Survivor's Quest

by Timothy Zahn

  "Bearsh—" Formbi said again.

  But Bearsh merely turned his back on them and strode away. Again peering out through the chairs, Jinzler saw the other Geroons fall into step behind him, the two uninjured ones supporting the third. The door wheezed open, and Bearsh looked briefly out into the corridor. A moment later they were gone, the door sliding shut behind them.

  Jinzler shifted his attention to the three remaining wolvkils. They were padding around now, continuing to clean themselves, occasionally sniffing at their fallen victims. But it was clear they were also keeping an eye on the prisoners behind their barrier.

  "I don't understand," Rosemari said, her shaking voice barely above a whisper. "What do they want from us?"

  Uliar sighed. "Vengeance, Instructor," he said. "Vengeance for crimes real and crimes imagined."

  "What crimes?" Rosemari asked. "What did we ever do to the Geroons?"

  "We did nothing to the Geroons," Uliar said bitterly. "That's the problem."

  Jinzler turned around to stare at him. "What?"

  "Didn't you know, Ambassador?" Uliar bit out, his eyes dark as he glared past Rosemari's shoulder. "Bearsh and his friends aren't Geroons.

  "They're Vagaari."

  CHAPTER 19

  Jinzler blinked at him, the collected images of the voyage flashing through his mind. How could Uliar even think that such excruciatingly humble travel companions could possibly be members of a race of pirates and slavers?

  But even before the question formed in his mind, that last vivid image of Bearsh settled like a heavy curtain over all the rest: Bearsh standing placidly by as his wolvkils slaughtered their way across the meeting chamber. "How did you know?" he asked.

  "Their voices," Uliar said as he stared into space, a distant agony reflected in his eyes. "Or rather, their speech, when they spoke in their own language just before their attack. I only heard it once, but it's something I'll never forget." The eyes came back to a hard focus. "You genuinely didn't know who they were?"

  "Of course not," Jinzler said. "You think we would have let them aboard Outbound Flight if we had?"

  "I don't know," Uliar said darkly. "Some of you might have." He turned his gaze toward Formbi. "Possibly the heirs of those who tried to destroy Outbound Flight in the first place."

  "Ridiculous," Formbi said, his voice taut with suppressed pain. He was lying on his side along the back wall, his head cradled in Feesa's lap, the bloodstains on his sleeve growing steadily larger. "I've told you before: the Chiss Ascendancy had nothing to do with your destruction. Thrawn acted totally on his own."

  "Perhaps," Uliar said. "But what about you, Aristocra? On whose behalf are you acting?"

  "Why do we waste time with unimportant matters?" Feesa cut in angrily. "We must get medical attention for Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano. Where is your medical center?"

  "What difference does it make?" Uliar growled. "Those things will kill anyone who tries to leave."

  "No," Feesa said. "During the battle they attacked only those who carried weapons. As long as we leave unarmed and make no threatening movements, I believe we may pass safely among them."

  "Interesting theory," Tarkosa said scornfully. "Are you prepared to risk all our lives on it?"

  "It need be no one's risk but mine," Feesa shot back, starting to shift position in the cramped space. "I will go."

  "No, don't," Evlyn said. "I saw one of them talking to the animals. I think he told it not to let any of us leave."

  "Really," Uliar said, his tone suddenly subtly different. "And how would you know that?"

  "I don't know," Evlyn said. "I said I think"

  "I am willing to take the risk," Feesa insisted.

  "I'm not," Formbi told her, reaching up to touch her arm with his fingertips. "You'll stay here."

  "But—"

  "That's an order, Feesa," Formbi said, his breathing starting to sound heavy as the loss of blood began to take its toll. "We will all stay here."

  "Is that how Blue Ones face hard choices?" Tarkosa said scornfully. "To simply sit and do nothing until they die?"

  "Maybe that's what they're hoping," Keely muttered. "Maybe their line creepers aren't as bad as they want us to think. Maybe they hope we'll go charging out there and get torn to bits."

  "So instead we sit here and die?" Tarkosa shot back.

