Booster frowned. “Okay, I’ll come down to five hundred million credits.”
The sum seemed to stagger Cracken for a moment, then Karrde spoke. “Booster, be reasonable. Try twenty percent of that.”
Booster stared at him. “You’re being very generous with my money, Karrde.”
“Twenty percent of something, Booster, is better than one hundred percent of nothing.”
“True, but if they can’t deliver, why not think big?”
Corran raised a hand. “It just struck me that we might be arguing about the wrong thing here. Booster, how serious are you about making the Virulence into a hyperspace-capable smuggler’s den?”
Booster scratched at the beard stubble on his throat. “Very. I spent my life hauling cargo from one point to another. It would be nice to own a place where the cargo came to me and I just brokered deals for it. The Virulence would do nicely in that regard.”
Corran smiled. “So would the Freedom.”
“No!” Booster and Cracken dismissed the idea at the same time. They exchanged surprised glances, then shook their heads.
“I don’t want the Freedom. Refitting it will take a lifetime. I’d have to get it to Sluis Van, and General Cracken here would guarantee my work was never scheduled. Stick to flying, Horn, because that idea was really dumb.”
Mirax slapped her father on the arm. “Don’t speak to my fiancé like that.”
“What?!” Booster’s jaw dropped. “No, that’s impossible.”
Corran raised an eyebrow. “Mirax, I’m not sure this was the best time to mention that.”
Booster pointed at Cracken and then Corran. “He wants to take away my ship, and he wants to take away my daughter.” He turned to Karrde. “I suppose you want something of mine, too.”
“Perhaps, Booster.” Karrde smiled in a very genial manner. “I think I want you to reconsider what Lieutenant Horn suggested. It strikes me that General Cracken is primarily concerned with your being in command of a ship with enough firepower to slag an inhabited world.”
“Succinctly put, Karrde.”
“Thank you, General.” Karrde looked at Booster. “Now you’re concerned that your ship would fall prey to all sorts of pirates if they take its weaponry away. Even stripped of weapons a hulk like the Freedom would be quite a prize.”
Booster nodded slowly. “You’re talking sense, Karrde. This scares me.”
“Booster and I agree on something.” Corran narrowed his eyes at Karrde. “Where’s this going?”
“You know the law, Lieutenant. A ship the size of the Virulence, in private ownership, would be allowed to lawfully carry how much in the way of weaponry?”
Corran sat back. “Nothing that size in private ownership, but it would be something on the order of two tractor beams, ten ion cannons, and ten heavy turbolaser batteries.”
“My calculations exactly, which leaves eight tractor beams, ten ion cannons, forty heavy turbolaser batteries, and fifty heavy turbolasers to be pulled off the Virulence. General Cracken, those weapons would pretty much replace what the Freedom lost here, wouldn’t they?”
Cracken frowned. “For having been here less than a week, Talon Karrde, you know more than I’m comfortable having you know.”
Booster shook his head. “Those guns aren’t leaving my ship.”
Cracken snarled, “The Virulence is not your ship.”
Karrde held a hand up. “Ah, but it can be. According to the Admiralty regulations governing salvage disputes, Booster has named a fair price for his share of the salvage rights to the Virulence. Since you can’t meet his price, he can assume control of the vessel by depositing ten percent of that price, in this case ten million credits, with a duly recognized judicial authority—such as the government of Thyferra.”
Booster frowned. “I don’t have ten million credits, Karrde.”
“No, Booster, you don’t, but you do have a lot of surplus military-grade hardware that you’re going to have to get rid of. I’ll buy it for ten million.”
Cracken tapped a finger against the table. “I’m no more comfortable with you having that hardware, Karrde, than I was with Terrik having it.”
“I expected that, General. I’ll sell you the weapons for twenty-five million credits.”
Cracken’s jaw shot open. “You’ll what?”
Booster smiled. “I want fifteen million, Karrde. I have operating expenses.”
