Star Wars - Outbound Flight

by Timothy Zahn

  Doriana grimaced. “I see.”

  “No, you do not see,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo retorted. “Because now, instead, we’ll need to destroy the Vagaari remnant aboard the disabled vessels in shipboard face-to-face combat.” He pointed out the canopy. “Worse, some of the war vessels and civilian craft have now escaped to deep space, where they’ll have time to rebuild and perhaps one day will again pose a threat to this region of space.”

  “I understand,” Doriana said. “I’m sorry.”

  To his surprise, he realized he meant it.

  For a long moment Mitth’raw’nuruodo gazed at him in silence. Then, slowly, some of the tension lines faded from his face. “No warrior ever has the full depth of control that he would like,” he said, his voice calmer but still troubled. “But I wish here that it might have been otherwise.”

  Doriana looked at Kav. For a wonder, the Neimoidian had the sense to keep his mouth shut. “What happens now?”

  “As I said, we board the Vagaari war vessels,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Once they’ve been secured, we’ll free the Geroons from their prisons.”

  Doriana nodded. And so that was it. Outbound Flight was destroyed, its Jedi—especially C’baoth—all dead. It was over.

  All, that is, except one small loose end. No matter what the outcome, Kav’s warning echoed through his mind, in the end this Mitthrawdo will have to die.

  And in the swirling chaos of a shipboard assault, accidents inevitably happened. “I wonder if I might have permission to accompany the attack force,” he said. “I’d like to observe Chiss soldiers in action.”

  Mitth’raw’nuruodo inclined his head slightly. “As you wish, Commander Stratis. I think you’ll find it most instructive.”

  “Yes,” Doriana agreed softly. “I’m sure I will.”

  The vibrations from the Dreadnaughts above, transmitted faintly through the metal of the connecting pylons, finally came to an end. “Is it over?” Jorad Pressor asked timidly.

  Carefully, Lorana let her hand drop from the bulkhead where she’d been steadying herself. The sudden, awful flood of death from above had finally ended as well, leaving nothing behind.

  Nothing.

  “Yes,” she said, trying hard to give the boy an encouraging smile. “It’s all over.”

  “So we can go back up?”

  Lorana lifted her eves to Jorad’s father, and the tight set of his mouth. The children might not understand, but the adults did. “Not quite yet,” she told Jorad. “There’s probably a lot of cleaning up they’re having to do. We’d just be in the way.”

  “And would have to hold our breath,” someone muttered from the back of the group.

  Someone else made a shushing noise. “Anyway, there’s no point in hanging around here,” one of the older men spoke up, trying to sound casual. “Might as well go back to the Jedi school where we can at least be a little more comfortable.”

  “And where we’ll be properly locked in?” Uliar added sourly.

  “No, of course not,” Lorana said, trying to get her brain back on track. “There’s plenty of spare building material crated up in the storage areas. I’ll cut a section of girder and prop open the door. Come on—everyone back.”

  The crowd turned and shuffled back the way they’d come, some of the children still murmuring anxiously to their parents, the parents in turn trying to comfort them. Lorana started to follow, paused as Uliar touched her arm. “So what’s the real damage?” he asked softly.

  She sighed. “I don’t sense any life up there. None at all.”

  “Could you be wrong?”

  “It’s possible,” she admitted. “But I don’t think so.”

  He was silent for a moment. “We’ll need to make sure,” he said. “There may be survivors who are just too weak for you to sense.”

  “I know,” she said. “But we can’t get up there yet. The fact that the turbolift cars won’t come implies the pylons are open to vacuum somewhere. We’ll have to wait until the droids get them patched up.”

  Uliar hissed between his teeth. “That could take hours.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Lorana said. “We’ll just have to wait.”

  23

  The battle had been over for nearly three hours, and Car’das was starting to get seriously bored when he finally heard the rhythmic tapping at his back.

  He half turned over and rapped the same pattern with the edge of the macrobinoculars. Then, turning back around to face the stars, he worked the kinks out of his muscles and waited.

