Star Wars: Outbound Flight

24

The shimmering hyperspace sky flowed past the Dreadnaught’s canopy as Outbound Flight drove onward into the unknown. Lorana knew the sky was there, but had no time to actually focus on the sight. Every bit of her attention was tied up with D-1’s systems as she used the Force to both sense the equipment status and keep the controls in proper adjustment.

It was hard work. It was hideously hard work.

Vaguely, she felt a whisper of movement at her side.

“Lorana?” Thrass asked, his voice distant in her overstretched consciousness.

“Did you get to them?” she asked. The moment ofdistraction was too much; even as she finished her question one of the reactor feeds began to surge. Clamping down hard on her lower lip, she stretched out and cased the flow back to its proper level.

“I’m sorry,” Thrass said. “I can’t even find a way off this ship. All the pylon turbolift tunnels are blocked to one degree or another. Perhaps if you brought us out of hyperspace I could find a vac suit and make my way across to the core that way.”

“No,” Lorana said. The word came out tartly and impolitely, she suspected, but she didn’t have the concentration to spare for courtesy. “Hyperdrive not good.”

In point of fact, the hyperdrive was very much not good. It was running blazingly hot, and it was all she could do to keep the circuits from looping and ripping the thing completely out of her control. If she shut it down now, there was every chance it would never start up again. Even if she didn’t, it would probably eventually collapse on its own.

On the other hand, with the extra speed the runaway had given them, the edge of the cluster was now only a few standard hours away. If she could continue to fly the ship and use the Jedi navigation techniques at the same time to get them safely between the tightly packed stars, they had a good chance of reaching one of Thrass’s target systems before that happened.

“I understand,” Thrass said. “I’ll keep trying to find a communication line that’ll get me through to them.”

He moved away, and Lorana felt a pang of guilt. If the survivors were still waiting down there like she’d told them to, they would certainly be wondering where she was. They might even conclude that she’d run off and abandoned them.

Across the bridge, a flashing red light warned that the alluvial dampers were drifting. Frowning in concentration, trying to maintain her Force grip on all the myriad other controls she was simultaneously juggling, she reached out a hand and carefully adjusted the dampers back into proper alignment.

Once they reached their destination and she could finally let the systems ease down to standby, she and Thrass could make their way back to Uliar and the rest and explain what had happened.

And they would understand. Surely they would understand.

At the other side of the bridge, another red light was flashing. Taking a deep breath, wondering how long she’d be able to keep this up, she stretched out with the Force.

“You will pay for this,” Chaf’orm’bintrano ground out, pacing back and forth across the conference room in front of the three prisoners standing silently in front of him. There was a cushioned chair behind the narrow desk, but he was apparently too angry even to sit down. “You hear me? You will pay.” He leveled his glare first at Doriana, then at Car’das, and finally at Thrawn. “And the charge will be high treason.”

Standing behind the desk, well out of the way of the Aristocra’s pacing, Admiral Ar’alani stirred. “I don’t think such a charge will hold, Aristocra,” she said. Her expression, Car’das noted, had maintained a careful neutrality as she listened to Chaf’orm’bintrano’s rantings. Still, he thought he could detect a certain relief behind the aloofness.

Small wonder. She’d gotten what she wanted: Outbound Flight was safely out of Chaf’orm’bintrano’s grasping hands. What happened to a couple of prisoners was probably a matter of complete indifference to her.

Or at least, what happened to the two non-Chiss prisoners. “You don’t think the charge will hold?”

Chaf’orm’bintrano snapped, shifting his glare to her.

Ar’alani stood her ground. “No, I don’t,” she said.

“Car’das has already stated that Syndic Mitth’ras’safis and the human Lorana Jinzler were the perpetrators.”

“With his assistance and advice.”

“Advice alone is only lesser treason,” Ar’alani said.

“And as a non-Chiss, he can’t be charged with any level of treason anyway. As for Doriana, he clearly had nothing to do with it.”

“What are they going on about now?” Doriana murmured in Car’das’s ear.

“The Aristocra wants to roast us over a low fire,”

Car’das murmured back. “The admiral is suggesting he needs to rethink his charges.”

“Ah.”

