Survivor's Quest

by Timothy Zahn

  At that point, they ran into an unexpected problem. The docking bay hatchway Drask had selected, which had looked completely functional, turned out to be warped just enough to be impossible to open, and the Chiss ended up having to use cutting torches to carve out an access.

  It was a slow process. Even the relatively thin hatchway of an Old Republic warship was incredibly tough, and the need to maintain a margin of safety in the enclosed area limited how much power the Chiss could run to their torches. More than once as he watched them work, Luke considered going to Formbi and offering to do the job with his lightsaber instead. It would be easier and cleaner and a lot faster.

  But each time he suppressed the impulse. The Aristocra's midnight discussion about the casual waving of alien weapons was still fresh in his mind, and he'd already learned enough about Chiss pride to know that Formbi and the others would probably rather do it their way than accept his help. Particularly when that help wasn't really necessary.

  And so the company waited as the crewers finished the job. Once they'd broken through the hatchway there was another short delay as the ship's medic tested the atmosphere, confirming that none of the microorganisms, trace gases, or suspended particulates present would be dangerous to Chiss or human. With only a few days' worth of data on Geroon biochemistry he was less certain as to whether there would be any adverse effects on them, and there was some talk of rigging protective suits for the four who would be coming aboard.

  But Bearsh declined the offer. The proper ritual clothing would be impossible to wear inside such suits, he stated, and assured Formbi that he and his people were willing to take whatever risks were necessary.

  With all the delays, it was actually closer to three hours before the party was finally ready to go.

  A strange-looking party they were, too, Luke reflected as they lined up on the Chiss side of the transfer tunnel. Drask and Formbi were dressed in the same stately outfits they'd worn at the first night's reception dinner, while Feesa and a black-uniformed Chiss warrior carrying an elaborate banner on a pole wore much simpler and more functional clothing. Fel was back in his dress uniform, and Luke would swear that the four stormtroopers had put extra effort into making sure their armor was gleaming. Jinzler had discarded his earlier layered robe-tunic in favor of something simpler and less constrictive, and Luke found himself wondering if the older man was expecting dirt and close quarters aboard the Dreadnaught or whether he was just tiring of his ambassadorial play-acting.

  Each of the four Geroons who would be attending wore one of the blue-and-gold-collared wolvkil bodies over the shoulders of his thick brown robe, making an odd contrast to Estosh and the bandages he was wearing on his shoulder. The young Geroon had argued at length with Bearsh in their melodic language about going along, and was clearly still not happy that he was merely there to see the others off. He stood off to one side, nursing his shoulder and looking even more lost and pathetic than usual.

  Luke was back in his dark jumpsuit and duster, but Mara had passed up her formal gown in favor of a jumpsuit similar to Luke's that she could move more freely in if necessary. Still, her natural poise and elegance made him feel as if she were far better dressed than he was. "Next trip," Luke murmured to her as the Chiss standard-bearer led the way into the tunnel, "remind me to pack a couple of formal outfits."

  "I've always said you and Han are the scruffiest heroes I've ever met," she murmured back.

  He looked sideways at her. The comment was typical Mara—that sarcastic manner that had proved so useful in distracting and irritating opponents in the past.

  But this time he could tell that the words were pure reflex. There was something going on behind her eyes, some strange concentration.

  Shifting his eyes back forward, Luke stretched out to the Force. If something was bothering Mara, he'd better get up to speed, too.

  They emerged from the tunnel into an entryway and storage area that was probably half again the size of even the extravagant equivalents aboard the Chaf Envoy. A few boxes were still stacked along the bulkheads, their markings somewhat faded with age, but most of the room was empty. Everything seemed to be coated with a thin layer of dust. "Amazingly clean," Jinzler commented, looking around as the group gathered in the center of the room. His voice echoed strangely from the bare metal walls. "Shouldn't there be more dust?"

  "Must be some housekeeping droids still functioning," Fel said. "Or at least there were. Repair droids, too—see where they've patched the cracks in the hull?"

