Outbound Flight

Chapter 19

Fourteen vessels," Admiral Ar'alani declared, her glowing eyes sweeping the field of debris stretched out before them. "Possibly thirteen, if the two sections of wreckage to the right belonged to a single vessel that broke apart before exploding."

"Is that the correct number, Car'das?" Thrass asked.

"Yes, that's sounds about right," Car'das agreed, his muscles wilting a little with relief. The fifteenth ship, the intact Trade Federation battleship, was nowhere to be seen. He just hoped that it was Thrawn who'd moved it, and that it hadn't managed to skip out on its own. "Of course, I was just an observer," he reminded them. "I didn't have access to the sensor information."

"Plus there were a considerable number of those," Ar'alani continued, pointing at the charred sections of two droid starfighters floating past the bridge canopy. "Too small to be staffed."

"They're mechanical devices called droids," Car'das said. "These in particular are called droid starfighters."

Thrass grunted. "If the field of battle is any indication of their combat abilities, I would say they're misnamed."

"Don't be misled by your brother's skill at warfare, Syndic Mitth'ras'safis," Ar'alani warned. "If these droids were as useless as you imply, no one would take the time and effort to build them."

"I've seen reports of them in combat," Car'das confirmed. "Against most opponents, they're quite formidable."

"Yet I still see no evidence that these weapons or their masters attacked first," Ar'alani pointed out.

"I can only repeat what I said earlier, Admiral," Car'das told her. "The mere act of launching the starfighters was an overt act of aggression. Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo responded in the only way he could to protect his forces."

"Perhaps," Ar'alani said. "That will be for a military tribunal to decide."

Car'das felt his stomach tighten. "You're bringing him up on charges?"

"That will also be for the tribunal to decide," Thrass said. "But we'll first need to examine the records of the battle and interview the warriors who were present."

"At this battle as well as the earlier raid against the Vagaari," Ar'alani added.

"I understand," Car'das said, his heart starting to beat a little faster. Here was the opening he'd been looking for. "Speaking of the Vagaari, my colleagues and I were hoping we could settle the question soon about the treasure we were promised, so that we could be on our way."

Ar'alani's eyebrows arched. "Now, suddenly, you're in a hurry to return home?"

"We're merchants," Car'das reminded her. "This has been an interesting and productive side trip, but the cargo in our hold is way overdue for delivery."

"A cargo you would very much like to supplement with stolen pirate plunder."

"Yes, but only because our customers will demand late-delivery penalties," Car'das explained. "There's no way for us to pay those without the items Captain Qennto has requested."

"You should have thought about that before deciding to stay," Thrass said. "At any rate, the matter of the treasure will have to wait until the tribunal has made its decision. If my brother is found to have violated Chiss military doctrine, he'll have no standing to argue your side of the question."

"I understand," Car'das said heavily. "How long is this hearing likely to take?"

"That depends on how quickly I can collect the details of the two battles," Ar'alani said. "Once I've done so, I'll request that a tribunal be seated."

Weeks, in other words. Possibly even months. "And what will Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo's status be until then?"

"I'll be supervising his operations and overseeing all of his orders," Ar'alani said. She nodded fractionally at Thrass. "At Syndic Mitth'ras'safis's request."

Car'das looked at Thrass, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Once again, Thrawn's analysis had proved right on the mark. "You'd do this to your own brother?"

The muscles in Thrass's cheeks tightened; but it was Ar'alani who answered. "Neither Syndic Mitth'ras'safis nor I is unsympathetic toward Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo," she said evenly. "We wish only to protect him from his own excesses of zeal and ability."

"From his excess ofability? " Car'das snorted. "That'sa new one."

"He's a gifted tactician and commander," Ar'alani said. "But without proper restraint he'll eventually go too far and end his days in exile. What good will those gifts do anyone then?"

"And meanwhile, the Vagaari are free to destroy and kill?"

Ar'alani looked away. "The lives of other beings are not ours to interfere with, for good or for ill," she said. "We cannot and will not trust in whatever feelings of sympathy we might have for the victims of tyranny"

"Then trust in Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Car'das urged. "You both agree he's a gifted tactician; andhe's convinced that the Vagaari are a threat you'll eventually have to face. The longer you wait-the more alien technology and weaponry you let them steal-the stronger they'll be."

