Star Wars - [X-Wing 04] - The Bacta War (by Michael A Stackpole)

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Star Wars X-Wing - The Bacta War

Somehow the dead of night amplified the lightsaber's hiss, allowing it to fill

the room. The blade's silvery light frosted the furniture and gave birth to

impenetrable shadows. The blade drifted back and forth, prompting the shadows to

waver and shift as if fleeing from the light.

Much as criminals would flee from the light.

Corran Horn stared at the blade, finding the argent energy shaft neither harsh

nor painful to his eyes. He lazily wove the blade through joined infinity loops,

then, with the flick of his right wrist, snapped it up into a guard that

protected him from forehead to waist. Relic of a bygone era, it still can

conjure up images and feelings.

He hit the black button under his thumb twice, and the blade died, again

plunging the room into darkness. The lightsaber did conjure up images and

feelings in him, but Corran doubted they were at all the images and feelings

commonly felt by most others on Coruscant. To everyone, including Corran, Luke

Skywalker was a hero and was welcomed as heir to the Jedi tradition. His efforts

at rebuilding the Jedi order were roundly applauded, and no one, save those who

dreaded the return of law and order to the galaxy, wished Luke anything but the

greatest success in his heroic quest.

As do I. Corran frowned. Still, my decision has been made.

He'd felt it the greatest of honors to be asked by Luke Skywalker to leave Rogue

Squadron and train to become a Jedi. Skywalker had told him that his grandfather

Nejaa Halcyon had been a Jedi Master who had been slain in the Clone Wars. The

lightsaber Corran had discovered in the Galactic Museum had belonged to Nejaa

and had been presented to Corran as his rightful inheritance. Mine is the

heritage of a Jedi Knight.

But that was a heritage he had only heard of from Skywalker. He did not doubt

the Jedi was telling the truth, but it was not the whole truth. At least not the

whole of the truth with which I grew up.

Throughout his life Corran Horn had come to believe his grandfather was Rostek

Horn, a valued and highly placed member of the Corellian Security Force. His

father, Hal Horn, likewise was with CorSec. When it came time for Corran to

choose a career, there was really no choice at all. He continued the Horn

tradition of serving CorSec. His grandfather had always admitted to having

known a Jedi who died in the Clone Wars, but that acquaintance had been given no

more weight than having once met Imperial Moff Fliry Vorru or having visited

Imperial Center, as Coruscant had been known under the Empire's rule.

Corran found it no great surprise that Rostek Horn and his father had downplayed

their ties to Nejaa Halcyon. Halcyon had died in the Clone Wars; and Rostek had

comforted, grown close with, and married Halcyon's widow. He also adopted

Halcyon's son, Valin, who grew up as Hal Horn. When the Emperor began his

extermination of the Jedi order, Rostek had used his position at CorSec to

destroy all traces of the Halcyon family, insulating his wife and adopted son

from investigation by Imperial authorities.

Since exhibiting any interest in the Jedi Knights could invite scrutiny and my

family would be very vulnerable if its secret were discovered, I probably heard

less about the Jedi Knights than most other kids my age. If not for various

holodramas that painted the Jedi Knights as villains and later

reminiscences by his grandfather about the Clone Wars, Corran would have known

little or nothing about the Jedi. Like most other children, he found them

vaguely romantic and all too much sinister, but they were distant and remote

while what his father and grandfather did was immediate and exciting.

He raised a hand and pressed it to the golden Jedi medallion he wore around his

neck. It had been a keepsake his father had carried and Corran inherited after

his father's death. Corran had taken it as a lucky charm of sorts, never

realizing his father had kept it because it bore the image of his own father,

Nejaa Halcyon. Wearing it had been my father's way of honoring his father and

defying the Empire. Likewise, I wore it to honor him, not realizing I was doing

more through that act.

Skywalker's explanation to him of what his relationship to Nejaa Halcyon was

opened new vistas and opportunities for him. In joining CorSec he had chosen to

dedicate his life to a mission that paralleled the Jedi mission making the

galaxy safe for others. As Luke had explained, by becoming a Jedi, Corran could

do what he had always done but on a larger scale. That idea, that opportunity,

was seductive, and clearly all of his squadron-mates had expected him to jump at

it.

Corran smiled. / thought Councilor Borsk Fey'lya was going to die when I turned

down the offer. In many ways I wish he had.

He shook his head, realizing that thought was unworthy of himself and really

wasted on Borsk Fey'lya. Corran was certain that, on some level, the Bothan

Councilor believed henot Corranwas right and his actions were vital to

sustain the New Republic. Re-creating the Jedi order would help provide a

cohesive force to bind the Republic together and to drape it in the nostalgic

mantle of the Old Republic. Just as having various members of nation-states

placed in Rogue Squadron had helped pull the Republic together, having a

Corellian become a new Jedi might influence the Diktat into treating the New

Republic in a more hospitable manner.

