by Timothy Zahn
And Luke found the two of them abruptly floating in midair as the floor dropped out from under them. The car hit the main gravity eddy and began its turn, blocking his view of the explosives and the fiery blue-green glow.
An instant later, the pylon blew up.
The car floor seemed to leap up at him, slamming hard into his face and body, the impact knocking most of the air out of his lungs. He was still holding Evlyn's arm; reflexively, he pulled her close beside him as the shock wave from the explosion washed over them.
He was still holding her that way, ears ringing from the shock wave, when the car's side wall disintegrated.
He gasped as the pieces slammed into him, some of them hitting like clubs, others digging into his back and arms and legs like knife blades. Beside him he heard Evlyn cry out and let the Force flow into her, trying to suppress some of her pain. The rain of shrapnel stopped, the buffeting faded away, and Luke risked a look upward through what was left of the ceiling. The lower curve in the pylon was visible above them, with the safety of D-5's turbolift lobby just beyond it. Shakily but steadily, the car continued upward.
It was then he suddenly noticed that he couldn't breathe.
He expanded his chest, trying to fill his lungs. But there was nothing there. With the car shredded and the far end of the tube blown open, he and Evlyn had only the planetoid's thin atmosphere available to them.
Steady, Luke told himself sternly, forcing himself to relax. His body's cells contained enough oxygen for at least another half minute, he knew, and Jedi techniques could stretch it to triple that time. He shifted his hand to the back of Evlyn's neck, trying to let his own trust in the Force ease into her and slow her breathing. A few seconds later, the car settled into its place in the turbolift lobby.
The door remained closed.
Luke set his teeth, glaring up at it. But of course it wouldn't open on its own, not with a near vacuum on one side. It would have to be pried past its safety interlocks. Stretching out to the Force, he got a grip on the panel and pulled.
The door quivered once, but remained closed.
Luke tried again, trying to gather more strength. But between the effects of the concussive blast, the pain from the shrapnel still throbbing through his body, and the oxygen deprivation, he couldn't focus the necessary power.
His vision was starting to go hazy. Another few seconds and he would sink into unconsciousness. He stretched out one final time—
And with a thud that shook the whole car, the door slammed open. Luke opened his eyes, squinting through the rush of air blowing suddenly in his face.
Mara, her eyes blazing with fear, concern, and, yes, anger at him, grabbed his arms and pulled him through the door. Pressor was right beside her, lifting his niece through to safety.
The door slammed shut as Mara released her grip on it. "Hi, sweetheart," Luke said, managing a smile. "I'm home."
She shook her head. "Skywalker—"
"I know," Luke said. Still smiling, he let the darkness take him.
* * *
The medical bay recovery room door slid open, and Mara stepped inside. "How are they?" Jinzler asked, looking up from his chair by the side wall. "I heard one of the medics say they were in pretty bad shape."
"It looked worse than it really was," Mara assured him. Jinzler's face looked calm enough, she noted, but his hands in his lap were opening and closing restlessly. "Most of Evlyn's injuries were superficial and should heal pretty quickly," she went on. "Luke had some deeper cuts, but they caught it all before he lost too much blood. He's gone into a Jedi healing trance while they finish patching him up."
Fel grunted. "Must be a nice thing to be able to do."
"It can be handy," Mara agreed, looking around the room. They were, she decided, about as sorry a lot as she'd seen in a long time. Formbi was lying on one of the recovery tables, his eyes only occasionally fluttering open, his breathing deep and slow. Beside him on opposite sides of the table sat Drask and Feesa, the former looking drained above his own collection of bandages, the latter merely looking exhausted and apprehensive. Fel and the stormtroopers had gathered together in a back corner beside stacks of their mangled armor and were working their way through their own list of injuries. The alien stormtrooper, Su-mil, she noted with interest, had pale orange blood.
"So," Mara went on, raising her voice a little. "As long as we seem to have some time on our hands, why don't we all have a nice long talk together?" She looked at Fel. "You can start, Commander. Did I hear you say earlier that you caught the Vagaari wiring a recorder into the Chaf Envoy's navigational lines?"