  It came in a sudden flurry of activity. Behind him, the door to his prison popped open and he felt the sudden tugging of vacuum at his lungs and face as the air pressure in his bubble exploded outward, shoving him backward out into the corridor. He caught a glimpse of vac-suited figures surrounding him as he was enveloped in a tangle of sticky cloth. Before he could do more than scrabble his fingertips against it in an effort to push it away from his face there was a harsh hissing in his ears, and the cloth receded from him in all directions.

  And a moment later he found himself floating inside a transparent rescue ball.

  “Whoa,” he muttered, wincing as his ears popped painfully with the returning air pressure.

  “Are you all right?” a familiar voice asked from a comlink connected to the ball’s oxygen tank.

  “Yes, Commander, thank you,” he assured the other. “I gather it all worked as planned?”

  “Yes,” Thrawn confirmed, his voice carrying an odd tinge of sadness to it. “For the most part.”

  One of the other rescuers leaned close, and to his surprise Car’das saw that it was the human who’d introduced himself aboard the Darkvenge as Commander Stratis. “Car’das?” Stratis demanded, frowning through the plastic. “What are you doing here?”

  “Luring the Vagaari into my trap, of course,” Thrawn said, as if it were obvious. “Or had you forgotten that the Chiss do not engage in preemptive attacks?”

  “I see,” Stratis said, still eyeing Car’das. “So those spy accusations you were throwing around aboard the Darkvenge were nothing but smoke? Something to cover you in case the whole thing fell apart?”

  “It was protection, yes, but not for me,” Thrawn said. He gestured, and the rest of the group began maneuvering Car’das’s rescue ball down the corridor. “It was to protect Admiral Ar’alani, the officer commanding the transport that arrived an hour ago to take the freed Geroon slaves back to their world.”

  “And who couldn’t afford to be even unofficially involved in any of this,” Stratis said, nodding. “But who could make sure to look the other way at all the right times, leaving you and Car’das to take the blame if anything went wrong.”

  “Never mind the blame,” Car’das put in. “What happened with Outbound Flight? I saw the starfighters take off after it.”

  Thrawn and Stratis exchanged looks. “We were forced to go farther than I’d hoped,” Thrawn said.

  Car’das felt his heart freeze in his chest. “How much farther?”

  “They’re dead,” Thrawn said quietly. “All of them.”

  There was a long silence. Car’das looked away, his eyes catching glimpses of dead Vagaari as the Chiss continued carrying him along. Thrawn had abandoned his attack on known slavers and murderers to destroy thousands of innocent people?

  “There wasn’t any choice,” Stratis said into his numbness. “C’baoth was using his Jedi power to try and strangle the commander. There was no other way to stop him.”

  “Did you ever give them a chance to just leave and go home?” Car’das retorted.

  “Yes,” Thrawn said.

  “More than just one chance,” Stratis added. “More than I would have offered them, in fact. And if it matters any, I was the one who actually pushed the button.”

  Car’das grimaced. On one level, it did matter. On another, it didn’t. “You’re sure there aren’t any survivors?”

  “The Dreadnaughts were taken out by radiation bombs,” Stratis told
him. “We haven’t actually sent anyone over yet to check, but if the commander’s weapons stats are accurate there’s no way anyone could have lived through that.”

  “So you got what you wanted after all,” Car’das said, feeling suddenly very tired. “You must be happy.”

  Stratis looked away. “I’m content,” he said. “I wouldn’t say I’m happy.”

  “Well?” Kav demanded as Doriana stripped off his vac suit in the privacy of one of the Springhawk‘s prep rooms. “I hear no wailings of despair for the fallen captain.”

  “That’s because the captain isn’t fallen,” Doriana said. “I never had an opportunity.”

  “Did not have one?” Kav asked. “Or did not make one?”

  “I never had one,” Doriana repeated coldly. He was not in the mood for this. “You want to try to assassinate a military commander in front of his men, you go right ahead.”

