X-wing_ The Krytos Trap Part 6

The Bothan stroked Gavin's cheek. "He fought the dis-ease. That's good."

"Sure, but the fact that we can find something n.o.ble in this seems twisted." He shook his head. 'Tve seen more death in my time with Rogue Squadron than I have ever seen before, but nothing was so hideous as this. A year ago ! would have run screaming. Now I just clean my boots and wait for guys with sterilizer units to show up. I'm changing and I'm not sure I like it."

Asyr smiled gently at him. "It's called maturing, Gavin, and not everyone likes it. Now me, I think you're maturing very well."

Gavin half-coughed a laugh. "Thanks, but I still have to wonder if it's right that we can see something like that and just continue on."

"We continue on, my dear, because we must." Asyr's voice developed an edge. "The Gamorrean, he summoned up the strength to lock others out and protect them. That was good. You and I, though, have a different mission.

This dis-ease doesn't appear to affect our species, so we have volunteered to help out during this public health crisis, but that is not our primary purpose here. Our mission is to fly our X-wings, to locate and destroy the kind of monsters who would do this kind of thing to others.

Doing that requires all the maturity we can muster."

"I know." He rubbed a hand along her spine, then looked over to where Emtrey was conversing with an Emdee-oh and two men carrying portable plasma-incinerator units. The droid would take samples; then the men would burn everything in the hovel, including the first five millimeters of ferrocrete, to a white ash that would be vacuumed up and disposed of safely.

Gavin let Asyr help him to his feet. "You're right, of course. I hope we can accomplish our mission. If we don't, I'm afraid we'll have to take Coruscant down to bedrock, and I don't think even that will erase the scourge of the Empire from the galaxy."

I think even stormtroopers would find my men terrifyingly efficient. From the dark security of the grav-car's interior, Kirtan Loor watched as four Special Intelligence operatives clad in civilian garb approached the building's door. As huge and imposing as they were, they moved with a lethal fluidity their armor normally hid. Almost casually, one of them placed a thermite boring charge on the door lock and set it, then accepted a blaster carbine from a compatriot and flat-tened himself against the building's wall.

A red light blinked three times on the thermite charge, then a smoke-shrouded gout of white fire burst to hissing life. The harsh light transformed the shadowed Imperial Cen-ter street into a chiaroscuro landscape burned clean of imper-fections but still full of menace. One of the operatives punched a hooked prybar through the center of the fire and yanked the door open, then his three compatriots dashed through.

The blue backlight of stun-fire strobed momentarily through the doorway and gaps in the window shading. Loor waited for a moment, then saw two more flashes. A human figure appeared in the doorway and nodded in his direction, then retreated into the shadows of the building's interior.

Loor opened the grav-car's door and emerged. He gath-ered a cloak about himself and pulled the hood up to conceal his face from incidental observation. He strode forward pur-posefully, but he imagined himself a pale imitation of Darth Vader. Tall and skeletally slender, with dark hair, he had been told he resembled a young Grand Moff Tarkin. While that comparison had been one he had used to his advantage, he would have preferred to inspire Vaderian terror in those with whom he dealt.

He squeezed past the two operatives at the doorway and stepped over the drooling Ithorian lying in the center of the antechamber. Beyond it, through a short corridor and past a third operative, he arrived in a room that resembled a rodent nest more than it did a human dwelling. It stank of mildew and old, musty sweat, though the occupant's new terror added piquant elements to the room's stale bouquet.

Loor looked down at the small, balding man pinned to the stained mattress by the muzzle of a blaster. "Your sur-roundings are so miserable, I am almost moved to pity you, Nartlo, but then, pity is wasted on the dead, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" The man's brown eyes bulged with terror. "I don't know you. What did I do?"

"True, you do not know me, but you have brokered some cure for friends of mine. It has been selling at a high price, but they tell me that you have told them the market has crashed. At the same time they noted that the supply of cure you returned to them had gone from 95 percent purity to 75 percent purity." Loor shook his head slowly, mourn-fully. "My friends feel you have lied to and cheated them."

"No, no, I didn't do that." Nartlo tried to claw his way into a sitting position, but the operative beside the makes.h.i.+ft bed kept him rooted in one spot. "I drew off some of the bacta as a sample, but a deal went bad and I lost it. I didn't figure they'd believe I lost it, so I tried to cover up what I'd done. I'm sorry."