"We didn't actually catch them in the act," Fel said. "Su-mil found the recorder after it had already been planted."
"I stand corrected," Mara said. "So why didn't you say anything to anyone?"
"To be perfectly honest, because we didn't know whom it was safe to tell," Fel said evenly. "We didn't know whether Bearsh had put it there, or General Drask, or Aristocra Formbi, Ambassador Jinzler—" He looked Mara straight in the eye. "—or you."
"I see," Mara said, accepting his gaze and sending it straight back at him. "All right, then, let's try this one. You told us once that you didn't know why Parck had sent you on this mission. You lied. Then you changed your story and said you'd been sent to protect us. I think you lied that time, too. You want to take one more stab at it?"
Fel's lip twitched. "Admiral Parck told us the mission would be going into great danger. We were sent to give added protection to Aristocra Formbi. And that was all we were told," he added firmly. "We didn't even know what direction the danger was going to be coming from." He grimaced. "If we had, I guarantee Bearsh and his friends would be locked up in binders right now."
"Yes," Mara murmured, stretching out with the Force. It did indeed seem to be the truth this time. Or at least, the truth as Fel knew it, which might not be the same thing. "I suppose this clears up the mystery of your missing operational manual, too."
Fel nodded. "Apparently the Vagaari wanted to know everything they could about Outbound Flight before we arrived."
"Right," Mara agreed. "All of which brings up an even more interesting point."
She turned to face the three Chiss. "As I think about it, Aristocra Formbi, you asked for an amazing amount of muscle to accompany you on this trip. First you called Parck and asked for Luke and me, only the message got waylaid. Then, when it looked like we weren't going to show, you called him back and got him to send a unit of the best stormtroopers he had available."
"And it was indeed fortunate all of you were here," Drask said, nodding his head gravely. "We owe you our lives."
"Yes, you do," Mara agreed. "But here's the question. How exactly did you know you were going to need all this help?"
"I do not understand what you are asking," Drask said evenly. But there was a new tightness at the corners of his eyes. "You were invited to take possession of Outbound Flight. That is all."
Mara shook her head. "Sorry, General, but that won't fly. After that incident with the line creepers, the Aristocra gave us specific orders not to use our lightsabers aboard the ship. Even when we couldn't get into the Dreadnaught's docking bay, neither of you asked us to just cut it open, which we could have done in a fraction of the time it took the techs with their torches."
"Yes," Jinzler put in, sounding suddenly thoughtful. "I remember thinking about that myself at the time, wondering if it was some form of stiff-necked Chiss pride."
"That was what I thought, too," Mara said, smiling tightly. "In fact, I thought it right up to the minute Bearsh told me to die and casually sent his wolvkils charging at me... and I cut them in half."
Jinzler inhaled sharply. "Your lightsaber," he said in sudden understanding. "He'd never seen a lightsaber."
"That's right, he hadn't," Mara agreed. "Because Formbi made very sure they never saw us in action. That, plus our Jedi abilities in general—which they also never really saw—gave us an edge they were completely unprepared for."<
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She looked back at the three Chiss. "So again: how did you know we'd need that edge?"
"I do not appreciate the tone of your words," Drask said stiffly. "You may not make such unsupported accusations against a senior member of the Fifth Ruling Family."
"Feesa," Jinzler murmured suddenly.
Mara looked at him. "What?"
"Feesa," Jinzler repeated, nodding as if an odd puzzle piece had suddenly fallen into place. "In the turbolift, right after Pressor sprang his trap, she was frightened far more than seemed reasonable. It was because we were all alone in there with Bearsh and another Vagaari, wasn't it?"
Feesa didn't answer. "I see," Mara said, eyeing Formbi closely. "So I was wrong. It wasn't the Aristocra running this scam at all. It was Feesa."
The Aristocra's closed eyelids twitched. "And since she's obviously too young to be a senior member of a Ruling Family or anything else," Mara went on, "I guess it's perfectly all right for me to make such accusations against—"
"Enough," Formbi said quietly.
