by Timothy Zahn
Slowly, Kav lowered the activator. “You are very clever, Commander,” he said softly. “Someday that cleverness will turn against you.”
“Perhaps,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Until then, allow me to thank you for showing me how such secondary programming is done. That will prove useful today.”
“So what now?” Doriana asked cautiously.
“We talk to them,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, keying his board. “Communications: create a channel.”
By the time Lorana arrived, D-1’s bridge had become a hive of quiet pandemonium. C’baoth was standing beside Captain Pakmillu’s command chair, his back stiff as he gazed out the canopy. Pakmillu himself was over at one of the engineering stations, his flippered hands opening and closing restlessly as he studied the displays.
Outside the canopy, arrayed in the distance in front of them like a pack of hunting howlrunners, were a dozen small ships of a configuration Lorana had never seen before.
“The readback seems to indicate we’re in the middle of a planetary mass shadow,” the engineering officer was saying tautly as she reached Pakmillu’s side. “But you can see yourself that can’t possibly be right.”
“This is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet,” a cultured voice boomed over the bridge speakers. “Please respond.”
“Who’s that?” Lorana asked.
“The commander of that force over there,” Pakmillu rumbled, still studying the readouts. “He’s been calling every five minutes for the past half hour.”
“You haven’t answered him?”
Pakmillu’s mouth tendrils stiffened. “Master C’baoth has forbidden it,” he growled. “He insists we know what happened to our hyperdrive before we reply.”
“Maybe the commander could tell us what happened,” Lorana suggested.
“Of course he could,” Pakmillu said sourly. “But I cannot persuade Master C’baoth to that point of view.”
Lorana grimaced. “Let me talk to him.”
C’baoth was still gazing at the alien ships as Lorana joined him. “So, Jedi Jinzler,” he greeted her. “We meet our first challenge.”
“Why does it have to be a challenge?” Lorana asked. “Maybe all he wants to do is talk.”
“No,” C’baoth said, his voice dark. “I can sense a deep malice out there, malice directed at my ships and my people.”
“They’re alien minds,” Lorana reminded him, feeling her pulse starting to pick up its pace. She’d seen C’baoth in this stiff-necked mood before. “Perhaps you’re simply misreading them.”
“No,” he said. “They intend trouble, and I intend to be fully prepared to deal with it before I talk to them.”
“Command, this is Ma’Ning,” a voice came from the command chair speaker. “We’re standing ready at D-Four’s weapons systems.”
“Acknowledged,” C’baoth said, giving Lorana a tight smile. “Dreadnaught-Four was the last. Now we’re ready to talk.”
Deliberately, he lowered himself into Pakmillu’s command chair and touched the comm switch. “Alien force, this is Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth, commanding the Outbound Flight Project of the Galactic Republic,” he announced.
Lorana looked back at Pakmillu, wincing to herself at C’baoth’s casual preemption of his command authority. But there was no resentment in the Mon Cal’s expression or stance, only a quiet sense of resignation. Apparently, he’d bowed to the inevitable.
“Master C’baoth, this is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” the cultured voice replied promptly.
“Let me see your face,” C’baoth ordered.
There was a brief pause; then the comm display came to life, showing a near human with blue skin and blue-black hair and glowing red eyes. He was dressed in a black tunic with silver bars on the collar. “There are matters of great importance we need to discuss at once,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Would you care to join me in my flagship, or shall I come to you?”
C’baoth snorted gently. “I will discuss nothing until you stand away from my path.”
“And I will continue to hold here until we have spoken,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo replied, his voice as firm as C’baoth’s. “Are the Jedi afraid of talk?”
C’baoth smiled thinly. “The Jedi fear nothing, Commander. Come aboard, then, if you insist. A hatchway will be illuminated for your shuttle.”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo inclined his head. “I shall be there shortly.” He gestured somewhere offscreen, and the image vanished.
“You’re going to allow him aboard?” Pakmillu demanded.