“I’ll make it eighteen if you also sell me four squadrons of TIE fighters.” Karrde sat back in his seat. “And the price to you, General, is now thirty-five million, but you’ll find I issue credit more easily than my friend. Once the court here on Thyferra has reviewed the Virulence case, Booster will pay you whatever additional amount they decide he owes you.”
Corran laughed aloud. “The Virulence’s appearance here tipped the balance in the Thyferran war of liberation, so I suspect Booster isn’t going to owe much.”
“I suspect the judges here might be swayed by that fact, but the New Republic will be able to argue its case.” Karrde pressed his hands together. “Booster, you get your ship and, General, you get weapons out of his hands and into yours.”
Cracken remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You bargain very well, Karrde. Perhaps there is other business we can do.”
“No, General, I don’t think so. I did this for the obscene profit you’ll pay me, which, since you don’t have liquid capital available, will be rendered in trading concessions for bacta and other things. I don’t mind dealing with you, but I’m not of a mind to take sides in this civil war. Isard and Zsinj are two examples of countless Imperial holdouts. I’d like to avoid becoming a victim of future wars.”
“You’d rather be caught between us than with us?”
“I’d rather not be caught at all.” Karrde’s smile carried up into his pale blue eyes. “Have we a deal?”
“The Provisional Council will have a piece of my hide for this, but, yes.” Cracken stood and nodded to Booster. “The Virulence is yours. Please change the name.”
Booster stood at his end of the table. “I already know what I’ll call her: the Errant Venture.”
Corran smiled weakly at General Cracken. “Sorry I couldn’t have been of more help.”
“It wasn’t the solution I wanted, but it was a solution.” Cracken tossed them a casual salute. “Until later.”
Mirax glanced at her chronometer, then stretched languidly. “Two hours until Wedge’s party.” She smiled at Corran. “Any ideas about how to kill that time?”
Booster settled his right hand over her left. “Yes, my dear. We’re going to discuss this engagement of yours. My daughter isn’t going to marry anyone from CorSec—they’re all of low morals and intellect. Not going to happen. Period.”
Corran looked over at Karrde. “You want to help me out here?”
“Do you think you could afford my help, Lieutenant?”
“No, probably not.”
Karrde nodded solemnly. “Definitely not. Fortunately for you, however, now Booster has to pay for my help. We need to head over to the Errant Venture and pull specs on your weapons.”
Booster frowned. “Now?”
“Unless you want Cracken to do it first and leave you with the weapons most likely to break down, we better do it now.”
Booster’s eyes narrowed. “This discussion is just delayed, not abandoned.”
“Yes, Father.” Mirax kissed him on the cheek. “See you in two hours at the party.”
The two smugglers exited the ready-room, leaving Corran and Mirax alone. He shook his head. “How far away from here can we get in two hours?”
“Not far enough, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not looking forward to this discussion of our engagement.”
“My father may growl like a rancor, but his claws aren’t that sharp.”
“Oh, that makes me feel lots better. He’ll be insufferable for the period of our engagement, you know.”
“Agreed.” S
he took his hands into hers. “However, I think I know a way to deflect him.”
“How?”
“You’ll see.” Mirax stood and pulled him up out of his chair. “Come with me, love, and all shall be made clear to you.”
Chapter Fourty-Two
Wedge waited until everyone had been seated in the Lusankya’s staff officers’ mess before he stepped behind the podium Emtrey had found and set up on a table at the far end of the room. He smiled as he faced the motley gathering. Closest sat his pilots; beyond them the Twi’lek Chir’daki pilots who had survived, including Tal’dira; Captain Sair Yonka of the Freedom; General Cracken and his son, Pash; Booster Terrik and Talon Karrde; Iella Wessiri, Elscol Loro, Sixtus, and a handful of Ashern he didn’t know; and several Vratix officials from Thyferra. The only things we need now for a full-fledged victory celebration are a bonfire and a legion of Ewoks.
Wedge held his hands up to quiet everyone and aside from the whirring of serving droids passing between the tables, silence reigned. “I want to keep my remarks as brief as possible because, one, I respect you all too much to want to bore you and, two, I know you’re all quick enough wits that the heckling will be worse than the fight to take this hulk away from Iceheart.