"Then that is what we'll face," Thrass said firmly. "And as a syndic of the Eighth Ruling Family I cannot listen to any more of this." He jabbed a finger at the carnage outside the viewport. "Now. Describe this battle for us."

It was half an hour past the shift change, and D-4's number three messroom was crowded as Lorana came in. Taking a long step to the side out of the doorway and the people moving in and out, she scanned the crowd for Jedi Master Ma'Ning.

But he was nowhere to be found. Giving the room one final sweep, she started to turn toward the door.

"Hey!" a child's voice called over the hum of background conversation. "Hey! Jedi Lorana!"

It was Jorad Pressor, waving his fork over his head to get her attention. His parents, in contrast, had their eyes firmly fixed on their plates as they continued to eat. Deliberately ignoring her and it wasn't hard to guess why. Two days ago Master Ma'Ning had briefly taken over Pressor's hyperdrive maintenance bay to show to some of the young Jedi candidates, and one of the children had managed to dump a container of inverse couplings all over the floor. Pressor had had words with Ma'Ning about that, to the point where C'baoth had intervened and docked Pressor two days' pay.

Best if she left them alone until they got over it, Lorana decided. Waving and smiling back at Jorad, she turned to leave.

And nearly ran into Chas Uliar as he came into the mess-room. "Slumming, are we?" he asked, making no attempt to hide his own coolness.

"I'm looking for Master Ma'Ning," she said, determined not to respond in kind to his open unfriendliness. C'baoth had wanted Uliar thrown in D-4's brig for his attempt to push his way into the Jedi school a few days ago, and it was only with the greatest of tact and diplomacy that Captain Pakmillu had managed to talk him out of it. "Have you seen him?"

"Oh, he never comeshere," Uliar said. "The officers and other important people eat in one of thenicer messrooms."

Lorana's eyes flicked back into the messroom, focusing this time on the decor. It looked fine to her.

"Oh, I'm sure it's just like the ones you have over on D-One," Uliar went on. "But it could have been a lot more interesting if you Jedi had a cubic centimeter of style and creativity among you."

"What does our style or creativity have to do with this?" Lorana asked.

For a moment Uliar's eyes searched her face as if looking for a lie. Then his lip twitched. "I guess you reallydon't know," he said grudgingly. "We wanted to decorate this room like one of the Coruscant underlevels-you know, kind of sleazy in an over the-top sort of way. The folks stationed forward have already done up their messrooms in theme styles."

"And?"

"And your stiff-as-permacrete Master Ma'Ning wouldn't let us," Uliar said acidly. "Some nonsense about a low-culture look promoting rebellious attitudes."

Lorana winced. Now that he mentioned it, shehad heard about this debate. It hadn't made much sense to her, either. "Let me talk to him," she offered. "Maybe I can get him to change his mind. Any idea where he might be?"

"You might try the senior officers' conference room," Uliar said, and she thought she could sense a small crack in his animosity. "I hear he spends a lot of time in there when it's not being used."

"Thank you," Lorana said. "I'll get back to you on the decorating."

She found Ma'Ning alone in the conference room, seated in one of the chairs as he gazed out the small viewport at the hyperspace sky flowing past. "Master Ma'Ning?" she called tentatively as the door slid shut behind her.

"Jedi Jinzler," he said without turning around. "What brings you to D-Four?"

"You weren't answering your comlink," she said. "Master C'baoth asked me to come find you."

"I was meditating," he explained. "I always turn off my comlink at such times."

"I see," Lorana said, studying him closely as she stepped to his side. His face and manner seemed oddly tense. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Tell me, what do you think of what Master C'baoth is doing?"

The question caught her by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Did you know he's suspended the authority of the Commander's Court to rule on grievances?"

"No, I didn't," she said. "What system is he planning on using instead?"

"Us," Ma'Ning said. "As best I can figure, he essentially wants us to take over supervision of every aspect of life aboard Outbound Flight."

"Such as how the people decorate their messrooms?"

Ma'Ning grimaced. "You've been talking to Chas Uliar and his committee."

"I talked to Uliar," Lorana confirmed, frowning. "I didn't know he had a committee."

