by Timothy Zahn
“That round thing was probably part of a small table,” Luke said, pointing. “I don’t see any chairs, though.”
“Perhaps they had only stools,” Drask suggested. “Those short pieces, perhaps.”
“Right,” Mara agreed. “There are probably a lot of other pieces tangled in with those blankets and draperies, too. And of course, those boxy things have got to be portable ‘fresher stations.”
“But this makes no sense,” Drask objected. “What you are describing are living quarters. Yet the vessels above are adequately intact. Why would anyone have chosen to live here instead?”
“Maybe all the Dreadnaughts were too badly damaged right after the battle,” Luke suggested. “It may have taken a while for the droids to make them livable again.”
Mara shook her head. “You’re both missing the point. What did we have to do to get in here?”
“We had to lift—” Luke broke off. “Are you saying this was a prison?”
“What else?” Mara asked. “Small cubicles with minimal furnishings and not much privacy, stuck away from everywhere else in the place, all of it behind a door that doesn’t open. What else could it be?”
“Interesting,” Drask commented. “It would seem that your Outbound Flight experiment was a failure from the start. For there to have been a need for a prison so quickly implies the passengers were not well chosen.”
“Or that something drastic happened to them,” Mara said. “Some kind of space madness or something.”
“Any chance it could have been a medical quarantine instead?” Luke suggested.
“Unlikely,” Drask said. “There are not enough beds here for a large disease outbreak. A smaller problem would surely have been better dealt with in the vessels’ own facilities.”
“He’s right,” Mara agreed. “Besides, I don’t see any sign of medical equipment in here.” She gestured into the area. “And you see what else isn’t here?”
Luke frowned. “No.”
“I see,” Drask said grimly. “There are no bodies.”
“Or even the remains of bodies,” Mara confirmed. “Which either means someone got in through that door sometime in the past fifty years and disposed of the dead—”
“—Or else they got out on their own,” Luke finished for her.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Mara agreed soberly. “I’m also wondering if the timing of the breakout might have had an effect on the battle.”
“Or perhaps it is connected with the unexplained appearance of this vessel in Chiss space,” Drask pointed out. “That mystery has still not been solved.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Mara said. “Luke, do you have any idea what sort of justice system was in place during that era? Specifically, what sort of people might the Jedi on Outbound Flight have locked up this way?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said, shaking his head. “But I can’t see why anyone but the most violent or psychotic sorts would be buried this far away from the rest of the expedition. There would certainly have been a brig on each of the Dreadnaughts for dealing with standard lawbreakers.”
A whisper of sensation touched Mara’s mind. “Someone’s coming,” she said, unhooking her lightsaber from her belt.
“Who?” Drask asked, drawing his charric. “Guardian Pressor and his forces?”
Mara focused her mind, trying to isolate and identify the approaching minds. They definitely seemed familiar, but they were still too far away to identify.
Luke got there first. “It’s all right,” he said, returning his own lightsaber to his belt. “It’s Fel and the stormtroopers.”
“Is Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano with them?” Drask asked.
“No,” Mara said. “Neither are Feesa or the Geroons. It’s just the five Imperials.”
“They pledged to protect him,” Drask said ominously. “Why are they not with him?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said, heading for the propped-open door. “Let’s go ask them.”
They met up with the Imperials two rooms back toward the turbolifts. “Well, well,” Fel commented as the two groups crossed the room toward each other. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to find you three here. Not that I’m displeased, of course. What did you think of our host’s little trap?”
“Where is Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano?” Drask cut in before either Luke or Mara could answer. “Why are you not protecting him?”
Fel seemed taken aback. “Relax, General,” he said. “He’s hardly alone up there. Your three warriors are with him, remember?”
“Besides, if Pressor wanted any of us dead, he could have done it long before now,” Mara added.
“She’s right,” Fel agreed. “I’m sure the Aristocra’s fine.”
“Your calmness is very reassuring,” Drask bit out. “Do you even know where he is?”
“Not exactly,” Fel said. “But from the sounds their turbolift car made as it headed down, we’re pretty sure they’re on D-Five, the next Dreadnaught around the circle from where we came in.”
“Then why did you not follow them after you made your own escape?” Drask asked.
“Because I thought it might make more tactical sense to come in from a direction they weren’t expecting,” Fel said, starting to sound a little annoyed himself. “There are three other turbolift tubes we can use to get up to D-Five: one straight aft along this deck, the other two fore and aft around that direction.” He gestured to his right.
“Wait a minute,” Mara said. “If the Dreadnaughts are in a ring, shouldn’t the turbolift connections be on a lower deck instead of this one?”
Fel shook his head. “It has to do with the way the gravity directions were set up,” he explained. “All the Dreadnaughts are oriented with their bellies pointing inward toward the supply core, while the supply core runs its own gravity toward its own center, sort of like a cylindrical planet, with the lower decks ‘down’ from the upper ones. That means that from any of the Dreadnaughts, ‘down’ is always toward the core, while from the core ‘up’ is always toward the nearest Dreadnaught.”