  "No one's going anywhere," Jinzler said firmly. "There's no need. The Jedi and Imperials are still free. They'll find us."

  Keely snorted. "Jedi," he said, biting out the name like a curse.

  "There aren't any Jedi," Uliar said. "You heard Bearsh. They're already dead."

  "I'll believe that when I see it," Jinzler said, turning around to peer through the chairs. The wolvkils had finished their postslaughter grooming and had moved closer to the makeshift refuge, probably drawn by the voices. They were prowling at arm's length away from the table barrier, their ears straight up, their jaws half open.

  "We need a weapon," Uliar murmured. "That's what we need. A weapon."

  "Those men and Chiss had weapons, too," Jinzler reminded him, looking past the wolvkils to the dead bodies scattered about the far end of the room. "What we really need is help..."

  He trailed off, his eyes focusing on the nearest of the dead Peacekeepers and the comlink hooked to his belt.

  The comlink the boy had reached for when Uliar had ordered the jamming to be shut off.

  "Director," he said, trying to keep the sudden excitement out of his voice. "If we had one of the Peacekeepers' comlinks, could we shut off the jamming?"

  "If we had one, yes," Uliar said. "There's a special twist-frequency command line built into those comlinks that allows for communication with other Peacekeepers and the command system."

  "Do you know how to operate it?"

  "Of course," the director growled. "I served my share of Peacekeeper duty."

  "Except that the nearest comlink is ten meters away," Tarkosa pointed out. "Were you hoping to convince one of the animals to bring it to you?"

  "No." Jinzler looked at Evlyn. "Not one of the animals."

  The girl looked back at him; and for the first time since they'd met he saw an edge of fear in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "I can't."

  "Yes, you can," Jinzler told her firmly. "You must."

  "No," Rosemari cut in emphatically. "You heard her. She can't."

  "Can't what?" Uliar demanded, his voice suddenly watchful.

  "There's nothing special about her," Rosemari insisted, glaring warningly at Jinzler.

  "Yes, there is," Jinzler said, just as firmly. "You know that as well as I do. Rosemari, it's our best chance."

  "No!" Rosemari bit out, clutching her daughter tightly to her.

  "So I was right," Uliar said softly.

  Rosemari whirled on him. "Leave her alone," she flared at him, her voice trembling. "You're not going to send her to Three to die. You're not."

  "Do you dare defy the law?" Uliar thundered.

  "She hasn't done anything!" Rosemari shot back. "How can you condemn her when she hasn't even done anything?"

  "She's a Jedi!" Tarkosa snarled. "That's all the law requires."

  "Then the law is a fool," Jinzler said.

  The three Survivors turned furious eyes on him. "Keep out of this, outlander," Tarkosa ordered. "What do you know about us, or what we went through?"

  "Is that your reason for denying your children their birthright?" Jinzler demanded. "For keeping them from using and developing the talents they were born with? Is that your excuse—something that happened fifty years ago? Before any of them were even born?"

  "No," Evlyn said, her face pleading, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Please, Ambassador. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be a Jedi."

  Jinzler shook his head. "You don't have a choice," he told her quietly. "None of us gets to choose which talents and abilities we're born with. Our only choice is whether we take those gifts and use them to live and grow and serve, or whether we bury them in the ground
and try to pretend they were never there."

  Awkwardly, he shifted around in the cramped space and took the girl's hand. It was shaking, and the skin was icy cold. "You can use the Force, Evlyn," he said. "It's one of the greatest and rarest gifts that anyone can ever be given. You can't simply throw it away."

  She looked up at him, blinking back tears. Her face was so tight, he saw, and yet so controlled...

  And suddenly, it was as if he were four years old again, gazing across the distance at his sister Lorana's eyes for the first time. Watching the wariness and uncertainty in her own face as she turned away; feeling himself seething with confusion and resentment at the special place she clearly held in his parents' hearts.

  Or was that as clear as he'd thought?

