Star Wars: Survivor's Quest

by Timothy Zahn

  She just wished she knew which of the possible targets he was after this time. Still, with a little luck, maybe she’d get a chance to ask him.

  She was nearly to the bow when the corridor lights abruptly went out.

  She froze in her tracks, pressing her back against the side wall in a pocket of shadow thrown by a misaimed emergency light. Wisps of sensation seemed to swirl around her as she stretched out with the Force, marking the presence of thoughts and emotions somewhere ahead. Someone was definitely moving around nearby. Maybe two someones.

  Maybe even three.

  She scowled to herself, peering into the darkness as she fought to push the hazy impressions into something solid. Between the Chiss and Geroons, the presence of so many unfamiliar minds surrounding her was severely limiting her ability to focus. There, ahead and to the right? Was that one of the beings she was sensing?

  And then, from a side corridor in that direction, came a barely audible clink, as if someone had brushed the bulkhead with something hard. Holding her lightsaber ready, she slipped toward the archway leading into the corridor, keeping to the shadows as much as she could.

  There was another faint clink as she reached the archway, this one much closer. She pressed her back to the wall and lifted her lightsaber high, thumb ready on the activator.

  For a second she held the pose. Then, in a sudden smooth surge of motion, she swung around, igniting her lightsaber as she rotated, and planted herself in combat stance squarely in the center of the archway—

  To find herself facing an Imperial stormtrooper as he simultaneously swung out from behind a coolant pump into the same stance, his BlasTech E-11 pointed squarely back at her.

  Mara’s first impulse, from somewhere deep in the dark corners of her mind, was to lower her weapon and order him to lower his. Her second impulse, from a more recent frame of reference, was to slash the blue lightsaber blade forward and cut him in half. Her final impulse, as her brain finally caught up with the conflicting reflexes, was to simply do nothing.

  Fortunately, perhaps, the stormtrooper himself seemed to have no such confusion of loyalties or responses. Even as Mara fought back the urge to kill, he snapped the muzzle of his weapon upward away from her. “Jedi Skywalker,” he said. “My apologies.”

  “No problem,” Mara said, fighting the words out through a momentarily stiff throat as she closed down her lightsaber. That unexpected surge of past patterns had been incredibly disconcerting. “What are you doing here?”

  “Commander Fel heard of the problem with the ship’s engines and ordered me to secure the bow from potential danger,” he said. “You?”

  “Same thing,” Mara said, peering down the darkened corridor over his shoulder. “You find anything?”

  “The area around the glider appears secure,” he said. “My intention was to continue forward and check the shield generators.”

  “Fine,” Mara said. “We’ll go together.”

  “Acknowledged,” he said. Without asking, he stepped past her and moved into point position, ahead and slightly to Mara’s left. In silence, they continued forward.

  They had gone perhaps ten more meters when Mara caught a glimpse of something ahead. “Hold,” she murmured, running through the Jedi sight-enhancement techniques as they stopped. It hadn’t been a movement she’d seen, exactly, but something else.

  The stormtrooper, with his helmet’s own vision enhancements, got it first. “We’re looking through the archway into the shield generator room,” he murmured back. “That was a reflection from the generator shell.”

  “Right,” Mara agreed, trying to overlay the view ahead onto her mental schematic of this part of the ship. A reflection off the semi-spherical cap of the shield generator meant someone was inside the room, moving port and possibly aft.

  Unfortunately, there were three other exits from the compartment in that direction: one heading aft toward the shield monitor room behind it, one heading forward toward a small cluster of crew quarters, and the third all the way across the chamber to a mirror-image archway into the portside corridor. Three possible ways out, with only her and one stormtrooper available to cover them all.

  Except that Luke should be on his way toward that far portside exit. Luke? She sent out the mental call.

  Coming, the reply came, accompanied by a glimpse of the portside corridor. It was apparently as dark over there as it was on this side of the ship, but he seemed to be making good progress and she had the sense that he was nearby.