  "These machines can still function after all these years?" Bearsh asked in wonderment. "With no one to supervise or repair them?"

  "Everything aboard Outbound Flight was well automated," Fel said. "It was all internal rather than being linked to a lot of other ships. Otherwise they would have needed probably sixteen thousand people on each Dreadnaught just to crew it."

  "So few?" Bearsh asked, looking around. "Our own vessel is less than half this size, yet it carries more than sixty thousand Geroons."

  "Sure, but this wasn't just a colony ship with everyone packed tightly inside," Fel pointed out. "The Dreadnaughts were warships, the biggest the Old Republic had before the Clone Wars, with weaponry and equipment—"

  Formbi cleared his throat. Fel took the hint and subsided.

  "On behalf of the Nine Ruling Families of the Chiss Ascendancy, I welcome you all to this solemn and sorrowful occasion," the Aristocra began, his voice deep and resonant. "We stand today on the deck of an ancient vessel that lies here as a symbol of human courage and Chiss failing..."

  Luke let his eyes drift around the group as Formbi continued his speech. Off to the side, he noticed, Bearsh was murmuring into a bulky comlink in the melodic Geroon language. Probably giving Estosh a running commentary on the ceremony, he decided, and found himself wondering why the young Geroon had been left aboard the Chaf Envoy in the first place. Surely this short a trip wouldn't have strained his injuries that much. About the only thing he could come up with was the fact that the positioning of Estosh's injuries precluded his wearing one of the ceremonial wolvkils.

  Personally, Luke considered that a rather ridiculous reason to leave him behind. But he'd been with the New Republic long enough to know that not every aspect of an alien culture had to make sense to him. It was enough that such rules and customs were important to the people who lived under them, and that as such they were worthy of his respect if not necessarily his approval.

  And then, without warning, something touched Luke's mind. The last sensation he would ever have expected.

  He twisted his head to look at Mara. One glance at her widened eyes was all he needed to show she'd caught it, too. "Luke—?" she whispered tightly.

  "What is it?" Formbi demanded, cutting off his speech in midsentence. "What's happened?"

  Luke took a deep breath. "It's Outbound Flight," he said, stretching out harder to the Force. No mistake. They were there: minds—human minds, not Chiss—somewhere deep beneath them. A lot of them. "We're not alone, Aristocra Formbi. There are survivors aboard."

  CHAPTER 11

  Someone gasped, a sharp intake of air, just as quickly cut off. "What did you say?" Bearsh demanded, his comlink sagging forgotten in his grip. "You say... survivors?"

  "Unless the Chiss are running a vacation transport service," Mara said, stretching out harder to the Force as she tried to sort out the twisting tapestry of sensations. "There are humans down there, at least a hundred of them. Probably more."

  "But that's impossible," Jinzler said, his voice hoarse. "This ship died fifty years ago. It died."

  Mara frowned, drawing some of her concentration away from the distant minds to focus on Jinzler. His lined face was tight, his sense swirling like storm clouds in a crosswind, every mental barrier stripped away in a strange combination of hope and dread and guilt.

  And in that moment she knew that he hadn't been lying, at least not about his sister having been aboard.

  Or was she possibly still aboard? Was t
hat the thought that was sending this emotional groundquake through him? "Maybe the ship died, Ambassador," she told him. "But not everyone aboard died with it."

  "Well," Fel said, his voice studiously matter-of-fact. "This complicates things."

  "It does indeed," Formbi said, his glowing eyes narrowed in concentration. "It complicates things tremendously."

  Mara caught Luke's eye. "What do you think?" she asked. "Shall we leave them here to discuss the diplomatic ramifications while you and I just go find these people?"

  The gambit worked. "No," Formbi insisted, snapping out of whatever deep thoughts he'd been working on. "You cannot go alone."

  "Absolutely not," Drask agreed, gesturing to the standard-bearer. "You—return to the Chaf Envoy and instruct Captain Brast'alshi'barku to issue a drace-two alert. He is to prepare three squads—"

  "Wait a minute," Luke interrupted. "You can't bring a contingent of soldiers in here."

