The Bacta War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The larger of the three bowed his head. “I speak for all three of us when I say we are most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Though the Gand’s speech had the guttural tones and clicks of Ooryl’s normal voice, Corran found himself having a hard time comprehending what was said. He knew he should have understood it easily—it was only a greeting—but the use of personal pronouns surprised him. Ooryl explained long ago that Gands considered it the height of presumption to use personal pronouns to refer to themselves, because it arrogantly assumes the listeners know who the speaker is. Only after having done something so memorable that such an assumption can be made can a Gand refer to himself as “I.”

  Mirax covered for Corran. “We’re very pleased to meet you as well. Ooryl is a good friend, so we are honored to meet his friends.”

  Ooryl quivered for a second. “Qrygg is sorry for your misinterpretation because Qrygg knows it is Qrygg’s fault, Mirax. These Gands are not Qrygg’s friends. They are ruetsavii.” Ooryl’s mouth parts closed for a moment, then snapped back open. “In Basic they would be something like observers or examiners, but more than either.”

  Corran raised an eyebrow. “They’re your superiors?”

  The taller Gand—Vviir Wiamdi by order of introduction—exaggerated the shaking of his head. “We have been sent by the Elders of Gand to watch Ooryl Qrygg. We are to chronicle Qrygg’s existence and to criticize it. It is a great honor.”

  Ooryl doesn’t seem to think it’s that great an honor by the look of him. Corran smiled. “If there is any way I may be of assistance to you, please do not hesitate to let me know what I can do. Ooryl and I have spent much time together, and he’s saved my life more times than I care to remember.”

  All three Gands nodded their heads sagely, but Corran was uncertain he was reading their body language correctly. I’m not sure I can read them at all, and I doubt I’m going to get a good explanation from Ooryl. Corran looked over at Mirax, but she didn’t seem to be any more confident of her judgment of the Gands than he was. One more thing to learn about, which is why this galaxy will never be dull.

  Corran pointed to the open area in the booth. “Would you care to join us?”

  Ooryl shook his head. “Now it is time for Qrygg to interface with Zraii and tend to Qrygg’s X-wing. After that, the schedule allows for dining.”

  Vviir bowed his head again. “I beg your forgiveness for this interruption. We will watch you interact with Qrygg at a later date.” He turned and led the procession back out of the tapcaf with Ooryl drawn along in the trio’s wake like an X-wing tractored to a freighter.

  Mirax raised an eyebrow. “What was all that about?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “And Ooryl’s not going to tell you anything, either.” She pointed in their direction with her fork. “I’ve never heard of, let alone seen, a group of Gands wandering around together. Very odd.”

  Corran shrugged and attacked his food. “Twi’leks have joined us, and now we have some Gands with us. I don’t understand it, nor do I need to understand it. I just hope Iceheart gets as confused by it as I am.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Under other circumstances Wedge Antilles thought he might have liked Qretu 5. The ring of asteroids surrounding the planet that provided his people with cover against ground-based early-warning systems had looked wonderful in the night sky in all the holograms he had studied. The world’s moist and warm climate encouraged the growth of lush green foliage, over the tops of which Wedge’s X-wing whisked at dizzying speed. Mountains upthrust by colliding tectonic plates also hid the fighters from their target, providing the personnel at the Q5A7 Bacta Refinement Plant no warning about the impending attack.

  Wedge’s force was flying in at a strength of twenty-four—two squadrons’ worth of snubfighters. The three losses to the Corrupter had been replaced by the Gand ruetsavii and their curious ships. The Gands flew heavily modified TIE bombers. The Quadanium solar panels at the front had been cut on the diagonal bias like those of TIE Interceptors and had a central cutout to provide the pilot with peripheral vision. The bomb delivery system in the secondary hull had been scrapped in favor of a concussion missile launching system with a six-missile magazine, then a hyperdrive motivator and shield generators had been added. Two lasers completed their weapons array. While the Gand bombers were still slow, the shields were strong; and Wedge found the ships preferable to Y-wings for the long-range raid they were making.