"And stupid if you expect me to believe a story that was ancient when the Old Republic was born." Loor let anger into his voice and won a groan from his victim. Because of the surveillance he had on Nartlo, Loor did know that the story was not wholly false. Some of the bacta had been lost when a deal went sour, but only some. The rest of the miss-ing cure had been donated to an alien pleasure house for the employees' own use.

Nartlo had spent a week basking in their considerable grat.i.tude. "Tell me we won't find a Rodian concubine's sucker-marks on your back if we strip off your s.h.i.+rt."

Nartlo accompanied his curling up into a fetal ball with a low moan. "I owed some favors."

"You gained some favors, more than you owed." Loor took a step closer to the bed, forcing Nartlo to crane his neck back to look up at him. "Now you owe me favors."

"Anything you want, anything."

"Good." Loor turned to the right and nodded at the operative menacing the small man. The operative withdrew a step and Nartlo coughed as the pressure eased on his rib cage. "You told my friends that the market for cure had crashed. Explain."

"The Rebels picked up a lot of cure. I don't know when or where, but it was recent and was really very quiet. Rogue Squadron was involved, though, I know that much. I've been selling some of your cure to people who do business with people who work for people in the Provisional Council, see. They've been buying to be able to keep themselves and their supporters healthy--no matter the plague doesn't seem to affect them."

Loor smiled within the dark sanctum of his hood. The New Republic government had put into place programs that were designed to be fair to the victims of the Krytos virus. The scarcity of bacta meant virtually all of the public supply went to individuals who were infected, with the goal being to save their lives. By curing them, public health officials could limit the spread of the disease. Others, mostly those from uninfected populations, argued that a prophylactic use of bacta to prevent the spread to new populations would be best. Public health officials argued that there was no proof pre-exposure bacta therapy could prevent someone from be-coming infected with the virus, but that did nothing to stem the desire to get bacta and use it as preventative medicine.

Nartlo swiped at spittle recking the corners of his mouth. "Seems there's going to be enough now so the provos think they won't need their own supply."

Loor frowned. "Impossible. It would take a decade of bacta cartel production to satisfy the demand here."

"Could be, sir, could be, but right now the word is out that the New Republic's government has things under con-trol."

"It's a lie, of course, but a good one." Loor slowly sank down onto his haunches, letting his cloak pool around him. "You believe this bacta supply exists?"

"I think some does, sir, yes, sir."

"You will learn about it. All about it."

Nartlo's eyes grew large again. "I don't know as I can, sir. Security is tight."

"You owe me, little man." Loor's growl cowed Nartlo. "You will go to your contacts and this time offer to buy cure at a good price."

"What if they don't want to sell?"

"Tell them that they will find exposure of their previous black market bacta dealings rather painful and embarra.s.s-ing. If that is insufficient, perhaps making an example of one or more of them would be persuasive. I can and will do that." Loor nodded toward the operative to his right.

"Blast-ers have more than just a stun setting on them, you know."

Nartlo licked at dry lips with a dry tongue. "Yes, sir, I know."

"Good. I want to know how much they have, how long they think their supply will last. I need to estimate when the price will climb again."

"I can understand that, sir."

And with that information I can begin to project how large a facility they would need to store it and how best to destroy it. Loor began to smile. I could even just spread the rumor that they have more than enough bacta to cure every-one, then reveal the true amount they have in their stores. The gap between what is hoped for and what is real should create a lot of unrest. That is a suitable fall-back plan, and one which I can pursue while seeking out and destroying the containment facility.

"And, Nartlo, you will try to find out whatever you can about their storage, transport, and distribution network. If I do go buying more bacta as a hedge against shortage, I would prefer to go directly to the source. I would like to cut out the middlemen, no offense intended."

"No, sir, none taken."

"Good, good. I'm glad we understand each other." Loor straightened up again. "I will be interested in hearing what you can find out."

Nartlo nodded enthusiastically. "You can count on me."

"I am counting on you. See to it that you do not fail me."

"Yes, sir." The small man s.h.i.+vered. "But, sir, I was won-dering . . ."

