by Timothy Zahn
“But why would he listen to a human he believes to be a spy?” Kav objected.
“He doesn’t,” Doriana said, smiling tightly. “If he did, he certainly wouldn’t have said so right in front of the man. I think he just wants us to believe that so that we won’t think he’ll listen to Car’das advice.”
Kav shook his head. “This is too complicated for me.”
“Yes, I know,” Doriana said. “That’s why you have to leave everything to me. Everything.”
Kav rumbled something under his breath. “Very well,” he growled. “For now. But I will be watching you.”
“You do that,” Doriana said. “Just keep in mind that your life is worth a lot more than your pride.”
“Perhaps,” Kav said. “But you say Mitthrawdo does not believe your warnings about the Jedi. How then will you convince him to destroy Outbound Flight?”
“I have more in my persuasive arsenal than just lies about the Jedi,” Doriana said. “Trust me.”
“Very well.” Kav inclined his head. “For now‘.”
Car’das had been sitting alone at the computer desk in his Springhawk quarters for three hours, struggling through pages and pages of technical Cheunh text and scans, when Thrawn finally arrived.
“My apologies for my long absence,” the commander said as the door slid shut behind him. “I trust you’ve kept yourself occupied?”
“I’ve been studying the tech teams’ reports as you requested,” Car’das said stiffly, turning back to the computer. It was rude, he knew, but he wasn’t in a very hospitable mood right now.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Your assessment of the Trade Federation’s capabilities?” Thrawn asked patiently.
Car’das sighed, feeling like a ship with a misfiring gyro. Right before the battle Thrawn had accused him of lying about widespread Republic slavery; and then, right after the battle, he’d accused him of being a spy for the Federation. Now he wanted a military assessment from him? “Those droid starfighters are top-line weapons,” he growled. “I read a report a few months ago speculating that the only reason they didn’t completely wipe out their attackers at Naboo was that having to control all those ground troops at the same time overloaded the computer systems and made the starfighter control more sluggish than it should have been. Here, they weren’t running any ground troops. In my humble civilian’s opinion, if you hadn’t knocked out their communications the way you did, they’d have cut us to ribbons.”
“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “Fortunately, Expansionary Fleet vessels are equipped with more powerful transmitters than those of the regular Defense Fleet forces, since we seldom have a normal colony system’s network of boosters and repeaters to draw on. What about Vicelord Kav and Commander Stratis personally?”
“Why are you even asking me this?” Car’das demanded, giving up and swiveling around to face him. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”
Thrawn shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “If you and your companions were spies, you’d have used your access to the base’s computer to study our technology and learn the locations of our worlds. Instead, you’ve merely worked on improving your language skills. May I sit down?”
“Yes, of course,” Car’das said, scrambling out of his chair and extending a hand. Preoccupied with his own uncertainty and bruised pride, he hadn’t even noticed the utter weariness in Thrawn’s face and posture. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Thrawn assured him, waving off the proffered hand as he stepped over to the bunk and sank down onto it. “It’s simply been a very long day.”
“You look more than just tired,” Car’das commented, peering at him closely. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing serious,” Thrawn said. “I just received word that Admiral Ar’alani is on her way back.”
Car’das frowned. It had been barely five weeks since Ar’alani had taken the captured freighter away with her. “They’re finished studying the Vagaari ship already?”
“I believe she’s cut short her role in the examination,” Thrawn said. “That was why I made a point of accusing you of espionage in front of my warriors. After today’s events she will undoubtedly be questioning them, and I wished to have a plausible reason on record as to why you and the others were still in Chiss space. My apologies for any distress that may have caused you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Car’das said, frowning. “You think Ar’alani’s suspicious of you?”
“I have no doubt,” Thrawn said. “Particularly given the reports she’s been receiving from Crustai.”
“But who at your base would have—” Car’das broke off as a horrible thought struck him. “Thrass? Your brother?”
“Who else would have felt it necessary to keep her informed?”
“Are you saying your own brother is trying to sink you?” Car’das demanded, still not believing it.
“My brother cares deeply about his blood family, including me,” Thrawn said, his voice tinged with sadness. “But he’s disturbed by what he sees as my self-destructive behavior… and as a syndic of the Eighth Ruling Family, his duty is to protect that family’s honor and position.”
“So he calls an admiral down on you?”
“If Admiral Ar’alani is here to reverse my orders, I’ll be unable to do anything that will lead to further trouble,” Thrawn pointed out. “Or so he reasons. With a single course of action he thus protects both me and the Eighth Family.”
Car’das thought about the Vagaari attack they’d witnessed, and the people pinned helplessly under fire in their hull bubbles. “And meanwhile, people like the Vagaari will be free to go their way.”
“Indeed.” Thrawn pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Still, until the admiral arrives, command remains mine. What’s your impression of Vicelord Kav and Commander Stratis?”
With an effort, Car’das dragged his mind away from the images of the Vagaari’s living shields. “For starters, I don’t think Stratis is really in command. I just can’t see the Neimoidians handing their own ships over to a human that way.”
“Unless the human is somehow higher in authority than they are,” Thrawn pointed out. “Or if the human is an agent for such a person. Stratis itself is of course an assumed name.”