"Oh, it's just a group of people who don't like others telling them what to do," Ma'Ning said, waving a hand in dismissal. "Mostly reactor complex techs and support people. Their complaints are mostly trivial, like this whole messroom thing."

"With all due respect, Master Ma'Ning, for us to even get involved with Outbound Flight's decor seems a little ridiculous," Lorana offered.

"No argument from me," Ma'Ning admitted. "But Master C'baoth was adamant-said the idea of decorating the place like a criminals' den would encourage antisocial attitudes we can't afford in such a close-knit community. The point is that I'm sensing a growing resentment toward us from the people in general. I'm worried that Master C'baoth may be taking these so-called reforms of his too far."

"Still, it's hard to argue with his basic premise," Lorana said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with talking about C'baoth behind his back this way. "People attuned to the Forceshould be more capable of dispensing justice and maintaining integrity than those who aren't. But it's also hard to see what that has to do with how people decorate their own messrooms."

"Exactly," Ma'Ning agreed. "But I can't seem to get that distinction through to him. Do you think you could make him understand?"

Lorana grimaced. First Uliar had asked her to talk to Ma'Ning, and now Ma'Ning was asking her to talk to C'baoth. Had someone appointed her official mediator of the Jedi Order when she wasn't looking? "I doubt he'll pay any more attention to me than he would to you," she warned. "But I can try."

"That's all I ask," Ma'Ning said, sounding relieved. "And don't mark yourself short. There's a special bond between Master and Padawan, a bond that can run far deeper than any other relationship. You may be the only person aboard Outbound Flight hewill listen to."

"I'm not sure about that," she said. "But I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Ma'Ning said. "You said Master C'baoth was trying to reach me?"

Lorana nodded. "He wants all the Jedi Masters at a meeting tonight at eight in the D-One senior officers' conference room."

"More reforms, no doubt," Ma'Ning grumbled as he stood up. "Talk to him soon, will you?"

"If I can slow him down long enough," Lorana said. "In the meantime, what do I tell Uliar?"

Ma'Ning sighed. "Tell him I'll think about it. Maybe Master C'baoth will eventually load himself up with so many other matters that he won't even notice how Outbound Flight is decorated."

Lorana looked out at the hyperspace sky. "Somehow, I don't think so."

Ma'Ning shook his head heavily. "No. Neither do I."

It had been a long and tiring day, but the last group of droid starfighters had finally been unloaded and deployed across the asteroid's uneven landscape. Now, his growling stomach reminding Doriana of the lateness of the hour, he made his way to theDarkvenge 's Supreme Officers' dining room to get something to eat.

Kav was already there, seated alone at one of the corner tables, his expression daring anyone to interrupt him. Doriana took the hint and directed the serving droid to one of the tables on the opposite side of the room. The vicelord had been in a thunderous mood all day, which was almost funny in a species as cowardly as the Neimoidians. But no one else aboard had dared to laugh, and Doriana wasn't going to try it, either. Even cowards could be pushed too far.

He was halfway through his dinner when Kav suddenly stood up and made his way across the room. "This Mitthrawdo," he said without preamble as he sat down across from Doriana. "You think him a genius, do you?"

"I consider him a highly effective military commander and tactician," Doriana said, eyeing the other. Where wasthis suddenly coming from? "His abilities at art or philosophy I can't vouch for."

"Amusing," Kav growled. "But he is not even a good tactician. He is, instead, a fool." Pulling a datapad from inside his robes, he dropped it on the table in front of Doriana. "See the reprogramming he has ordered for my starfighters."

Doriana glanced at the datapad's display, covered with droid-language symbolics. "I don't read tech," he said. "How about giving it to me in plain Basic?"

Kav snorted contemptuously. "He has programmed the starfighters for close-approach attacks."

Doriana frowned back at the datapad. "How close?"

"I believe the term ishull skimming," Kav said, tapping the display "The chief programmer informs me the attack is set for no more than five meters above the hull."

Doriana rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. Tactically, it made good sense to cut in that close to an enemy's ships. It put the attacker inside the defender's point-defense weaponry, as well as permitting the kind of targeting accuracy that made for efficient destruction of vulnerable equipment and hull-plate connection lines.