The byplay hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do the prisoners wish to add to the proceedings?” Chaf’orm’bintrano asked acidly.

“Actually, the prisoners will go free,” Thrawn said, the first words he’d spoken since they’d all been herded into the conference room where Chaf’orm’bintrano could threaten them in private. “They’ve done nothing with which they can be charged. If you wish to blame someone, blame me.”

“I fully intend to,” Chaf’orm’bintrano bit out. “After I’ve dealt with your accomplices.”

“They’re not my accomplices,” Thrawn said calmly.

“Furthermore, they’re my prisoners, and as such fall under the legal authority of the Chiss Expansionary Fleet.” He lifted his eyebrows. “As do I, for that matter.”

“Not anymore,” Chaf’orm’bintrano said. “For the crime of unprovoked attack against sentient beings, I hereby revoke your military position.”

“Just a moment, Aristocra,” Ar’alani said, taking a step forward. “You can’t revoke his position for a crime for which he has yet to be convicted.”

“I suggest you reread the law, Admiral,”

Chaf’orm’bintrano said tartly. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo has pushed the limits for the last time—and this time we have proof, scattered across the system before us.”

“The Vagaari were an imminent threat to the Ascendancy,” Thrawn said. “And this system is within Chiss space.”

“But this time you forgot to let your victim fire first,”

Chaf’orm’bintrano said, an edge of triumph in his voice. “Don’t deny it—I have the records from your own vessels.”

“The Vagaari made threats against both us and Outbound Flight,” Thrawn said. “I claim that such threats, backed up by their obvious firepower, were sufficient provocation for Chiss action.”

“You can claim anything you wish,” Chaf’orm’bintrano said. “But the burden of proof is now on you, not me.” He looked at Ar’alani. “And until his trial takes place, I can and will revoke both his position and the military protection you so clearly hope to shelter him beneath.”

Ar’alani didn’t answer. For a moment Chaf’orm’bintrano continued to stare at her, then turned back to Thrawn. “And your fellow prisoners will likewise be taken to trial,” he said. “These, along with the other two you have back at Crustai.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you have enough concern for their well-being to make a bargain.”

Thrawn looked at Car’das and Doriana. “Such as?”

“You will resign your position, completely and permanently,” Chaf’orm’bintrano said. “You will likewise renounce your status as Trial-born of the Eighth Family and disappear back into the great mass of Chiss citizenry, never again to rise to a position where you may threaten law or custom.”

“You ask my entire life for the trade of a few alien prisoners,” Thrawn pointed out calmly. “Are you certain you’re willing to live with the consequences?”

Chaf’orm’bintrano snorted. “What consequences?”

“To begin with, the Eighth Family will not permit a Trial-born to simply renounce his affiliation,” Thrawn said.

“They’ll insist on a hearing… and I don’t believe they’ll let me go.

Not when they see the prize I’ll be bringing them.”

Chaf’orm’bintrano stiffened. “You wouldn’t dare,” he rumbled, his voice dark with menace. “If Outbound Flight reappears at an Eighth Family stronghold—”

“Outbound Flight is gone,” Thrawn cut him off. “And I refer to another technology entirely.” He waved a hand out at the stars. “To be specific, the device I used to bring both Outbound Flight and the Vagaari fleet out of hyperspace.”

Chaf’orm’bintrano sent a startled look at Ar’alani.

“The—? Are you saying they didn’t come here of their own choosing?”

“The choosing was mine alone,” Thrawn assured him.

“I can provide you a demonstration if you’d like.”

“That device is not your property,” Ar’alani warned, her neutral expression suddenly gone. “It belongs to the Chiss Defense Fleet.”

“And if I remain a member of the Expansionary Fleet, I will of course turn it over to you,” Thrawn assured her. “But if my military position is revoked, I will no longer have any official loyalty except to my adoptive family. At that point…” He left the sentence unfinished.

Chaf’orm’bintrano was clearly having no trouble connecting the dots. “Admiral, you can’t permit him to manipulate you this way,” he insisted. “This is nothing less than extortion.”

“This is nothing less than reality,” Thrawn corrected.

“And Admiral Ar’alani has nothing to say about it. You’re the one threatening to revoke my position.”

