by Timothy Zahn
“Casual?” Mara echoed disbelievingly. “Aristocra—”
“We understand,” Luke hurriedly cut her off. “We’ll do our best to comply with the general’s order.”
“Thank you,” Formbi said, dipping his head slightly. “Until the morning, then.”
The corridors were deserted as they made their way back. Just the same, Luke waited until they were in the privacy of their quarters before breaking the silence. It made for better security, and also gave his quietly seething wife time to cool down. “What do you think?” he asked when the door was solidly sealed behind them.
“My low opinion of General Drask just dropped a few points,” she said darkly. “Of all the stupid, childish—”
“Take it easy,” Luke soothed, sitting down on the bed and pulling off his boots. “And don’t blame Drask, at least not directly. I don’t think he was the one who gave the order.”
Mara frowned. “Then who did? Formbi?”
Luke nodded. “That’s the feeling I was getting.”
“Interesting,” Mara murmured thoughtfully. “And the reason?”
“No idea,” Luke said. “But don’t forget how annoyed Drask was when we helped the Five-Oh-First put out the fire. Formbi may be playing politics again, trying to give Drask fewer things to complain about.”
“Terrific,” Mara muttered as she started again to get ready for bed. “It’s so nice to spend time with an honorable people like the Chiss.”
“It could be worse,” Luke pointed out. “We could be doing this with Bothans. What did you think about his story?”
“The one about Car’das?” Mara snorted under her breath. “He’s lying through his teeth on that one, too. There’s no reason to let Car’das rattle off Jinzler’s list of alleged credentials in an exotic trade language when he understands Basic. He could have switched languages anywhere along the way, just as soon as it was his turn to speak.”
“I was thinking that, too,” Luke said. “The obvious conclusion is that they didn’t want Jinzler to know what they were talking about.”
“Exactly,” Mara said. “You’ll also notice Formbi never actually answered my question as to whether he knew Car’das from somewhere else. And don’t forget that they held their little rendezvous in the outer Crustai system where Drask and the rest of the Chiss couldn’t eavesdrop.”
She shook her head. “They’re planning something, Luke,” she said darkly. “Something devious. Possibly devious and nasty.”
“I know,” Luke said, pulling her down onto the bed beside him and wrapping his arm around her. “Do you want to leave?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I still want to see Outbound Flight, assuming that part of the story isn’t a lie, too. Besides, if there’s some trap being spun here—whether for us, Fel, or Drask—we’re really the only ones available to stop it.”
She shifted position to nestle herself more comfortably against his side. “Unless, of course, you want to leave that to the Geroons?” she added.
Luke smiled at the thought. “No, I think we’d better handle it,” he agreed. “Pleasant dreams, Mara.”
His last mental image, as he drifted off to sleep, was a darkly amusing one of Bearsh and Estosh and the other Geroons shaking in terror as they stood huddled in one of the ship’s corridors, trying desperately to hold blasters steady.
* * *
Fel looked up from his desk as Grappler sat down across from him. “Yes?”
“It is in place,” the other said, his large eyes reflecting the light from Fel’s desk lamp. “Tapped into the navigational repeater lines.”
Fel laid aside the datapad he’d been reading. “That was quick,” he commented. “Any chance of the Chiss spotting it?”
The orange highlights of Grappler’s green skin faded to yellow, the Eickarie equivalent of a head shake. “Not by any casual search,” he said. “It is in a conduit behind a cabinet, not directly behind an access panel.”
Fel nodded. “Nicely done,” he said. “What about our Jedi? Do they suspect anything?”
“Of course they suspect,” Grappler said, the highlights becoming orange again. “But they know nothing.” His mouth opened in a sardonic grin. “Jedi Skywalker asked me to thank you for my assistance to her.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” Fel warned. “I’ve heard stories about these two, both from my father and from Admiral Parck. They’re sharp, they’re quick, and they’re very, very deadly.”
“I would have it no other way,” Grappler assured his commander, stiffening his shoulders proudly. “I look forward to learning their full measure in combat.”
Fel took a deep breath. So the game had begun. Time to sit back and let it play. “You’ll get your chance,” he promised Grappler softly. “I guarantee it.”
CHAPTER 10
The vermin search began early the next morning, with four pairs of Chiss armed with atmosphere sniffers starting at the bow and stern and checking every room, storage compartment, conduit, access panel, and supply package aboard the Chaf Envoy. They reached the Jade Sabre about midday, and Mara watched in polite but stolid silence as they made their methodical way through her ship.
Fortunately, Formbi’s prediction proved to be correct. No line creepers were found, and within half a standard hour the search team had departed down the transfer tunnel, leaving nothing behind but a faintly metallic aroma from their equipment.
Fel’s Imperial transport was searched with equal speed and efficiency. The Geroon shuttle, in contrast, took nearly three times as long to be cleared. Most of that was due to the fact that so much of the vessel had been repaired, rebuilt, or replaced that there were virtually none of the sealed equipment modules that most ships carried and that would normally not have to be checked. The search would have taken even longer if the bunkrooms and storage compartment Luke had noticed on his first visit hadn’t been open to space behind their vacuum-sealed doors. The Chiss confirmed the doors’ pressure readings, assured Luke that line creepers couldn’t survive in vacuum, and moved on.
