Star Wars: Jedi Trial

by Sherman, David

of the long-awaited

  Available from Del Rey Books

  October 25, 2005

  The room was compactly furnished, containing a three-tier bunk bed against one wall and a fold-down table and bench seats on the other. Beside the bunk bed were three large drawers built into the wall, while to the right was a door leading into what seemed to be a compact refresher station.

  “What do you think he’s going to do with us?” Maris murmured, looking around.

  “He’ll let us go,” Qennto assured her, glancing into the refresher station and then sitting down on the lowest bed, hunching forward to keep from bumping his head on the one above it. “The real question is whether we’ll be taking the firegems with us.”

  Car’das cleared his throat. “Uh…should we be talking about this?” he asked, looking significantly around the room.

  “Oh, relax,” Qennto growled. “They don’t speak a word of Basic.” His eyes narrowed. “And as long as we’re on the subject of speaking, why the frizz did you tell him we knew Progga?”

  “There was something in his eyes and voice just then,” Car’das said. “Something that said he already knew all about it, and that we’d better not get caught lying to him.”

  Qennto snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Unless there were survivors from Progga’s crew,” Maris pointed out.

  “Not a chance,” Qennto said firmly. “You saw what the ship looked like. The thing’d been peeled open like a ration bar.”

  “I don’t know how he knew,” Car’das insisted. “All I know is that he did know.”

  “And you shouldn’t lie to an honorable man anyway,” Maris murmured.

  “Who, Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” Qennto scoffed. “Honorable? Don’t you believe it. Military men are all alike. And in my experience, the smooth ones are the worst of the lot.”

  “I’ve known quite a few honorable soldiers,” Maris said stiffly. “Besides, I’ve always had a good feel for people. I think this Mitth’raw—whatever. I think he can be trusted.” She lifted her eyebrows. “I don’t think trying to con him will be a good idea, either.”

  “It’s only a bad idea if you get caught,” Qennto said. “You get what you bargain for in this universe, Maris. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She shook her head. “Your problem is that you don’t have enough faith in people, Rak.”

  “I got all the faith I need, kiddo,” Qennto said calmly. “I just happen to know a little more about human nature than you do. Human and nonhuman nature.”

  “I still think we need to play completely straight with him.”

  Qennto snorted. “Playing straight is the last thing you want to do. Ever. It gives the other guy all the advantages.” He nodded toward the closed door. “And this guy in particular sounds like the sort who’ll ask questions until we die of old age if we let him.”

  “Still, it might not be a bad idea to hang around here for at least a little while,” Car’das suggested. “Progga’s people are going to be pretty mad when he doesn’t come back.”

  Qennto shook his head. “They’ll never pin it on us. Not a chance.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look, kid, let me do the thinking, okay?” Qennto said, cutting him off. Swiveling his legs up onto the bunk, he lay back with his arms folded behind his head. “Now everyone be quiet for a while. I’ve got to figure out how to play this.”

  Maris caught Car’das’s eye, gave a little shrug, then turned and climbed up onto the bunk above Qennto. Stretching out, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed meditatively at the underside of the bunk above her.

  Crossing to the other side of the room, Car’das folded down the table and one of the bench seats and sat down, wedging himself more or less comfortably between the table and wall. Putting his elbow on the table and propping his head up on his hand, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

  He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a sudden buzz startled him awake. He jumped up as the door opened to reveal a single black-clad Chiss. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s respects,” the alien said, the Sy Bisti words coming out thickly accented. “He requests your presence in Forward Visual One.”

  “Wonderful,” Qennto said, swinging his legs onto the floor and standing up. His tone and expression were the false cheerfulness Car’das had heard him use time and again in bargaining sessions.

  “Not you,” the Chiss said. He gestured to Car’das. “This one only.”

  Qennto came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

  “A refreshment is being prepared,” the Chiss said. “Until it is ready, this one only will come.”

  “Now, wait a second,” Qennto said, taking a step forward. “We stick together or—”

  “It’s okay,” Car’das interrupted. The Chiss standing in the doorway had made no move, but he’d caught a subtle shift in lighting and shadow outside that indicated there were others outside the humans’ line of sight. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Car’das—”

  “It’s okay,” Car’das repeated, stepping to the doorway. The Chiss moved back, and he walked out into the corridor.

  There were indeed more Chiss waiting by the door, two of them on either side. “Follow,” the messenger said as the door closed.

  They trooped down the curved corridor, passing three cross corridors and several other doorways along the way. Two of the doors were open, and Car’das couldn’t resist a furtive glance inside each as they passed. All he could see, though, was unrecognizable equipment and more black-clad Chiss.