  At any rate, they couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “All right,” she murmured to the stormtrooper. “You keep going straight ahead. Make sure he doesn’t double back and get out through the starboard archway up there. If it looks like you can do it without risking him getting behind you, go ahead and sweep him portside. I’ll head back to that last cross corridor and try to cut him off before he can get out through the monitor room.”

  “Acknowledged,” the stormtrooper said. Lifting his BlasTech, he moved cautiously forward.

  Mara didn’t wait to see how he fared, but turned and moved as quickly and silently as possible back to the cross-corridor. Unlike the main passageway, this one had several jogs in it as it wended its way around and between rooms of various sizes and shapes. That meant more cover for her, of course; unfortunately, it also meant she wouldn’t get a glimpse of the exit she was trying to block until she was practically on top of it. Setting her teeth, stretching out to the Force, she headed in.

  She’d gone maybe five steps when the whole thing fell completely apart.

  From somewhere ahead came a sharp shout and the sudden scuffle of running feet. Breathing a curse, Mara ducked ahead around the next jog in the corridor, coming into view of the generator room exit just in time to see the reflected blue flash of a Chiss charric heat weapon. Someplace in the distance, over the ruckus, she heard the distinctive snap-hiss of Luke’s lightsaber. Sprinting to the doorway, she ducked through—

  There was just the briefest flicker of warning, and she barely got her lightsaber ignited in time to block another charric blast that would have burned her upper right shoulder if it had gotten through. “Hold it!” she snapped, ducking back into the relative protection of the doorway as another pair of charric bolts shot past her face.

  “Halt!” a harsh Chiss voice countered. “Identify!”

  “Who do you think?” Mara shot back. “How many people have you got aboard with lightsabers?”

  For a moment there was no reply. But at least the shooting had stopped. “Very well, Jedi Skywalker,” the Chiss said in a somewhat more polite tone. “Come forward.”

  Warily, Mara stepped into the room. Over by the starboard shield generator to her right were two armed Chiss dressed in leisure clothing, apparently having come straight from the crew quarters a couple of corridors away. Behind them was the stormtrooper she’d sent in, his BlasTech held in ready position across his chest. Possibly the reason they’d stopped shooting at her, the cynical thought crossed her mind.

  She turned her head to her left. At the far end of the generator room, Luke was coming toward the party from the portside archway, his lightsaber blade looking brighter than usual in the gloom.

  And in the long gap between Luke and the Chiss, standing straight and tall and yet looking strangely vulnerable and forlorn, was Dean Jinzler.

  CHAPTER 9

  “There’s really nothing to tell,” Jinzler protested as Mara led him to one of the lounge’s couches and gave him a not-entirely-gentle push down onto it. “I was sitting right here, watching the stars, when the lights went out.”

  “Were you alone?” Luke asked, stretching out with the Force. The man clearly knew he was in trouble, yet was amazingly calm for all that. It was the sort of calm Luke had seen before, sometimes in a person who no longer had anything to lose.

  Unfortunately, he’d also seen it in people with hidden tricks up their sleeves, or in people who fully believed they could lie their way out of anything. So far, he still
couldn’t tell which category Jinzler fit into.

  “By then I was,” Jinzler said. “A little earlier I’d been talking with one of the Geroons—Estosh, the young one—but he left when the engines started acting up. He said he was worried there was going to be another fire. I stayed here until the lights went out, as I said, at which point I decided something serious must be happening and started back toward my quarters.”

  In the ceiling above them, the lights abruptly came back on. That part, at least, was apparently fixed. “Why did you go through the Chiss quarters?” Luke asked. “Why didn’t you use one of the outer corridors? They’re better lit.”

  “Yes, I know.” Jinzler shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it, I suppose. At any rate, I heard someone moving around in the darkness and went to investigate.”

  “Like a complete idiot,” Mara pointed out, standing behind him. “Suppose he’d taken a shot at you?”

  Jinzler’s lips compressed briefly. “I guess I didn’t think about that, either.”

  Mara glowered a look over his head at Luke. Luke shrugged microscopically: he couldn’t detect any lie either.

