by Timothy Zahn
"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 weapon?"
"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.
There was, of course, no indication as to who had actually taken the weapon or fired the shot.
For the next two days Mara did some quiet poking around on her own, examining the scene of the attack, learning everything she could about charrics and their operation, and holding casual conversations with everyone who would talk to her.
The interviews were, unfortunately, less than illuminating. Most of the crewers had stopped being neutral toward her and her questions and gave halfhearted answers or none at all. The non-Chiss passengers were friendlier but even less help
ful. Most had been alone at the time of the shooting, with no way of corroborating their stories. Only the stormtroopers claimed to have been together in Fel's ship, and even there careful questioning established that they weren't in sight of each other during much of the critical period.
She also spoke twice with Estosh, trying to draw out a more complete description of the incident. But he, too, was of little help. He'd been facing away from the shooter, his thoughts on other matters, and the shock and pain of the injury itself seemed to have thrown an extra layer of haze over his memories. About the only positive thing that came out of those discussions was the fact that he was definitely on the path to recovery.
It was frustrating to hit so many blind alleys. And yet, paradoxically, she found the process itself strangely exhilarating. In many ways this kind of investigation was exactly what she'd been trained for, back when Palpatine had been preparing her to be his silent agent. Certainly it had been one of the most stimulating aspects of her service to him.
Only now it was even better. Here, there was none of the brooding air of hopelessness that had seemed to be the normal state of affairs under Palpatine's Empire, a hopelessness that had hung like a black cloud over every job and every mission. No one aboard Chaf Envoy cringed as she approached, hating and fearing her, or else welcomed her with the false courtesy of someone hoping to twist her authority to his own private ends.
True, most of the Chiss crewers still seemed to heartily dislike the Imperials. But it was a contemptuous dislike, born of a sense of superiority of culture and purpose, not the terrified, hopeless hatred those under the Empire's heel had displayed toward their masters. Fel, in response, walked about with his head held high, not with the arrogance of a Grand Moff or Imperial general, but with a sense of pride about who he was and what he and the Empire of the Hand had accomplished. It was the same kind of pride that she'd often seen in Han or Leia, or in the pilots of Rogue Squadron, or even in Luke himself.
And as she observed and analyzed it all, she couldn't help but compare it to the very different flavor of life she'd left behind in the New Republic. To the squabbling in the Senate that mirrored the hundreds of tensions and clashes between neighboring star systems, or to the factions and power centers maneuvering for position and supremacy on Coruscant that constantly siphoned off energy and resources that could be far better spent in other ways.
Palpatine had been hateful, vicious, and destructive, especially toward the hundreds of alien species under his domination. But she had to admit that, at least on a purely practical level, the efficiency and order of his Empire had been a vast improvement over the bloated bureaucracy and bribe-driven operation of the Old Republic that had preceded it.
What would that Empire have been like, she couldn't help wondering, if people like Parck and Fel had been in command instead of Palpatine? What could that efficiency and order have accomplished, for that matter, in the hands of someone like Thrawn, himself a nonhuman?
And more than once, late at night as she lay in bed beside Luke, she found herself wondering what it would have been like to serve an empire like that.
What it would be like to serve an empire like that.
It was the late part of ship's night after one of those speculative moments that the room's comm panel buzzed them abruptly awake. Twitching away from her, Luke rolled over to key it on. "Yes?" he called.
"This is Aristocra Formbi," the voice noted. "You and Jedi Skywalker may wish to wake and get yourselves dressed."
"What's wrong?" Mara called.
"Nothing's wrong," Formbi said. "We've arrived."
* * *
"There," Formbi said, pointing at the main command center Display. "There, just to the right of center. Do you see it?"
"Yes," Luke said, peering at the image. There was a ship there, all right, its once shiny hull blackened and crackled with multiple laser and missile impacts. It lay poised just over the crest of a steep hill on the planetoid's surface, as if it had been somehow frozen in the act of toppling over the edge.
And as the Chaf Envoy continued its inward spiral, he saw how it was the ship managed to stay suspended in midair. From points near the bow and the stern slender tubes could be seen extending from the underside of the hull, stretching downward at a shallow angle and connecting with another vessel mostly buried in the rubble at the foot of the hill. Midway along each of the tubes, he noticed, another pair of curved tubes veered off, stretching down and inward and coming together as they disappeared into the rocky hillside.
"Is that your Outbound Flight?" Formbi asked quietly, Luke nodded. The ship was a Dreadnaught, all right: six hundred meters long, armed with an awesome array of turbolasers and other weapons, capable of carrying and supporting nearly twenty thousand crewers and passengers.