  He had not intended to have the Gands come along on the mission, but Ooryl had insisted they would anyway since they were ruetsavii—and what exactly that meant Wedge was as yet uncertain. In the preliminary and simulator runs they made on the mission, the Gands had proved very competent and skillful, though Wedge thought Ooryl could outfly all of them.

  Wedge checked the chronographic readout on his main screen, then glanced up at the horizon. The mountains are right where they’re supposed to be. Over the rise and the valley should take us right in on target. Pulling back on the X-wing’s stick, he brought his fighter up so the sun rising at his back could illuminate his X-wing. He reached up with his right hand, flicking the switch that brought the S-foils into attack position, the keyed his comm unit. “Rogues, we go in. Chir’daki, stand by.”

  Tugging his stick to the right, he kicked the X-wing into a barrel roll to starboard, then leveled out and began his run through the valley. The mountains rose up off both S-foils but were far enough away that Wedge didn’t feel as cramped as he did on the Death Star trench run or even the conduit mission on Borleias. His onboard computer matched the terrain to the mission map it had in memory, sounded a mild drift alarm and Wedge corrected the problem almost unconsciously.

  Wedge thumbed the controls over to proton torpedoes and linked the fire of both launch tubes. He kept his hand easy on the stick, nudging the craft this way and that, then shot out over the edge of a three-hundred-meter-tall cliff. As he rolled, he saw a black valley dotted with lights and brought his fighter around on a heading for a large dark block with flashing red and yellow lights on each of its corners. His targeting crosshairs dropped into the shadowed outline and he pulled the trigger.

  Two proton torpedoes shot out on tongues of blue flame and streaked away at the building. They hit barely nanoseconds apart and detonated just after punching through the ferrocrete wall. Their subsequent explosions vomited argent fire out through their entry holes, then through the roof and out the windows on the upper three floors. The roof collapsed in on itself, leaving the fire on the building’s interior lighting up the night like magma in a volcano’s heart.

  With a flick of his thumb Wedge shifted the X-wing over to laser fire and left it firing single shots in sequence. Triggering a burst of fire, he sent a hail of red laser bolts burning through the night. His shots tracked over the main refinery building and down through the darkness. Something he hit exploded brilliantly, sending a red-gold fireball into the air. It imploded but still bumped him around as he flew through where it had been, then he was over the bay and starting a long loop over Qretu 5’s largest ocean.

  As he came around he got a chance to look back at the Q5A7 plant and felt his stomach fold in on itself. The cliff wall and the waters of the bay reflected the light from the burning refinery, magnifying it and spreading it all over the valley. The X-wings that had come in behind him had similarly launched proton torpedoes at ground targets. The missiles, which were powerful enough to put quite a dent in an Imperial Star Destroyer, blasted apart unarmored buildings. Lasers filled the night like lightning strikes, melting roads, setting trees on fire and exploding anything even vaguely incendiary when they hit.

  Though the targets they had specified had been strictly industrial, collateral damage was inescapable. At least one bright fire burned in what should have been a residential complex for plant workers—clearly one of the proton torpedoes had overshot its mark—and Wedge didn’t know if the ground target his lasers had destroyed had been droid-driven or if
it contained innocent bystanders. Coming in prior to dawn had been an attempt to minimize the presence of innocents in the target zones, but even minimal involvement of noncombatants meant some of them would die.

  Part of Wedge didn’t want to care because the raid was meant to make Isard pay for Halanit’s destruction. That raid had been collateral damage through and through, but murdering Thyferrans, Vratix, and assorted resident alien workers would hardly make Isard atone for what she had done. The only pain she would feel would be the loss of bacta and her ability to produce it. To her, those we kill are reason enough for continuing her predations, whereas those innocents she kills are just punishment for our misdeeds.

  Another part of Wedge wanted to abort the Twi’leks’ run on the valley. The damage done had been rather ample. The Deathseeds would only be able to strafe the ground, sowing more terror in the populace, but probably not doing much to further cripple the refinery. What has already been done should be enough, but I know it isn’t. He keyed his comm unit. “Chir’daki, you are good to go.”

