Star Wars - X-Wing - The Bacta War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  "I get the hologram, Tycho." Wedge frowned. "Do they know there's danger here?"

  "They seem to think that after Zsinj, Isard might be taken as a change for the

  positive. I've spoken with the key employers here, and they know there could be

  trouble. They seem to think that with us here it's actually going to be safer

  because the scum of the galaxy isn't going to be drifting in every time they

  have liberty."

  "True, but their revenues are going to be down, and that could make for

  trouble."

  The turbolift stopped and opened onto the docking facility. Tall transparisteel

  walls gave Wedge a spectacular view of Yag'Dhul. Though small and dense, the

  world took on a curious appearance because of the three moons orbiting it and

  the tidal forces they generated as they orbited in the opposite direction to the

  planet's rotation. The atmosphere boiled and swirled, with storms sowing

  lightning through the gray clouds and flashes of red stone visible even from the

  station.

  "Hard to believe life could have arisen in that maelstrom." Wedge folded his

  arms across his chest and shivered. "No wonder the Givin have an exoskeleton and

  can exist in a vacuum."

  "It's a good thing they can. Our attack here apparently opened some of the

  station up to the vacuum, so they used Givin to make the repairs. Everything is

  fine now, though, with one exception the old Station Master died while on an

  inspection tour of the repair work."

  Wedge frowned, recalling an old Twi'lek with a pockmarked face who had been as

  oily as Darth Vader had been evil. "His name was Valsil Torr, right?"

  "I guess so. Apparently he tried to force a Givin task leader to pay him a

  bribe. They agreed to discuss it in Torr's office, and there was a catastrophic

  loss of atmosphere." Tycho winced. "The Twi'lek was sucked out of his office

  through a hole the size of, say, a blaster bolt. The Givin lived and patched the

  hole."

  "So now no one is running the station."

  "The merchants here have formed an Economic Council and seem to be running

  things fairly well as far as they are

  concerned. We'll need to put someone in to control them, but I don't have a

  candidate in mind yet." Tycho opened his arms. "This is the main docking area,

  which contains ten levels all its own. The middle six deal with cargo transfer

  and storage. The outer two on each side contain crew housing, some small shops

  and two tapcafshome away from home for freight haulers. The tapcafs serve

  exactly what the rest of us eat, but they lower the lights and hike the price."

  "You know, with the right ambiance, that tauntaun would have tasted fine."

  "Sure, Wedge, believe that if you want." Tycho pointed to the triangular landing

  extending out into space. "Ships land here, unload, pick up or exchange cargo,

  and head out again. If the crew wants to stop over, its ship is parked in orbit

  and the station shuttle service brings them to and from the station. Hangar

  space is rare, and what this station has is being reserved for us right now,

  though there is some space for repairs if a ship needs it."

  "Fair enough." Wedge watched a small yacht make an approach on the station. Its

  sleek lines and down-curving wings reminded him of a native Corellian fish.

  "Looks like the Pulsar Skate is coming in. Have you had any word from them?"

  "No, but there was a funds transfer to the account of Huff Darklighter, so I

  assume things went well."

  "Good." Wedge pointed back at the lift. "Let's go down, greet them, and see

  exactly what our money bought us."

  9

  Wedge wondered if he weren't really still trapped in a dream as the turbolift

  door opened and he stepped into the squadron hangar. A dozen X-wings occupied

  the deck, and techs swarmed over them. That wasn't what had struck him as

  unrealistic, however, since the hustle and bustle of a hangar was something he'd

  witnessed countless times before. He glanced over at Tycho. "What's going on

  here?" Tycho gave him a grin. "Well, since we're no longer part of the New

  Republic's Armed Forces, we can't have ships bearing its insignia or colors, can

  we? Now, Corran's ship has always been green with that black and white trim,

  like his droid, so I thought we might just go ahead and repaint our X-wings to

  look like whatever we want them to be."

  He pointed very specifically at an X-wing that was bloodred except for where

  white had been splashed at a diagonal down across the nose and the tips of the

  S-foils. A broad black stripe parted the white from the red. "That one's mine. I

  did some checking, and before Alderaan disarmed, that was the color scheme the

  Alderaan Guard unit near my home used to sport. I've also had Zraii switch my

  Identify Friend/Foe beacon over to an old Alderaanian codethe one from the

  Another Chance, in fact. Individualizing the paint and switching our IFF codes

  to those of our home planets provides further evidence that we're not a New

  Republic unit."

  Wedge chewed his lower lip for a moment. Makes sense, all of it. And the

  fighters do look a bit more, ah, ferocious with the new paint jobs. "I like it,

  Tycho, but I don't know what to do with mine. Corran's got the CorSec green, but

  he's earned it."

  "How about a dark blue, with red stripes up the sides?"

  "Corellian Bloodstripes?" Wedge chuckled. "I never was in the Corellian

  Military, so I never earned Bloodstripes. Han Solo wears them on his trousers

  because he went to the Imperial Academy and won them through his bravery."

  "Oh, and you've not been equally brave?"