  He finished undressing in silence. “Yet he must die,” Kav said as Doriana began pulling on his own clothing. “He knows too much about our part in what has happened.”

  “Mitth’raw’nuruodo is no ordinary alien,” Doriana pointed out. “And there’s still a matter of finding an opportunity.”

  “Or of making one.” Stepping close, Kav pressed something into Doriana’s hand. “Here.”

  Puzzled, Doriana looked down. One glance was all it took. “Where did you get this?” he hissed as he hurriedly closed his hand around the small hold-out blaster.

  “I have always had it,” Kav said. “The shot is small and hard to see, but highly intense. It will kill quickly and quietly.”

  And would condemn Doriana in double-quick time if he was caught with it. Feeling a sudden sheen of sweat breaking out beneath his collar, he slipped the weapon out of sight into a pocket. “Just let me handle the timing,” he warned the other. “I don’t want you hovering around like an expectant mother avian.”

  “Do not worry,” Kav growled. “Where is the commander now?”

  “Gone to the transport ship to talk to the admiral,” Doriana said, finishing with his tunic and starting to pull on his boots. “Car’das went with him.”

  And that was another problem, he reminded himself soberly. Like Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Car’das knew far too much about what had happened out here. And unlike the Chiss, he definitely would soon be traveling back to the Republic. After he dealt with Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Doriana would have to make equally sure that Car’das never told his story to the wrong people.

  The rescued Geroons had been herded into the cargo bay, the only place aboard the transport big enough to hold them all. Most were sitting cross-legged in small groups, talking quietly among themselves, the most recent arrivals still working on the food sticks and hot drinks Admiral Ar’alani’s warriors had provided them. All of them looked a little dazed, as if having trouble believing they were actually free of the Vagaari.

  Standing to the side just inside one of the bay doors, trying to stay out of the way of both the Geroons and the Chiss crewers moving about them, Car’das looked out at the multitude, his heart and mind fatigued beyond anything he’d ever experienced. A thousand times in the past day he’d wondered what he was doing in the middle of this whole thing; wondered how in the galaxy Thrawn had managed to talk him into playing bait for the Vagaari.

  But it had worked. It had all worked. The Geroons had been freed, not only these particular slaves but probably their entire world as well. Admiral Ar’alani had already said that when the transport returned the slaves to their home she would bring along a task force of Chiss warships for protection. Any Vagaari still hanging around the system wouldn’t be lunging around there for long.

  And as for Outbound Flight…

  He closed his eves. Fifty thousand people dead, the entire populace of the six Dreadnaughts. Had that really been necessary? Stratis had said it had, and Thrawn hadn’t contradicted him. But had that really been the only way?

  Car’das would probably never know for sure. Distantly, he wondered what Mails was going to say when she found out what her noble hero had done.

  “Even now, they don’t seem to believe it,” a voice murmured from his left.

  Car’das opened his eyes. Thrass was standing beside him, a strange expression on his face as he gazed across the crowded bay. “Syndic Thrass,” Car’das greeted him. “I didn’t realize you were aboard.”

  “Admiral Ar’alani suggested I come,” Thrass said, his eyes still on the Geroons. “She seemed to think she and I and my brother could now resolve the question of the Vagaari goods being held at Crustai and allow you and your companions to go on your way.”

  He turned his eyes onto Car’das. “Now that you and I have apparently served our purposes.”

  Car’das held his gaze without flinching. “I have no problems with having been a part of your brother’s plan,” he said evenly. “Neither should you.”

  “I was manipulated and controlled,” Thrass said, his eyes flashing with resentment.

  “For your own protection,” Car’das countered. “If Thrawn and Ar’alani had brought you into the plan, your future would have been just as much on the line as theirs were.”

  “And as they are now,” Thrass pointed out darkly. “The Nine Ruling Families will not stand for such an illegal and immoral attack.”

  “Number one,” Car’das said, lifting a finger. “This system is within the patrol region of the Chiss Expansionary Fleet. That makes it Chiss territory. Number two: the Vagaari arrived in force with the clear intent of causing harm. That makes Commander Thrawn’s actions self-defense, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “They were here only because you had so enticed them.”