Or it had been once. Not anymore. Gazing at the battered hull, he felt a stirring of distant pain for those who had been aboard when this had happened. "I think so," he told Formbi. "It fits the description, anyway."
"Engines look mostly intact," Mara commented. Her voice was calm, almost clinical, but Luke could feel the pain and turmoil behind the words. "The turbolaser blisters and shield bays were pretty well pounded, but the rest doesn't seem too bad. With some work, it might actually be able to fly again."
"The vessel on the surface appears capable of sustaining life," Formbi agreed. "The sensors indicate it has air and heat, and is using low levels of power. The other vessel, the one half visible at the foot of the hill, exhibits none of those characteristics."
"No surprise there," Luke murmured. "You can see a dozen places where the connecting tubes between it and the upper ship have been blasted open."
"What about the rest of it?" Jinzler asked. "I understood Outbound Flight was composed of six Dreadnaughts."
"The rest must be underground," Fel said. "What's left of them, anyway."
"Underground?" Bearsh echoed, sounding awed. "This vessel can even travel underground?"
"No, of course not," Formbi said. "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say the rest of it is beneath the—" He hissed thoughtfully. "I don't know the right word. The loose, fine stone in the valley between the hills."
"The scree?" Luke suggested. "Moraine?"
"Scree, I think," Formbi said slowly. "At any rate, our instruments indicate the loose stone is very deep in that place and that there is definitely metal beneath it."
"Do you have any idea what shape it's in?" Jinzler asked. "The parts that are underground, I mean."
"Our instruments cannot say," Formbi said. "We will have to wait until we are aboard to determine that."
"Assuming the connecting tubes under the rock are in better shape than those others," Luke pointed out. "If they are, we may be able to follow them around the circle. If not, we'll have to dig."
"Assuming enough of the circle of ships is there to make it worth the effort," Fel said.
"How did it get here in the first place, though?" Mara asked. "That's what I want to know."
"That remains a mystery," Formbi conceded. "Obviously, Thrawn must have had it towed here for future examination. Yet there is no evidence he or anyone else ever returned for any such study."
"I was actually thinking more about the mechanics of the operation," Mara said. "You said he was commanding a small picket force at the time. Did every junior Chiss officer know how to get in and out of the Redoubt cluster?"
"Absolutely not," Formbi said. "He would have had to search deep into high-ranking information archives to have gained such information."
"That certainly sounds like Thrawn," Fel commented. "Information was his passion."
"Yes," Mara said grimly. "And killing was his business."
A quiet shiver ran up Luke's back. According to Admiral Parck, there had been fifty thousand people aboard those six Dreadnaughts when Outbound Flight was destroyed.
Would the bodies still be aboard, lying where they'd fallen? Certainly he'd seen dead bodies before, but most of those had been the re
mains of Rebel and Imperial soldiers killed in battle. Here most of the deaths would have been civilians, possibly including children.
With an effort, he shook away the thought. Whatever was there, he would simply have to deal with it. "So what's the plan?" he asked.
"The planetoid is too small to hold significant atmosphere," Formbi said, nodding toward the display. "We will therefore land the Chaf Envoy on top of the hill beside the upper vessel and run a transfer tunnel to the portside docking port near the aft end. Then all those who will be going aboard will do so."
He gazed at the display, where the Dreadnaught was growing steadily larger as the Chiss ship closed the gap. "Once we're aboard, there will be a short ceremony in which I will recount the Chiss part in the vessel's destruction and express the depth of our regret," he went on. "I will then ask for forgiveness on behalf of the Nine Ruling Families and the Chiss Ascendancy, and formally return the vessel's remains to Ambassador Jinzler, representing the New Republic, and Master Skywalker and Jedi Jade Skywalker, representing the Jedi Order."
"And us?" Bearsh asked anxiously. "Will there be a place in the ceremony for the Geroon people to express our gratitude?"
"Whether or not you are permitted to speak will be a decision for Ambassador Jinzler," Formbi said gravely.
"Of course you may," Jinzler assured the Geroon, smiling encouragingly at him. "As will you, Commander Fel," he added, nodding to Fel. "Though I'm still not certain what exactly your interest is in Outbound Flight."
"Remembrances come in all sizes and shapes," Fel said obliquely.
"As do acts of repentance and atonement for past failures. Regardless, we'll be honored to participate in the ceremony."
"Then I suggest all return to your quarters or vessels and prepare," Formbi said. "In one hour, we shall begin."
* * *
Landing the Chaf Envoy beside the exposed Dreadnaught was a straightforward enough operation, though there had been some concern that the loose rock wouldn't adequately support its weight, especially given the possibility that a structurally damaged vessel might be buried beneath it. Fortunately, everything seemed solid enough. Setting up the connecting tunnel was handled with equal efficiency.