The catch, of course, was that it was enormously difficult to get inside those point defenses in the first place. "I don't suppose anyone thought to mention to him that Dreadnaughts come with a very good point-defense system?"

"The programmers did not think it their place to speak out of turn."

"And neither did you?"

"I?" Kav feigned innocence. "You, of all people, should know better than to question the orders of a military genius."

Doriana took a deep breath. "Vicelord, I strongly suggest you remember our ultimate objective here. We've been sent to destroy Outbound Flight. Without Mitth'raw'nuruodo's aid, we have no chance of doing that."

"Yet a being of his genius is certainly capable of grasping technical readouts," Kav said blandly. "Perhaps his plan is to throw our starfighters against Outbound Flight in an awesome display of disintegrating metal that will frighten Captain Pakmillu into submission."

Doriana let his gaze harden, utterly disgusted by this pathetic excuse of a military commander. "So in the end all you care about is your pride," he said. "You don't even care if Darth Sidious executes us both as long as you can find some small point where you can feel superior to Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

"Calm yourself," Kav said, resettling himself comfortably in his chair. "There is no reason why my pride and my victory cannot coexist."

"Explain."

"I have not told Mitthrawdo of the flaw in his plan," the vicelord said with spiteful satisfaction. "But Ihave instructed the chief programmer to create a secondary attack pattern for the starfighters, which has been overlaid across Mitthrawdo's primary pattern. Once he has wasted the first wave in his foolish close-approach attack, I will take command and switch to a more effective line of attack."

Doriana thought it over. Thatwould probably work, he decided. "It still loses us a full attack wave," he reminded Kav. "Not to mention the element of surprise."

"What surprise?" Kav scoffed. "As soon as they see theDarkvenge they will know to prepare for droid starfighters."

Doriana pressed his fingertips together. Surely even a Neimoidian vicelord couldn't bethis dense. "I don't suppose it's occurred to you that Mitth'raw'nuruodo might have off-loaded the starfighters precisely because he doesn't intend to let Captain Pakmillu see theDarkvenge?" he suggested. "That, in fact, he doesn't intend for theDarkvenge to participate in the battle at all?"

Apparently, ithadn't occurred to Kav. "That is ridiculous," he protested, his eves widening. "No military commander would refuse to bring a battleship of our might into his fleet."

"Except maybe a commander who's already seen how easily they can be destroyed?" Doriana couldn't resist asking.

Kav's whole body stiffened. "I perceive that you have come under Mitthrawdo's spell, Commander," he said evenly. "But do not be swayed by his learned manner and cultured voice. He is still a primitive savage. . and no matter what the outcome, in the end he will have to die."

Doriana sighed. Unfortunately, he had already reached that same conclusion. Mitth'raw'nuruodo had come into contact with Car'das and his shipmates, and he might easily touch the edge of the Republic again. Until all the witnesses to Darth Sidious's betrayal of Outbound Flight had been silenced, the mission would not be complete. "Regardless, for the moment we still need him alive," he said. "How have you arranged for us to reach this second programming level?"

"I will have a relay control," Kav said. "Once Mitthrawdo's failure is apparent, I will bring the starfighters back under my control, and will complete our mission." He cocked his head. "Unless you have further objections?"

Doriana shook his head. "Though we'll have to make sure we're on his bridge when the battle begins."

"I leave that to you," Kav said. "He is a fool in other areas, as well. Did you know he has taken twenty of my starfighters and linked them together by twos with a spare fuel tank between them?"

"What good does that do?" Doriana asked, frowning. "Those starfighters run on solid-fuel slugs."

"I imagine he was inspired by Outbound Flight's design,"

Kav said contemptuously. "He is probably regretful that his tanks are too small to fit six starfighters around each."

"You're sure they'refuel tanks?"

"What else could they be?" Kav countered, getting to his feet. "A pleasant evening to you, Commander."

The Neimoidian walked away, and Doriana returned to his meal. Somehow, the food didn't taste as good as it had five minutes earlier.

"There," Captain Pakmillu said, pointing a flippered hand at the planet visible through D-1's bridge viewports. "Roxuli, our last stop in known space. From this point on, we enter territory never before seen throughout all the ages of Republic star travel."