"Yes?"

"How do I . . ."

Loor laughed in as sinister a manner as he could man-age. "We will find you. Have something for me in two days."

"But that's not enough time."

"But it is all the time you have, Nartlo." Loor turned and swept from the room. The operatives crowded behind him and the two at the door preceded him to his grav-car. Loor climbed into the back, one of them got behind the con-trols, and the other three disappeared into the night. "Drive."

Inertial forces pushed Loor back into the car's plush upholstery. He began composing the report he would send off to Ysanne Isard. The fact that the Rebellion had gotten its hands on a new supply of bacta would not please her. She had wanted the demand for bacta to bankrupt the Rebellion, but Rogue Squadron's capture of more bacta meant it was not nearly as pricey for the Rebels as Iceheart desired. The only way to counteract that bit of luck was to locate and destroy the bacta store, which was exactly what he intended to do.

The problem is that no matter how quickly I resolve this matter, it will not be quick enough for her. It occurred to him that her messages to him suffered little reduction in their venom, despite having to be recorded and transmitted in-stead of being delivered in person. He would have thought that the distance between them would have insulated him from her criticisms, but it had not. She seemed to have a preternatural ability to point up to him errors he had made, no matter how slight, and that kept him constantly off bal-ance.

He realized that if he told her he was having some of his people train for a strike on the bacta facility before he knew what that mission would take, she would point out that he was wasting time and resources. He decided he would put men into training for smaller missions that could serve as diversions or that would, at the very least, provide the training framework upon which the bacta strike mission could be built.

Iceheart might maintain that he was wasting resources that could be better used to locate the bacta facility in the first place. But trying to argue that stormtroopers could be used as spies was not the sort of blunder Isard would make.

The gray-car broke free of sub-urban roadway and shot up into the night sky. Countless towers flashed past, each lit as brilliantly as the fire of the thermite charge, but not nearly as harshly. tte wondered how many of the people and aliens living in those towers were rejoicing over the secret word that their worries about the Krytos virus would soon be over.

Many. Too many.

Loor let his own laughter become a parody of the sound he imagined echoing through those towers. It struck him that laughter and sobbing were really not that different, and de-cided that he would do his best to see to it that others gained first-hand knowledge of this insight.

Before they die of the virus for which I will destroy the cure.

Admiral Ackbar sat back in his Council chair and tried to pull serenity from the cool mist drifting down over him. Grand Moff Tarkin, in one of his more expansive moods, had once described politics to him as "soft warfare, the ele-gant duel of lightsabers instead of the thunder of turbo-lasers." Tarkin, with that description, had given no evidence of finding political fights frustrating because of the posturing and the treacherous riptide s.h.i.+fts of allegiances.

Or the inability to come to grips with problems in a direct manner.

Ackbar had endured more reports on microeconomic fluctuations on planets he'd never heard of than any sapient creature could be expected to stand in one lifetime. Slowly, in working through the reports, Borsk Fey'lya and Sian Tevv were moving toward the matter that had been bruited about on the Provisional Council's staff level.

Glancing over at the Bothan councilor, Ackbar could see a feral gleam in Fey'lya's violet eyes. The Botharis thrive on this soft warfare. Ackbar had already recognized in Fey'lya a drive to lead or, when he had been outmaneuvered, a desire to vault out in front to where the leaders stood so he was placed among them. Ackbar had seen similar tactics among warriors who sought promotion, but true warfare tended to deal with such ambition in a most lethal fas.h.i.+on.

Mon Mothma nodded toward the Elom councilor. "Thank you, Verrinnefra, for bringing us up to date on the economies of our newest worlds. Next on the agenda is the matter of bacta. Borsk, you have a point to make?"

The cream-furred Bothan stood opposite Ackbar. "The recent mission which has liberated a supply of bacta and brought it here to Coruscant is, of course, a great victory for us and a great boon to the people here. For that we owe much thanks and praise to Admiral Ackbar and his staff. Their success also brings with it some burdens, not the least of which is the need to take precautions to prevent Warlord Zsinj from exacting retribution from us."

Ackbar leaned forward. "Forgive me the interruption, Councilor Fey'lya, but it strikes me that you are asking us to deal with the undertow before the wave has crested."

