Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [149]
Wedge just stared. Perhaps if he demonstrated continued indifference Cracken would go away. That wasn’t usually the way it worked, of course.
Cracken said, “According to what we’ve been able to gather, their spirit of rebellion and divisiveness didn’t end when they found a world worthy of settling. Their history suggests they fought among themselves a number of times, eventually reducing themselves to poverty and barbarism—not once, but twice at least. Though apparently their ancient teaching-recordings survived for thousands of years; their language is recognizably a dialect of Basic.” He paused as if anticipating questions from Wedge.
“I’m not curious.”
“Anyway, they were completely forgotten by the Old Republic. There is no mention of them in Imperial archives, either. We were fortunate that one of our deep-space scouts stumbled across them when returning from a mapping mission into the Unknown Regions.”
“If you continue to map the Unknown Regions, you’ll have to call them something else.”
Cracken blinked, his expression suggesting that he didn’t know whether to interpret that comment as humor or not. “Adumar is heavily industrialized, and a large portion of its industrial development is military. Their weapons are oriented around high-powered explosives. Our analysts suggest that it would be a simple matter to convert a portion of their industry over to the production of proton torpedoes. General, how would you like it if the New Republic’s X-wings never had to face a shortage of proton torpedoes again?”
Wedge suppressed a whistle. Lasers were the most often-used weapons of starfighters, the means by which they shot one another down … but it was proton torpedoes that gave some starfighters the punch necessary to damage or even destroy capital ships. “That would … be helpful.”
“You’ve pushed for years for increased production of proton torpedoes. Since you made the rank of general, people have even been listening. But the New Republic has so many demands on its resources that efforts to boost production of the secondary or tertiary weapon of choice among all starfighters tends to get lost in the shuffle. It wouldn’t keep getting lost if we could bring Adumar into the New Republic; then, it would just be some industrial retooling.”
“So send a diplomatic mission and work things out with them.”
“Ah, that’s the trouble.” Cracken rubbed his hands together. “The people of Adumar have no respect for career politicians. A very sensible attitude, in my opinion—though if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll merely have to deny it. Do you know what sort of individual they hold in highest regard?”
“No.”
“Fighter pilots. The Old Republic had its Jedi; Adumar has its fighter pilots. They love them, a case of hero worship that spans their whole culture. Their entertainments revolve around them. Social promotion, properties, titles, all accompany military promotion in their pilot corps.”
“That sounds like a reasonable arrangement. Let’s implement it in the New Republic.”
“And so they’ll talk with a diplomat. But only if he’s also a pilot. Our best.”
Wedge sighed. “I’m no diplomat.”
“We’ll assign you an advisor. A career diplomat, already on station at Adumar, named Darpen. By the terms by which the Adumari are allowing our diplomatic mission, you’ll be accompanied by three other pilots, your choice, a crew of aides, including that advisor, and one ship—you’ll be in command of the Allegiance, an Imperial-class Star Destroyer—”
“I remember her. From the Battle of Selaggis.”
“Well, then.” Cracken took a datacard from a pocket and held it out. “Your orders. You and the pilots you choose will rendezvous with Allegiance at the coordinates provided here. Tell your pilots nothing about the mission until the rendezvous.”
Wedge offered him nothing but a steady stare. “I need this leave, General. This is