“I have a couple of pieces of business to transact first, though, with your indulgence.” Wedge smiled and nodded over at Asyr Sei’lar. “As you call can tell, Asyr is doing well after spending some time in a bacta tank. The injuries she sustained when her X-wing was hit were fairly minor, but the Onebee droids have already certified her as flight capable.”
A polite round of applause greeted that news. “Unfortunately our other casualty did not get away so cleanly. Perhaps you want to explain, Nawara.”
The Twi’lek nodded. “While I was out of my X-wing I had the misfortune of having a micrometeorite hit me in the right leg. It severed the limb just above the knee and did so much tissue damage all the bacta on Thyferra couldn’t fix it. My suit shut down around the wound, which is why I survived. Actually, the real reason I survived was because of Ooryl vaping all the squints that wanted to finish me off, but the leg was a loss.”
Corran turned in his seat. “They can fit you for a mechanical, right?”
“Yes, which is what the Onebees will be doing.” Nawara rapped his knuckles against the hollow-sounding lower part of his right leg. “Unfortunately I don’t scan as being able to utilize a prosthetic as well as I need to if I want to continue flying. I’ll have ninety-five percent use of the mechanical, but that’s not enough to keep up with the rest of you—not that I ever could before.”
Wedge smiled. “You were a bit rough on our equipment, Nawara. That not withstanding, Nawara will remain with the unit as our new Executive Officer. Tal’dira has been invited to join us and has accepted, so we’ll have a Twi’lek flying with us still.” Wedge led the applause, which started lekku twitching among the Twi’lek pilots.
“Bror Jace has been appointed by his government to head up the formation of the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force, so we’ll lose his services, at least temporarily. The government has also asked us to stay on here for the next couple of months to help train the new unit. This is an assignment I’ve chosen to accept so we can make sure no one gets too adventurous and tries to repeat what Isard did here.”
He looked over toward General Cracken. “After that, well, General Cracken has communicated to me the contents of a resolution voted by the Provisional Council to congratulate us on what we’ve accomplished here. He also said that, due to a bureaucratic mixup, our resignations were never formally logged to our files. If we want them, our commissions are available to us and General Cracken has assured me that he’s looking for an elite unit to be able to follow up on investigative leads concerning the lost Lusankya prisoners. Once our work is done here, I intend to rejoin the New Republic and I’d like to bring Rogue Squadron back with me.”
Wedge smiled. “I’ve already spoken with Tycho and Corran, and they’ve agreed to rejoin. Aril, are you going to keep the Valiant or come back with us?”
The Sullustan smiled. “I’m coming back to the Alliance, Wedge. I’ll still command the Valiant, but I think we can work out a deal with General Cracken to pull missions together.”
“Good. Asyr?”
The Bothan looked over at Gavin, got a nod from him, then smiled. “We’re both in.”
“Rhysati?”
“I’m in.”
“Nawara?”
“Can’t be an Executive Officer if I don’t stay with the unit, can I? I’m in.”
“Ooryl?”
“Rogue Squadron made me janwuine. I would never say no to the honor of remaining with it.”
“Tal’dira?”
The Twi’lek warrior nodded solemnly. “I could not let Rogue Squadron be without a Twi’lek pilot. I am pleased to accept the offer to join the unit.”
Wedge smiled at Inyri Forge. “I know serving with Rogue Squadron was your sister’s dream, but you’ve earned your own place with us. We’d be proud to have you if you want to stay with us.”
A grin slowly spread across the blue-eyed woman’s face. “My sister always wanted the best for everyone else. Joining the squadron meant she got to fight the evil plaguing others, making things better for them. Her example is pretty compelling. I’m in.”