  "That's open to debate, but the fact is I've never been sufficiently military to

  earn them." He smiled slowly. "Make everything from the cockpit back black,

  including the S-foils, and give me a green-and-gold check pattern on the front

  fuselage."

  Tycho's eyes narrowed. "I don't recognize the color scheme."

  "No reason you should." Wedge hesitated for a second. "Back when my parents

  operated a fueling station at Gus Treta, my father was saving up to buy the

  station and start his own chain. The green, gold, and black were going to be the

  colors he used for the logo and the uniforms. Your colors tie you back to your

  home, Corran's do the same thing for him, and I imagine the same is true for

  everyone else. Mine will tie me to the home I should have had."

  "I'll put the order in immediately." Tycho started walking over toward where

  the Pulsar Skate had come through the hangar's magnetic containment bubble and

  was setting down. Following it in came a boxy station shuttle, but it landed

  further back. "Your ship and Gavin's will be the last ones finished."

  Wedge glanced at Ooryl's white fighter. "You need to include Ooryl's ship on

  that list."

  "No, it's done."

  "But, it's so ... plain."

  "Apparently not, if you can see in the ultraviolet range." Tycho shrugged.

  "Zraii says it's a masterpiece."

  "That explains why I'm a warrior, not an artist." Wedge waved as he saw Corran,

  Mirax, and Gavin walk down the gangway from the Pulsar Skate. Wait a minute,

  who's that? The fourth individual proved taller than Gavin and much bulkier, yet

  was
n't slovenly or Huttlike. Then, when his head cleared the interior of the

  ship and Wedge saw the bristle of white hair, he recognized him.

  "So that's why Corran is looking a bit subdued."

  "What?" Tycho frowned at Wedge. "Who's the last guy?"

  "Mirax's father."

  "Oh. Oh."

  Wedge trotted the remaining distance and thrust his hand at Booster Terrik.

  "It's been far too long, Booster."

  The larger man's hand engulfed Wedge's. "You grew up quite a bit during my five

  years on Kessel. After I got out, well, about that time you were freezing on

  Hoth, then you were on the go. I assumed I'd run into you sometime, and now

  seems as good as any."

  "Indeed it is." Wedge glanced over at Mirax. "Your daughter's been a lifesaver,

  you know, and for more than just me."

  "So I gather from what I heard during the trip." Booster Terrik threw an arm

  over Wedge's shoulders, then tightened it against his neck. "I would have hoped,

  though, you would have found a way to protect her from the likes of Horn there."

  Wedge gently dug an elbow in the man's ribs. "First, if you can't control your

  daughter, how can / be expected to control her? Second, just as I told her,

  Corran isn't his father. He's one of the best men I know."

  "You need to get out more, Wedge." Booster opened his arms and released Wedge.

  "Interesting place you have here. Not enough to stop a Super Star Destroyer, but

  you know that. Still, if you have to die in a box in space, this looks as good

  as any in which to do it."

  "Tycho's taking me on a tour. You're welcome to join us."

  "I'd be happy to."

  Wedge nodded, then looked over at Gavin. "How was Tatooine?"

  "Good, sir. We got a fair amount of personal armor and weapons, as well as some

  TIE parts and assorted other things Mirax thinks we can trade. Uncle Huff said

  that was all that was left from the Eidolon material."

  "It all looked pretty good, Wedge." Corran leaned against a pilot-mover. "We've

  got enough in the way of small arms to supply a decent insurgent force. The

  armor is stormtrooper grade."

  Corran's voice trailed off as the sound of footsteps drew closer. Wedge turned

  and saw a pair of individuals coming around Pulsar Skate's stern. The hulking

  brute of a man, with a shaved head and a big bushy beard, dwarfed his petite

  female companion. Wedge hitched for a moment, then started to laugh. "How is it

  possible that you're here so soon?"

  The auburn-haired woman smiled sweetly. "And I'm happy to see you, too, Wedge.

  You've not changed much, Tycho, or you, Mirax." She nodded to the others in the

  group, then offered her hand to Corran. "Elscol Loro and Sixtus Quin."

  "Elscol joined the squadron just after Bakura and flew a few missions with us."

  Wedge jerked a thumb toward her taciturn, dark-skinned companion. "Sixtus Quin

  was a Special Intelligence Operative who was betrayed by his Imperial

  commander, so he helped us out in a mission on Tatooine."

  Corran nodded. "We can always use more pilots."

  "But that's not why we're here, kid." She shot Wedge a sidelong glance. "The

  reason we got here so soon was because we were inbound before your summons

  reached us. We'd heard of the coup on Thyferra and figured we'd ply our trade

  there."

  Corran stiffened. "And what would that trade be?"

  A lopsided grin contorted the left side of her face. "I do what I was doing at

  the time Wedge recruited meI find worlds with Imperial tyrants, and I liberate

  them. Sixtus,

  what's left of his squad, and a group of other ne'er-do-wells come with me. We

  organize local resistance movements; provide them with expertise, weapons, and

  support; and help them get rid of their local Imperial officials."

