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“Ooryl can understand this. You have chosen a difficult world to make your home.”

Corran shook his head at the Gand’s understatement. Halanit was a moon orbiting a gas giant. A thick coat of ice covered the planet, but beneath the frozen crust, the hot heart of the world heated water and rock enough to make life sustainable. The colonists began creating their community during the final days of the Old Republic. They had weathered the Empire and Rebellion all but unnoticed since the planet produced nothing of use and the inhabitants numbered just over ten thousand. It was just one more curiosity in a galaxy full of them, and it would have escaped Corran’s notice except for an urgent message sent to Coruscant to request shipments of bacta.

Farl led them from the tunnel to the edge of a huge chasm that reminded Corran of Coruscant’s artificial canyons. A hundred meters or so above them a double-walled transparisteel shield capped the chasm and spread over the area the diffuse light glowing down through the glacier. On both sides of the chasm lights shone through viewports carved in the stone and silhouetted the various bridges across the gulf. In several places, water streamed down between and over rocks to splash rather beautifully into the chasm’s depths.

Corran raised an eyebrow. “This is a little more than simply utilitarian, I think.”

Farl smiled. “This grand vista is the one concession we make to beauty. Standing here it is easy to see how our forefathers envisioned what Halanit would become. In two generations we have accomplished much, but we are far from our dream of making this world into a Utopia. And, as pretty as this is, it does have utilitarian concessions. The double-walled transparisteel cap keeps warmth in and ice out. The waterfalls are wonderful to look at, but they fill our reservoir down below and feed our ichthyoculture farms.”

“I concede the point.” Corran smiled. “Tell me more about the disease that’s causing you problems.”

“It’s a virus that mutates quickly and sweeps through the colony.” Farl shrugged. “Left untreated the symptoms come and go inside two weeks, though there is lingering weakness for another month after that. The symptoms are congestion, coughing, fatigue, body aches, and a fairly ravenous appetite. Bathing in the mineral springs here seems to help, but a bacta bath will be far more helpful.”

Ooryl’s mouth parts clicked open and shut. “Your virus sounds similar to the Cardooine Chills.”

“True, though that illness can only afflict a person once before he or she develops immunity.” Farl led them on through another atmosphere lock and into a darkened corridor. “This virus mutates so quickly that we can’t create a vaccine. It spreads through the population such that someone just recovering from one strain catches the next. On a larger world there would be more of a lag time between epidemics, and a bigger world would have more resources to be able to deal with the illness. Right now, though, a sick person eats enough food for a family of four, and this threatens the whole colony.

“The most recent strains have been nastier, increasing the appetite and debilitating the victims, which is why we sent out our call for bacta.” Farl sighed. “When we got word from Thyferra about how much it would cost to fill our order, well, we fairly well despaired. Then you showed up in-system with a tanker ship carrying enough to go a long way toward wiping the epidemic out.”

The small man led them into an office and invited them to sit in rickety, rusty chairs. He walked around a makeshift desk and sat on a stool. “So, I need to ask, what do we owe you for this bacta? The market value for it is something in excess of a billion Imperial credits.”

Corran glanced over at Ooryl, then shook his head. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“But this amount of bacta, it is valuable. You must have paid a great deal for it.”

The Gand leaned forward. “Ooryl believes Corran would tell you that the bacta was collected as part of a bad debt. It cost Corran and Ooryl nothing; therefore it’s