“Could be,” Car’das agreed. “I do think that they’re telling the truth about not being an invasion force, though. Even if their storage rings are packed to the shock webbing with battle droids, they can’t possibly have enough for a planetary occupation.”
“Then you conclude their mission is indeed to ambush this Outbound Flight?”
“I might, if I knew what Outbound Flight was,” Car’das said. “But I’ve never heard of it, and I don’t necessarily trust Stratis’s opinions.”
Thrawn nodded. “Perhaps Qennto or Ferasi will have more information.”
“Maybe,” Car’das said. “We’re heading back to Crustai, then?”
“I need to be there to welcome Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn reminded him. “My people here can finish the examination without us.”
“What if Kav and Stratis decide to kill all of them and make a run for it?”
“They won’t,” Thrawn assured him. “First of all, they can’t simply jump to hyperspace, no matter how much the vicelord might like to. Not with the Whirlwind pinning them in place.”
“Ah-ha,” Car’das said, his face warming with embarrassment. With everything else that had happened, he’d completely forgotten the cruiser Thrawn had sent off to the side before the battle began. Apparently, the Chiss techs had figured out a way to tuck the Vagaari gray projector inside a ship’s hull.
“But even if they could escape, I don’t think they would,” Thrawn continued. “Stratis very much wants me to destroy Outbound Flight for him.”
Car’das felt his eyes widen. “Is that where this is going?”
“What did you think all that talk of weaponry and dangerous Jedi was all about?” Thra
wn countered.
“I just—I mean, I thought he was trying to get you to let them go,” Car’das said, stumbling over his own tongue. “You aren’t thinking—?”
“I will do whatever necessary to protect those who depend on me,” Thrawn said, his voice carefully precise. “No more. But no less.”
He stood up. “But that isn’t your concern,” he said. “Once again, I thank you for your assistance.”
“No problem,” Car’das said, standing up as well. Was it his imagination, or had the commander staggered slightly as he got back to his feet? “You’d better get some rest. It won’t be fun for anyone if you collapse from exhaustion before Ar’alani even has a chance to throw you in the brig.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Thrawn said drily. “I’ll try not to disappoint her.”
“One last question, if I may,” Car’das added as the commander stepped to the door. “How were you so sure that those droidekas wouldn’t gun us down?”
“Those—? Oh, the rolling droid fighters,” Thrawn said. “It wasn’t difficult. Everything about the bridge design spoke of a people who would never willingly put themselves at more risk than absolutely necessary.”
“That’s Neimoidians, all right,” Car’das agreed. “You could get that just from the bridge design?”
“Architecture is merely another form of art,” Thrawn reminded him. “But even without those indications, the triple blast doors we passed through would have told me these Neimoidians are not warriors.”
“Which is why they have battle droids to fight for them,” Car’das said. “But isn’t gunning us down exactly what cowards like that would do?”
Thrawn shook his head. “Vicelord Kav was too close to the line of fire. He would never have ordered the droidekas to attack.”
Car’das grimaced. “A bluff.”
“Or he was making a point,” Thrawn said. “These combat droids are a new concept to me, but one worth careful thought.” He grimaced. “I sincerely hope the Vagaari haven’t visited a world where they might have picked up such weapons.”
“Probably not,” Car’das said. “The Neimoidians keep them pretty close to home.”
“We shall see.” Thrawn touched the control, and the door slid open. “Sleep well, Car’das.”
For a few minutes Car’das gazed at the closed door. So Thrawn had now assured him that he didn’t really suspect him of spying. That was reassuring… except that he’d stated exactly the opposite in front of witnesses, and with exactly the same degree of apparent sincerity.
So what was the truth? Were he and Qennto and Marls just pawns in some sort of political game? And if so, what was the game?
Maris, Car’das knew, trusted Thrawn’s honor. Qennto just as strongly distrusted his alienness and the fact that he was a military officer. Car’das himself no longer knew what to think.
But one thing he knew. Things were heating up out here, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that the Bargain Hunter‘s crew had overstayed their welcome. Somehow they had to find a way out.
And they had to find it soon.
The first Uliar knew of the trouble was when he rounded the corner to find the other two members of his watch shift standing outside the monitor room door. “What’s going on?” he asked as he came up to them.
“Got a special tour going on,” Sivv, the senior officer, told him. “Ma’Ning and some sprouts.”
“Some what?”
“Some of his junior Jedi,” Algrann said scornfully. “They swept in ten minutes before Grassling’s shift ended and threw everyone out.”
“And we’re not allowed in?” Uliar asked, not believing it.
Sivv shrugged. “He told Grassling he’d let him know when they could come back in,” he said. “I haven’t actually asked myself.”
Uliar glowered at the door. Jedi. Again. “Mind if I try?”
Sivv waved a hand. “Help yourself.”
Stepping to the door, Uliar slapped the release. It slid open, and he stepped inside.
Jedi Master Ma’Ning was standing to the side of the main board, in the middle of a discussion about how the monitors and control systems worked. His eyes turned questioningly to Uliar as he came in, but he didn’t miss a beat of his lecture. Seated at the board itself were four children, the two shortest having to kneel on the seats in order to see.
