment. The second and third sets of
limbs were legs, yet they were mismatched. The middle legs
connected with the body below what would have been the
ribs on a human. Longer and far more powerfully built than
the other pair of legs, their configuration led Wedge to imag-
ine the Vratix capable of great leaps and savage kicks in
combat. The last pair of limbs were certainly more than ves-
tigial, serving as they did to keep the Vratix's abdomen from
dragging on the ground, but they reminded Wedge of little
more than the landing gear on an X-wing useful to have
when you need them, but built to be tucked away when work
had to be done.
The Vratix body appeared to have a uniformly grey
color to it, but Wedge put that down to the lack of light in
the hold. The claws on its forearms were black, but with
lighter flecks, which led Wedge to believe the black color was
cosmetically applied, not something native to the creature
itself.
"I am pleased to meet you, Qlaern Hirf." Wedge smiled
and extended a hand toward the Vratix.
Qlaern's hand came in toward Wedge's, then moved
past it and came up. The Vratix brushed its fingers over
Wedge's face. The creature's flesh, which Wedge expected to
be cold and hard like armor, was dry and warm. While he
could feel the solidity of the exoskeleton beneath it, the scaly
texture of the skin covering the Vratix somehow made the
creature seem less alien to Wedge.
Mirax reached out and brushed a hand over the flesh of
Qlaern's right foreknee. "The Vratix find both sound and
vision to be deceptive senses. As Qlaern reports it, both sight
and sound are things that are of the past the moment you
perceive them. Only touch reports information that is con-
"Interesting perspective." Wedge shifted his hand
around to grip the Vratix's arm above the curved spikes.
"Qlaern, you are the Ashern agent who tipped us to the
presence of the bacta that Zsinj had captured?"
"We are responsible for that occurrence." Qlaern tilted
his head to the right and then the left. "We would have
preferred to transfer the bacta directly to you, but this was
not possible. Our affluence is not such that we could present
our gift in the manner we wished."
Wedge frowned. "I am not certain I understand what
you are saying."
Mirax scooted over on the crate. "Sit down, Wedge.
This gets complicated."
Wedge sat beside her. "Am I going to like this?"
"Parts of it, sure." Mirax smiled weakly at him. "At
least, I think you will."
Qlaern spread his forelegs slightly to bring his face down
to their level. "You know of our world."
"Some. Thyferra is a world in the Polith system, quite
temperate in nature and an excellent world for agriculture.
Thyferra is where bacta is produced and distributed by Zal-
tin and Xucphra, the two corporations that have a monopoly
on the bacta trade. The corporations are decidedly feudal in
nature, with humans de facto governing a world where the
Vratix are the majority."
The Vratix's head bobbed on the end of its neck. "Good.
Not as much as she who is Mirax knows, but good."
"Please, tell me what I do not know."
; "We have insufficient time for that, we think." Qlaern's
head craned back as a sibilant hiss issued from its mouth.
Wedge looked at Mirax. "Sarcasm? A laugh?"
"I think so."
"Forgive us, but so many times we find humans say
things they do not mean."
"Ah, then tell me what you believe I need to know."
"Much better." The Vratix settled a hand on Wedge's
knee. "The healing properties of bacta were discovered dur-
ing the days of the Old Republic. It was apparent to all that
bacta was a miracle cure for many ailments and infirmities.
The corporations which now control Thyferra and bacta
made narrow profits, but made them on a wider range of
sales. They set up many satellite manufacturing centers, all
under license, all with Vratix verachen overseeing the final
processes no matter where they took place. The thought then
was to beat competition by producing better bacta for less
than anyone else could."
"You mean there once was competition for the bacta
market?"
"For more time than there has not been, but all of it
before you were born. The Clone Wars made one thing abun-
dantly 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 war-
riors. 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 de-
cided that the only group that should have a guaranteed
supply of bacta was his military. He systematically sup-
pressed small manufacturers of bacta in favor of Zaltin and
Xucphra. They realized greater profits by letting the market-
place 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 kavare. Kavam is itself a compound