  He had expected Forward Visual to be just another crowded high-tech room. To his surprise, the door opened into something that looked like a compact version of a starliner’s observation gallery. A long, curved couch sat in front of a convex floor-to-ceiling viewport currently giving a spectacular view of the glowing hyperspace sky as it flowed past the ship. The room’s own lights were dimmed, making the display that much more impressive.

  “Welcome, Jorj Car’das.”

  Car’das looked around. Mitth’raw’nuruodo was seated alone at the far end of the couch, silhouetted against the hyperspace sky. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he greeted the other, glancing a question at his guide. The other nodded, stepping back and closing the door on himself and the rest of the escort. Feeling more than a little uneasy, Car’das stepped around the near end of the couch and made his way across the curve.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo commented as Car’das arrived at his side. “Please, be seated.”

  “Thank you,” Car’das said, easing himself onto the couch a cautious meter away from the other. “May I ask why I’m here?”

  “To share this view with me, of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said dryly. “And to answer a few questions.”

  Car’das felt his stomach tighten. So it was to be an interrogation. Down deep he’d known it would be, but had hoped against hope that Maris’s naïvely idealistic assessment of their captor might actually be right. “A very nice view it is, too,” he commented, not knowing what else to say. “I’m a little surprised to find such a room aboard a warship.”

  “Oh, it’s quite functional,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him. “Its full name is Forward Visual Triangulation Site Number One. We place spotters here during combat to track enemy vessels and other possible threats, and to coordinate some of our line-of-sight weaponry.”

  “Don’t you have sensors to handle that?” Car’das asked, frowning.

  “Of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “And usually they’re quite adequate. But I’m sure you know there are ways of misleading or blinding electronic eyes. Sometimes the eyes of a Chiss are more reliable.”

  “I suppose,” Car’das said, gazing at his host’s own glowing eyes. In the dim light, they were even more intimidating. “Isn’t it hard to get the information to the gunners fast enough?”

  “There are ways,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “What exactly is your business, Jorj Car’das?” />
  “Captain Qennto’s already told you that,” Car’das said, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead. “We’re merchants and traders.”

  Mitth’raw’nuruodo shook his head. “Unfortunately for your captain’s assertions, I’m familiar with the economics of star travel. Your vessel is far too small for any standard cargo to cover even normal operating expenses, let alone emergency repair work. I therefore conclude that you have a sideline occupation. You haven’t the weaponry to be pirates or privateers, so you must be smugglers.”

  Car’das hesitated. What exactly was he supposed to say? “I don’t suppose it would do any good to point out that our economics and yours might not scale the same?” he said, stalling.

  “Is that what you claim?”

  Car’das hesitated, but Mitth’raw’nuruodo had that knowing look about him again. “No,” he conceded. “We are mostly just traders, as Captain Qennto said. But we do sometimes do a little smuggling on the side.”

  “I see,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I appreciate your honesty, Jorj Car’das.”

  “You can just call me Car’das,” Car’das said. “In our culture, the first name is reserved for use by friends.”

  Mitth’raw’nuruodo lifted his eyebrows. “You don’t consider me a friend?”

  “Do you consider me one?” Car’das countered.

  The instant the words were out of his mouth he wished he could call them back. Sarcasm was never the option of choice in a confrontation like this. Particularly not when the other side held the power of life and death.

  But Mitth’raw’nuruodo lifted an eyebrow. “Not yet,” he agreed calmly. “Perhaps someday. You intrigue me, Car’das. Here you sit, captured by unfamiliar beings a long way from home. Yet instead of wrapping yourself within a blanket of fear or anger, you instead stretch outside yourself with curiosity.”

  Car’das frowned. “Curiosity?”

  “You studied my warriors as you were brought aboard,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I could see it in your eyes and face as you observed and thought and evaluated. You did the same as you were taken to your quarters, and again as you were brought here just now.”

  “I was just looking around,” Car’das assured him, feeling his heart beating a little faster. Did spies rank above or below smugglers on Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s list? “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Calm yourself,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, a distinct touch of amusement in his voice. “I’m not accusing you of spying. I, too, have the gift of curiosity, and therefore prize it in others. Tell me, who is to receive the hidden gemstones?”

  Car’das jerked. “You found—? I mean…in that case, why did you ask me about it?”

  “As I said, I appreciate honesty,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Who is the intended recipient?”

  “A group of Hutts operating out of the Comra system,” Car’das told him, giving up. “Rivals to the ones you—the ones who were attacking us.” He hesitated. “You did know they weren’t just random pirates, didn’t you? That they were hunting us specifically?”

  “We monitored your transmissions before we were in position to intervene,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Though the conversation was of course unintelligible to us, I remembered hearing the phonemes Dubrak Qennto in the Hutt’s speech when Captain Qennto later identified himself to me. The conclusion was obvious.”