"It's indeed a historic moment," Obi-Wan agreed. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to send a signal to Coruscant through Roxuli's HoloNet connection."

"Certainly," Pakmillu said, gesturing aft. "The secure comm room will be at your disposal as soon as our guest is finished."

Obi-Wan frowned. Less than an hour since Outbound Flight had made orbit, and already they had a guest? "One of the local officials?"

"Hardly," Pakmillu said drily, his eyes swiveling toward the aft blast doors. "Ah."

Obi-Wan turned, and felt his mouth drop open. Local official, nothing. Their visitor was none other than Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself.

"Master Kenobi," Palpatine called as he crossed the bridge toward them. "Just the man I need."

"This is an unexpected honor, Chancellor Palpatine," Obi-Wan said, scrambling to find his voice. "May I ask what brings you to this edge of the Republic?"

"The same thing that moves all of us across the stars these days," Palpatine replied with a wan smile. "Politics, of course. In this case, trouble between the Roxuli central government and the system's asteroid mining colonies."

"It must be serious if you had to come out personally," Obi-Wan commented.

"Actually, they don't want me at all," Palpatine said drily. "All they want from me is to obtain for them the services of the hero of the Barlok negotiations, Master Jorus C'baoth himself."

Obi-Wan looked at Pakmillu. "I'm not sure Master C'baoth will be interested in the job," he warned Palpatine.

"As a matter or fact, he isn't," the Supreme Chancellor confirmed. "I've already spoken with him, and he flatly refuses to leave Outbound Flight."

"We could delay our departure until his negotiations have finished," Pakmillu offered. "There's no reason we couldn't spend a few days here."

"No, I've already suggested that option," Palpatine said, shaking his head. "He will not change Outbound Flight's schedule. Or leave Outbound Flight at all, for that matter." He looked back at Obi-Wan. "But thereis another alternative. Perhapsyou would be willing to mediate in his place."

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. "With all due respect, Chancellor Palpatine, I don't think that's a substitution that would satisfy them."

"On the contrary," Palpatine said. "I've just spoken with them, and they would be most gratified if you would lend your assistance." He smiled again. "After all, there were other heroes at Barlok besides Master C'baoth."

Obi-Wan grimaced. Under other circumstances, he would have been only too happy to help out. But with all that was happening aboard Outbound Flight, he'd decided to ask the Council for permission to extend his tour. Now, suddenly, that decision was being cut out from under him.

Because if C'baoth wasn't willing to postpone Outbound Flight's departure for himself, he certainly wouldn't do so for Obi-Wan. If he and Anakin left now, they wouldn't be getting back aboard. "How serious is this problem?" he asked.

"Serious enough," Palpatine said, the lines in his face deepening as his small attempt at levity faded away. "If violence erupts, vital ore shipments to half the systems in this sector will be cut off. Depending on how much damage the mines sustain, the scarcity could last for years."

"I'd have to consult the Council," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"With time becoming critical, I've already taken the liberty of doing so," Palpatine said. "Master Yoda has given his permission for you to leave Outbound Flight here instead of continuing on."

And even with it couched in terms of permission, Obi-Wan nevertheless knew an order when he heard one. "Very well," he said with a sigh. "I presume I'll be bringing my Padawan, as well?"

"You can hardly let him go running off to the next galaxy without you," Palpatine agreed, the lines smoothing out a bit, and Obi-Wan could sense his relief. "I'll take the two of you down in my ship. After that, I'm afraid I must return to Coruscant, but I'll leave one of my guard and his escort ship to bring you back when you're finished."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, wondering briefly if he and Anakin should instead take the Delta-12 Skysprite that Windu had set up for them in D-3's hangar. But it would take time to activate and prep, and time seemed to be of the essence here. Besides, one of Palpatine's escort ships would undoubtedly be more spacious and comfortable, even if it did mean putting up with one of those humorless men Palpatine always seemed to be hiring as his guards these days. "I'll have Anakin start packing. We'll be ready to go within the hour."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Palpatine said, his voice low and earnest. "You may never know how much this means to me."

"My pleasure, Chancellor," Obi-Wan said, feeling a twinge of regret as he pulled out his comlink. "We Jedi live only to serve."