“Of course,” C’baoth said, an odd glint to his eve. “Or don’t you find it curious that this supposed resident of the Unknown Regions spoke to us in Basic?”
Lorana felt her breath catch. To her chagrin, she hadn’t even noticed the oddness of that fact. “No, there’s something more here than meets the eye,” C’baoth continued. “Let’s find out what that something is.”
“Come aboard, then, if you insist,” C’baoth’s voice echoed from the D-4 reactor monitor room speaker. “A hatchway will be illuminated for your shuttle.”
There was a click. “D-Four?” a different voice called. “Any progress?”
With an effort, Uliar pulled his thoughts back to focus. “Still negative here, Command,” he reported, running his eyes again over his displays. “There’s plenty of power going to the hyperdrive. It’s just not doing anything once it gets there.”
“That’s confirmed, Command,” Dillian Pressor’s voice seconded from the hyperdrive monitor room half a dozen meters away. “The readouts still insist we’re in a gravfield.”
“So do everyone else’s,” Command growled. “All right. Keep running your diagnostics, and stand by.”
There was a click, and Command was gone. “This is insane,” Pressor muttered.
“Maybe more insane than you think,” Uliar said, his mind racing. This might finally be their chance. “Or didn’t you notice that Commander Mitth-whatever was speaking Basic?”
There was a short pause. “You mean he’s from the Republic?”
“Well, he’s sure not from the Unknown Regions,” Uliar said. “We’ve got to find a way to talk to him.”
“Who, us?”
“Of course us,” Uliar shot back. “You, me—the whole committee. If this guy’s from the Republic, maybe he’s got the authority to get C’baoth and the rest of the Jedi kicked off”
“It’s not all the Jedi,” Pressor argued. “Anyway, what would some hotshot from the Republic be doing way out here? It’s more likely a pirate who found out about Outbound Flight and decided to grab some easy pickings.”
In his mind’s eye Uliar saw the firing scores from C’baoth’s Jedi meld tests. “Trust me, Pressor, this thing is not easy pickings,” he said grimly. “But whoever he is, we still have to try.”
“Fine,” Pressor said. “But how? We’re on duty.”
“To what?” Uliar countered. “A reactor that’s working perfectly and a hyperdrive that isn’t working at all?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Uliar cut him off. “Come on—this may be our last chance to get Outbound Flight back to what it was supposed to be.”
There was a short pause. “All right, I’m game,” Pressor said at last. “But if this Mitth-whatever’s already on his way, we don’t have much time. Not if we’re going to collect everyone and get all the way over to D-One.”
“You just collect them,” Uliar said. “I’ll make sure he stays put until you get there.”
“How?”
“No idea,” Uliar said. “Just collect everyone, all right? And don’t forget to bring the children. There’s nothing like children when you’re playing for sympathy.”
“Got it.”
Uliar keyed off the comet, and for a moment sat gazing unseeingly at his displays as he tried to think. D-1 was indeed a long way away, and if he knew C’baoth the conversation was likely to be short and unpleasant. If he
tried to walk or even run, he was likely to miss Mitth-whatever completely.
But there should be one of D-4’s swoops parked just a little way aft.
Ninety seconds later, he was racing down the corridor, the wind of his passage whipping through his hair and stinging his eyes. Fortunately, with Outbound Flight at full alert, everyone was either at their battle stations or huddled in their quarters out of the way; the corridors were empty. Reaching the forward pylon, he punched for the turbolift, but instead of leaving the swoop at the way station like he was supposed to, he maneuvered it into the car. Let C’baoth complain about it—let him even lock Uliar in the brig for a few days if he wanted to.
Whatever it took, he would see this Mith-whatever before he left Outbound Flight.
Car’das had been waiting for nearly three hours before the Miskara again summoned him to the throne room.