  Which, unfortunately, wasn’t conclusive proof one way or the other. “All right, so you heard someone,” he said. “What did you see?”

  Jinzler shook his head. “Nothing, I’m afraid. Whoever it was must have heard me coming, because there was no one in the generator room when I got there. I was looking around, trying to see if I could spot anything out of place, when all of you burst in on me.”

  Luke looked back at the lounge door, where the stormtrooper and the two Chiss were silently observing the interrogation. The Chiss, he noted, had made a point of standing as far away from the armored Imperial as they could without abandoning the doorway entirely. “Thank you all for your assistance,” he told them. “Jedi Skywalker and I will handle it from here. You may return to your other duties.”

  “He was found in a restricted area,” one of the Chiss said stiffly. “He must answer to General Drask.”

  “He’s an ambassador from the New Republic government,” Luke countered. “There are certain rights and privileges associated with that title. Furthermore, I don’t remember General Drask or Aristocra Formbi saying anything about any part of the ship being restricted.”

  “What about him?” the other Chiss demanded, jabbing a contemptuous finger toward the stormtrooper. “He cannot claim ambassador’s privileges.”

  “He was with me,” Mara said. “Or were you planning to deny ambassador’s privileges to me, as well?”

  The Chiss looked at each other, and Luke held his breath. Technically, neither he nor Mara had any official standing here, apart from being Formbi’s guests. He still didn’t know what had gone wrong with the Chaf Envoy’s lights and engines, but he suspected Drask would be perfectly justified in declaring a state of emergency and confining all non-Chiss to their quarters.

  In which case, Mara’s attempt to pull rank might be looked upon very suspiciously, reflecting not only on them but on Formbi as well. In the subtle pull-war going on between the two Chiss leaders, that might have long-reaching consequences.

  But for now, at least, the crewers didn’t seem inclined to make a challenge out of it. “We will wait in the corridor,” the first Chiss said. “When you are finished here, we will escort you back to the public areas of the vessel.”

  He looked at the stormtrooper. “The faceless soldier is invited to return to his proper place right now,” he added.

  The stormtrooper stirred, as if choosing from among the various possible responses. “Go ahead,” Mara said before he could pick one. “Please thank Commander Fel for your assistance.”

  “Acknowledged.” Swiveling in a crisp military about-face, the stormtrooper disappeared out the door. The two Chiss gave short bows and followed.

  Quietly, Luke let out the breath he’d been holding. One of the best things about stormtroopers, he reflected, was their willingness to instantly and unquestioningly obey orders. It was, of course, also one of the worst things about them. “All right, Jinzler,” he said, pulling a chair up in front of the older man and sitting down facing him. “We’ve been very patient with you up to now. But game time is over. We want to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  “I know you’ve been patient,” Jinzler said, nodding. “And I very much appreciate it. I know you’ve both stuck your necks out for me—”

  “Stalling time is over, too,” Mara interrupted, coming around from behind the couch to face him, remaining on her feet as she leveled the full weight of her stare down at him. “Let’s hear it.”

  Jinzler sighed, some of the stiffness going out of his shoulders as he dropped his gaze to the deck. “My name’s Dean Jinzler, just as I told you,” he said. “I work sort of on the edges of Talon Karrde’s intelligence organization—”

  “We know all that,” Mara cut him off again. “What are you doing here?”

  “A gentleman came to me a little over eight weeks ago,” Jinzler said. “A rather old gentleman, flying a spacecraft of a type I’d never seen before.”

  “What was his name?” Luke asked.

  Jinzler hesitated. “He said he didn’t want me spreading it around. . . but I suppose you two would be all right. He said his name was Car’das.”

  Luke looked at Mara, feeling a ripple of shock from her that echoed his own surprise. That was a name he remembered quite well.

  “Car’das?” Mara demanded. “Jorj Car’das?”

  “That’s the one,” Jinzler said, nodding. “He said he’d once been an associate of Karrde’s. Do you know him?”

