Star Wars - Outbound Flight

by Timothy Zahn

  “The Aristocra’s own, I presume,” Thrawn said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “How soon until they arrive?”

  “They could be here at any time,” Thrass said. “I suspect he’s coming to raise charges against you.”

  “In that case he would hardly need a fleet of vessels,” Thrawn pointed out. “No, the Aristocra has something far more profitable in mind.”

  “Outbound Flight?” Car’das asked.

  “Actually, I expect he’s hoping to take possession of the remains of the Vagaari fleet,” Thrawn said. “But you’re right. Once he sees Outbound Flight that priority will definitely change.”

  “He can’t do that,” Thrass protested. He looked at Ar’alani. “Can he?”

  “Not legally,” Ar’alani said, her voice tight. “But as a practical matter, if he’s brought enough vessels, there’ll be no way for us to stop him.”

  “The Council of Families—” Thrass began.

  “—will certainly object,” Ar’alani cut in. “But the procedure will be long and complex.”

  “And in the meantime the Fifth Family will be coaxing the secrets from their new prize,” Thrawn said.

  Thrass hissed, a startlingly reptilian sound. “We can’t allow that,” he said. “Possession of Outbound Flight by any one Family could destroy the balance of power for decades to come.”

  Car’das nodded, a hard knot forming in his stomach. The thought of getting their hands on droid technology alone had been enough to lure the Vagaari to their destruction. How much more of an edge would the droids plus the rest of Outbound Flight’s technology give Chaf’orm’bintrano’s family?

  “We’ll have to stall him,” Ar’alani said. But she didn’t sound very confident. “We must keep his people off this vessel until the Defense Fleet units I’ve summoned can arrive.”

  “They won’t be in time,” Thrawn said. “We need to take Outbound Flight to a military base immediately and have it declared Defense Fleet property.”

  “How long a trip are we talking about?” Car’das asked dubiously. “This thing’s taken a lot of damage.”

  “It will push the systems to their limit,” Thrawn conceded. “But we must try. It would be better for Outbound Flight to be destroyed than to let any single family claim it.”

  There was a flicker of movement at the corner of Car’das’s eye. He turned to the canopy.

  Just as the last of a dozen large Chiss ships came out of hyperspace. “Too late,” he said. “He’s here.”

  Ar’alani muttered a word that had never come up in Car’das’s language lessons. “We’ll have to make do with the crewers you already have aboard,” she said. “Quickly, before—”

  She broke off at a twitter from Thrawn’s comlink. Thrawn looked out at the ships, then reluctantly pulled the device from his belt. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

  “Commander, Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family is signaling the Springhawk,” a voice said. “He demands your immediate presence aboard the Chaf Exalted.”

  Thrawn’s eyes flicked to Ar’alani. “Do not acknowledge his signal,” he ordered.

  “It was not a request, Commander,” the voice warned.

  “Do not acknowledge,” Thrawn repeated, and clicked off the comlink.

  “Thrawn, you can’t simply refuse an Aristocra’s direct order,” Thrass objected.

  “I haven’t yet received any direct orders from the Aristocra,” Thrawn said evenly. “Car’das, find me the helm.”

  “Yes, sir,” Car’das said, peering at the nearest consoles. And then Ar’alani’s comlink twittered.

  All eyes turned to her. “Clever” was all she said as she removed it from her belt and keyed it on. “Admiral Ar’alani.”

  “This is Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano,” a voice boomed. “I’ve been unable to contact Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and I suspect he’s refusing to communicate with me. As an Aristocra of the Fifth Ruling Family, I order you to find and detain him pending a hearing on his recent military activities.”

  Ar’alani hesitated, and Car’das held his breath. Then, with clear reluctance, she nodded. “Acknowledged, Aristocra. I hear, and obey.”

  She shut off the comlink. “I’m sorry, Commander,” she said to Thrawn. “I have no choice but to place you under detention.”

  “This will destroy the Chiss,” Thrawn said quietly. “The Defense Fleet, and only the Defense Fleet, can safely take possession of this vessel.”

  “I understand, and I’ll do what I can to stall the Aristocra,” Ar’alani said. “But in the meantime, you are under detention. Order your people to assemble in the hangar to return to our vessels.”

  For a long moment Thrawn stood motionless. Then, slowly, he bowed his head and activated his comlink. “This is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he said. “All Chiss warriors aboard Outbound Flight: return to the hangar bay.”