“All is prepared,” the Vagaari informed him. “We fly at once to draw our vengeance from Mitth’raw’nuruodo and the Chiss.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” Car’das said, bowing his head and trying not to look at the half dozen fresh Geroon bodies scattered around the throne room. Apparently, the Miskara had been playing some more with his new toys. “I would once again ask you to remember that my companions and ship are also there, and would beg your soldiers to be careful.”
“I will remember,” the Miskara promised. “And I will do even more. I have decided you will be permitted the best view possible of the forthcoming battle.”
Car’das felt something cold run through him. “You mean I’ll be on the bridge, Your Eminence?”
“Not at all,” the Miskara said calmly. “You will be in the forward most of my flagship’s external bubbles.”
Car’das looked sideways to see a pair of armored Vagaari striding toward him. “I don’t understand,” he protested. “I’ve offered you the chance at both vengeance and profit.”
“Or the chance to fly into a trap,” the Miskara said, his voice suddenly icy. “Do you think me a fool, human? Do you think me so proud and rash that I would simply fly a task force to a supposedly small and undermanned Chiss base in my thirst for revenge?” He snorted a multitoned whistle. “No, human, I will not send a small task force to be destroyed. My entire fleet will descend on this base… and then we shall see what sort of teeth this Chiss trap truly has.”
“The Chiss aren’t waiting there with any trap,” Car’das insisted. “I swear it.”
“Then you should have nothing to fear,” the Miskara said. “If we destroy the enemy as quickly as you claim we will, you will be released and your companions freed. If not…” He shrugged. “You will be the first to die.”
He cocked his head slightly “Have you anything else you wish to say before you are taken away?”
A confession, perhaps, or an admission of guilt? “No, Your Eminence,” Car’das said. “I only hope your soldiers are as capable against the Chiss as they’ve proven themselves to be against other opponents.”
“The Geroons could tell you of our capabilities,” the Miskara said darkly. “But you will see them for yourself soon enough.” He gestured. “Take him away.”
Five minutes later, Car’das was pushed through a narrow doorway in the hull into a zero-g plastic bubble perhaps twice the size of a coffin. Set against the hull on one side of his head was what seemed to be a small air supply and filtering system, while on the other was a mesh bag containing a couple of water bottles and ration bars from the Chiss shuttle, along with a diamond-shaped device of unknown purpose.
And as the thick hull metal was sealed against his back he knew the chance cube had been thrown. From now on, everything that happened would be under the control of others.
He could only hope that the Miskara had been telling the truth about the size of the force he was sending.
21
The fact that Mitth’raw’nuruodo was a near human this far from Republic space had been Lorana’s first surprise. More surprising than that were the culture and refinement of his demeanor and speech as he spoke to her and C’baoth from the other side of the conference room table.
His reason for intercepting Outbound Flight was the biggest surprise of all. And the most chilling.
C’baoth, predictably, wasn’t impressed by any of it. “Ridiculous,” he said scornfully when Mitth’raw’nuruodo had finished. “A mysterious species of conquerors moving across the galaxy toward us? Please. That’s the sort of story bad parents frighten their children with.”
“You know everything there is to know about the universe, then?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asked politely. “I was under the impression that this region of space was unknown to you.”
“Yes, it is,” C’baoth said. “But rumors and stories aren’t limited by geographical and political boundaries. If a species so dangerous truly existed, we would surely have heard something about them by now.”
“What about Vergere?” Lorana murmured from beside him. “Something like this might explain her disappearance.”
“Or it might not,” C’baoth countered. “It doesn’t take a species of conquerors to silence a single Jedi.” His eyes glittered. “To silence a group of Jedi, of course, is a different matter entirely. And as to this Darth Sidious you cite, I put even less faith in his words than I do in idle rumors. Darth is the title of a Sith Lord, and the Sith have long since vanished from the galaxy. That makes him a liar right from the start.”
“Perhaps,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “But I didn’t come here for an open debate. The fact remains that I cannot and will not permit you to continue on through this region of space. You must turn back to the Republic and pledge to never return.”
“Or?” C’baoth challenged.
Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s glowing red eyes were steady on him. “Or I will be forced to destroy you.”
Lorana braced herself for the inevitable explosion. But C’baoth merely smiled thinly. “So says the avian chick to the billinus dragon. Do you truly believe your twelve ships could survive ten minutes against the firepower I hold here in my hand?”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo lifted his eyebrows politely. “Your personal hand?” he asked.
“My Jedi are even now standing by in the ComOps Center above us, as well as at the weapons stations of each individual Dreadnaught,” C’baoth said. “I’ll soon be joining them… and if you’ve never before faced Jedi reflexes and insight, you’ll find it a sobering experience.”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s expression didn’t change. “Whatever their training, it will do them no good,” he said. “Your only choices are to leave now and take your people home, or perish. What is your answer?”
“What if we promised to go around this region?” Lorana asked.
C’baoth looked at her, and she sensed his surprise at her presumption quickly turning to anger. “Jedi Jinzler—”
“I mean all the way around it,” Lorana continued, fighting against the weight of his displeasure pressing against her mind. “We could go to a different part of the Rim and jump off for the next galaxy from there.”
“No,” C’baoth said firmly. “That would take us thousands of light-years out of our way.”
“That would be acceptable,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, looking at Lorana. “Provided you avoided the entire region lying along your current vector.”
“No,” C’baoth bit out, his eyes blazing. “Lorana, you will be silent. Commander, you do not dictate to us. Not you; not anyone else.”
Abruptly, he shoved hack his chair and rose towering to his full height. “We are the Jedi, the ultimate power in the universe,” he declared, the words ringing through the conference room. “We will do as we choose. And we will destroy any who dare stand in our way.”
Lorana stared up at him, her heart suddenly pounding in her throat. What was he saying? What was he doing?
There is no emotion; there is peace…
“In that event, the conversation is over,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. His expression hadn�
�t changed, but as Lorana tore her gaze from C’baoth and looked at the commander she could sense a hardening of his resolve that sent a fresh shiver up her back. “I will give you an hour to consider my offer.”
“No, you will cease whatever you’re doing to hold us in this system and move your ships out of our path,” C’baoth countered.
“One hour,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo repeated, sliding back his own chair and standing up. “Jedi Jinzler, perhaps you’ll escort me back to my transport?”
“As you wish, Commander,” Lorana said, not daring to look at C’baoth as she scrambled to her feet. “Follow me, please.”
Captain Pakmillu had offered some of his security personnel to bring Mitth’raw’nuruodo aboard. Typically, C’baoth had refused, insisting he and Lorana needed no such show of force to keep the alien commander in line.
Which now left Lorana and Mitth’raw’nuruodo alone as they walked back toward the hangar. “Your Master C’baoth is both arrogant and stubborn,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo commented as they walked. “A bad combination.”
“He is all that,” Lorana conceded. “But he’s also a Jedi Master, and as such he has knowledge and power hidden from the rest of us. For your own sake, I beg you not to underestimate him.”
“Yet if this knowledge is hidden, how can you be sure it is accurate?”
Lorana grimaced. That was, unfortunately, a good question. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Surely you don’t stand alone,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo pointed out. “There must be others aboard who oppose to Master C’baoth’s tyranny.”
Tyranny. It was a word Lorana hadn’t dared use even in the privacy of her own mind. Now, suddenly, it could no longer be avoided. “Yes, there are,” she murmured, frowning. Directly ahead down the corridor, shifting nervously back and forth between his feet, she could see Chas Uliar from D-4 loitering against the wall. Here to confront her with some new problem, no doubt.
But he said nothing as she and Mitth’raw’nuruodo approached, merely following them with brooding eyes as they passed him.
There was another shuttle parked near the Chiss vehicle, she noted, one of Outbound Flight’s transports. Curious; that hadn’t been there when the Chiss commander arrived. “We don’t intend your people any harm,” she told Mitth’raw’nuruodo as they stopped at his shuttle’s hatchway.