For a long minute the two Chiss locked eyes. Then, abruptly, Chaf’orm’bintrano turned and stalked out of the conference room.

“That didn’t look good,” Doriana murmured.

“Actually, it was,” Car’das said, looking at Thrawn. “At least, I think so.”

“Yes,” Thrawn confirmed, his face and body sagging a little. “He’s furious, but he doesn’t dare revoke my position now.”

He looked at Ar’alani. “And once the Defense Fleet has the gravfield projector, I’m certain they’ll protect me from any future efforts on his part.”

Ar’alani’s lips twitched. “We’ll do what we can,” she said. “But understand this, Commander. If you continue to act outside the legal boundaries set by the Defense Fleet and the Nine Families, there may come a point where we can no longer stand with you.”

“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Understand in turn that I will continue to protect my people in whatever way I deem necessary.”

“I would expect nothing less from you,” Ar’alani said.

Her eyes flicked once to Doriana and Car’das. “I release your prisoners to you. Return to Crustai, and leave me to deal with the rest of the Vagaari debris.”

“I obey,” Thrawn said, bowing his head to her. “The gravfield projector will be waiting for you at Crustai whenever you wish to retrieve it.”

Ar’alani bowed in return and left the room.

Thrawn took a deep breath. “And with that, I believe it’s finally over,” he said. “A shuttle is waiting to take us back to the Springhawk.” He gestured to Doriana. “And then I will return you and Vicelord Kav to your vessel.”

“Thank you,” Doriana said. “We’re looking forward to returning home.”

And as they filed out of the room, Car’das wondered at the odd stiffness in Doriana’s back.

They were passing through one of the systems midway through the star cluster when the hyperdrive finally died. “No chance of fixing it?” Thrass asked.

Lorana shook her head. “Not by me,” she said.

“Possibly not by anyone, at least outside of a major shipyard.”

Thrass gazed out the canopy at the distant sun. “You have five other Dreadnaughts here, each with its own hyperdrive,” he reminded her. “Could we move across to one of the others and use its systems?”

Lorana rubbed her forehead, wincing as the pressure accentuated the throbbing pain behind her eyes. “According to the status readings back in ComOps, none of the other hyperdrives is operational,” she said. “And all the control lines to the other Dreadnaughts are down, besides. Whatever your brother used to… to stop C’baoth’s attack, it scorched a great deal of the delicate equipment aboard. It’s going to take months, maybe even years, to tear them apart and fix them.”

Thrass tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the edge of the nearest console. “Then this system is where we stop,” he said.

“We’ll shut down the drive, take the Delta-Twelve craft you spoke of, and go try to make a bargain for your people.”

“I don’t think we should shut down the drive,” Lorana said, trying to think. “The shape it’s in, if we shut it down we might not be able to start it up again.”

“But if we don’t shut it down, Outbound Flight won’t take long to travel all the way through this system,” Thrass pointed out. “We could be away for a month or more negotiating with the Defense Force and Nine Families. By that time, the vessel could have passed into interstellar space, where we would have difficulty locating it.”

And if the hyperdrives proved unfixable, interstellar space would be where Outbound Flight would remain. “Then we’d better find someplace here where we can park for a while,”

she said. “A nice, high orbit around one of the planets, say. Let’s fire up what’s left of the sensors and see what our choices are.”

The survey took most of two hours. In the end, there turned out to be only one viable alternative.

“It’s smaller than I’d hoped for,” Thrass said as they leaned side by side over the main sensor console. “Less gravity means less stability to the orbit from the perturbations of passing objects.”

“But it also means less atmosphere that might cause the orbit to decay,” Lorana pointed out. “And it’s almost directly along our vector, which means no fancy maneuvering to get us there. I say we go for it.”

“Agreed,” Thrass said. “Let’s hope the drive holds out that long.”

They had reached the target planetoid and were on their final approach to orbit when the drive gave one final surge and shut down.

“Report,” Lorana bit out as she stretched out with the Force, trying unsuccessfully to coax the system back to life.

“Thrass?”

“The red curve bends too far inward,” Thrass reported tightly from the nav console. “Fifteen orbits from now, it intersects the surface.”