  He got a double-click acknowledgment from Tal’dira, then Corran’s voice broke in. “Lead, I have multiple eyeball contacts coming up off the deck to the north.”

  “I copy, Nine. Seven, you have command of the ground op. Two, Nine, and Ten, on me to deal with the intruders.” Wedge hauled back on his stick and brought the X-wing up in a loop. Rolling out to port, he saw Asyr pull up on his starboard S-foil while Corran and Ooryl joined him to the left. “How many, Nine?”

  “Eight, sir.”

  “I copy. Engage at will, but save your last two torpedoes.” Standing off and shooting the TIE fighters down with proton torpedoes would be the safest means of defeating them, but Wedge wanted to save some torpedoes in case they ran into a heavy ship as they tried to get away. As nearly as I can tell all of Isard’s capital ships are five hours or more distant from here, but if one shows up I want to give it a barrage that will keep it off us long enough for us to escape.

  The intervention of Thyferran Home Defense Corps pilots had been anticipated. Their intelligence reports about Qretu 5 had indicated the placement of such troops on the world, though after Gavin had described burning three of them down on Halanit, there was open debate as to whether or not the THDC pilots would dare come up and fight. Eight starfighters were enough to discourage someone from bringing their own freighter into Qretu 5’s spaceport and demanding it be filled with bacta or to protect freighters going out to or coming back in from a convoy.

  Isard didn’t anticipate our coming in to this place in such strength and with the intention of wreaking total havoc. Wedge linked the fire on his lasers, pairing them, and evened out his shields fore and aft. A pair of missiles from his port sizzled through the dawning sky and impaled distant specks of black. Twin stars twinkled for a moment before the sound of the explosion collided with his fighter, then Wedge was on the TIEs and firing.

  Two bursts of laser fire bracketed one of the TIE fighters. The first pair of bolts liquefied one of the hexagonal solar panels, immediately pitching the fighter into a decaying flat spin. The second pair lopped off the upper half of the remaining solar panel, adding a loopy, wobbling element to the spin. The wounded TIE dropped from the sky like the asymmetrical rock it resembled and exploded on impact with the ground.

  Pulling back on the stick, Wedge brought the X-wing’s nose up until it pointed away from the planet. He let the climb bleed off just a little of his speed, trading it for altitude, then he came back over the top and started back down into the fight. He selected one target and began to close, but it died in a quad burst of laser fire, so he ruddered the nose to the right and swooped in on a TIE angling for a deflection shot at Asyr’s X-wing.

  These pilots know nothing. Coming in from above and in front of the TIE fighter, Wedge knew he should have been easy to spot. The TIE pilots had clearly focused in on getting Asyr, to the exclusion of everyone else. While that kind of focus and concentration might be useful in all sorts of endeavors, in a fighter pilot without situational awareness, it was suicide.

  Wedge knew, from looking out his canopy and studying his sensors, where his other fighters were and where the dwindling supply of TIEs was. He couldn’t feel their presence in the way Luke described being able to fix people and machines in relation to himself through the Force, but he did have a sense of where they were. This situational awareness meant he would know if a TIE had begun to close on him and would be able to take the appropriate response, from calling for help to outmaneuvering the other pilot.

  Without it I would have died hundreds of times over. Applying a little rudder, Wedge tracked his crosshairs over to cover the TIE and tightened up on the trigger. Four red lances of light converged, melding into one, then skewered the fighter’s ball cockpit. The ion engines exploded, spinning the solar panels away like sabacc cards. Flaming debris sprayed out like sparks in the wake of a passing meteorite, igniting a fire in the foliage below.

  Mynock trumpeted triumphantly.

  Wedge glanced at his main sensor screen. “That was the last of them, true.” He activated the comm unit. “Nine, take Ten and swing over the spaceport. Suppress ground fire if you get any and report all clear.”

  “As ordered, Lead.”

  “Chir’daki One to Rogue Leader.”

  “Go ahead, Tal’dira.”

