Star Wars - Outbound Flight

by Timothy Zahn

  Nothing happened. He tried again; still nothing. He moved to the larger cargo door, only to find that it, too, was sealed. Stepping back to the smaller door, he curled his right hand into a fist and pounded gently on the metal.

  There was no answer. He knocked again, gradually increasing the volume level. Were they all out making nuisances of themselves?

  “What do you want?”

  He jumped, turning to a comm display that had been set up to his left just inside the cargo netting. C’baoth’s face was framed there, glowering at him. “I need to talk to you about your students and their teachers,” Uliar said, feeling his resolve starting to erode beneath that intimidating gaze. “They’re in a reactor control and monitor room where they have no business—”

  “Thank you for your interest,” C’baoth interrupted. “But there’s no need for concern.”

  “Excuse me, Master C’baoth, but there’s every need for concern,” Uliar insisted. “Some of those systems are very delicate. It took me four years to learn how to handle them properly.”

  “Your ways are not the Jedi ways,” C’baoth pointed out.

  “That’s a nice slogan,” Uliar growled. His anger, which had faded somewhat during the trip down here, was starting to bubble again. “But devotion to platitudes is no substitute for tech school.”

  C’baoth’s dark look went a little darker. “Your lack of faith is both thoughtless and insulting,” he said. “You will go now, and you will not return.”

  “Not until those children are out of my reactor room,” Uliar said doggedly.

  “I said go,” C’baoth repeated.

  And suddenly an invisible hand was pressing against Uliar’s chest, pushing him inexorably away from the locked door and back toward the other end of the section. “Wait!” Uliar protested, batting uselessly at the pressure against his chest. He’d never realized Jedi could do this through a comm display, without actually being there in person. “What about the children?”

  C’baoth didn’t answer, his image following Uliar with his eves until he was nearly to the far door. Then, simultaneously, the display image and the pressure on Uliar’s chest vanished.

  For a long minute Uliar stood where he was, his heart pounding with tension and dissipating adrenaline, trying to decide whether he should go back across the room and try again. But there was obviously no point in doing so. Taking a deep breath, he turned and made his way back up to Dreadnaught-4 and the reactor room.

  Ma’Ning and the children were gone when he arrived, and Sivv and Algrann were at their stations. “Well?” Sivv asked as Uliar silently took his scat.

  “He told me to go away and mind my own business,” Uliar told him.

  “This is our business.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Uliar said tartly. “Go tell him.”

  “Maybe we should talk to Pakmillu,” Algrann suggested hesitantly.

  “What for?” Uliar growled. “Looks to me like the Jedi are the ones running the show now.”

  Algrann cursed under his breath. “Terrific. We leave a tyranny run by bureaucrats and corrupt politicians, only to end up in one run by Jedi.”

  “It’s not a tyranny,” Sivv disagreed.

  “No,” Algrann said tightly. “Not yet.”

  18

  Outbound Flight,“ Qennto repeated, frowning off into space as he slowly shook his head. ”Nope. Never heard of it.“

  “Me, neither,” Maris seconded. “And you say this Kav and Stratis want to destroy it?”

  “Kav and whoever,” Car’das said. “Thrawn thinks Stratis is an alias.”

  “Fine; Kav and Master No One,” Qennto said impatiently. “So why do they want to destroy it?”

  Car’das shrugged. “Stratis spun a big loop pastry about how dangerous the Jedi are and how they want to take over and make everyone to do things their way. But that has to be a lie.”

  “Not necessarily,” Qennto said. “A lot of people out there are starting to wonder about the Jedi.”

  “They’re certainly helping to prop up the Coruscant bureaucracy,” Maris pointed out. “Anyone who wants genuine government reform will have to persuade the Jedi to change sides.”

  “Or else kill them,” Qennto said.

  Maris shivered. “I can’t believe it would ever come to that.”

  “Well, Stratis sure wasn’t talking about persuasion,” Car’das said. “What about these Dreadnaughts? You ever hear of them?”

