Star Wars - Outbound Flight

by Timothy Zahn

“Maybe they brought their friends?” Anakin suggested hesitantly.

  “Friends were not invited,” C’baoth growled. He started to move forward, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he gave an impatient gesture to his right. Turning that direction, Obi-Wan saw Lorana Jinzler detach herself from the back wall where she’d been standing and walk over to them.

  She nodded in greeting as she reached them. “Master C’baoth,” she said quietly. “Master Ma’Ning said you might drop in on us.”

  “And it’s fortunate that I did,” C’baoth said. His voice was low, but Obi-Wan could see a few of the people in the back row starting to look around to see what was going on. “What are all these people doing here?”

  “Master Ma’Ning invited all the secondaries and their families, as well,” Lorana told him.

  “Secondaries?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “Those with a small amount of latent Force sensitivity, too small for them to ever become Jedi,” C’baoth said, glowering across the room at Ma’Ning. “What about you, Jedi Jinzler? Why aren’t you attending to your duties on Dreadnaught-One?”

  “Master Ma’Ning asked me to come,” she said, her voice a little strained.

  C’baoth rumbled deep in his throat. “I see,” he said darkly.

  They waited in silence as Ma’Ning answered the question he’d been asked—something about ration redistribution for those whose children would be undergoing the training—and called for more questions. There were none, and with a final word of thanks he called the meeting to a close.

  And as the audience began to gather themselves together, C’baoth strode down the aisle toward the front. Obi-Wan followed, Anakin and Lorana at his sides. As near as Obi-Wan could tell from the snatches of conversation he could hear, most of the people did indeed seem pleased or even excited by the fact that they had future Jedi in their families.

  Most of them. But not all.

  Ma’Ning nodded in greeting as the group approached. “Master C’baoth,” he said. “Master Kenobi; Young Sky—”

  “What do you mean by bringing the secondaries to this meeting?” C’baoth demanded.

  “I thought it would be useful to let everyone know at once why they’d been selected to fly on Outbound Flight,” Ma’Ning said. His voice was calm, but Obi-Wan could see tension lines at the corners of his eyes. “Since the secondaries are the ones most likely to produce Jedi offspring in the future, I thought they should know what to expect.”

  “That could have been dealt with if and when it happened.”

  C’baoth growled. “This is not how it should have been.”

  “None of it is as it should be,” Ma’Ning countered. “Children this age—and taking them from their families by force—”

  “By force?” Obi-Wan put in.

  “I don’t expect force to be necessary,” C’baoth insisted, glaring at Obi-Wan and Ma’Ning in turn. “The few parents who have doubts will undoubtedly come around. Certainly the children themselves will be thrilled to begin their training.”

  “The question remains why we’re even doing this,” Ma’Ning said.

  “We’re doing this because we’re setting off on a long and dangerous trip,” C’baoth told him. “We’ll need all the Jedi we can get, far more than Master Yoda would permit me to invite.

  Very well; so we will raise them up by ourselves. And please don’t quote me that learned nonsense about how young a Jedi candidate has to be, because that’s all it is: nonsense.“

  “Master Yoda would disagree with you,” Ma’Ning said.

  “Then Master Yoda would be wrong,” C’baoth said flatly. “We don’t train children or adults because we choose not to. That’s the only reason.” He gestured at Anakin. “Padawan Skywalker is proof that older children are trainable.”

  Ma’Ning’s lip twitched. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But there are other reasons for accepting only infants.”

  “What other reasons?” C’baoth asked. “Tradition? Politics? There’s certainly nothing in the Code itself that specifically speaks to the issue.”

  “Actually, that’s not true,” Obi-Wan put in. “The writings of Master Simikarty are very clear on the subject.”

  “Master Simikarty’s writings are his interpretations of the Code, not part of the Code itself,” C’baoth said. “More tradition, under a different name.”

  “You do not approve of tradition?” one of the Duros asked.

  “I don’t approve of simply and blindly accepting it as truth,” C’baoth told him. “Nor can we afford to do so. The lists of Jedi are shrinking all across the Republic. If we’re to continue our role as the guardians of peace and justice, we must find ways to increase our numbers.”