  "This vessel is still the property of the Chiss Ascendancy," Drask said, glaring warningly at him. "We will do whatever we please."

  "I'm not disputing that," Luke said. "I'm simply concerned about what the passengers may do if they see a group of armed Chiss coming down the corridors toward them."

  "He raises a fair point," Formbi said reluctantly. "They may remember that it was a picket unit of the Chiss Defense Fleet that destroyed their vessel."

  "And so they will be afraid until we can speak with them and assure them of our intentions," Drask said impatiently. "I do not think a few minutes of fear is too much to ask of them."

  "I wasn't worried about how they would feel," Luke said. "I was thinking about what they might do if they saw a corridor full of armed Chiss. Bearing in mind what happened the last time they saw a group like that."

  "Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo did not send warriors aboard," Drask said. "There is no record in any testimony of his doing so."

  "But they would have seen someone with blue skin and red eyes," Mara pointed out. "Either Thrawn himself or some other envoy. Unless you're suggesting he would have attacked without even offering them the chance to surrender?"

  Drask glared at her. "No," he growled. "Not even Mitth'raw'nuruodo would have done that."

  "Right," Mara said. "So they'll have known who the enemy was. And they've had fifty years to prepare for attack."

  "And as Commander Fel pointed out, Dreadnaughts were designed as warships," Luke added.

  There was a moment of silence from the others as the implications of that finally sank in. "What do you suggest?" Formbi asked.

  "What Mara just said," Luke told him. "She and I go find them. Alone."

  "No," Bearsh pleaded. "You must not leave us apart. We wished to pay tribute to the memories of these brave people. How much more should we not pay tribute to the people themselves?"

  "We can bring you down afterward," Mara told him. "Once we've explained the situation—"

  "No," Bearsh repeated, starting to become agitated. "You must not leave us apart."

  "Your plan is unacceptable to us, as well," Drask put in. "I accept your reasoning as to why we should not bring a full boarding party. But Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano and I must at least be present at your first contact with these survivors. And the Aristocra must have a guard."

  "He'll have the Five-Oh-First, General," Fel reminded him. "They can handle anything these people can throw at us."

  "Your assurances are welcome but insufficient," Drask said stiffly. "We will bring a half squad of three Chiss warriors. No fewer."

  He looked a challenge at Luke. "Do you argue that, Jedi?"

  "No," Luke said, giving up. "Three warriors should be all right. I take it you're coming, too, Ambassador?"

  "Absolutely," Jinzler said firmly. His tension had faded a bit into the background of his mind, but it was definitely still there. "My si—my superiors on Coruscant would insist on it."

  "Then it's unanimous," Fel commented. "Good. Now all we're doing is wasting time."

  "After fifty years, I do not think a few more minutes will make any difference," Drask said acidly. He turned back to the standard-bearer, who had stopped when the discussion began and was standing awaiting orders. "Return to the Chaf Envoy and signal drace-two alert," the general said. "Then order the Number Two Honor Squad to report to this chamber. They must be standing ready in the event we require immediate assistance." His blazing eyes dared anyone to argue with him.

  No one did. "Very well, then," Formbi said. "Let us all return to the Chaf Envoy and obtain such equipment as each person wishes to carry on this journey through the past." He glanced down at his elaborate robes. "And perhaps a change of clothing would be in order, as well," he added. "We will reassemble here in thirty standard minutes and begin our search."

  * * *

  The first stretch of the trip went smoothly enough. The place felt like an extended tomb, with the bare metal decks and bulkheads dully reflecting the dim glow of the permlight emergency panels set into the ceilings and the brighter light from the party's own glow rods. But at least the passageways were open and relatively uncluttered by debris. Various rooms opened off the main corridor, some of them large enough for the glow rod beams to fade into the darkness, and the distant walls and ceilings of those larger rooms echoed their footsteps eerily as they stepped briefly inside for a look. Most of the rooms were loaded with silent equipment or dusty storage boxes. Occasionally they came across a sleeping area with rows of empty bunks and personal items scattered on the deck around them.