The whole procedure took most of the day. In the end, they found nothing.
“So we apparently have two options,” Luke commented to Mara as they sat together in the forward lounge watching the hyperspace sky roll past. “Either a single group of line creepers got in and ignored everything else while they worked their way nearly to the center of the ship, or else someone brought them in and deliberately let them loose in that spot.”
“Guess which option I’d pick,” Mara invited.
“I know which one you’d pick,” Luke said dryly. “What bothers me is that our saboteur seems to have had only that one group. What if he hadn’t accomplished whatever he’d intended the first time around and had needed to create another diversion?”
“Maybe he had a few spares and spaced them before the search started,” Mara suggested.
“Which means what?” Luke asked. “That he lost his nerve and dumped the evidence even though he wasn’t finished with it?”
“More likely that he did accomplish what he set out to do last night,” Mara said. “And that one really bothers me.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t figure out what that was. Drask’s been over every piece of equipment in the forward third of the ship and hasn’t found anything. So what did the diversion gain anyone?”
Luke stroked thoughtfully at his cheek. “Maybe Drask is looking in the wrong place,” he suggested. “Maybe we’re looking at a two-stage diversion: line creepers in the control lines and doused lights in the bow, while the actual work went on somewhere else.”
“Fine,” Mara said. “But where? And what? Don’t forget, the Chiss checked every cubic centimeter of the ship today.”
“Looking for line creepers.”
“Looking at everything,” Mara corrected. “I watched them go through the Sabre, Luke. Even when they were sampling the air they were looking around. If there’d been any spare weapons or explosives or anything else ou
t of place in there, they’d have spotted it. And I’ll bet that goes double for the Imperials and Geroons.”
“Probably triple for the Imperials,” Luke conceded. Outside, the mottling vanished into starlines and collapsed into stars. Yet another navigational stop, apparently. Idly, he wondered what sort of firepoints the Chiss had waiting at this one. “So what’s our next move?”
“Unfortunately, that’s probably up to him,” Mara said, not sounding at all happy about it. “The initiative always lies with the attacker. About all we can do is be ready—”
She broke off as a raucous trilling tone suddenly sliced like a vibroblade through the lounge. “Alert T-Seven!” a Chiss voice snapped over the speakers. “Arc twelve-two. Repeat: Alert T-Seven; arc twelve-two.”
The nearest comm panel was at the far end of the next couch over. Luke got there first. “This is Master Skywalker,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“This does not concern you—”
“This is Aristocra Formbi, Master Skywalker,” Formbi’s voice cut into the circuit. “Please come to the Geroon vessel as quickly as possible.”
“On our way,” Luke promised. “What’s happened.”
There was a hint of a sigh from the speaker. “One of the Geroons has been shot.”
* * *
There were a dozen Chiss swarming about the corridor outside the Geroon shuttle when Luke and Mara arrived. Two of them, Feesa and someone in Defense Fleet black, were kneeling beside the writhing and moaning figure of a Geroon, working on him with one of the ship’s medpacs. Formbi, looking grim, was standing off to the side where he’d be out of the way. “What happened?” Luke asked as they were passed through the outer circle of Chiss.
“He was shot with a charric as he left his vessel,” Formbi told them. “Upper back, left side. We’re searching for the weapon now.”
Luke stepped around Feesa and looked down, his heart sinking inside him as he got a look at the victim’s face. It was Estosh, the youngest of the Geroons, his features twisted in pain at the charred and blackened skin across his left shoulder.
“You are a Jedi,” Formbi went on. “I’m told Jedi have healing powers.”
“Some of us do,” Luke said, kneeling beside Estosh and studying the injured area. Behind him, he could feel Mara’s sympathetic pain as she gazed down at the wound. She’d been shot with a Chiss charric once herself and knew exactly how it felt. “Unfortunately, neither of us has any special skills in that area.”
“Is there nothing you can do?” Feesa asked.
Luke pursed his lips, trying to think. With himself or another Jedi, a healing trance would be the obvious answer. He might even be willing to risk it with Fel or one of the human stormtroopers, if the victim had been one of them.
But with an alien, especially one with unknown physiology and a mental and emotional structure he was unfamiliar with, it would be far too dangerous unless there was no other choice. “Can you tell me how bad it is?” he asked Feesa. “Is it life threatening, or only very painful?”
“It is certainly painful,” Feesa said stiffly. “I do not know the rest. What does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal,” Luke told her, looking around the corridor. The rest of the Geroons, he noted with surprise, were nowhere to be seen. “Where are Bearsh and the others?”
“Inside their vessel,” Formbi said. “They say they are afraid for their lives.”
Luke grimaced. But he supposed he couldn’t really blame them. “Someone go tell them to get out here,” he said. “Tell them there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“They will not come,” one of the Chiss said contemptuously. “They fear now that the whole of the Chiss Ascendancy stands against them.” He made a clicking sound in the back of his throat. “They are an easily terrified species.”
“They can be terrified on their own time,” Luke told him shortly. “Right now, I need someone to tell me how bad this is.”