"There it goes," Anakin murmured as Palpatine's shuttle dropped toward the hazy atmosphere of the planet below them.

Obi-Wan looked up, but where Outbound Flight had been there was no longer anything but empty space. "They have a schedule to keep," he said.

"I suppose," the boy said, and Obi-Wan could hear some of his own unhappiness echoed in the other's voice. "I wish we could have gone a little farther with him."

"Who, Captain Pakmillu?" Palpatine asked.

"No, Master C'baoth," Anakin said. "He's a really good leader-always seems to get things done. Cuts straight through the clutter and finds a way to make everyone do what's best for them."

"He does indeed have that gift," Palpatine agreed. "There are so few like him in these troubled times. Still, our loss is Outbound Flight's gain."

"I'm sure they're pleased to have him aboard," Obi-Wan murmured.

"But he has his task before him, and we have ours," Palpatine continued, handing Obi-Wan a data card. "Here's all I have on the Roxuli dispute. You'd best familiarize yourself with it before we land."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, taking the card and slipping it into his datapad. "No doubt the complainants themselves will provide any details you've missed."

"No doubt," Palpatine said drily. "Settle yourself in, Master Kenobi. It's likely to be a very long and weary day."

Ar'alani's inspection group returned to Crustai from the Trade Federation battle site nearly two hours before Thrawn made it back from the inspection tour the admiral had sent him on. His report, not surprisingly, went quickly, and he was back with Car'das and Maris for a quick language session less than an hour later. If he realized something significant had happened in his absence, Car'das couldn't find it in his face or voice.

The next two days went by slowly. Ar'alani spent most of her time in her quarters studying the data she'd collected from the battle site, emerging only for meals or to roam the base looking for warriors to question. So far she didn't seem to have run into the two who'd heard Thrawn announce his suspicions about theBargain Hunter 's crew, but Car'das knew it was only a matter of time before she did.

Thrawn himself was in and out quite a bit over those two days, apparently taking Ar'alani's phony inspection order very seriously. Car'das had only a single real conversation with the commander during that time, a long late-night talk in Car'das's quarters right after Ar'alani's battle-site survey. Thrawn's fatigue and tension were evident, and when he finally left Car'das pondered long and hard as to whether the commander might have finally overstretched himself

During those days Car'das also tried to spend more time with Qennto and Maris. But their conversations were even more depressing. Qennto was beginning to act like a caged animal, his broodings peppered with wild plans involving raids on the armory and storage room followed by a daring escape in theBargain Hunter. Maris, for her part, still professed confidence in Thrawn's honor, but even she was clearly starting to have private doubts about his ability to protect them against Ar'alani.

Something had to be done. And it was Car'das who would have to do it.

There were few preparations he could make. TheBargain Hunter was too well guarded, and anyway he had no intention of trying to fly the ungainly freighter through the entrance tunnel with Thrawn's fighters in pursuit. But at the far end of the docking area was a long-range shuttle the Chiss seemed mostly to be ignoring. A few hours spent in the piloting tutorials of the base's computer system, combined with his previous training in reading Cheunh symbols, and he had learned the rudiments of flying it. Later, he managed to slip aboard the shuttle without being seen and spent an hour in the pilot's seat, mentally running through the lessons and checklists and making sure he knew where everything was located. When the time came, he didn't want Admiral Ar'alani charging into the shuttle to find him fumbling with the wrong controls.

Getting a hold of Ar'alani's copy of theSpringhawk 's navigational download was somewhat more problematic. Thrawn himself provided the opening for that one, inviting Ar'alani and Thrass to a formal dinner on the second night. The cylinder the admiral had shown him was mixed in with a batch of similar tubes carrying the data she'd recorded at the battle site, and it took him several tense minutes to locate the correct one.

And with that, his preparations were finished.

He went to bed early that night, but it didn't do him any good. He spent most of the night thinking and worrying, his sleep coming in short, nightmare-filled dozings. Like the eerie calm before the bursting of a massive storm, he knew the quiet of the past couple of days was about to end.

Midmorning on that third day, it did.

"No," Car'das said firmly, meeting Ar'alani's glowing eyes as calmly as he could. "We're not spies. Not for the Republic, not for anyone else."

