Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [46]
“Gift?” Wedge placed his hand atop Qlaern’s hand. “Please do not think me dense, but there are some things you say as if you expect me to already understand them.”
“Forgive us. We have been foolish.”
“That’s partially my fault, Wedge.” Mirax added her hand to the pile on Wedge’s knee. “The Vratix are not exactly a hive mind, but there does appear to be surface thought exchange among Vratix who spend a lot of time in close proximity to one another. The reason ‘verachen’ is plural is that while Qlaern here might be the supervisor in charge of a batch process, Qlaern will have subordinates who act almost as remotes, reporting back and receiving orders on a subsensory level of some sort. Qlaern may have been under the impression you and I similarly shared thoughts.”
“So you know what he’s talking about?”
“I think so—and, actually, Qlaern is not a he per se. The Vratix can both father and bear young, depending upon stages in their life cycle, which I guess is rather long.” She inclined her head toward the Vratix. “When it speaks of the Clone Wars, it’s speaking from life experience.”
“Huh?” Wedge smiled. “So, will you clear up this gift thing for me?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind, Qlaern.”
“We are grateful for your aid.”
Mirax drew in a deep breath. “The Vratix have made you a gift of the bacta and all that entails.”
“Why me?”
Qlaern’s antennae twitched. “Your fame has made you known to us. You are known as a fair and wise man who values loyalty. This we value as well.”
Wedge’s eyes narrowed. “I appreciate that, but I still don’t understand. What’s in this for the Vratix?”
The Vratix inclined its head toward Mirax. “This you must explain, for you will do it better than we will.”
Mirax nodded, then took another deep breath. “The Vratix are giving this bacta to you because they want you, Wedge Antilles, to represent them before the Provisional Council. They want to join the New Republic.”
“What?” Wedge’s surprise at being asked to represent the Vratix immediately faded beneath a sense of disaster. Thyferra was the sole supplier of bacta, but the world had steadfastly remained neutral in the civil war. Everyone believed that this was so they could gouge both the Empire and the Alliance, thus enriching themselves while the war raged. To keep Thyferra happy, the Alliance had even inducted two of its human residents—one from a Zaltin family and the other from a Xucphra family—into Rogue Squadron. Bror Jace, the pilot representing the Zaltin corporation, had been killed fighting against the Empire. Erisi Dlarit, the other Thyferran, still flew with the squadron, and viewed the Ashern as murdering terrorist monsters.
And there’s the problem. If the New Republic granted the Ashern any sort of status, the Thyferran government would react harshly and swiftly. Any hope of getting bacta from the cartel—no matter how successful Erisi’s backdoor efforts in that regard might be—would die quickly and horribly. If the bacta supply dried up, the Krytos virus would ravage Coruscant and, quite likely, spread to other worlds and kill billions of individuals.
If I refuse the request … then what? Wedge looked up at Qlaern. “The bacta you made available to us, there’s nothing wrong with it, is there? We’re not in a situation where you have to mix something else in for it to be effective, such that if I refuse your request, the bacta will be useless or harmful, are we?”
Qlaern’s mandibles clicked open and shut again. “There was once a case where verachen fouled a batch of bacta. The reasons for that action were sound. The results of that action were