  He felt his hand tighten around Evlyn's as memories he'd spent years pushing away rushed in, washing over his carefully constructed view of himself and his life like a mountain stream cutting through loose mud. An image of his mother praising him for his near-perfect grade evaluation in fourth tier. Another image, this one of his father, complimenting him on his ingenuity as they worked together to rewire a section of the family holoviewer. More images—dozens of them—all showing that his long-held belief in parental neglect hadn't been true at all.

  It fact, it had been an out-and-out lie. A lie he'd created and repeated to himself over and over until he'd genuinely believed it. A lie he'd created for one reason, and one reason only.

  Jealousy.

  He hadn't hated Lorana at all, he saw now. He'd simply hated what she'd become, because it was what he had longed to be but never could.

  He closed his eyes. So simple... and yet it had taken him most of his life to finally recognize the truth.

  Or perhaps it had simply taken that long for him to admit it to himself. Perhaps, down deep, he'd known it all along.

  He opened his eyes; and as he did so, the image of Lorana's face vanished back into the mists of memory, leaving him once again sitting inside a ruined starship, huddled behind a makeshift barrier, holding a little girl's hand.

  He turned to Uliar. "She has the power of the Jedi, Director Uliar," he said. "She always will. You should be honored to know her."

  The other's eyes bored into him like a pair of hungry duracrete slugs. But there was apparently something in Jinzler's expression that warned against further argument. The director merely gave a contemptuous snort and turned his face away without speaking.

  Jinzler looked at Tarkosa and Keely in turn, silently daring each of them to object. But whatever it was Uliar had seen, they saw it, too. Neither of them spoke.

  And finally, he turned back to Rosemari. "There's one last thing," he said. "She needs the approval of the people she loves. More importantly, she deserves it."

  Rosemari swallowed visibly. She didn't like this—that was abundantly clear in the lines etched across her face. But beneath the fear and pain, he could see some of the same toughness he remembered in his own mother. "It's all right, Evlyn," she said softly. "It's all right. Go ahead and... and use what you have."

  Evlyn looked up into her mother's face, as if mentally testing her sincerity. Then she lowered her gaze to Jinzler. "What do you want me to do?"

  Jinzler took a deep breath. "The Peacekeeper over there by the wall has a comlink on his belt," he told her. "Do you see it?"

  Evlyn wiggled around to where she could peer through the mesh of the chair plugging the gap between table and bulkhead. "Yes."

  "It's the only thing that can shut off the jamming and let us call to our friends for help," Jinzler said. "We need you to bring it to us."

  "Your friends are dead," Keely murmured.

  "No," Jinzler said. "Not these Jedi. I've heard of stories about them, Councilor. They can't be killed nearly as easily as Bearsh thinks."

  "And there are still Chiss warriors aboard our ship," Feesa added. "Many of them. They can help us, too."

  "But only if we can call them," Jinzler said, gazing into Evlyn's eyes. "Only if you can bring us that comlink."

  Evlyn set her jaw. "All right," she said. "I'll try."

  Jinzler felt his throat ache with an old, old pain. Do or do not. There is no try. His father had quoted that Jedi dictum to him over and over again as he was growing up. But never before now had he been able to get past his own resentment and see the encouragement embedded in those words. Pressing his cheek against the chairs above him, wincing as one of the wolvkils snorted a breath of fetid air practically in his face, he looked across the room.

  At the Peacekeeper's side, the comlink twitched.

  Uliar grunted something under his breath. The comlink twitched again, harder this time; and then, suddenly, it popped free of its clip and clattered onto the deck.

  The wolvkils paused in their pacing, all three shaggy heads turning toward the sound. "Steady," Jinzler murmured. "Let it sit there a minute."

  Evlyn nodded silently. A few seconds later, with nothing more to draw their attention, the wolvkils resumed their pacing. "All right," Jinzler said. "Now start it toward us. Slowly, and as steady as you can."

  Slowly, though not at all steadily, the comlink began to move across the deck. One of the wolvkils paused again as it jerked its way to within three meters of the table, the animal's dark eyes watching the small cylinder with obvious curiosity. But none of its enemies was making any of the threatening moves it had been taught to react to, and its trainers clearly hadn't anticipated a situation quite like this. The wolvkil watched for a moment longer as the comlink rolled and bumped its way along, then lost interest and returned its attention to the creatures cowering behind their barrier. Again, Jinzler found himself holding his breath.