  “By forcibly taking trainees from their parents?” Ma’Ning asked. “Especially considering the fact that none of these parents had wanted their children to become Jedi in the first place?”

  “What makes you think that?” C’baoth asked.

  “The fact that if they had, they’d have taken them for testing when they were infants,” Ma’Ning said.

  “Perhaps there were other reasons,” C’baoth rumbled. “But all right, yes, the parents have always made the decision whether or not their children would be trained. More tradition. But what about the child’s wishes? Wouldn’t it be more ethical to allow him or her to make that decision?”

  “But as Master Ma’Ning says, there are good reasons for accepting only infants,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Most of which don’t apply here,” C’baoth said firmly. “There are no deep-rooted family hierarchies aboard Outbound Flight to deal with. Nor will the children be going hundreds or thousands of light-years away to the Temple on Coruscant where their families will never see them again.” Beside C’baoth, Lorana stirred but remained silent. “No, here they’ll be merely a turbolift ride away in the storage core,” C’baoth continued. “After some initial training, we might even consider allowing them occasional evenings with their families.”

  “You’re putting them in the storage core?” Ma’Ning asked, frowning.

  “I want the training center as far away from noise and mental confusion as possible,” C’baoth told him. “There’s plenty of room down there.”

  Ma’Ning shook his head. “I still don’t like this, Master C’baoth.”

  “New ideas are always discomfiting, as are new ways of doing things,” C’baoth said, looking at each of the others in turn. “In many ways all of Outbound Flight is a grand experiment. And remember that if we’re successful, we may return to the Republic with the key to a complete reinvigoration of the entire Jedi Order.”

  “And if we don’t succeed?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “Then we fail,” C’baoth said stiffly. “But we won’t.” Obi-Wan looked at Ma’Ning. The other still didn’t look happy, but it was clear he didn’t have any fresh arguments to offer.

  Besides, C’baoth was right. Something new had to be tried if the Jedi Order was going to survive.

  And once upon a time, according to the histories, the Jedi had been willing to take risks.

  “All right,” Ma’Ning said at last. “We’ll try this grand experiment of yours. But move carefully, Master C’baoth. Move very carefully.”

  “Of course,” C’baoth said, as if there were no doubt. “Then all that remains is to prepare the training center.” He turned to Lorana. “Since you’re here, Jedi Jinzler, you will see to that.”

  Lorana bowed her head. “Yes, Master C’baoth.”

  “And in the future,” C’baoth added, looking back at Ma’Ning, “you’ll check with me before you take any of my Jedi from their assigned duties.”

  Ma’Ning’s lip twisted slightly, but he, too, bowed his head. “As you wish, Master C’baoth.”

  C’baoth held his eves a moment longer, then turned to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “And now, we’ll continue our tour,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

  He strode down the aisle toward the rear, ignoring the small clusters of crewers still conver
sing quietly among themselves, and out into the corridor. “You mentioned Jedi duties,” Obi-Wan said as they turned aft. “What exactly will you be wanting us to do?”

  “At the moment, the sorts of things you’ve always done,” C’baoth said. “Patrolling Outbound Flight and assisting where you’re needed. Later, I’ll want you to assist with the training of our prospective Jedi. And, of course, we’ll be needed to maintain order aboard the ships.”

  “I hadn’t noticed a great deal of disorder,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

  “There will be,” C’baoth said grimly. “This many people can’t live this closely together without friction. Even before we leave the Unknown Regions, I fully expect we’ll be regularly called upon to resolve disputes among passengers, as well as organizing proper rules of conduct.”

  Rules of conduct? “Wouldn’t that sort of thing be Captain Pakmillu’s responsibility?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

  “Captain Pakmillu will have his hands full with the physical requirements of running Outbound Flight,” C’baoth said. “Besides, we’re the best qualified for such tasks.”

  “As long as we remember that our role is to advise and mediate,” Obi-Wan cautioned. “ Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy.‘ ”

  “I said nothing about ruling over anyone.”