"Please, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano," Feesa said, an edge of urgency in her voice. "It's all right. I'm not afraid to admit my part in this."
"Your loyalty honors me, second niece," Formbi said, reaching over to touch her hand. "But it was my plan, and my decision. I cannot and will not allow others to take the responsibility for my actions."
He turned his head slightly. "Jedi Skywalker: approach where I may see you, and ask what you will."
Mara stepped up beside Feesa. "You knew they were Vagaari, didn't you?" she said, determined not to let his drawn face or the oozing blood on his arm influence her. "You knew it right from the start."
Formbi nodded. "Yes."
"But you told me you'd never seen one before," Jinzler objected.
"That was true," Formbi acknowledged. "But I had received a detailed description from one who had seen them." He smiled at Jinzler. "You, of all of us, should understand."
Mara stared at Formbi as it suddenly hit her. "You mean... Car'das?"
Again, the Aristocra nodded. "He and I spoke briefly when he brought the ambassador to the Chaf Envoy" he said. "When the Vagaari then appeared, I knew it was indeed them."
"Car'das gets around more than I'd realized," Mara commented. "Is he also the one who clued the Vagaari in on this in the first place?"
"No," Formbi said. "When I sent the message to Admiral Parck requesting Master Skywalker's presence, I made sure the transmission had enough edge leakage to be intercepted in the regions where we suspected the Vagaari were gathering their strength."
"And even knowing who they were, you let them aboard your ship?" Jinzler demanded, sounding more surprised than angry.
Formbi closed his eyes again. "The Vagaari are a violent people, Ambassador," he said wearily. "They have killed many, enslaved many others, and driven all who know them to terror and despair. Worse, they may already have made alliances with powers even more dangerous than they are. If Bearsh succeeds in escaping with even a partial route into the Redoubt, I have no doubt that knowledge will be used against us to terrible advantage."
"So the Vagaari need to be slapped down hard," Mara said, frowning. "So what's the problem?"
Formbi smiled wanly. "The problem is Chiss military doctrine, Jedi Skywalker," he said. "Specifically, the decree that no potential adversaries may be attacked until and unless they first act against Chiss interests within Chiss space."
Mara stared at him. "You wanted them to make a move against you," she said, not quite sure she believed it. "You invited them aboard one of your ships and into your most critical military base, hoping they'd pull this exact stunt."
Drask snorted. "This exact stunt? That had better not be the case."
"Of course I didn't expect what actually occurred," Formbi assured him. "My expectation was that the five Vagaari we permitted aboard would attempt to take control of the Chaf Envoy at some point after we reached Outbound Flight. That would have been sufficient provocation for us to act."
"Especially when you add in the slaughter of a few unarmed crewers?" Fel put in.
"Loss of life was neither necessary nor expected," Formbi insisted, some heat seeping through the fatigue into his voice. "My ship had been specially prepared for this mission. All crewers had been provided with hidden areas near their duty stations where they could protect themselves from attack as they watched for the Vagaari to betray themselves. With a squad of warriors in the Dreadnaught docking bay, I also expected there to be ample warning if Bearsh and the others attempted to return to the vessel. We expected to merely catch them in the act of attempted theft or sabotage, which would have satisfied the rules of engagement."
He closed his eyes. "I did not expect such a massive attack to come from the other direction," he said, the heat fading away. "The warriors whom I stationed in the Dreadnaught are certainly dead. So perhaps are all who we left aboard. Their blood now lies on my hands."
"It's hardly your fault that you didn't know about the Vagaari suspended animation trick," Jinzler pointed out. "Car'das must have missed that one."
"He merely met them," Formbi said. "He wasn't given a tour of their technical facilities."
"He'll have to do better next time," Mara said. "What about the others? Feesa and General Drask and your other aides?"
"Feesa knew the entire plan," Formbi said. "That was why I insisted she come along, so that if anything happened to me she could direct the operation. No one else knew more than you yourself were told."