“I’ll go,” Mara volunteered, crossing toward the entryway room. “If they don’t trust the Chiss, maybe they’ll trust a human.”
Whatever it was she said to them, it obviously worked. Two minutes later Bearsh and the others emerged hesitantly from the transfer tunnel, looking around like children in a festival frighthouse. “Come here, Bearsh,” Luke said, beckoning. “I need to know how bad this injury is.”
“It is terrible,” Bearsh moaned as he sidled nervously past the Chiss to Estosh’s side. “How could someone do this to him?”
“We hope to learn that soon,” Formbi said. “In the meantime, Master Skywalker needs to know if his injuries are life threatening.”
Bearsh knelt down gingerly, his fingers probing the edges of the burned skin. Estosh tensed, but said nothing. “No,” Bearsh said after a moment. “But he is in great pain.”
“I know,” Luke said reluctantly. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for that. Jedi healing powers can be dangerous to use. I can’t risk it if he’ll most likely heal by himself.”
“Of course not,” Bearsh said, his voice sounding bitter. “He is only a Geroon, after all.”
“I meant it would be dangerous for him,” Luke said, trying hard not to be irritated. None of this was his fault, after all. “About all I can do is help you get him inside.”
“That would be most kind,” Bearsh murmured, his flash of bitterness subsiding. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Luke stretched out to the Force, reaching for a mental grip on Estosh—
“That won’t be necessary,” Formbi said suddenly before he could begin lifting. “A medical litter is on its way. My people will take him inside.”
Bearsh stood up. “We would prefer the human’s help,” he said stiffly. “We would prefer the Chiss not enter our spacecraft again.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Formbi said flatly. “The Chaf Envoy is a vessel of the Fifth Family of the Chiss Ascendancy. As travelers within that vessel, you come under Chiss law and custom. If we choose to enter your vessel, we will do so.”
For a long moment the two aliens stood facing each other in silence, Bearsh looking ridiculously small and fragile in front of the tall, regal Chiss. Then, with a sigh, Bearsh’s shoulders seemed to sag. “Of course,” he murmured, turning away. “As you wish.”
Luke stirred, starting to take a step forward. Formbi was being completely unreasonable—
No.
He stopped in midthought and midstep as Mara’s urgent warning flowed into his mind. He looked back around at her, caught the similarly warning look in her eyes.
His intended protest died away unsaid. It was Formbi’s ship, after all. If the Aristocra wanted to make that point obvious to everyone present, it wasn’t Luke’s place to argue with him.
From down the corridor came two Chiss guiding a floating medical cart between them. Luke looked at Mara again, caught the fractional tilt of her head, and stepped away from the injured Geroon to give them room. A minute later, they had Estosh on the litter and were moving him inside. The rest of the Geroons walked beside them in stony silence.
“That’s all, then,” Formbi said, turning his glowing eyes on Luke and Mara as the party disappeared down the transfer tunnel. “Thank you for your assistance.”
With a supreme effort, Luke merely nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I don’t suppose Estosh saw who shot him?”
Formbi shook his head. “He told Feesa the shooter fired as he entered the corridor. He wasn’t even certain where the shot came from. We’re searching for the weapon now.”
“I see,” Luke said. “Please let us know if you find it.”
“Of course,” Formbi said. “Good night.”
“They won’t find anything,” he muttered to Mara as they threaded their way through the milling Chiss and headed toward their quarters. “Ten to one it’s back in its rack or holster or wherever it was taken from.”
“You think that’s what our friend last night was looking for?” Mara asked. “A wea
pon?”
“Maybe, only he didn’t take it then,” Luke said. “If he had, the search parties today would have noticed it was missing. No, all he wanted yesterday was to find where a weapon was conveniently located so that he could grab it tonight, shoot the first Geroon who came out of their shuttle, then put it back before it could be missed.”
“But why shoot a Geroon, of all people?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said in disgust. “Maybe someone wants to drive a wedge between them and the Chiss. Or maybe just between them and Formbi. Someone who doesn’t want to see them get a world of their own.”
“Or maybe someone looking to stir up trouble between Formbi and us,” Mara pointed out. “You were within half a heartbeat of arguing with him in front of his own people. You think he could have let you get away with that?”
“He was being petty,” Luke said with a sigh. “But you’re right. His ship; his rules. Anyway, good guests don’t argue with their hosts.”
“So be a good guest,” Mara said, taking his arm soothingly as they walked. “And while we do that, we can also see about watching his back.”
He gave her a sideways look. “You think Formbi’s in danger?”
“Someone’s trying to scatter chaos around this ship,” she reminded him. “A major political assassination, or even just an attempt, would pretty well end the whole thing, don’t you think?”
Luke shook his head. “I wish I knew what was on Outbound Flight that’s so important.”
“Me, too,” Mara said. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
* * *
The searchers found the charric half an hour later in a ventilation intake a few meters down the corridor from where Estosh had been shot. Further investigation showed it had been stolen from an arms locker in the stern of the ship near the main engines, a locker whose fasteners had been carefully gimmicked for quick opening. Luke’s guess, Mara had to admit, had been right on the nose.