  “But if we take over Captain Pakmillu’s job of keeping order, isn’t that essentially what we’re doing?” Obi-Wan asked. “Mediation offered with the underlying threat of compulsion hardly qualifies as mediation.”

  “As I threatened the two sides on Barlok?” C’baoth asked pointedly.

  Obi-Wan hesitated. He remembered feeling uncomfortable with the tone C’baoth had used to the two sides in the aftermath of the abortive missile attack. Had he in fact overstepped his bounds by forcing them to accept his terms? Or had the compulsion merely come from the attack itself, coupled with their sudden and sobering recognition that the negotiations were no longer purely matters of charts and abstract numbers?

  And what was C’baoth’s connection, if any, to that attack? That was a question he was still no closer to answering.

  “They did need someone to tell them what to do,” Anakin offered into his thoughts. “And we’re supposed to have wisdom and insight that non-Jedi don’t have.”

  “Sometimes wisdom requires us to stand by and do nothing,” Obi-Wan said, Windu’s words back at the Temple echoing through his mind. Still, if the Council had reprimanded C’baoth for his actions, Windu hadn’t mentioned it. “Otherwise people might never learn how to handle problems by themselves.”

  “And such wisdom comes only through a close understanding of the Force,” C’baoth said, his tone indicating the discussion was over. “As you will learn, young Skywalker.” He gestured ahead. “Now, down here we have the central weapons and shield cluster…”

  C’baoth and the others disappeared through the conference room door. Lorana watched them go, sighing with tiredness and frustration.

  Why had Ma’Ning asked her here, anyway? Because she presumably knew C’baoth better than anyone else aboard? If so, she certainly hadn’t been of much use during the discussion. Was she supposed to have joined the others in objecting to his Jedi training plan, then? Well, she’d failed on that account, too.

  “Is he always this overbearing?”

  Lorana turned back around. The two Duros had wandered away and were talking quietly together, but Ma’Ning was still standing there, eyeing her thoughtfully. “He didn’t seem particularly overbearing to me,” she said, automatically rising to her Master’s defense.

  “Perhaps it’s just his personality,” Ma’Ning said. But there was a knowing look on his face. Maybe he’d seen other Jedi come to C’baoth’s defense before, for the same reasons Lorana had. Whatever those reasons were. “Tell me, what do you think of this scheme of his?”

  “You mean the training of older children?” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s all new to me.”

  “He hasn’t talked about this before?”

  “No,” she said. “At least, not to me.”

  “Mm,” Ma’Ning said, pursing his lips. “It’s an interesting concept, certainly. And he’s right: there have been exceptions in the past, most of whom have worked out fine.”

  “Like Anakin?”

  “Perhaps,” Ma’Ning said cautiously. “Though until a Padawan actually achieves Jedi Knighthood, there’s always the danger he or she might fall away. I’m not expecting that of Skywalker, of course.”

  “No,” Lorana agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, Master Ma’Ning, I need to find some crewers to help me start organizing the new training center.”

  “Certainly,” Ma’Ning said, nodding. “I’ll speak with you later.”

  He stepped over to the two Duros, joining in their conversation. Three Jedi, holding a private discussion among themselves.

  With Lorana on the outside. As if she were still just a Padawan.

  Still, she had said she was leaving. Maybe that was all it was. Taking a deep breath, putting such thoughts from her mind, she headed down the aisle toward the door.

  She was nearly there when a man stepped partway into her path. “Your pardon, Jedi,” he said tentatively. “A word, if I may?”

  “Certainly,” Lorana said, focusing on him for the first time. He was a typical crewer, young and bright-eyed, with short dark hair and a hint of greasy dirt on the collar of his jumpsuit. Summoned directly from his shift to Ma’Ning’s meeting, probably. Behind him stood a young woman with a sleeping infant in one arm and a boy of five or six standing close beside her. Her free hand was resting on the boy’s shoulder. “How can I help you?”

  “My name’s Dillian Pressor,” the man said, gesturing back to the others. “My son, Jorad, has a question.”

  “All right,” Lorana said, stepping over to the boy, noting that as she approached the woman seemed to tighten her grip on her son’s shoulder. “Hello, Jorad,” she said cheerfully, dropping to one knee in front of him.