  “Yeah, they’re Rendili StarDrive’s latest gift to the militarily obsessed,” Qennto said. “Six hundred meters long, with heavy shields and a whole bunch of upgraded turbolaser cannons, most of them clustered in four midline bubbles where they can deliver a terrific broadside volley. Normal crew runs around sixteen thousand, with room for another two or three thousand troops. I hear the Corporate Sector’s been buying them up like Transland Day souvenirs, and some of the bigger Core Worlds aren’t far behind.”

  “Has Coruscant been doing any of the buying?” Maris asked.

  Qennto shrugged. “There’s been talk lately about the Republic finally getting its own army and a genuine battle fleet. But they’ve been talking that way for years, and nothing’s ever come of it.”

  “So with six Dreadnaughts, we’re talking up to a hundred thousand people aboard Outbound Flight?” Car’das asked.

  “Probably no more than half that,” Qennto said. “A lot of the standard jobs would be duplicated among the ships. Besides that, you want to build in extra elbow room on a long-term colony ship.”

  “That’s still a lot of people to kill if all they want is to get at a few Jedi,” Maris pointed out.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure your noble-minded Commander Thrawn won’t fall for it,” Qennto said sourly.

  “But even if Thrawn doesn’t cooperate, Stratis still has an intact Trade Federation battleship on hand,” Car’das reminded them. “That’s a lot of firepower, and they might have more of them on the way.”

  “So what do we do?” Maris asked.

  “We do nothing,” Qennto said firmly. “It’s not our job to look out for this Outbound Flight.”

  “But we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Maris protested. “No, we can run like scalded hawk-bats,” Qennto retorted.

  “And I’m thinking this would be a real good time to do just that.”

  “But—”

  “Maris,” Qennto said, cutting her off with an uplifted hand. “It’s not our problem. You hear me? It’s not our problem. If the Jedi are going to go flying off into the Unknown Regions, it’s up to them to figure out how to protect themselves. It’s up to us to figure out how to get ourselves out of here. That is, if you think you can drag yourself away from all this nobility and culture.”

  “That’s not fair,” Maris protested, her eyes hard even as a touch of pink colored her cheeks.

  “Whatever.” Qennto turned back to Car’das. “You’re his confidant these days, kid. You think you can sweet-talk him into letting us have that Vagaari loot his brother locked away?” He jerked a thumb at Maris. “Or should I ask Maris to do it?”

  “Rak—” Maris began.

  “I don’t think sweet talk is going to be the issue,” Car’das said hastily. The tension between Qennto and Maris was starting to drift into the red zone again. “He can’t give it to us unless his brother and Admiral Ar’alani both let him.”

  “So how do we get Ar’alani back here?” Maris asked.

  “We don’t have to,” Car’das said grimly, glancing at his chrono. “As a matter of fact, Thrawn’s probably welcoming her onto the base right now.”

  “Great,” Qennto said, brightening. “Let’s get our hearing, get our loot, and get out of here.”

  “I don’t think so,” Car’das said. “She’s here to see whether or not Thrawn should be relieved of command.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. “That’s insane,” Mavis said at last. “He’s a good commander. He’s a good man.”

  “And when did either
of those ever matter?” Qennto muttered. “Oh, boy. And she was already dead set against giving us the Vagaari stuff. This is not good.”

  “Can’t you for one minute forget about your loot?” Maris asked crossly. “This is Thrawn’s career and life we’re talking about.”

  “No, I can’t forget about the loot,” Qennto countered. “In case you’ve forgotten, sweetheart, we’re already two and a half months late getting Drixo her furs and firegems. The only thing that’s going to keep us alive when we finally show up is if we have something extra to calm her down with.”

  Maris grimaced. “I know,” she murmured.

  “So what do we do?” Car’das asked.

  “What you’re going to do is convince them to hand it over,” Qennto said. “And don’t ask how,” he added as Car’das opened his mouth. “Beg, cajole, bribe—whatever it takes.”