With her acceptance, cheers erupted, hands were shaken and backs slapped. Wedge swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. “Two more things, then my remarks. First, we’ve been invited to Gand for Ooryl’s janwuine-jika. This is an unbelievably huge honor for one of us who has earned many honors. Second, and equally worthy of celebration, is something I did barely a half an hour ago. As you will recall, the Lusankya was surrendered to me, making me its de facto captain. In my capacity as such, with Tycho and Iella present as witnesses, I had the pleasure of marrying Mirax and Corran.”
“What!” Booster’s shout accompanied an immediate reddening of his face.
Wedge held his hands up. “Take it easy, Booster. They plan another, more formal ceremony we all can attend back on Coruscant, but they figured that if you were going to be upset with them for getting engaged, they might as well save themselves that aggravation and just have you mad at them for being married.”
“I’m not upset about that, Wedge. I was upset when I thought she was marrying someone from CorSec.” Mirax’s father smiled. “Now he’s part of Rogue Squadron again, so I have no complaints.”
“Right.” Wedge shook his head. “No complaints you want to voice at this time.”
Booster hesitated for a moment, then nodded to an accompaniment of good-natured laughter.
Corran frowned at his father-in-law. “Then the red in your face and the anger in your voice wasn’t because of us?”
“You CorSec people always think it’s about you.” Booster shook his head, then jerked a thumb at Karrde. “He bet me a million credits that you’d go and do exactly what you did, and he even conned me into giving him odds.”
Wedge laughed. “Corran, Mirax, I think that’s going to be a major bone of contention for the future.”
“One he’s going to worry like a hungry nek.” Corran brought Mirax’s left hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Not too steep a price to pay, though.”
“Ha,” Mirax snickered, “serves him right for betting against us.”
Even Booster joined the resulting laughter. To Wedge the sound was a tonic. In all the time I’ve been with Rogue Squadron, there has been too little laughter and too many tears. Again his throat thickened, but he smiled and swallowed to loosen it.
“Again, I want these remarks to be brief. It was about a year and a half ago that I first met most of you. You were bright-eyed and enthusiastic, ready to launch into one grand adventure after another. I had seen that before with other pilots in Rogue Squadron. I remember the days before Yavin when we were all young, armored with the invincibility of youth and fired by the belief that the Emperor’s evil Empire could not win. It didn’t, but the
cost was more horrible than any of us could have imagined. You’ve all seen the roll of those who died with Rogue Squadron. Had we known at the start of things how few of us would survive, I think many of us would not have answered the call to fight.”
Wedge caught his lower lip between his teeth for a second, then continued. “You all came to Rogue Squadron knowing how few of us had survived. Your decision to join us was an informed decision. Yes, the Emperor was dead, Darth Vader was gone, but the Empire’s ability to grind up our warriors was not significantly diminished. On both sides of the battle the weak and incompetent had been killed, leaving only the most lethal of each force to stalk each other.
“Nothing we’ve done—including the conquest of Coruscant—will be compared favorably with the destruction of the Death Stars and Palpatine’s death, yet as I look back on what we’ve done, I feel a greater sense of accomplishment now than I ever have before. Yavin and Endor were battles we had to fight and had to win because if we did not our movement would be exterminated. We fought with the abandon of people who knew, either way, they were dead; and desperation, while not pretty, can often be very potent and deadly.”
He glanced down for a second, then looked back up. “Our missions have been no less critical in the destruction of the Empire than those that went before, but they were different. We took the war to the Empire. We made plans and successfully improvised when those plans fell apart. We did things that no one—not even the seemingly prescient Talon Karrde—could have expected us to do.
“And we did things no one could have ordered us to do. We accepted the burden of responsibility thrust upon us and overcame the obstacles in our way. That has always been the Rogue Squadron tradition, but you’ve added a new layer to it: You survived those missions. For that I’m most thankful, because I did not join Rogue Squadron to lose friends.”
He reached down, accepted a tumbler of Corellian whisky from a serving droid, then raised it on high in his left hand. “I would ask all of you to lift your glasses and join me in a toast. To Rogue Squadron—past, present, and future. Those who oppose freedom and liberty oppose us. Let that fact give them pause to think and encouragement to travel the path of peace.”
The Bacta War Page 35