A wave of despair rose like acid in Lorana’s throat.

Resolutely, she forced it down. After all they’d been through, Outbound Flight was not going to end up destroying itself. Not now. “Get to the sensor station,” she ordered him. “See if there’s a place—any place—where we might be able to land this thing.”

“This vessel was not designed with landing in mind,”

Thrass warned as he hurried to the proper console. “Could we possibly still make orbit?”

“I’m working on it,” Lorana said, crossing to the cluster of engineering monitors and searching among the red lights for something that might still be showing green. Two of the forward braking and maneuvering jets, she saw, were stilloperative. If they could somehow rotate Outbound Flight 180 degrees and then use those jets to give them a boost along their current vector…

They had slipped into the planetoid’s gravitational field and used up the first of their fifteen orbits before she reluctantly concluded that such a maneuver wouldn’t be possible.

There was simply too much mass to be moved, and too little time in which to move it. “No luck,” she said, stepping to Thrass’s side. “You find anything?”

“Perhaps,” he said hesitantly. “I’ve located a long, enclosed valley that I believe will be deep enough to hold us.”

“I don’t see how that gains us anything,” Lorana said.

“Enclosed valleys imply valley walls, which imply a sudden stop somewhere along the line.”

“In this case, the stop would be somewhat less violent,”

Thrass said, pointing to the display. “This particular valley is full of small rocks.”

Lorana frowned, leaning over for a closer look. He was right: the whole valley was filled nearly to the top with what seemed to be gravel-sized stones. “I wonder how that happened,”

she commented.

“Multiple asteroid or meteor collisions, most likely,”

Thrass said. “It doesn’t matter. This is the only place on the planetoid that offers a chance for survival.”

Lorana grimaced. But he was right. With the drive gone, coming down anywhere else on the planetoid would mean a full-bore collision at near-orbit speeds. With the gravel, at least they would have a slightly more gradual slowdown. “Can we reach it with the drive gone?” she asked, keying for an analysis.

“The valley is not far off our current orbital path,”

Thrass said. “I believe the maneuvering systems will be adequate to move us into position, and to give us at least a little deceleration before impact.”

The analysis appeared on the display. “The computer agrees with you,” she confirmed, looking out at the dark world rotating beneath them as she tried to think. “All right. We’re here in D-One, the Delta-Twelve is in D-Three, and the rest of the survivors are in the core. If we want D-Three to end up on top of the gravel heap, we’ll need to rotate Outbound Flight to put D-Six at the bottom. It’ll hit first, taking the initial impact and hopefully slowing us down enough that the damage to the other ships will be minimal when they dig in.”

“Including the damage to this one?” Thrass asked pointedly.

Lorana made a face. “I know, but we have no choice.

We need D-Three’s hangar bay to stay above the surface if we’re going to get the Delta-Twelve out. So we rotate D-Six to the bottom, as I say, then move the people out of the core to—”

“Hello?” a voice came suddenly from the bridge speakers. “Jedi Jinzler? You there somewhere? This is Chas Uliar. We got tired of waiting, so we all came up to D-Four.

Jinzler?”

For a stretched-out second Lorana and Thrass stared at each other in horror. Then, snapping out of her paralysis, Lorana dived for the comm station. “This is Lorana Jinzler,” she called urgently. “Uliar, get everyone back to the storage core right away. You hear me? Get everyone back to—”

“Jinzler, are you there?” Uliar’s voice came again.

“Jedi, if you’ve cut out on us I’m going to be really upset with you.”

“Uliar?” Lorana called again. “Uliar!”

But there was no reply. “He can’t hear you,” Thrass said grimly. “The comm isn’t transmitting at this end.”

Lorana twisted her neck to look out at the planetoid, her pulse throbbing violently against the agony in her head. D-4.

Why did they have to have gone to D-4?

Because it was the one closest to the Jedi school where she’d left them, of course. And now there were fifty-seven people wandering around down there, completely oblivious as to what was about to happen to them.

Thrass was watching her, a tautness in his face. “We have no choice,” she told him quietly. “We’ll have to rotate and put D- Four on top.”

His expression didn’t even flicker. Clearly, he’d already come to the same conclusion. “Which will put D-One—this one—at the very bottom,” he said.