  “You’re the only one who can do it,” Maris agreed soberly. “Anytime Rak or I even step outside our quarters, we have an escort following us around.”

  Car’das sighed. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “And don’t forget this is a limited-time window,” Qennto warned. “Right now, we have at least half an ally in Thrawn. If he gets the boot, we won’t have even that much.”

  Briefly, Car’das wondered what they would say if he told them Thrawn had publicly accused all three of them of espionage. But there was no point in worrying them any more than they were already. “I’ll do what I can,” he said again, getting to his feet. “See you later.”

  He left their quarters and started down the corridor. Ar’alani’s welcoming ceremony was probably over, but she and Thrawn were most likely still together. Probably talking about Thrass’s accusations; Ar’alani hadn’t struck him as the sort who would waste any more time with ceremonial niceties than necessary. Maybe he could leave word with one of Thrawn’s officers that he wanted to see the commander at his earliest convenience.

  “So you do have free run of the base.”

  Car’das turned. Thrass was coming up behind him, his expression giving no hint as to what was going on behind those glowing eyes. “Syndic Mittlfras’safis,” Car’das greeted him, fighting to get his brain online again. “Forgive my surprise; I assumed you’d be with your brother and the admiral.”

  Thrass inclined his head. “Come with me, please.” He turned and strode off down the corridor. With his pulse pounding uncomfortably in his throat, Car’das followed.

  Thrass led the way to the upper level of the base, where Thrawn and the senior officers had their quarters. They passed a few warriors along the way, none of whom gave either the syndic or the human so much as a curious glance, and finally arrived at a door marked with Cheunh symbols that Car’das couldn’t quite decipher. “In here,” Thrass said, opening the door and gesturing inside. Bracing himself, Car’das stepped past him into the room.

  He found himself in a small conference room with half a dozen computer-equipped chairs arranged in a circle around a central hologrammic display. Seated on the far side of the circle, resplendent in her white uniform, was Admiral Ar’alani. “Be seated, Car’das,” she said in Cheunh as Thrass stepped into the room behind him.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Car’das said in the same language as he took the seat directly across from her. “Welcome back.” She nodded acknowledgment, studying him thoughtfully as Thrass sat down in the chair to her right. “Your proficiency in Cheunh has improved,” she commented. “My compliments.”

  “Thank you,” Car’das said again. “It’s a beautiful language to listen to. I only regret that I’ll never speak it as well as a Chiss.”

  “No, you won’t,” Ar’alani agreed. “I understand you were with Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo on this latest military venture. Tell us what happened.”

  Car’das glanced at Thrass, back at Ar’alani. “Forgive my impertinence, but shouldn’t you ask Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo about this instead of me?”

  “We will,” Ar’alani assured him darkly “Right now, we’re asking you. Tell us about this latest act of aggression.”

  Car’das took a deep breath. “First of all, it wasn’t really an act of aggression,” he said, picking his words carefully “It was an expedition to investigate unknown warships that had been reported in the area.”

  “Vessels that wouldn’t have been reported at all if Mitth’raw’nuruodo wasn’t already inclined to premature military action,” Ar’alani pointed out.

  Beside her, Thrass stirred in his seat. “The Expansionary Fleet’s charter does require observation and exploration in the regions around the Chiss Ascendancy,” he said.

  “Observation and exploration,” Ar’alani countered. “Not unprovoked military action.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Or do you deny military action was taken and Chiss casualties sustained?”

  Car’das frowned. Thrawn hadn’t mentioned anything about casualties. “I was unaware that any Chiss warriors had been lost.”

  “The Whirlwind did not return from the battle,” Ar’alani said.

  “Oh,” Car’das said, breathing a little easier. Of course; the missing cruiser was still at the battle scene, keeping the Darkvenge pinned down with the Vagaari gray projector. But he obviously couldn’t tell Ar’alani that. “I still maintain that Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo fought only in self-defense.”

  “Did the unknown enemy fire first?”