  A shiver ran up Car’das’s back. A conversation in an alien language, and yet Mitth’raw’nuruodo had been able to memorize enough of it to extract Qennto’s name from the gibberish. What kind of creatures were these Chiss, anyway?

  “Is the possession of these gems illegal, then?”

  “No, but the customs fees are ridiculously high,” Car’das said, forcing his mind back to the interrogation. “Smugglers are often used to avoid having to pay them.” He hesitated. “Actually, considering the people we got this batch from, they may also have been stolen. But don’t tell Maris that.”

  “Oh?”

  Car’das winced. There he was again, talking without thinking. If Mitth’raw’nuruodo didn’t kill him before this was over, Qennto probably would. “Maris is something of an idealist,” he said reluctantly. “She thinks this whole smuggling thing is just a way of making a statement against the greedy and stupid Republic bureaucracy.”

  “Captain Qennto hasn’t seen fit to enlighten her?”

  “Captain Qennto likes her company,” Car’das said. “I doubt she’d stay with him if she knew the whole truth.”

  “He claims to care about her, yet lies to her?”

  “I don’t know what he claims,” Car’das said. “Though I suppose you could say that idealists like Maris do a lot of lying to themselves. The truth is there in front of her if she wanted to see it.” He took another look at those glowing red eyes. “Though of course that doesn’t excuse our part in it,” he added.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “What would be the consequences if you didn’t deliver the gemstones?”

  Car’das felt his throat tighten. So much for the honorable Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Firegems must be valuable out here, too. “They’d kill us,” he said. “Probably in some hugely entertaining way, like watching us get eaten by some combination of large animals.”

  “And if the delivery was merely late?”

  Car’das frowned, trying to read the other’s expression in the flickering hyperspace glow. “What exactly do you want from me, Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo?”

  “Nothing too burdensome,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I merely wish your company for a time.”

  “Why?”

  “Partly to learn about your people,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “But primarily so that you may teach me your language.”

  Car’das blinked. “Our language? You mean Basic?”

  “That is the chief language of your Republic, is it not?”

  “Yes, but…” Car’das hesitated, wondering if there was a delicate way to ask a question like this.

  Mitth’raw’nuruodo might have been reading his mind. Or, more likely, his eyes and face. “I don’t plan an invasion, if that’s what concerns you,” he said, smiling faintly. “Chiss don’t invade the territories of others. We don’t even make war against potential enemies unless we’re attacked first.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about any attacks from us,” Car’das said quickly. “We’ve got enough internal troubles of our own right now.”

  “Then we have nothing to fear from each other,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “It would be merely an indulgence of my curiosity.”

  “I see,” Car’das said cautiously. Qennto, he knew, would be into full-bore bargaining mode at this point, pushing and prodding and squeezing to get everything he could out of the deal. Maybe that was why Mitth’raw’nuruodo was making this pitch to the clearly less experienced Car’das instead.

  Still, he could try. “And what would we get out of it?” he asked.

  “For you, there would be an equal satisfaction of your own curiosity.” Mitth’raw’nuruodo lifted his eyebrows. “You do wish to know more about my people, don’t you?”

  “Very much,” Car’das said. “But I can’t see that appealing very much to Captain Qennto.”

  “Perhaps a few extra gemstones added to his collection, then,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo suggested. “That might also help mollify your clients.”

  “Yes, they’ll definitely need some mollifying,” Car’das agreed grimly. “A little extra loot would go a long ways toward that.”

  “Then it’s agreed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, standing up.

  “One more thing,” Car’das said, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be happy to teach you Basic, but I’d also like some language lessons myself. Would you be willing in turn to teach me the Chiss language, or to have one of your people do so?”

  “I can teach you to understand Cheunh,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But I doubt you’ll e
ver be able to properly speak it. I’ve noticed you don’t even pronounce my name very well.”

  Car’das felt his face warm. “I’m sorry.”

  “No apology needed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him. “Your vocal mechanism is close to ours, but there are clearly some differences. However, I believe I could teach you to speak Minnisiat. It’s a trade language widely used in the border regions around our space.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Car’das said, nodding. “Thank you, Commander Mitth—uh…Commander.”

  “Yes,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said dryly. “And as long as we’re going to be spending time together, perhaps I can make it easier on you and the others. You may call me by my core name, Thrawn.”

  Star Wars: Jedi Trial is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  2005 Del Rey Books Mass Market Edition

  Copyright © 2004 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  Excerpt from Star Wars: Outbound Flight copyright © 2005 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Star Wars: Outbound Flight by Timothy Zahn. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

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  eISBN: 978-0-345-46308-1

  v3.0

  BY DAVID SHERMAN AND DAN CRAGG