Where it would take the full brunt of their crash landing. “We have no choice,” Lorana said again. “It’s only an assumption that the bottom Dreadnaught will take enough of the impact to leave the others intact. For all we know, they might all hit hard enough to be ripped open to vacuum. We have to try to keep D-Four as far out of the rock as possible.”

“I understand.” Thrass hesitated. “There’s still time for you to leave, you know. You may at least be able to get to the core before we hit, perhaps even all the way to D-Four.”

Lorana shook her head. “You can’t handle the landing alone,” she reminded him. “But I could do that while you go.”

“And who would keep the remaining systems from self-destroying while you cleared a path through the pylons for me?” Thrass countered. “No, Jedi Jinzler. It appears we will both be giving our lives for your people.”

Lorana felt her vision blurring with tears. Deep in the back crevices of her mind, she’d wondered why she’d felt so strongly about sending Car’das home with that message for her brother. Now she knew it had been the subtle prompting of the Force.

“This is hardly the temporary home I’d envisioned for them,” Thrass went on, as if talking to himself “It’s likely to be far more permanent than I had hoped, too.”

“Your people will come here someday,” Lorana assured him, wondering why she was saying that. Wishful thinking? Or more prompting from the Force? “Until then, they have enough food and supplies to last for generations. They’ll survive. I know they will.”

“Then let us prepare for the end.” Thrass hesitated, then reached out his hand to her. “I’ve known you and your people only briefly, Jedi Lorana Jinzler. But in that time, I’ve learned to admire and respect you. I hope that someday humans and Chiss will be able to work side by side in peace.”

“As do I, Syndic Mitth’ras’safis of the Eighth Ruling Family,” Lorana said, taking his hand.

For a minute they stood silently, their hands clasped, each preparing for death. Then, taking a deep breath, Thrass released her hand. “Then let us bring this part of history to a close,” he said briskly. “May warriors’ fortune smile on our efforts.”

“Yes,” Lorana said. “And may the Force be with us.”

She gestured downward toward D-4. “And with them.”

“As you can see, we have left your ship and equipment undisturbed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, gesturing as he led Doriana and Kav through the Darkvenge‘s bridge toward Kav’s command office. “I know certain of you were concerned about that,” he added, looking over his shoulder at Kav.

The Neimoidian didn’t reply. “At any rate, I imagine you’re looking forward to returning home,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo continued as they walked into the office. “There are just one or two points I need to clear up before you leave.”

“Of course,” Doriana said, taking a hasty step to the side as Kav pushed past him, brushed by Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and circled the desk to drop rather defiantly into his ornate chair. “We’ll do whatever’s necessary,” he added as he took a chair at one corner of the desk.

“Thank you,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, sitting down ina chair at the other corner and gazing across the edge of the desk at Doriana. “Basically, I believe we both wish to make certain that this one contact between our peoples remains the last.”

“I don’t understand,” Doriana said, forcing puzzlement into his voice. “Our relationship thus far has proved mutually beneficial. Why wouldn’t we want it to continue?”

“Come now, Commander,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said mildly. “My side of the arrangement is already secure, of course.

You have no idea where my base is, or where the worlds of the Chiss Ascendancy lie. We can remain hidden from you as long as we wish.” He paused. “It therefore remains only for you to ensure to your own satisfaction that I will never bring news to the Republic of your betrayal of Outbound Flight.”

Doriana stared at him, a cold hand closing around his heart. Did Mitth’raw’nuruodo know about his conversations with Kav?

Had he or one of the other Chiss seen Kav pass him that holdout blaster?

Or had he merely deduced that Doriana would decide to murder him?

Slowly, almost unwillingly, his hand crept toward the hidden blaster, the movement blocked from Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s view by the edge of the desk. Certainly it made sense to cover his tracks this way, he reminded himself firmly. Loose ends could be fatal to someone living his kind of double life. Sidious would insist on it, as well, especially given that Mitth’raw’nuruodo had seen the Sith Lord and heard his name.

And after helping to bring about the deaths of fifty thousand people on Outbound Flight, one more death certainly couldn’t matter.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo was still waiting, watching him silently. Doriana closed his hand around the grip of his blaster…

And paused. Mitth’raw’nuruodo, brilliant tactician.