  “The firing of weapons isn’t always the first act of aggression,” Car’das hedged, once again feeling as if he were walking a narrow board over a pit of gundarks. “The Trade Federation battleships launched a massive force of droid starfighters. I’ve read reports of battles in which these weapons were used, and if Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo hadn’t acted to neutralize them, his force would quickly have been overwhelmed.”

  “Perhaps,” Ar’alani said. “We’ll know better once you’ve shown us around the battle zone.”

  Car’das felt his mouth go suddenly dry “Around the… ?”

  “You object?” Ar’alani demanded.

  “Well, for starters, I don’t even know where it is,” Car’das said, stalling for time as he thought furiously. If Ar’alani found the Darkvenge sitting out there.

  “The location isn’t a problem,” Ar’alani assured him, holding up a slender cylinder tapered at both ends. “I have the last two months’ worth of the Springhawk‘s navigational data.”

  Car’das fought back a grimace. Terrific. “All right,” he said. “But shouldn’t we check first with Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo?”

  “We’re going now precisely because I don’t want Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo to know about it,” Ar’alani said. “I’ve sent him on a security sweep of the nearby systems, which should give us time to examine the battle zone and return.” Her eyes glittered. “And only then will we ask for his version of the battle.”

  “Preparing for first target,” C’baoth said, his deep voice sounding strained as it resonated from the low ceiling of the weapons blister. “Firing now” His hands moved in an almost dream-like way over the controls, and there was a flicker of indicator lights as one of Dreadnaught-1’s sets of turbolasers delivered a massive broadside blast.

  Standing near the blister’s doorway, Obi-Wan stretched out to the Force. On the other side of the Dreadnaught, he could sense Lorana Jinzler also firing her turbolasers, while all the way on the far side of Outbound Flight on Dreadnaught-4 Ma’Ning and the two Duros Jedi did the same.

  “Whoa,” Anakin muttered at his side. “That’s… intense.”

  “Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, eyeing C’baoth closely. This was the Jedi Master’s third meld today, and the strain of the procedure had to be getting to him. But if it was, Obi-Wan couldn’t detect it in the other’s face or sense.

  He’d always assumed that at least part of C’baoth’s unshakable confidence in himself was either an act or else a vast overestimation of his actual abilities. Now, for the first time, he began to wonder if the man might actually be as strong in the
Force as he claimed.

  “Spotter control: all test-one volleys on target,” a voice reported from the comm panel.

  “Pretty good,” Anakin muttered.

  “Very good, you mean,” Obi-Wan said. “Can you sense any of Master C’baoth’s commands, or just the presence of the meld itself?”

  “I don’t know,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could sense the boy tightening his concentration.

  “Preparing for second target,” C’baoth announced. “Spotter control ready.”

  “Firing now,” C’baoth said.

  Again, the indicators flickered. “Target two hit,” the spotter reported. “One flier.”

  “What’s a flier?” Anakin asked.

  “It means one of the shots missed the target,” Obi-Wan told him, frowning. There’d been something odd on that last shot, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stretching out again to the Force, this time focusing on the edges of the meld instead of on its center, he tried to track it down.

  “Preparing for third target,” C’baoth said. “Firing now.” And this time, as the indicators once again flickered, Obi-Wan saw it.

  C’baoth had set up a total of six targets in this exercise. Obi-Wan forced himself to wait until all six had been destroyed, the last four with as impressive an accuracy quotient as the first two.

  The spotter delivered his final report, and with a shaking jerk of his head C’baoth broke the meld. For a few seconds he just sat there, blinking rapidly as the last tendrils of connection between him and his fellow Jedi dissolved completely away. Then, taking a deep breath, he exhaled a long sigh and turned to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “What did you think, Young Skywalker?”

  “Very intense,” Anakin said. “I’ve ever seen anything like it before. When can I try it?”

  “Not until after you’ve completed your training,” C’baoth said. “This isn’t something Padawans should be fooling around with.”

  “But I could handle it,” Anakin insisted. “I’m very strong in the Force—you can ask Obi-Wan—”