Skywalker had asked him to, and Fey'lya had assumed he

would, join the Jedi order, but that was because neither of them knew of or

realized that his personal obligations and promises exerted more influence with

him than any galactic cause. While Corran realized that doing the greatest good

for the greatest number was probably better for everyone in the long run, he had

short-term debts he wanted to repay, and time was of the essence in doing so.

The remnants of the Empire had captured, tortured, and imprisoned him at

Lusankya, which he later came to realize was really a Super Star Destroyer

buried beneath the surface of Coruscant. He had escaped from therea feat never

before successfully accomplishedbut had gotten away only with the aid of other

prisoners. He had vowed to them that he would return and liberate them, and he

fully intended to keep his promise. The fact that they were imprisoned in the

belly of the SSD that now orbited Thyferra made that task more difficult, but

long odds against success had never stopped him before. I'm a Corellian. What

use have I for odds?

His desire to save them had increased with a chance discovery that embarrassed

him mightily when he made it. In Lusankya the Rebel prisoners had been led by an

older man who simply called himself Jan. Since his escape, Corran had caught a

holovision broadcast of a documentary on the heroes of the Rebel Alliance.

First and foremost among them had been the general who led the defense of Yavin

4 and planned the destruction of the first Death Star, Jan Dodonna. The

documentary said he'd been slain during the evacuation of Yavin 4, but Corran

had no doubt Dodonna had been a prisoner on Lusankya. If I hadn't thought him

dead, I might have recognized him, too. How stupid of me.

Dodonna's celebrity had nothing to do with Corran's desire to save him. Jan,

like Urlor Sette and others, had helped him escape. They had risked their lives

to give him a chance to get away. Leaving such brave people captives of someone

like Ysanne Isard not only failed to reward their courage but repaid them by

leaving them in severe jeopardy of death or worseconversion into a covert

Imperial agent under Isard's direction.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Corran started, then turned and smiled at the black-haired, dark-eyed woman

standing in the bedroom doorway. "I guess not, Mirax. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't wake me. Your absence awakened me." She wore a dark blue robe,

belted at the waist with a pale yellow sash. Mirax raised a hand to hide a yawn

then pointed at the silver cylinder in his right hand. "Regretting your

decision?"

"Which one? Refusing to join the Jedi Knights or"he smiled"or hooking up with

you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking of the Jedi decision. If you have

reservations about the other decision, I can relearn how to sleep alone."

He laughed, and she joined him. "I regret neither. Your father and my father may

have been mortal enemies, but I can't imagine having a better friend than you."

"Or lover."

"Especially lover."

Mirax shrugged. "All you men who've just gotten out of prison say that."

Corran frowned for a moment. "I imagine you're right, but how you came by that

information, I don't want to know."

Mirax blinked her eyes. "You know, I don't think I want to know that, either."

Corran laughed, then crossed the room and enfolded her in a warm hug. "After my

escape, Tycho expressed his regrets concerning your death to me. He told me how

Warlord Zsinj had ambushed a convoy at Alderaan and destroyed it, including

your Pulsar Skate. Everything inside of me just collapsed. Losing you just

ripped the emotional skeleton out of me."

"Now you know how I felt when I thought you'd been slain here on Coruscant." She

kissed his left ear, then settled her chin on his shoulder. "I hadn't realized

how much you had become part of my life until you were gone. The hole the

Lusankya created blasting her way out of Coruscant was nothing compared to the

void I had inside. It wasn't a question of wanting to die, but of knowing my

insides were dead and wondering when the rest of me would catch up."

"I had it luckier than you. When he got the chance, Gen-

eral Cracken pulled me aside and told me how you'd gone on a covert mission to

Borleias to deliver ryll kor, bacta, and a Vratix verachen. Zsin j's ambush

conveniently covered your disappearance so the Thyferrans didn't know what you

were setting up on Borleias with their bacta."

"Yeah, they would not have liked it if it were known we were using the Alderaan

Biotics facility there to make rylca and, eventually, enough bacta to dent their

monopoly." Mirax shivered. "I would have preferred the original plan working,

because as much as I didn't look forward to being reviled and hunted down for

stealing bacta from the convoy, I would have rather endured that than having all

those other people killed."

"Nothing you could do about that."

"Nor was there anything you could do about your fellow prisoners being whisked

away by Isard when she escaped in the Lusankya." Mirax backed up a half-step and

held Corran at arm's-length. "You do realize that, don't you?"

"Realize, yes. Accept, no. Tolerate, no way." Corran narrowed his green eyes,

but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You know, if you

keep hanging around with me, you're going to get into a lot of trouble."

"Trouble?" Mirax batted her brown eyes. "Whatever do you mean, Lieutenant Horn?"

"Well, I precipitated the mass resignation of the New Republic's most celebrated

fighter squadron and vowed that we'd liberate Thyferra from Ysanne Isard's

clutches. So far, toward that end, we have a squadron's worth of pilots, my

X-wing, and if you're really in this with us, your freighter."