  Wedge smiled. "I think you'll recall that no one at our first meeting had any

  good idea about how to go about overthrowing a planetary government. Elscol has

  had more practice at it than anyone I know. She's never been much of a joiner,

  so she's been working outside the New Republic."

  She shrugged. "Haven't formed an opinion about the New Republic yet, though

  during Tycho's trial my thoughts were none-too-positive. The Empire, on the

  other hand, left me without my family, so I'm doing what I can to strip them of

  theirs."

  "Have you had a chance to review the material I sent you?"

  Elscol nodded. "If the ratio of loyal humans to Vratix is at all accurate, the

  actual conquest of the world should be simple. The big problem there is the

  presence of those Imp ships. Anything we do can be undone by a planetary

  bombardment. If those ships can be scattered or neutralized preferably bothwe

  can stage an uprising that should topple Ysanne Isard. I'm confident we can do

  it, but I'll have a better idea of exactly what we're going to do after I get in

  there and take a look."

  Mirax raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about going to Thyferra?"

  "Yes, the sooner the better." Elscol held up a hand and started ticking points

  off on her fingers. "We have to liaise with the Ashern, or we'll fight them as

  much as we'll fight the Imps and their Xucphra allies. We have to determine the

  nature of the targets we'll hit, so we can be properly supplied for the

  strikes. We need to gauge the reaction of the populace to a countercoup, and we

  have to find a local leader who can handle being put in charge. If this were

  just some backwater world that no one cared about, we could be a bit more hasty.

  Thyferra, however, is of vital importance, so we have to be careful and surgical

  in what we're doing."

  "Agreed." Wedge folded his arms across his chest. "We

  don't have enough in the way of personnel or equipment to allow us to be

  sloppy."

  Sixtus rested his fists on his narrow hips. "How long do you anticipate being

  able to keep the location of this station a secret from Isard?"

  Wedge shrugged. "I have no way of judging that. We'll take all precautions

  possible, but we're as vulnerable here as the Alliance was on Hoth or Yavin 4.

  If Isard finds us, we're in for a difficult time."

  "Then the sooner we're on Thyferra, the sooner she'll have to think about

  leaving at least part of her fleet at home."

  Gavin frowned. "But I thought the fleet needed to be scattered."

  "True enough, but scattered in a way that you can nibble it to death. I know you

  Rogues are hot hands on a stick, but a dozen snubfighters can't take four

  capital ships all by themselves. Isard has to be induced to send the ships out

  so you can eliminate them, but she also needs a reason to leave some of them at

  home so you don't get overwhelmed."

  Corran raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you're suggesting the only way we win

  this thing is if Iceheart starts getting stupid."

  "Not at all, flyboy. What we need to do is to give Isard too many things to

  think about. She likes to be in control that's clearand she'll do outrageous

  things to remain in control." Sixtus smiled in a way that made it seem as if

  smiling were an effort for him. "We have to present her with enough problems

  that she's reacting to what we do, not acting by herself. We set the pace and

  determine what she does."

  Tycho'
s eyes narrowed. "And if she doesn't dance to the tune we call?"

  Elscol opened her hands. "Then we dance around her. Make no mistake about it,

  defeating her is going to be neither pretty nor swift, but it can be done.

  People are going to die, but if she remains in charge of the bacta supply in the

  galaxy, that's a given anyway."

  Wedge nodded and felt his shoulders begin to ache as if someone had settled a

  lead-lined cloak across them. While none of the Rogues had ever attempted to

  minimize the diffi-

  culty of what they had set out to do, neither had they taken a close look at the

  realities of it. It is almost as if we began to believe in the legend of Rogue

  Squadronthat impossible missions are for us just run of the mill. We know death

  and dying are part of any operation, but since we're the ones putting our lives

  on the line, we're accepting responsibility for our own lives. Elscol's pointing

  out, quite correctly, that a lot of other people can and will be hurt in all

  this.

  He nodded slowly. "Okay, we've got to start planning this all in earnest. We're

  gathering weapons and the ships we need already, but now we're going to have to

  designate mission goals, outline parameters, set rules of engagement, and

  establish just how far we're willing to go to accomplish the end we desire the

  liberation of Thyferra. I take it that the fact that you're here means you're

  willing to help us do this, El-scol?"

  She winked at Wedge. "Actually I was coming here to give you folks the joy of

  flying cover for me while my people handled the problem, but I think throwing in

  with you is the only way to get this done. We're in."

  "Great." Wedge clapped her on the shoulders. "So, where do you suggest we

  begin?"

  Elscol's smile blossomed. "I think the first thing we want to do is to make

  Isard very mad."

  10

  Corran made one last check on his instruments, but everything seemed fine. His

  screen showed him to be fifteen seconds from reversion to realspace. "Hang on,

  Whistler, this could be very strange."

  He knew it shouldn't be at all out of the ordinary, but he couldn't escape the

  feeling that something odd would happen. He felt it was not because of any

  unknown factors attached to the mission, because there really were none. Their

  intelligence about the bacta convoy had been very good and double-checked. The