  “Thank you,” Ar’alani said. “Now if you please?” she added, gesturing back toward the blast doors. “You, too, Car’das.”

  Car’das took a deep breath. “I’m not under Chiss command, Admiral,” he said. “I’d like to stay aboard awhile longer.”

  Ar’alani’s eves narrowed. “What are you planning? Surely you can’t fly this vessel alone.”

  “I’m not under Chiss command,” Car’das repeated. “And the Aristocra’s order didn’t mention me.”

  Ar’alani looked at Thrawn, then at the incoming Fifth Family ships, then finally back at Car’das. “Permission granted,” she said. She started toward the blast doors.

  “I’ll also stay,” Thrass said.

  Ar’alani stopped in midstep. “What?”

  “I’m also not under Chiss military command,” Thrass said. “And Aristocra Charorm’bintrano didn’t mention me, either.”

  Ar’alani sent a hard look at Thrawn. “We’ll both be destroyed by this,” she warned.

  “The role of a warrior is to protect the Chiss people,” Thrawn reminded her. “The warrior’s own survival is of only secondary importance.”

  For half a dozen heartbeats the two of them locked gazes. Then, with a hissing sigh, Ar’alani turned to Thrass. “Pesfavri is the nearest Defense Fleet base,” she said. “You know the coordinates?”

  Thrass nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then we leave you,” she said, nodding to him. “May warriors’ fortune smile on your efforts.”

  She continued toward the blast doors. Thrawn lingered for a last, long look at his brother, then followed.

  And a minute later, Car’das and Thrass were alone. “You really think we can get this thing all the way to a military base?” Car’das asked.

  “You miss the point, friend Car’das,” Thrass said grimly. “Weren’t you listening to my brother? It would be better for Outbound Flight to be destroyed than to let any single family claim it.”

  Car’das felt a sudden tightening in his throat. “Wait a second,” he protested. “I was just going to try to lock Outbound Flight down so that the Aristocra’s people couldn’t get aboard without blasting their way in. I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission.”

  “Courage, Car’das,” Thrass assured him. “Neither did I. I assume we can set this vessel’s course to intersect the local sun, then escape in the shuttle we arrived in?”

  Car’das thought it over. It should be possible, he decided, provided at least one of the Dreadnaughts’ drives was still operable and the control cables to it were intact. “I think so.”

  “Then let us do it,” Thrass said. “Your people built this vessel. Tell me what to do.”

  The turbolift shaft was reasonably clear, and the car reached D-4 with only a few bumps and scrapes. The Dreadnaught itself didn’t seem too badly damaged, either.

  Except, of course, for all the bodies.

  The medical droids had already started clearing them away, probably taking them all to one of the medical labs where, according to the droids’ now outdated programming, living beings would be waiting
to give orders on how to proceed.

  But there was no one to receive the corpses. Lorana stretched out with the Force and worked with the ship’s comm system, hoping against all her fears that someone might have miraculously survived the cataclysm that had overtaken Outbound Flight.

  But no one answered either call. D-4, it seemed, was dead. Of defenders and attackers alike; and that Lorana found both curious and ominous. Surely the Chiss hadn’t gone to all the effort to destroy Outbound Flight simply to abandon it. But then where were they?

  She spent only a little time on D-4 before continuing on.

  The turbolift to D-3 was inoperable, implying damage to the cars or the pylon or both, so she headed instead to D-5. There she picked her way through the same debris and bodies and received the same negative results to her efforts at communication. D-6, the next ship on her grisly tour, was much the same.

  Still, all three ships seemed to be mostly airtight again, with adequate light and heat and gravitation. The service droids had used the past few hours well. If the Chiss truly had abandoned Outbound Flight, she and the others might be able to make it at least partially operational again.

  She was in the turbolift heading for D-1 when her senses caught the faint whisper of nearby life.

  She pressed her head against the wall of the car, stretching out with the Force as best her own injuries and lingering horror would allow. There were definitely living beings out there. Alien beings, and not very many of them. But at least there was someone.

  And she and her turbolift car were headed straight toward them.

  Stepping away from the wall, she got a grip on her lightsaber. Whether by design or simple blind luck, Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo had made good on his threat to destroy Outbound Flight. And he had, moreover, destroyed it out from under Jorus C’baoth and the rest of the Jedi.

  It was time to see how well the Chiss would do in a face-to-face confrontation.