"Excuse me?"

Princess Leia smiled. "I believe the Admiral is pointing out that the supply of bacta brings with it far more pressing problems than a possible attack by Warlord Zsinj."

"More correctly, Princess, I meant to say that because an attack by Warlord Zsinj has always been possible, both before and after our strike, there have long been plans in place to deal with such. I am more than willing to review those plans, but I think the core problem with bacta needs to be addressed more quickly than the surface issue of Zsinj.

Trouble is a vast ocean, and for us, bacta distribution is the issue lurking in the depths."

The Bothan's fur rippled. "There is indeed much to dis-cuss on the matter of bacta distribution. With the supply we now have, I~ think it should be possible to create centers for preventative therapy to stop the spread of the virus. My peo-ple tell me that an hour's mist therapy per week should be sufficient to destroy the virus before it has a chance to incu-bate.

Creating centers that would allow that much treatment would go a long way toward quelling the fear that has gripped this world."

Leia frowned. "I've seen no such reports concerning mist therapy. The review of the data we captured from General Derricote's lab does not show evidence of any testing in that regard. In fact, the only data the Imperials had on the Krytos virus showed ma.s.sive amounts of bacta would be required to cure patients--having the effect of draining our supplies of bacta. There is no reason to suppose creating the centers you advocate would do anything but waste more bacta."

"Ah, Leia, I would have expected more compa.s.sion froin you." Fey'lya glanced down at her. "If it were humans who were dropping dead of this plague, you would be the first to advocate creation of these centers."

Leia's dark eyes flashed coldly. "And you think I do not support your plan because it would save non-humans?"

"I would like to think better of you, but I know you have various const.i.tuencies to worry about. Like Admiral Ackbar, you would like to see some of the bacta reserved for use by our military. I understand this, for saving the lives of our valiant warriors is certainly commendable. I fear, how-ever, your hedge against the unseen means there are count-less individuals who might sicken and die and never get a chance to enter the military and fight for their freedom."

Doman Beruss raised a hand. "I think, Councilor Fey'lya, you do Princess Leia and every other human member of the Council a disservice by even hinting that opposition to your plan is based on an anti-alien bias."

"All, but even you are prey to it, Councilor Beruss. You refer to us as 'alien' and the Princess called us 'non-human.' Why are we defined by you and in comparison to you? Hu-manity certainly has contributed much to the Rebellion, but it did so because the Empire had done all it could to suppress and subjugate the species it saw as harmful and aberrant.

Humans--being those who learned their trade at the hands of our Imperial masters--were the only people capable of taking a leaders.h.i.+p role in the actual Rebellion. The rest of us contributed as we could, and made great contributions-- contributions that led to the successful conclusion of tile ma-jor campaigns in the Rebellion.

"I do not accuse you of being wholly unfeeling, but I think your perspective in this matter is colnpromised."

Fey'lya smoothed the fur on the top of his head. "I believe the matter of bacta distribution is one that should be decided by those of us whose people are prey to the virus."

Ackbar rose from his chair and slapped a hand against the table top. "In that case, Councilor Fey'lya, you will also be required to recuse yourself from any decisions in this mat-ter."

"What?"

"There is no known case of any Bothan being afflicted with the disease."

I have no doubt Iceheart wanted you Bothans to survive so you could help split the Alliance. "_ul-l.u.s.tans and s.h.i.+stavanens have been infected, leaving open the very real possibility that Wookiees could find themselves susceptible to the virus. Quarren have died from it, leaving the Mon Calamari population vulnerable. I have heard of no Elom who have become ill, but Twi'lek, Gamorrean, and Trandoshan populations have, so the possibility of the dis-ease jumping to the Elom is not out of the question."

The Bothan's fur rose on head and shoulders, but Ackbar ignored the signs of Fey'lya's anger. "Moreover, from a public health standpoint, your plan of therapy centers is more of a risk than it is a help. The facilities you suggest would call for vast numbers of people congregating ill an environment where contact with infectious fluids is not diffi-cult to imagine. And, even if there were studies to show bacta mist did kill the virus, using it carelessly promotes the chance of a bacta-resistant strain of the virus being pa.s.sed among people who believe they are being protected from it. If such a strain does appear, we will be powerless to stop the plague from destroying the galaxy."