Mirax smiled. "Versus three Imperial Star Destroyers and a Super Star Destroyer,

not to mention any sort of Thyferran military forces that might oppose us."

Corran nodded. "Right."

Mirax's grin broadened. "Okay, so get to the trouble part."

"Mirax, be serious."

"I am. You forget, dear heart, that it was an X-wing and a freighter that lit up

the first Death Star."

"This is a little bit different."

"Not really." She reached out and tapped his forehead with a finger. "You and I,

Wedge and Tycho, and everyone else knows what it takes to defeat the Empire.

It's not a matter of equipment, but of having the heart to use that equipment.

The Empire was broken because, for the good of the galaxy, it had to be broken.

The Rebels were given no choice, and because of that, they pushed themselves

further than the Imperials did. We know we can win and that we must win, and

Isard's people know nothing of the kind."

"That's all well and good, Mirax, and I agree, but this is a massive

undertaking. The sheer amount of equipment we'll need to pull this off is

staggering."

"Agreed. I don't think this will be easy, but it can be done."

"I know." Corran massaged his eyes with his left hand. "Too many variables and

not enough data available to begin to assign them values."

"And three hours before dawn isn't the time you should be wrestling with such

things. As bright as you might be, Corran Horn, this is not an hour when you do

your best work."

Corran raised an eyebrow. "I seem to recall you singing a different tune last

evening about this time."

"At that time you weren't concerned with Ysanne Isard, you were concerned with

me."

"Ah, and that makes the difference?"

"From my perspective, you bet." She took the lightsaber from his hand and set it

atop his dresser. "And I think, if you're willing to work with me, I can share

that perspective with you."

He kissed her on the tip of the nose. "It would be my pleasure."

"That, Lieutenant Horn, is just half the objective here."

"Forgive me." Following her toward the bed, he stepped over the silken puddle

her robe made on the floor. "You know, I just got out of prison."

"For that I won't forgive you but perhaps"she smiled up at him"I will make

some allowance for good behavior."

Wedge Antilles felt decidedly uncomfortable out of uniform. Actually, I feel

uncomfortable out of the service. During the covert mission to Coruscant, he'd

not been in hailing distance of an Alliance uniform, and he'd even worn Imperial

uniforms a couple of times, but that had not bothered him. He'd spent most of

his adult life as part of the Rebel Alliance and now he had chosen to leave it.

There was no doubt in his mind that the decision to leave was the right one to

make. He fully understood why the New Republic couldn't attack Thyferra and

bring Ysanne Isard to justice. Since she was installed as the Chief of State

through an internal revolutionas opposed to an invasionher holding office was

not a case of Imperial aggression, but of self-determination. If the New

Republic rejected that idea in this one case, plenty of other nation-states

would think long and hard before joining the New Republic or would consider

leaving.

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 themthe 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 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."

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 Thyferrans 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

of your operatives still on Coruscant were swept up in the aftermath of your

departure."

"He was certainly the cause of the sweep, though it appears he gave the

information up voluntarily." Isard's eyes narrowed. "He attempted to use an

operation of his own to

deal with the bacta convoy headed for Coruscant through the Alderaan system."

"The convoy that Warlord Zsinj hit." Vorru nodded slowly. "Loor had told me he

had a squadron of X-wings painted up to represent Rogue Squadron. He wanted to

use them to strafe the squadron's headquarters, but I stopped him. So the Rogues

that Zsinj destroyed there really belonged to Loor. Amazing."

"Indeed." Her eyes flashed pitilessly. "Loor realized, after the disaster, that

I had leaked word of the convoy to Zsinj so he'd strike at it. I assumed his

need for revenge upon Rogue Squadron would make him hit it and destroy them. It

would have, too, had the real squadron not been delayed. Loor apparently assumed

I would realize he had attempted to deceive me, since his transmission of the

report about the convoy and his plans to deal with it came too late for me to

countermand them. He chose to run over to the Rebels and seek sanctuary with

them."

Vorru nodded. "There are ways to deal with him. Boba Fett could find and kill

him, I have no doubt."

"His skills will not be necessary." Isard smiled in a way that managed to mix

glee with cruelty. "I had learned from another agent of mine about a secret

witness to be brought forward in the Celchu treason trial. I thought it was

General Evir Derricote and set traps to prevent him from reaching the Imperial

Court. You'll recall I asked you to post a dozen people at various places in

Imperial Center."

"Yes." And I only sent three to each location, since I needed the rest to

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StarWarsX-Wing-TheBactaWar1Somehowthedeadofnightamplifiedthelightsaber'shiss,allowingittofilltheroom.Theblade'ssilverylightfrostedthefurnitureandgavebirthtoimpenetrableshadows.Thebladedriftedbackandforth,promptingtheshadowstowaverandshiftasiffleeingfromthelight.Muchascriminalswouldfleefromthelight.C...

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Star Wars - [X-Wing 04] - The Bacta War (by Michael A Stackpole)

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