Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [45]
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 concurrent with the gathering.”
“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 Zaltin 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 during 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 abundantly 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 warriors. 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 decided that the only group that should have a guaranteed supply of bacta was his military. He systematically suppressed small manufacturers of bacta in favor of Zaltin and Xucphra. They realized greater profits by letting the marketplace 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.