  “Never met the man,” Mara said, her voice carefully neutral. “Though not from lack of trying. How do you know him?”

  “I don’t, really,” Jinzler said. “I’d never seen him before that day. He came to me and suggested—strongly—that I put in for a transfer to the sector relay post at Comra. He said there would likely be a message coming through soon that would be of great personal interest to me.”

  “And you just went?” Luke asked. “Not even knowing who he was?”

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Jinzler admitted. “But frankly, I had nowhere else to be just then. Besides, there was something about him. . .” He trailed off.

  “Okay, so you transferred to Comra,” Mara said. “I take it this message he mentioned was the transmission addressed to Luke that you filched?”

  Jinzler winced. “Yes,” he admitted. “It showed up about, oh, I guess it was a little over a week ago now. I—” He looked up at Mara, his lip twitching in a slightly shamefaced smile. “—I filched it, grabbed one of our courier ships, and headed for the rendezvous point Formbi had specified.”

  “Only the ship didn’t make it,” Luke commented.

  Jinzler blinked. “How did you know that?”

  “We’re Jedi,” Luke reminded the other pointedly. “What happened?”

  “The hyperdrive gave out in the Flacharia system,” Jinzler said. “It would have taken me more than a week to repair it by myself, and I didn’t have enough money to hire out the job. Fortunately, at that point Car’das showed up again and offered me a lift.”

  “Really,” Mara said. “What an intriguing coincidence.”

  Jinzler lifted a hand, palm upward. “Maybe he was following me to make sure I got here okay. I never saw him on my sensors, but with a courier that doesn’t mean a whole lot. He did say—” He broke off.

  “He did say what?” Luke prompted.

  “It didn’t make any sense to me,” Jinzler said. “All he said was that he was trying to fulfill a promise he’d been neglecting for a very long time.”

  “Did he say what that promise was?” Mara asked. “Or to whom it had been made?”

  “Neither,” Jinzler said. “Actually, the way he said it, I had the odd impression he wasn’t talking to me so much as he was talking to himself.”

  “Okay,” Luke said. “Go on.”

  “That’s all there is
, really,” Jinzler said. “We came into the outer Crustai system and Car’das sent a message in. Formbi came out in the Chaf Envoy’s glider and picked me up.”

  “What did he think of Car’das?” Mara asked. “Or had Car’das left by then?”

  “Actually, the two of them had a long talk together while I was transferring across to the glider,” Jinzler said. “I didn’t understand the language, but it sounded a lot like the one the Geroons were speaking when they first arrived. They finished their conversation, I introduced myself as Ambassador Jinzler from Coruscant, and Formbi brought me back to the ship. And that was that.”

  Luke nodded. Straightforward enough, and they could presumably confirm some of the details with Formbi. Assuming Formbi was willing to talk about it, of course. “Okay, that’s the how,” he said. “Now let’s hear the why.”

  “There was a Jedi aboard Outbound Flight,” Jinzler said. “Well, actually there were several Jedi aboard. This particular one was named Lorana Jinzler.”

  He seemed to brace himself. “She was my sister.”

  He stopped. Luke frowned at Mara, caught her own suspicious puzzlement. “And?” he prompted.

  “What do you mean, and?” Jinzler asked.

  “So your sister died with Outbound Flight, and you wanted to go pay your respects to her memory,” Luke said. “So what was so dark and personal that you couldn’t tell us earlier?”

  Jinzler lowered his eyes, his hands wrapping tightly together in his lap. “We didn’t part on. . . very good terms,” he said at last. “I’d rather not say any more if you don’t mind.”

  Luke felt his lip twist. More evasion, which seemed to be an integral part of this man.

  But at the same time there was the sense of truth to his pattern of thought and emotion. He glanced a question at Mara, caught her reluctant agreement. “All right,” he said. “We’ll let that part sit for now. But.”

  He let the word hang in the air a moment like a threatening sandstorm in the distance. “We may need to hear more before we’re done here,” he continued. “If and when that time comes, you will tell us everything. Clear?”