  He gazed at her, his expression a mix of uncertainty and awe. “Are you really a Jedi?” he asked.

  “Yes, indeed,” she assured him. “I’m Jedi Jinzler. Can you say that?”

  He pursed his lips uncertainly. “Jedi Jisser?”

  “Jinzler,” his father said. “Jinzler.”

  “Jedi Jissler,” the boy tried again.

  “Or we could just make it Jedi Lorana,” Lorana suggested. “You have a question for me?”

  The boy threw an uncertain look up at his mother’s face. Then, steeling himself, he looked back at Lorana. “Master Ma’Ning said only the people he called were going to be Jedi,” he said. “I wanted to know if I could be one, too.”

  Lorana glanced up at the woman, noting the tight lines in her face. “I’m afraid it’s not something any of us has a say in,” she said. “If you aren’t born with Force sensitivity, we can’t train you to be a Jedi. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, what if I got better?” Jorad persisted. “He said the rest of us were close, and it’s been a long time since they tested us. Maybe I got better.”

  “Maybe you did,” Lorana said. In theory, of course, he couldn’t. Force sensitivity could be nurtured, but not created.

  On the other hand, C’baoth had said these were the families who had low but non-negligible sensitivity. It was at least theoretically possible that the boy’s testing had been inaccurate. “I tell you what,” she said. “I’ll talk to Master Ma’Ning about having you tested again, all right? If you’ve gotten better, we’ll see if we can get you into the program.”

  Jorad’s eyes lit up. “Okay,” he said. “When can I do it?”

  “I’ll talk to Master Ma’Ning,” she repeated, wondering if she’d already promised more than she could deliver. “He’ll set it up with your father.”

  “Jorad?” the boy’s mother prompted.

  “Thank you,” Jorad said dutifully.

  “You’re welcome,” Lorana said, standin
g up and looking at the baby in her mother’s arm. “Is this your sister?”

  “Yes, that’s Katarin,” Jorad said. “She mostly just cries a lot.”

  “That’s what babies do best,” Lorana agreed, looking at the mother and then Dillian. “Thank you all for coming.”

  “No problem,” Dillian said, taking his son’s hand and stepping to the door. It opened, and he ushered the boy out into the corridor. “Thank you again, Jedi Jinzler.”

  “Jedi Lorana,” Jorad corrected him.

  Almost unwillingly, Dillian smiled. “Jedi Lorana,” he amended. Holding out a hand to his wife, he led her out behind Jorad-

  “There you are,” an irritated voice called down the corridor.

  Lorana stepped out into the corridor behind the others. Striding toward them was a young man with dirtwater-colored hair, his mouth set in a thin line as he glared at Dillian. “What the brix are you doing here, Pressor?”

  “It was a special meeting,” Dillian said, gesturing toward Lorana. “This is Jedi Lorana Jinzler—”

  “Since when do you skip out in the middle of a duty shift for a meeting?” the man cut in. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s a little difficult to do a hyperdrive reactor communication deep-check without the hyperdrive man actually being there.”

  “I know,” Pressor said, giving Jorad’s hand to his mother. “Sorry—I thought we’d be done sooner than this.”

  “Well, you weren’t.” The man shifted his glare to Lorana. “Is this going to be a regular occurrence around here, Jedi Jinzler?”

  “What do you mean, ah… ?”

  “Chas Uliar,” the man said shortly. “I mean you Jedi coming in and messing with our work schedules.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Lorana said.

  “Two days ago Master Ma’Ning pulled everyone off systems control for a coolant-leak drill,” Uliar said. “Never mind that we’ve already done five of them in the past month. Now you’re calling special bounce-of-the-moment meetings that pull people off important duty stations. What’s on line for tomorrow? Escape pod practice?”

  “Is there a problem, Uliar?” Ma’Ning’s voice came from behind them.

  Lorana turned as Ma’Ning stepped out into the corridor. “I just want to get my day’s work done in peace so that I can sleep the sleep of the virtuous,” Uliar said with a hint of sarcasm. “Or do I need to make a formal requisition for that?”