It was like a scene out of a second-tier classroom, except that this wasn’t a scribble board or even a training mock-up. This was the real, actual control system for one of the reactors that kept power flowing to Dreadnaught-4.
Ma’Ning finished the sentence he’d been on and lifted his eyebrows toward Uliar. “Yes, Uliar?” he asked.
“No offense, Master Ma’Ning,” Uliar said, coming closer to the others, “but what in blazes are you doing?”
The lines around Ma’Ning’s eyes might have tightened a little. “I’m instructing the young Padawans in the basics of reactor operation.”
Uliar took another look at the children. Ages five to eight, he guessed, all of them with the bright eyes and bouncy curiosity of children everywhere.
But there was something more there, he saw now. An underlying layer of seriousness that was definitely not characteristic of children that age. Some Jedi thing? “Much as I appreciate their desire to learn, this is no place for children,” he said. “And if I may say so, you’re hardly the one to be instructing anyone in the subtleties of reactor operation.”
“I’m simply giving them an overview,” Ma’Ning assured him.
“You shouldn’t be giving them anything,” Uliar countered. “Where high-energy equipment is concerned, a little knowledge is worse than useless, and dangerous on top of it. Whose stupid idea was this, anyway?”
Ma’Ning’s lips tightened slightly. “Master C’baoth has decided all Jedi and Padawans need to learn how to control Outbound Flight’s critical systems.”
Uliar stared at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all,” Ma’Ning assured him. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of your way in another half hour.”
“You’ll be out of our way a lot sooner than that,” Uliar growled, reaching between two of the children to the comm control. “Bridge; Reactor Control Three. Commander Omano, please.”
“One moment.”
Uliar looked over at Ma’Ning, wondering if the other would try to stop this. But the Jedi was just standing there, his eyes lowered in a sort of half-meditation look.
“Commander Omano.”
“Reactor Tech Four Uliar, Commander,” Uliar identified himself “There are unauthorized personnel in our control room who refuse to leave.”
Omano’s sigh was a taint hiss in the comm speaker. “Jedi?”
Uliar had the sudden sense of the floor preparing to drop out from beneath him. “One of them is a Jedi, yes,” he said carefully. “They’re still not authorized to—”
“Unfortunately, they are,” Omano cut him off “Master C’baoth has requested that his people be given full access to all areas and systems aboard Outbound Flight.”
Even though he’d suspected what was coming, the words were still like a cold-water slap across the face. “With all due respect, Commander, that’s both absurd and dangerous,” Uliar said. “Having children in the—”
“You have your orders, Tech Uliar,” Omano again cut him off. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to take it up with Master C’baoth. Omano out.” There was a click, and the comm went dead.
Uliar looked up to find Ma’Ning’s eyes on him. “Fine,” he said, meeting the Jedi’s gaze head-on. If they thought he was going to bow and scrape just because they wore those affected peasant robes and carried lightsabers, they had an extra bonus think coming. “Where do I find Master C’baoth?”
“He’s down in the Jedi training center,” Ma’Ning said. “Storage core, section one twenty-four.”
Uliar stared at him. “Your school’s in the storage core? What’s wrong with the Dreadnaughts?”
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sp; Ma’Ning’s lip twitched. “Master C’baoth thought it would be best if we were as far away from distractions as possible.”
Distractions like parents and family and normal people? Probably. Deep inside him, Uliar’s annoyance was starting to turn into a genuine simmering anger. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
“Well?” Algrann asked when he emerged into the corridor.
“Omano’s knuckled under,” Uliar told him tartly. “I’m going to go talk to the Big Clouf himself and see if I can talk some sense into him.”
“Captain Pakmillu?”
“Pakmillu doesn’t seem to be running the show anymore,” Uliar growled. “I’m going to see C’baoth. Either of you want to come along?”
They exchanged glances, and Uliar could almost see them shrinking back behind their faces. “We’d better stay here,” Sivv answered. “Whenever Ma’Ning finishes, we are supposed to be on duty.”
“Sure,” Uliar said, feeling his lip twist with contempt. Why did everyone go instantly spineless whenever jedi were involved? “See you later.”
He took a turbolift down to Dreadnaught-4’s lowest level, then made his way forward until he reached one of the massive pylons that attached the Dreadnaughts to the storage core beneath them. Four of the six turbolift cars that ran through the pylon were off somewhere else, but the other two were waiting, and a few minutes later he arrived in the storage core.
The core was arranged in a series of large rooms, each nearly filled with stacks of crates held in place by multiple wrappings of crash webbing. A relatively narrow section at the front of each room was empty, providing a walkway and work area for sorting the crates. At each end of the walkway were a pair of doors leading into the rooms forward and aft of it: one of the doors person-sized, the other the much larger access panel required for transfer carts.
The turbolift let him out in section 120, Uliar saw from the small plaque attached to the crash webbing. Ma’Ning had said the Jedi school was in 124, and he headed aft.
Neither of the doors into 124 was marked with any special notice of its new classroom status. Steeling himself, trying not to think about all the legends about Jedi power, he walked up to the smaller door and touched the control.