The Bothan kept his voice low. "What, pray do tell, would you suggest, then?"

"First and foremost, we secure the water supply. We have evidence to suggest the virus was introduced into the planetary water supply, and for all we know, there are pock-ets of virus frozen in the glaciers just waiting to be melted before they become virulent again. Second, we continue the intensive therapy to control and cure those populations we know are infected. It is important to note here, I think, that human medtechs have been tireless in caring for victims of the virus. Their immunity to the disease certainly means they have less to fear than others, but that immunity in no way makes it inc.u.mbent upon them to help out the way they have."

Ackbar held a hand up. "Third and final, we need to deal with the black market. The rumors of a supply of bacta arriving on Coruscant have depressed the prices, but esti-mates of how much we got from Zsinj are grossly high. When the truth comes out, prices will begin to rise, and sell-ing off portions of the supply will become very attractive. If we don't have our supply depleted through profiteering, we stand a good chance of buying enough time to obtain more bacta from Thyferra and solving our problem once and for all. If not, we will find ourselves bankrupt and dying of the virus."

The Bothan opened his hands. "So you think we should just continue to proceed in the manner in which we have gone about things so far?"

"No, by no means." Ackbar looked around the room and then up at the misting system. "We argue here whether bacta-mist therapy has any value, yet we have a system in-stalled here to protect us. All of us, including the humans, know affluent members of our populations have purchased bacta on the black market to use in their own preventative therapy. And, I have no doubt, people have come to you since the news of our victory has leaked out, asking you to procure bacta for them. While I know none of us would agree to such a thing, the perception that we might, and that there is special treatment for some selected folks going on, is one that will heighten the panic our people are feeling."

Sian Tevv sniffed. "This virus is more than panic, Ackbar. It is real and deadly."

"Agreed, but our actions make it deadlier still. If one person believes there is no hope for himself, that there will be no cure when he needs it, he might not seek treatment. A day's delay not only can cost him his life, but can infect his family and friends. The fact is that if we project the image that says the virus can and will be defeated, everyone will do what they can to defeat it."

Leia smiled. "It's the same morale-building technique that kept us going during the dark days after Derra IV and Hoth."

The black-furred Wookiee councilor's bark flowed into a murmur, and Leia's gold protocol droid translated. "Am-ba.s.sador Kerrithrarr suggests treating the virus as an enemy against which everyone is enlisted. With discipline and direc-tion the spread can be minirealized." Ackbar nodded at the Wookiee. "An apt a.n.a.logy." Borsk Fey'lya's eyes narrowed. "A military model might well be sufficient to deal with the virus, but do you suggest we use it to curtail black market trading? Having stormtroopers breaking into private homes to deprive people of bacta supplies will hardly endear us to our people."

Mon Mothma shook her head. "No such thing is advo-cated. General Cracken is devoting a certain amount of his energy to this problem, and is working to put the New Re-public Security Force together. The NRSF will replace the old Imperial Sector Ranger force, and is meant to be a law en-forcement and counter-insurgency force. It will be some time before the force will be ready to administer all that needs to be dealt with here, but we have an offer for dealing with our law enforcement needs in the interim." Mon Mothma used her comlink. "Please send Vorru in." Ackbar saw the hackles go up on Fey'lya and felt his own flesh crawl. The doors to the chamber opened, and through them walked a small human with a thick head of white hair. From his size, which was not that big, even for a human, he could have easily been dismissed as benign, yet a warrior's instinct told Ackbar that was just an image Vorru sought to project.

He'd met the man once before, when Fliry Vorru, then an Imperial Moff, had been a guest of Tarkin. The two men were physical opposites, but so alike in temperament and spirit that Ackbar had wished they would turn on each other and destroy one another. That didn't happen, though circ.u.mstances soon conspired to get Vorru sentenced to Kessel, where he had remained until he had been freed and returned to Cornscant as part of the Rebel operation to take the planet.

Vorru looked up and Ackbar read pure cunning in his dark eyes. "I thank you for seeing me, esteemed Councilors. I thank you for my freedom. I find myself in a position to repay the debt I owe you."

Leia's head came up. "You don't consider your part in the liberation of Cornscant to have canceled that debt?"