27

“Ah, Commander Antilles, welcome.” Admiral Ackbar stood as the man entered his office. “I apologize for the short notice, but time rolls away as the tide.”

“I came as quickly as I could, Admiral.” Wedge gave the Mon Calamari a friendly smile. “It must be important.”

“It is. You’re the first person outside the Provisional Council to hear this.” The Mon Calamari opened his mouth in the closest approximation of a human smile he could muster, hoping to put his visitor at ease. “The Xucphra faction on Thyferra has agreed to send us a substantial shipment of bacta. Your squadron—all of whom were called back to duty and are currently under a communications quarantine—will be sent out to meet the freighter convoy and bring it back here to Coruscant.”

“I see.” Wedge’s face took on a suitably grim expression. “Aren’t we a bit small to be protecting a convoy of, what, thirty ships?”

“Twenty, actually. Most are small ships, like the Skate. We have a few larger ones going, but our hauling resources have never been abundant.” Ackbar’s chin fringes wriggled. “We are having to rely on stealth and secrecy to safeguard the shipment—and not by my choice. The whole matter of negotiations about all this bacta have become very delicate.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“We never expected your visit to Ryloth would be kept secret, but the news of it traveled more quickly than we expected. Apparently the Thyferrans know we obtained ryll from Ryloth. Some of the Thyferrans wanted to cut us off from bacta completely, pointing to your trip as an attempt to circumvent them. Cooler heads prevailed, so we’re getting this shipment, but it is barely sufficient to keep people alive. If the basic combinations with ryll work, we might double the effective strength of what we have, but that’s still not going to be enough to effect a final cure of the Krytos virus.”

Ackbar sighed as weariness washed over him. “While Xucphra officials are willing to send us the bacta to keep us paying them credits, they are very wary of advertising the fact that they’re working with the New Republic. They only benefit from all this if they are able to sell bacta to all sides in the conflict. They want this convoy to appear to be a private enterprise—it was suggested that Mirax Terrik could take credit for it and profit from it. They will get the ships to our rendezvous point, then we take over. You’ll ostensibly be on a training mission and offer the escort as a courtesy.”

Wedge frowned. “Rogue Squadron is a high-profile outfit. We’re bound to be watched. Why use us?”

“You have a Thyferran.” The Mon Calamari’s lip fringes twitched. “It has been suggested that having Erisi and Rogue Squadron present to guide the ships back here to Coruscant would prove to the Thyferrans that we appreciate the risks they are taking.”

“Do I sense Borsk Fey’lya’s furred hand in this?”

“You do, though he was not alone in it.” The Council meeting where this plan was floated seemed more difficult than any of the battles I’ve fought against the Empire. “The possibility of having our bacta supply cut off is causing people to take whatever steps they can think of to appease the Thyferrans.”

Wedge’s eyes narrowed. “The big problem we have with the Thyferrans is that they could cut us off at any time.”

“They have the monopoly, so they can do that. The fact that ryll kor might make bacta more effective against this virus does not diminish our need for bacta. Before the Empire aided the Xucphra and Zaltin corporations in monopolizing the bacta trade, we might have been able to find other sources of bacta. Now we have no choice but to trade with them. While we could manufacture our own bacta, the startup costs for a facility that could produce what we need would—well, I can’t say it would bankrupt us, because the New Republic may already be over that line. And you didn’t hear that from me.”

“No, sir.”

“So, Commander, you see our dilemma. We are dependent on the bacta cartel, yet our supply is shaky. Steps taken to secure our supply could anger the cartel—if those steps do not include them—or could anger our enemies enough that they strike at the cartel itself. Warlord Zsinj’s Iron Fist could put a chill on convoy traffic and cause us significant trouble.”

“But they would stop shipping him bacta, too.”

“True, but his need for it is not as great or urgent as ours is.”

“Point taken.”

Ackbar shrugged. “As smugglers put it, we have all our spice in one freighter, and other solutions to the problem seem impossible. I know Rogue Squadron prides itself on doing the impossible, but I think this bacta problem is beyond even your capabilities.”

“Perhaps, sir.”

Wedge’s curious reply seemed tinged with deception, but Ackbar found it hard to believe Wedge would be involved in plotting. He has been spending a certain amount of time in General Cracken’s company, and Cracken’s reportage to the Provisional Council has been handled by subordinates of late, but to combine those things into a plot would be leaping to a conclusion of Borskean proportions. Even so, it does seem rather plausible. “Do I take it you disagree with my assessment, Commander?”

Wedge’s shoulders shifted uneasily. “I would have to say I think you’re probably correct, sir, but Rogue Squadron has done many things in the past that were thought impossible.”

Ackbar nodded. “You realize that anything you might do in this regard could have catastrophic results if the Thyferrans disapprove.”

“If I were involved in anything, sir, that would be foremost in my mind.”

“Very good.” Whatever you are doing, I wish you grand success. “General Cracken will be briefing your people. May the Force be with you—in all you do.”

Wedge smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Ackbar hesitated, then his eyes shrank to demi-lunes. “Be careful, Commander. Billions of lives hang in the balance. If something goes wrong, I doubt if even your status as the Conqueror of Coruscant will save you from becoming more reviled than Tycho Celchu.”