“Strange approach,” Mara commented.
Fel shrugged. “My guess is that they probably figured doing it any other way would mean attaching the connecting pylons in different places on each of the Dreadnaughts. This way, all the ships could be modified in exactly the same way, with two turbolift pylons connecting to the starboard belly, fore and aft, and the other two to the port-side belly, fore and aft. It certainly doesn’t matter to the crew; all the gravity changes are handled automatically as you travel from one place to another, with the turbolift cars rotating so that you’re matched with your destination by the time you get there.”
“So Formbi and the others are where, exactly?” Luke asked.
“Dreadnaught-Five,” Fel said. “D-Five for short. The one we came into from the Chaf Envoy was D-Four.”
“So that wasn’t the primary command ship?”
Fel shook his head. “I assumed it would be, too, but the labels on the turbolift controls clearly showed we came in on either D-Four or D-Five. Given the ships’ orientations, the one on the surface is definitely D-Four.”
“I presume you are getting this information from the Outbound Flight data cards you have in your possession?” Drask asked.
“The data cards that used to be in my possession, yes,” Fel corrected. “Fortunately, we’d studied the layout before they were stolen.”
“They were stolen?” Drask asked, his eyes narrowing. “When?”
“While we were helping put out that fire just after we left Crustai,” Fel said. “Whoever set it apparently did so as a diversion to get aboard our transport.”
Drask looked at Luke and Mara, then back at Fel. “Why was I not informed?”
Mara sensed Fel’s hesitation, and wondered if he would have either the honesty or the audacity to tell Drask that he hadn’t been told because he was one of the suspects. She rather hoped he would; Drask’s reaction would probably be very interesti
ng.
To her mild disappointment, Fel went with the diplomatic answer instead. “It didn’t seem likely the thief could be found regardless,” he explained. “I thought we might have an advantage if the culprit didn’t know we’d noticed the loss.”
“What advantage did you expect to have?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Fel conceded. “I just thought there might be one.”
“You just thought there might be one.” In a being of lesser inherent dignity, Mara reflected, Drask’s words and tone might have sounded small-minded or even childish. But from a command officer of the Chiss, it came across as bitingly and righteously angry. A neat trick, that. “In the future, Commander Fel, you will not think when aboard a vessel of the Chiss Ascendancy. You will instead bring any and all concerns of this sort to the commanding officer at once. He will decide what thinking is to be done. Is that understood?”
“Completely, General,” Fel said, his voice under careful control.
“Good,” Drask said, not sounding particularly mollified. “Now. You will lead us to these alternative turbolifts so that we may rejoin Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano.”
“Just a moment,” Luke said. “Would the command ship have been designated D-One?”
“Right,” Fel said.
“So with six Dreadnaughts, D-Four would be all the way on the far side of the circle from it?” Luke persisted.
“Right again,” Fel said, his forehead wrinkling.
“Is this important at this precise moment?” Drask put in impatiently.
“It might be, yes,” Luke told him. “Because, logically, D-One is where they should have been flying Outbound Flight from. So why is that ship the one that ended up farthest underground when they crash-landed?”
“Interesting question,” Fel agreed thoughtfully. “They must have been having some serious control problems there at the end.”
“Maybe,” Luke said. “Or maybe they had unwanted help on the command deck.”
“Indeed,” Drask said, the impatience in his voice temporarily subdued by a touch of interest. “The criminals, perhaps?”
“Criminals?” Fel asked, blinking.
“There seems to be a makeshift prison back there,” Luke said, gesturing aft. “No human or alien remains, though.”
“Hmm,” Fel said. “And considering the shape the Dreadnaughts would have been in after the battle, they might well have been in the best position to get to the command deck and make trouble.”
“Or we could have it completely backward,” Mara warned. “Maybe the prisoners were the ones in command, and someone else managed to get Outbound Flight flipped over this way trying to stop them.”
“Interesting speculation,” Drask said. The moment of interest had passed, and he was getting impatient again. “But this is all ancient history.”
“Perhaps,” Luke said. “But then, ancient history is why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“We must rejoin Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano,” Drask insisted.
“We will,” Luke promised. “But first, I want to go have a look at D-One. Anyone going with me?”
Mara looked around the group. From Fel’s expression she could tell that he wanted to go, and she could sense definite interest from the four stormtroopers, as well.
But Drask’s agitation was practically bouncing off the stacks of crates, and once again Fel’s sense of diplomacy won out. “Thanks, but we’ll wait for the second tour,” he said, turning to Drask. “Whenever you’re ready, General, we’ll escort you to D-Five.”
For a moment Drask’s eyes bored into Luke’s face, as if estimating his chances of either talking him or ordering him out of going on what he clearly considered a time-wasting side trip. Apparently, he decided it wasn’t worth trying. “Thank you, Commander,” he said, turning back to face Fel. “You said there were three other turbolifts available?”