Equally brilliant strategist. A being who could take on Republic warships, nomadic pirates, and even Jedi, and win against them all.

And Doriana was actually considering killing him?

“What are you waiting for?” Kav broke impatiently into his thoughts. “You have him alone and unprotected. Shoot him!”

Doriana smiled tightly; and with that, the underlying tension that had been nagging at him ever since his task force’s destruction finally faded away. “Don’t be absurd, Vicelord,” he said. Pulling out the blaster, he leaned over and set it on an empty chair between him and Mitth’raw’nuruodo. “I would as soon shatter thousand-year-old crystal as kill a being such as this.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo inclined his head, his eyes glittering. “So I was indeed right about you,” he said.

“Eventually,” Doriana conceded. “But then, I don’t imagine you’re wrong very often.”

“Then let this be your final mistake,” Kav bit out, slapping at his desk chair’s arm and popping open a hidden panel. In a single smooth motion he scooped out another hold-out blaster, pointed it at Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and fired.

The shot never reached him. Instead, it struck the faint haze that had suddenly appeared between them, then bounced straight back into Kav’s torso.

The Neimoidian had just enough time to look startled before he collapsed forward onto the desk and lay still.

It was only then, as Doriana shifted his stunned gaze from Kav’s body to the haze surrounding the desk, that he recognized its shape and coloration.

He looked through the edge of the shield at Mitth’raw’nuruodo. “It was still something of a risk, wasn’t it?”he asked, striving to keep his voice conversational.

“Not really,” the other assured him. “The shield generator was simple enough to remove from one of the droidekas you provided for me. As I said at the time, we’ve had some experience with reversing the polarity of such devices.” He gestured. “And it was easily predictable that Vicelord Kav would claim his chair and desk for his own, and thus position himself for his own destruction.”

“I meant the risk you took with me,” Doriana said.

“The shield wouldn’t have blocked my shot.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo agreed. “But I had to be certain that you were someone I could trust.”

Doriana frowned. “Why?”

For a moment Mitth’raw’nuruodo didn’t answer. Then, leaning over, he picked up the blaster Doriana had discarded.

“You and your Master, Darth Sidious, told me of a people you call the Far Outsiders gathering at the edge of the galaxy,” he said, turning the weapon over in his hands. “Have you ever actually seen these beings?”

“As far as I know, we haven’t,” Doriana admitted.

“I thought not,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, suddenly intense. “But we have.”

A cold chill ran up Doriana’s back. “Where?”

“At the far edge of the Chiss Ascendancy,”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, his voice dark and grim. “It was a small reconnaissance force, but it fought with a savage ferocity before it was finally repulsed.”

“How many ships were there?” Doriana asked, his mind kicking into high speed. Darth Sidious coveted information of this sort. Enough of it might even persuade him to forgive Doriana the loss of his Trade Federation task force. “What sort of weaponry did they have? Do you have any combat data?”

“I have some,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Admiral Ar’alani was in command of the force that ultimately drove them away. That’s why she came personally to investigate Car’das and his companions. We wondered if the Republic they spoke of might be allied with the invaders.”

“And that’s also why she was willing to look the other way while you dealt with the Vagaari,” Doriana said as a final nagging piece of the puzzle finally fell into place. “A two-front war would be exceptionally nasty.”

“Correct,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, and Doriana thought he could hear a note of approval at his quick deduction.

“My actions were contrary to official Chiss policy, but she knew as well as I that the Vagaari had to be dealt with, as quickly and decisively as possible. I will speak to her; if she’s willing, I’ll provide you with copies of the information you seek.”

“Thank you,” Doriana said. “Now. A moment ago you spoke of trust between us. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“For the moment, nothing,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said.

“Each of us has our own peoples to defend and our own politics to deal with. But in the future, who can tell? Perhaps someday our peoples will end up fighting side by side against this threat.”

“I hope so,” Doriana said. “I, for my part, intend to work with our leaders to prepare as best I can for that day.”

“As will I,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Though the obstacles at my end may be difficult to overcome.”