  Then, almost anticlimactically, the comlink was at the chair. Reaching out carefully, Evlyn plucked the device in through one of the gaps in the mesh.

  And an instant later jerked backward with a gasp as a snarling wolvkil slammed his snout into the chair, nearly knocking it out of position.

  "Give it to me," Jinzler snapped, snatching the comlink out of the startled girl's hand. If a loose comlink rolling across the floor wasn't on the wolvkils' list of threats, something being held in an enemy's hand obviously was. "Here," he added, tossing it to Uliar as he swung his legs over and braced his feet against the chair. The wolvkil hit it again, but he'd gotten to it in time and it held steady. "Shut off the jamming."

  Uliar's reply, if he made one, was lost as a set of snarling jaws and a clawed paw abruptly slapped into the chair directly above Jinzler's head. "Brace the chairs," Formbi called, struggling to sit upright and getting a one-handed grip on the back of the nearest one. Just in time; the third wolvkil leapt up onto the array of chairs above them, howling furiously as it bit and shoved its snout at them, trying to find a way through. One of its hind legs slipped down between two of them, and the animal howled even more furiously as it flailed around trying to extricate itself. The clawed paw slashed with random viciousness in the enclosed space, and Feesa gasped as it caught her across the shoulder, spilling a line of blood onto the bright yellow of her tunic.

  "It's off!" Uliar called over the noise.

  Holding grimly onto one of the chair backs with one hand, Jinzler thumbed on his comlink with the other, keying for general broadcast. "Luke—Mara—Commander Fel," he called. They couldn't be dead. They couldn't. "Emergency!"

  * * *

  Beneath her, Luke gave one final tug on the cables, bringing Mara's eyes level with the lower edge of the turbolift door. "How's that?" he called.

  "Good," Mara called back, running her fingertips along the corroded metal at the side of the door. In actual fact, another pull or two might have been a little better for what she needed. But it had been a long climb, and even with all the strength he'd been able to draw from the Force Luke's shoulders beneath her legs had been trembling with muscle fatigue for the past five minutes. Better that she strain a little herself and let him conserve what he had left for whatever lay ahead.

  Because if they we
re right about that soundless cry they'd both sensed a minute ago, there was serious trouble up here.

  Ah—there it was. "Got it," she announced. Wrapping her fingertips around the manual release, she gave it a careful tug. There was a click as it came loose; stretching out to the Force, she pried the door open.

  But instead of opening to the cheery or at least adequate light of a standard turbolift lobby, it opened into almost total darkness.

  "How come it's so dark?" Luke asked.

  "Probably because there aren't any lights," Mara told him, looking around as she got a grip on the edge of the opening and pulled herself up and through. Strangely, even most of the permlights that should have been in the area seemed to be out. "We may have been wrong about this being the main living area. Wait a second," she added, peering down the corridor. "I can see some lights way aft. Maybe everybody's back there."

  "Or maybe they're not," a voice came from the darkness to her right. "Just stay where you are."

  Mara turned toward the sound—

  And flinched back as the beam of a glow rod blazed to life in her face.

  She reacted instantly, dropping and throwing herself to her left in a flat half roll that brought her back up into a squatting position with her lightsaber ready in her hand. The man with the glow rod tried to track the beam to her motion, but the half roll fooled him and the beam overshot her. For a fraction of a second she was able to see past the light to the shadowy figure behind it, and to the weapon he was holding in his other hand.

  First things first. Reaching out with the Force, she got a grip on the weapon and twisted its muzzle away from her.

  To her surprise, instead of fighting against the push as most people instinctively did, the figure continued rolling his hand in the same direction, rotating at wrist and elbow and twisting out of her Force grip as he would have from a normal combat wrist lock. He swung the arm back around in a tight circle, and was bringing it back to bear when the glow rod beam came back to her face. "I said stay put," he snapped.