He smiled slightly. "Though I believe General Drask was able to deduce much of the truth."
"Much, but not all," Drask rumbled. "It would have been better if you had taken me into your full confidence."
"If I had, you would have been as guilty as I of manipulating events to bring about this end." Formbi shook his head. "No. On my hands, and mine alone, must this rest."
"You can sort all that out when you get home," Mara said. "Can we assume the rules of engagement have been satisfied?"
"They have been more than satisfied, Jedi Skywalker," Drask said darkly. "We have been attacked without justification or mercy. A state of war now exists between the Chiss Ascendancy and the Vagaari."
"Good," Mara said. "I'd hate to have to go through this again just because we'd missed something in the fine print. In that case, there's just one little loose end left. That falling cable that nearly knocked Luke across the room when we first came aboard the Chaf Envoy. I trust you're not going to try to blame that one on the Vagaari?"
Drask cleared his throat self-consciously. "I am afraid I am to blame for that incident, Jedi Skywalker," he confessed. "When Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano asked Admiral Parck who of the New Republic would be the best warriors to have at hand against possible trouble, he recommended you and Master Skywalker."
"He seemed to have firsthand knowledge of your fighting skill," Formbi murmured.
"Yes," Drask said. "However, I did not entirely trust his tales of Jedi abilities."
"So you arranged a demonstration," Mara said. "Did we meet with your approval?"
"Let us simply say that you did not disappoint." Drask smiled slightly. "The demonstration arranged today by the Vagaari gave you a far better opportunity to prove yourselves."
"Yes," Mara murmured. "I should hope so."
Behind her, the door slid open and Evlyn and Rosemari stepped in, Pressor close behind them. "There you are," Mara said. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm all right," the girl said, looking around at the others as the door slid shut again. Possibly comparing bandage counts, Mara thought with a brief flicker of amusement. "Is Luke all right?" she asked. "I mean, Master Skywalker? He saved my life, pulling me down and protecting me when the pylon exploded."
"He's fine," Mara assured her as her mother steered her to one of the other recovery tables. "And as far as saving lives goes, I think the two of you come out pretty even on that scoring."
"What do you mean?" Rosemari asked, an odd edge
to her voice. "Evlyn didn't do anything."
"She most certainly did," Mara insisted. "Evlyn reactivated that turbolift trap at exactly the right moment to shoot the car down the tube and into the eddy rotation just before the explosives detonated. If she hadn't done that, it would have been the fractured ceiling that took the brunt of the explosion instead of the wall, and a lot more high-speed debris would have gotten through. That kind of prescient timing can only come from the Force."
"But you won't tell them, will you?" Rosemari pleaded. "Please?"
"They don't like Jedi here, Mara," Fel said quietly. "I don't know exactly why, but they don't."
"We don't just not like them, Commander," Pressor said grimly. "If the council sticks the Jedi label on someone, they get immediately sent over to Three."
"You mean D-Three?" Jinzler asked. "The Number Three Dreadnaught?"
"That's the one," Pressor said. "The pylons between it and the rest of Outbound Flight were destroyed or collapsed during the attack and crash, leaving it isolated from everything else. So Uliar and the other Survivors set it up as a place where anyone with Jedi traits could be safely banished."
"I thought that was what the Quarantine on D-Six was for," Fel said.
Pressor shook his head. "Quarantine is for people they suspect of using the Force," he said. "Three is where they get sent once they're pretty sure."
"Pretty sure, you say?" Su-mil asked softly, his alien expression very still. In some ways, Mara reflected, he looked even more dangerous without his armor. "And how certain exactly is that?"
Pressor looked away from him. "They're completely sure," he said. "The Managing Council is. I can't speak for the rest of us."
He looked at Mara. "And it's not a death sentence, really," he added with an odd combination of earnestness and embarrassment. "The place has been set up with plenty of food and power. A person could live there for a lifetime in reasonable comfort."
"But in complete isolation," Su-mil said darkly. "You sentence these people to a life of loneliness."