“Yes,” Fel said. “Actually, the best approach would probably be to go a little farther around the core and escort Luke and Mara to the turbolift they’ll need to get to D-One. We can use the same one to get to D-Six, from which we can then travel to D-Five.”
“It sounds as if that will be a longer trip than going directly to D-Five,” Drask pointed out.
“It will be, a little,” Fel conceded. “But it’s occurred to me that if Pressor’s people are hiding any surprises we ought to know about, they’ll most likely be on either D-One, D-Two, or D-Six.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re the three farthest underground, which means they have the best radiation shielding,” Fel explained. “Luke and Mara will already be checking out D-One; if we at least take a look at D-Six on our way to D-Five, we’ll have two of the three covered.”
Drask hesitated, then nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Provided you do not propose to search the entire Dreadnaught with only the six of us.”
“We’ll just take a quick look,” Fel promised. “If they’re using the other Dreadnaughts for anything at all, it should be obvious pretty quickly.”
“Very well,” Drask said again. “Lead on.”
Fel nodded. “Stormtroopers: escort formation. This way, General.”
CHAPTER 15
“This is the main school area,” Uliar said, pointing across the corridor toward a room with a small plaque beside the door identifying it as AA-7 FIRE CONTROL ROOM. A neatly printed sign had been fastened to the wall above the plaque that read PRELIMINARY TIERS. “All the lower tiers are in the complex of rooms back there,” he went on. “There’s also a university of sorts two decks above us, up where the main scientific and technical sections of the ship were.”
“Interesting,” Jinzler said, looking at the door and wondering if he dared ask to go in and take a look. “What courses do you teach?”
“Everything we can, of course,” Uliar said, half turning to look at Evlyn and her mother, walking silently behind Formbi. “This is actually Instructor Tabory’s field of expertise. Instructor, would you care to elaborate?”
“Many of the records were lost in the Devastation, of course,” Rosemari said. “Either destroyed or buried in the wreckage of D-One where we couldn’t get to them.”
She waved at the schoolroom door. “But the Survivors had fair amounts of skills and knowledge among them, so as soon as they could they set up a school to teach the children what they would need to know. In the lower tiers we teach history, science, reading, galactic languages, political science, and a few others—the usual curriculum of a Republic school back home. At the university level—though of course it’s not a real university—we teach mechanics and electronics, higher mathematics, basic astrogation and starship operation, plus the sorts of things we’ll need when we finally get out of here and settle down on a real world again.”
“Ah,” Jinzler said. “And you were trained as an instructor?”
She shrugged. “That’s what I do now, but my actual training is in meteorology and music. I’m not very good at the latter, though.” She smiled down at the girl beside her. “Evlyn’s much better than I am. And of course, there are a lot of advanced maintenance classes.”
“That being particularly important to our survival,” Councilor Tarkosa added gruffly, glaring briefly at Rosemari. Apparently, her comment about leaving Outbound Flight wasn’t sitting well with him. “Even with many of the old droids still functional, this ship still chews up a huge number of worker-hours in repairs and maintenance. And the droids need constant maintenance of their own.”
Jinzler nodded. “What about basic life necessities?” he asked. “Food, water, and energy?”
“Fortunately, we have all of that in abundance,” Uliar said. “The central storage core suffered only minor damage in the Devastation, and we were able to bring the D-Five and D-Six fusion generators back online before the emergency power supplies were exhausted.”
“You speak as if you were there,” Formbi suggested.
Uliar favored him with a somewhat brittle smile. “Yes,
I was,” he said. “I was twenty-two, in fact, when your people viciously attacked and destroyed us.”
It took every bit of Jinzler’s strength to keep his face from reacting. With all of Uliar’s politeness and hospitality, and the almost homey atmosphere of the place as the inhabitants had fixed it up, he’d nearly forgotten what had actually happened here. Hearing Uliar’s straightforward reminder had hit him harder than he would have expected. “Yes,” Formbi murmured. “Though it was not the will of either the Nine Ruling Families or of the Chiss people that that happen.”
“Well, it was the will of someone with blue skin and red eyes,” Uliar said bluntly. “And I’m constrained to point out that even after all that, knowing that it had happened, you waited until now to come see what had become of us.”
He peered closely at Formbi. “Or is this your first time here? Have you actually been watching us all along, just for your own amusement?”
“Not at all,” Formbi said, his voice even. “We didn’t even know this vessel had survived until a few handfuls of days ago. Even then, we had no reason to assume anyone had survived.”
“Then why did you come?” Uliar countered. “Was it the ship itself you wanted? Secrets from the Republic you hoped to plunder?”
He turned his unblinking stare on Jinzler. “Or was it you and this so-called New Republic of yours? Were you the ones who wanted it?”
Jinzler shook his head. “We came solely from a desire to see the place where so many of our people had died,” he said, trying to match Formbi’s calm diplomatic tone.
“And to honor those who gave their lives defending our people,” Bearsh spoke up from the rear.
“That’s correct,” Jinzler said. “No one here wants to take anything away from you.”
Uliar smiled coldly. “No. Of course not.”