Doriana thought about Lord Sidious and his hatred of non-humans. It wouldn’t exactly be easy at his end, either. “I’ve seen you work military miracles,” he said. “I’m sure you can work political ones, as well.”

“Perhaps,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “My brother may be able to assist in that area when he returns.” He stood up and held out the blaster. “At any rate, you and your ship are free to go.”

Doriana waved away the proffered weapon. “Keep it, Commander,” he said. “Think of it as a souvenir of our first victory together.”

“Thank you,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said gravely, slipping the blaster into a pocket. “May it not be our last.”

“Indeed,” Doriana agreed. “Which reminds me. There’s one other small matter I’d like to discuss with you…”

“You’re joking,” Car’das said, frowning at Thrawn.

“He’s offering me a job?”

“Not just a job, but a highly placed leadership position,” Thrawn said. “He wanted me to invite you to accompany him back to the Republic on the Darkvenge so that you could discuss it.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Car’das protested. “I’m barely out of school. What kind of high-power position could I possibly be qualified for?”

“Age is not necessarily the best indicator of talent and ability,” Thrawn pointed out. “In your case, he was highly impressed by the role you played in luring the Vagaari into position for the attack. You’ve shown yourself to be intelligent, resourceful, and able to remain cool under fire, qualities he prizes as well as I do.”

Car’das rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. It was still ridiculous, of course. But it was also far too intriguing to simply dismiss out of hand. “Did he say what sort of job it would be?”

“I gather it would involve some of the same smuggling work you’re doing with Captain Qennto,” Thrawn said. “But beneath such surface activities, your primary task would be to create and operate a private information network for him.”

Car’das pursed his lips. Smuggling alone he could take or leave, but this other part sounded a lot more interesting. “He’s not expecting me to build this network on my own, is he?”

Thrawn shook his head. “He would begin by giving you several months of training and on-the-spot instruction. After that, you would have some of his contacts and resources in the Republic to draw on.”

“Which I would guess are pretty impressive,” Car’das said, thinking hard. It would mean no more of Qennto’s casually lunatic way of dealing with clients and competitors. No more ships falling apart underneath him for lack of funds or interest.

Best of all, no Hutts.

“It’s your decision, of course,” Thrawn said. “But I believe you have the necessary gifts to excel at such a job.”

“And as an extra added bonus it would also enhance my usefulness as a possible future contact with the Republic?”

Car’das asked wryly.

Thrawn smiled. “As I said, you have the necessary gifts.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to check it out.” Car’das studied Thrawn’s face. “Was there something else?”

To his surprise, the other actually hesitated. “I wanted to ask a favor of you,” he said at last. “Whichever ship you choose to return on, I’d ask that you never tell Qennto or Ferasi what happened to Outbound Flight.”

Car’das grimaced. He’d thought about that himself.

Thought about it a lot, in fact. “Especially Ferasi?”

“Especially her,” Thrawn said, his voice tinged with sadness. “There are all too few idealists in this universe, Car’das.

Too few people who strive always to see only the good in others. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for crushing even one of them.”

“And besides, you rather liked all that unquestioning adulation coming your way?”

Thrawn smiled faintly. “All beings appreciate such admiration,” he said. “You have excellent insight into the heartsof others. Stratis has chosen well.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Car’das held out his hand.

“Well. Good-bye, Commander. It’s been an honor knowing you.”

“As it has for me, as well,” Thrawn said, taking his hand. “Farewell… Jorj.”

“I don’t know,” Qennto said, shaking his head. “For my money, it sounds like a really bad idea.”

“I’ll be fine,” Car’das assured him. “Thrawn says Stratis isn’t the sort to lure me aboard just to make trouble. It’s not his style.”

“Maybe,” Qennto rumbled. “Maybe not. The last thing a guy like that will want is someone like you planting yourself on a Coruscant street corner and shouting his past activities from the bottom of your lungs.”

“And what about us?” Maris added. “We knew what he was planning for Outbound Flight, too.”

“But you never knew his real name,” Car’das reminded her. “All you have is an alias and a rumor. That’s not going to get you any traction.”

“Even if we were stupid enough to try?” Qennto asked, throwing a warning look at Maris.