  “I’m not bound by your rules,” Car’das reminded him. “Besides, as Admiral Ar’alani will attest, your brother had publicly labeled me as a possible spy. If I got desperate enough to go to the Vagaari for help in freeing my companions, you can hardly blame that on him.”

  Thrass’s lip twisted. “No, Thrawn has always been very good at hiding his hand when he wishes to do so.”

  “Which seems to me takes care of the legal aspects,” Car’das concluded. “As to your other objection—” He gestured toward the Geroons. “—I defy you to look at these people and tell me how freeing them from tyranny could possibly be immoral.”

  “The morality of an action is not determined by the results,” Thrass said stiffly. His face softened a little. “Still, in this case, it’s a hard point to argue.”

  “I saw the way the Vagaari treated their slaves,” Car’das said, shivering at the memories of the Geroons the Miskara had murdered in cold blood. “In my opinion, the universe is well rid of them.”

  “I would tend to agree,” Thrass said. “But Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano may not see things so clearly.”

  Car’das frowned. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  “He and vessels of the Fifth Ruling Family are on their way here,” Thrass said grimly. “I had a brief communication with him just before leaving Crustai. I suspect he intends to place Thrawn under arrest.”

  Car’das felt his throat tighten. “Does Thrawn know about this?”

  “No.”

  “We need to tell him, and fast,” Car’das said grimly. “Do you know where he is?”

  “I believe he and Admiral Ar’alani have gone across to inspect Outbound Flight.”

  “Then let’s get over there,” Car’das said. “Come on—my shuttle’s in one of the portside docking stations.”

  With a creak of not-quite-aligned metal fittings, the turbolift door reluctantly slid open. “Looks like we’ve got air seals again,” Uliar commented, peering upward into the car. The ceiling was mostly intact, but one of the scams had cracked open and at its edge he could see the faint rainbow discoloration of a massive radiation surge. Had one or more of the reactors gone up? Unlikely. Even down here in the core they should have heard something that catastrophic.

  “That shaft’s going to be a mess, though,”
Keely muttered, stepping tentatively up beside Uliar. “And the Dreadnaughts themselves will be worse. This could take awhile.”

  “Then let’s not waste any more time talking about it,” Uliar said. He started to step into the car.

  “No,” Jinzler said, reaching out to touch his arm. She, too, was gazing at the car ceiling, a look of concentration on her face. “I’m going alone.”

  “Alone’s never a good idea in this kind of situation,” Keely warned.

  “Alone for a Jedi is sometimes the only way,” she said. Her eyes came back to him, and some of the concentration faded.

  “Don’t worry. As soon as I’ve found someplace safe, I’ll come back and get you.”

  “You sure you don’t want at least a little company?” Uliar asked, eyeing her closely. He didn’t really want to go poking around up there, not with all the destruction and bodies and all. But he didn’t like the idea of letting this Jedi out of his sight, either.

  “Very sure,” Jinzler said. “Go back and wait until I come for you.”

  “Whatever you say,” Keely said, plucking at Uliar’s sleeve. “Come on, Chas.”

  “Okay,” Uliar said reluctantly, stepping back as Jinzler got into the car. “Make it fast.”

  “I’ll try,” Jinzler said, giving him a reassuring smile.

  She was still smiling as the door creaked shut between them.

  They found Thrawn and Ar’alani on the bridge of the main command ship, standing amid a bustling crowd of Chiss crewers methodically checking out the still-active control consoles. There were a lot of bodies there, too, lying haphazardly all over the deck. For once, Car’das hardly even noticed. “Ah—my brother,” Thrawn said as Thrass and Car’das made their way through the maze of consoles. “Are the Geroons being properly cared for?”

  “Never mind the Geroons,” Car’das put in before Thrass could answer. “Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano’s on his way with a fleet of Fifth Family ships.”

  “On whose authority do they fly?” Ar’alani demanded.