  “Chir’daki pass complete. We had secondary explosions in the vehicle sheds and machining shops.”

  “Good going, Tal’dira. Stand by for phase two of the operation.”

  Tycho’s voice entered the frequency. “Wedge, I have someone on the deck complaining. Claims to be the plant manager.”

  “I copy, Tycho. Tell him to evacuate the whole area and consider a career change. Resistance means we grid the surrounding town and start melting parts of it.”

  “As ordered, Wedge.”

  Looking back at Q5A7 and the surrounding area, Wedge saw a lot of fire and rising columns of dense smoke to greet the dawn. Some small ships had set out from the bay’s marina and ground vehicles were beginning to fill the coastal roadway heading north and south. Those who can get away are—those who can’t will just wait in fear.

  “Lead, this is Nine. The spaceport is clear. No hostiles and the traffic-control tower is empty but intact.”

  Wedge smiled. “You got close enough to determine that, Nine?”

  “Whistler has good distance processing equipment from stakeouts, Lead. He’s never been wrong before.”

  “I copy. Stay covering the spaceport.”

  “As ordered, Lead. Nine out.”

  Wedge punched up a new frequency on the comm unit. “Rogue leader to Taskforce Bantha.”

  “Bantha here, Wedge. We can spot the city by the fires from up here.”

  “I don’t doubt that at all, Booster. It could have been nastier but Iceheart only had eight vape-bait pilots here. They’re gone, so it’s safe to have the freighters come in.”

  “Our pleasure. Incoming.”

  Wedge smiled. During the two weeks the squadrons had trained for the raid, Booster had arranged for a convoy of independent freighters and smugglers to meet with him, Mirax, and the Pulsar Skate. He told them he’d get them all the bacta they could haul provided they would keep what they earned as a credit against his future demands. Some balked, but most came along, even though Booster demanded they slave their navicomputers to the Skate’s and fly blind with him to their destination. When they arrived in the system and took up positions in the asteroid rings around Qretu 5, Wedge and his people began their run.

  Wedge brought the fighter’s nose up until it eclipsed the burning town and started another turn over the ocean. Regret for the damage done to nonindustrial targets began to eat at him. My parents died when a pirate took off from the fueling station they ran, igniting the station. Down there could easily be another kid who has just lost his parents in a blast we caused. I know what we are doing is right and even necessary, but that doesn’t lessen the pain or dull the ho
rror of the people on the ground. I have to believe that opposing Isard and insulating billions of people from her evil is a great good, a vital good, but I can never let myself think that it justifies inflicting pain on innocents. It may well explain why it had to be done, but it can never justify it.

  Even as revulsion for the fire and damage began to fill him, sanity provided a means for draining it off. The key difference between us and Isard is that she fully intended to do the most harm to the most people. We did not. We chose our targets well, we set the attack for a time when casualties would be minimized, and we have made no attempt to attack targets of opportunity like the ships or landspeeders fleeing the town. We exerted as much control as possible to keep the strike as clean as we could.

  Wedge smiled. Then again, it was said that the Emperor’s throne had been molded of good intentions. We must take responsibility for what we’ve done on the ground and repair what we can. If not, we do by negligence what Isard does in malice.

  He keyed the comm unit. “Booster, when you’re on the ground, establish a contact so reparation claims can be forwarded to us. I want survivors and orphans taken care of.”

  “This isn’t the Gus Treta station, Wedge.”

  “I know, but the kids on the ground don’t have you to see them through the hard times, do they?”

  “I copy, Wedge. It will be done.”

  “Good.” Wedge glanced again at the city, but the dawn had dulled the brightness of the flames and showed him how much of the area had gone unharmed. “Booster, make sure they know we hit Q5A7 to hit Isard, and we’ll only be back if it’s apparent she’s dependent upon them again. Tell them we’re death itself for our enemies, but the best of friends to have for allies. I’m sure they can figure out for themselves how to join that latter class.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mirax Terrik gave the rakishly good-looking man a dazzling smile as she stepped into his office. “Talon Karrde, pleased to meet you again. I don’t know if you’ll remember me”