“Something like that,” Car’das agreed, hoping neither of them would bring up the fact that they had known Kav’s real name. Still, Kai‘ was a common enough Neimoidian name; and since the vicelord himself was dead, that wasn’t likely to be too much of a problem. Certainly Stratis himself hadn’t seemed worried about it. “Anyway, Thrawn vouches for the man.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Maris declared. “I just hope Drixo the Hutt will be as reasonable.”

“Don’t worry about Drixo,” Qennto said with a grunt.

“She won’t be a problem, not with all this extra loot to calm herdown. In fact, I’ll bet I can even talk her into giving us a bonus.”

Maris rolled her eves. “Here we go again.”

“Hey, I’m a businessman,” Qennto protested. “This is what I do.”

“Just do it carefully, okay?” Car’das said. “I don’t want to have to worry about you two.”

“You worry about yourself,” Qennto said ominously, jabbing a large finger into Car’das’s chest for emphasis.

“Whatever Thrawn says, this Stratis sounds about as slippery as a greased Dug, and twice as unfriendly.”

“And having Thrawn foil his attack on Outbound Flight won’t have helped his mood any,” Maris said. Her forehead wrinkled slightly. “Thrawn did stop his attack, didn’t he?”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. Maris had been a shipmate, someone he’d spent half a year living and working and fighting alongside. More than that, he considered her a friend.

He’d never lied to a friend before. Did he really want to start now? And with a lie as terrible as this one?

And then, Thrawn’s voice seemed to float up from his memory. There are all too few idealists in this universe…

The truth wouldn’t help the dead of Outbound Flight.

All it could do was hurt Maris. “Of course he stopped Stratis’s attack,” he assured her with all the false heartiness he could create. “I was right there when Outbound Flight flew away.”

The wrinkles in her forehead smoothed out, and Maris smiled. “I knew he could do it,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Good luck, Jorj, and take care of yourself. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Car’das forced himself to smile as he took her hand.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Maybe we will.”

The shattering impact had passed, the violent shaking had faded away, and the dust was beginning to settle onto the darkened deck. Slowly, carefully, Uliar lifted his head from the mass of chair cushions he’d curled up against, wincing as a twinge of pain arced through his neck. “Hello?” he called, his voice echoing eerily through the silent room.

“Uliar?” a voice called back. “It’s—” He broke off as a sudden coughing fit took him. “It’s Pressor,” he said when he got the cough under control. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Uliar said, getting up and walking unsteadily toward the voice. All the lights were out except for the permlight emergency panels, leaving D-4 looking and feeling uncomfortably like a tomb. “You?”

“I think so,” Pressor said. A pair of shadowy figures crawled out from beneath a desk across the room, resolving into Dillian Pressor and his son, Jorad, as they stepped beneath one of the permlights. “Where are all the others?”

“I don’t know,” Uliar said. “Everyone scattered for cover when you gave the collision warning.” He looked around.

“What a mess.”

“That’s for sure,” Pressor agreed grimly, rubbing at some blood trickling down his cheek. “I wonder what happened.”

“It didn’t feel like laser blasts or energy torpedoes,”

Uliar said. “Aside from that, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Well, first things first,” Pressor said. “We need to get everyone together and check for food, water, and medical supplies. After that, we can see about power and living quarters.

After that, we can see if we can get to the bridge and figure out what in blazes happened.”

He started picking his way through the debris, Jorad at his side, clutching his hand tightly. “Yeah, it’s a good thing you gave us that warning, all right,” Uliar commented as they reached the door. “How come you knew it was coming?”

Pressor shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It just sort of popped into my head.”

“You mean like some kind of Jedi thing?”

“I’m not a Jedi, Chas,” Pressor said firmly. “I probably heard something moving or scraping against the hull. Precursor asteroid gravel, or maybe atmospheric friction. Something like that.”

“Sure,” Uliar said. “That’s probably it.”

But whether or not Pressor was a Jedi, there was definitely something strange about him. And after what the Jedi had done to Outbound Flight, Uliar would be watching Pressor and his family. He would be watching them very closely.

In the meantime, there was a little matter of survival to deal with. Ducking under a twisted section of ceiling panel, he followed Pressor down the corridor.