"Then what precisely did Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo mean by his accusation?" the admiral countered. "And don't deny he said it. I have the sworn statements of the two warriors who were present at the time."

"I don't deny it," Car'das said, his eyes flicking to Thrass. The syndic was standing silently a few steps behind Ar'alani, his expression harder even than the admiral's. Perhaps he knew better than she did what a charge of harboring spies would mean to his brother's career. "But I also can't explain it. Maybe he was trying to confuse the Trade Federation commanders."

"Commanders who have apparently vanished," Ar'alani said pointedly. "Along with an apparently intact alien warship."

"I don't know anything about that, either," Car'das insisted. "All I know is what I've already told you: we're merchants who had a hyperdrive accident and lost our way. Ask the rest of my crew if you don't believe me."

"Oh, I will," Ar'alani assured him. "In the meantime, you're confined to your quarters. Dismissed."

For a moment Car'das was tempted to remind her that he was still under Thrawn's authority, not hers, and that she couldn't simply order him around. But only for a moment. Turning, he stalked out of the room.

But he didn't go to his quarters. The Chiss warriors were used to seeing him roaming freely around the base, and it hadn't sounded like Ar'alani would make any official pronouncements to the contrary until after she'd interrogated Qennto and Maris.

He had that long to make his escape.

The shuttle was still parked where it had been the previous day. There were a few Chiss working in the area, but the time for subterfuge was long past. Striding along like he owned the place, Car'das stepped through the hatchway into the shuttle, sealed it, and headed forward.

The vessel was a civilian model, with a simpler and quicker start-up procedure than a military ship would have had. Within five minutes he had the systems up and running. Five minutes more, and he had disengaged from the docking clamps and was making his way carefully down the tunnel.

No one followed him out. He looked around as he reached open space, half expecting to see the intact Trade Federation battleship lurking in the shadow of one of the other asteroids. But it was nowhere to be seen.

Not that it mattered. He knew where he was going, and there was no one now who could stop him. Turning the shuttle onto the proper vector, he hit the hyperdrive control and made the jump to lightspeed. The next stop, assuming he'd properly programmed in theSpringhawk 's nav data, would be the alien system where he, Thrawn, and Maris had witnessed the Vagaari attack five weeks ago. With luck, that campaign would be over.

With even more luck, the Vagaari would still be there.

Six hours later, he emerged from hyperspace to find that the battle was indeed over.

The defenders had put up a spirited defense, he saw as he eased the shuttle carefully through the debris. Blackened hulks were everywhere, floating amid bits of hull and hatch and engine. There were bodies, too. Far too many bodies.

Not that their sacrifice had done them any good. There were dozens of Vagaari ships orbiting the planet, nestled up to it like carrion avians around a fresh corpse. Most were the bubble-hulled warships they'd seen in the battle, but there were also a number of the civilian transports that had been waiting for the fighting to end. A steady stream of smaller ships were moving in and out of the atmosphere, no doubt bringing plunder and slaves up to the orbiting ships and then heading down for a fresh load. Briefly, an image flashed into Car'das's mind of streams of hive insects zeroing in on a dropped bit of rowel picnic salad..

A floating body bounced gently off the shuttle's canopy, jarring him back to reality. If he had any brains, he knew, he would turn the shuttle around right now and head back to Crustai to take his chances with Admiral Ar'alani. Or else he should abandon Qennto and Maris completely and make a run for Republic space.

Swearing gently under his breath, he turned toward the largest of the orbiting warships and headed in.

Even with most of their attention on their looting, the Vagaari were cautious enough to protect their backs. The half a dozen roving fighters intercepted him before he'd covered even a quarter of the distance, and suddenly his comm crackled with melodious but evil-sounding alien speech. "I don't understand your language," Car'das replied in Sy Bisti. "Do you speak Sy Bisti?"

The only response was more alien speech. "How about Minnisiat?" he asked, switching to his newest trade language. "Can anyone there understand Minnisiat?"

There was a short pause. "State your name, your species, and your intentions," the alien voice came back, mouthing the trade language with some difficulty.

"My name is Jorj Car'das," Car'das told him. "I'm a human from a world called Corellia." He took a deep breath. "I'm here to offer you a deal."