  Mara walked up front with Luke, trying to read beyond the reach of her glow rod beam and wondering a little how this particular marching order had been set up. She and Luke were the most reasonable ones to take point, of course, and she had no particular problem with Formbi, Drask, and Jinzler following directly behind them.

  But then came Fel, Feesa, and one of the stormtroopers, with the Geroons behind them. At the very back, walking silently despite their armor, came the other three stormtroopers.

  The more she thought about it, the more the arrangement bothered her. Her own training would have put Fel and all four stormtroopers at the back, where they could act as a rear guard in case of trouble from that direction. If Fel still insisted on detaching one of his men, that spare stormtrooper ought to be closer to the front, probably directly behind her and Luke, where his firepower would be available without him having to worry about shooting around Jinzler and both of the senior Chiss.

  Twice in that first stretch she thought about halting the party and calling for a rearrangement. But both times something stopped her, and eventually she gave up on the idea. Fel's military training was certainly more recent than hers, and it was possible the Empire of the Hand's tacticians had come up with a more efficient military doctrine than she'd been taught.

  After the first fifty meters, travel abruptly became more difficult. Shattered slabs of insulation material, buckled bulkheads, and twisted support beams seemed to be everywhere, littering the corridors and sometimes blocking doorways and the smaller side corridors completely.

  "What happened here?" Feesa murmured as Luke carefully pushed aside a set of dangling power cables covered with splintered armor sheaths.

  "We've reached the part of the ship where the main turbolasers were located," Fel told her. "You remember Mara pointing out that the weapons blisters had been severely damaged? They would have been Thrawn's primary target."

  "He did a thorough job, too, I see," Formbi said. "Why haven't the maintenance machines fixed this?"

  "None of the droids they had aboard would have been big enough to handle damage this extensive," Fel said. "The survivors must have decided it wasn't worth the trouble to clear it away themselves."

  "Or were unable to work in safety," Drask added. "With so many stars in such close proximity to each other, the radiation levels are higher inside the Redoubt cluster than most humans are accustomed to."

  "Are we therefore in danger?" Bearsh asked nervously.

  "We
won't be here long enough for that," Luke assured him. "The outer hull is thick enough to stop most of the radiation. You'd have to live here months or years before you started having problems."

  "Which probably explains why they decided to live in one of the lower Dreadnaughts," Mara put in. "Whatever the hull doesn't block, all that rock out there should be able to handle."

  "Or else the other Dreadnaughts aren't damaged this badly," Fel said.

  Luke shrugged. "We'll find out."

  "Is that where we're going?" Jinzler asked. "To the lower ships?"

  "That seems to be where the survivors are," Luke said. "Before we try to find the way down, though, I'd like to see if we can work our way up a few levels to the command deck. If it's in decent shape, there may be records left that'll tell us exactly what happened."

  Bearsh made a subdued whistling sound in the back of his throats. "And what truly is the chance of that?" he asked darkly. "We see here how thoroughly this Thrawn was committed to its destruction."

  "Thrawn never destroyed more than was absolutely necessary," Fel said. "There would have been no reason to wreck the command deck if taking out the shield generators and turbolasers was all he needed."

  Jinzler turned his head. "What in the worlds are you talking about?" he demanded. "All he needed? What did he need to destroy Outbound Flight for in the first place?"

  "He had his reasons," Fel insisted.

  "He had reasons for killing civilians?" Jinzler shot back. "Men, women, and children who never did him any harm? What, he just needed some target practice that day and they conveniently happened along? And you." He turned his glare on Formbi and Drask. "You Chiss. What did you do to stop him?"

  "That's enough, Ambassador," Mara put in, flashing a warning at him with her eyes. Formbi had already said the Chiss were carrying their own load of guilt over this thing. There was no need to hammer it into the ground. "The past is over and done with."