  The turbolift car came up short at the D-1 end of the pylon, blocked by a maze of support girders that had broken loose during the battle. Using the Force to augment her efforts, she pried open the car door and climbed through the twisted metal to the entrance door.

  The turbolift pylons connected at the base of each of the Dreadnaughts, serving only Decks 1 and 2. The bridge was another four decks up, and under the circumstances it didn’t seem like a good idea to trust the Dreadnaught’s own internal turbolift system. Making her way to the nearest stairway, she headed up.

  The door opened in front of him, and with a not-very-gentle nudge at the small of his back the pair of yellow-clad Chiss gestured Doriana forward.

  He found himself on a command bridge similar to the one aboard the Springhawk, only bigger and crewed exclusively by Chiss in the same yellow uniforms as his escort. It made Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s black uniform stand out that much more in contrast as he stood in the center of the room before a Chiss in a gray-and-yellow robe. Behind Mitth’raw’nuruodo, a female Chiss dressed all in white stood at stiff attention.

  The robed Chiss eyed Doriana as his escort again nudged him forward. He spat something in the Chiss language— “ ‘So this is your collaborator,’ ” Mitth’raw’nuruodo translated.

  “Hardly,” Doriana said, loading his voice with as much dignity and disdain as he could, just in case the robed Chiss was able to pick up on verbal cues. He had no idea of the details, but it was obvious that there was some kind of power struggle going on here.

  And Kinman Doriana, assistant to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, was quite familiar with power struggles. “I’m an ambassador of a vast assembly of star systems called the Galactic Republic,” he intoned. “I came here on a mission of goodwill and exploration.”

  He studied the robed Chiss carefully as Mitth’raw’nuruodo translated. But the other merely smiled cynically and spoke again. “ ‘You came to bring chaos and war to this region of space,’ ” Mitth’raw’nuruodo translated. “ ‘You have brought alien weapons that you intended to use against the Chiss Ascendancy.’ ”

  The robed Chiss straightened slightly as Mitth’raw’nuruodo finished and spoke again. “ ‘But you have failed. Those weapons are now the property of the Fifth Ruling Family. I, Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano, hereby take possession.’ ”

  Doriana nodded to himself. So it was Outbound Flight and its technology that was at issue here. And he knew enough about internecine conflict to know that letting one Chiss group have sole possession of it would probably create terrible conflict with the other groups, up to and possibly including civil war.

  Which would, of course, be precisely the situation Darth Sidious would want to see here. A Chiss Ascendancy entangled with its own internal problems couldn’t pose a threat to the Sith Lord’s plans for the Republic and the New Order he planned to create. Standing here in the middle of Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano’s people, all Doriana had to do was confirm the Fifth Family’s claim and he would help put the Chiss on that long and bitter road.

  But as he opened his mouth to speak, he looked at Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

  The commander was looking back at him, his face expressionless, his glowing eyes focused unblinkingly on him.

  Doriana had already reluctantly concluded that Mitth’raw’nuruodo would have to be killed. But if that death came at the height of a controversy over the disposition of Outbound Flight… “I’m sorry, Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano, but Outbound Flight is not yours to take possession of,” he said instead. “As a duly appointed representative of the Republic that sent the project on its journey, I claim full salvage rights.”

  Chaf’orm’bintrano seemed taken aback as Mitth’raw’nuruodo finished the translation. He bit something out“ ‘Ridiculous,’ ” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “ ‘An aggressor has no rights.’ ”

  “I deny your claim that either I or Outbound Flight have behaved aggressively toward your people,” Doriana countered. “And I demand a full hearing and judgment before any Chiss steps aboard Outbound Flight.”

  Mitth’raw’nuruodo translated. Chaf’orm’bintrano’s eyes narrowed, his glare shifting to the white-clad female. He said something; she replied, and the argument was on.

  Doriana looked sideways at Mitth’raw’nuruodo. His face was still expressionless, but as his own eyes shifted to meet Doriana’s his lip seemed to twitch upward in a microscopic smile of approval.

  Just what the commander would do with the mess that had now been stirred up Doriana didn’t know. But to his mild surprise, he discovered he was rather looking forward to finding out.

  It had taken longer than Car’das had expected to get Outbound Flight prepped for flight. But at last they were ready. “Okay, get to the helm,” he told Thrass, glancing out the canopy at the Chiss ships still hovering in the near distance. Why they hadn’t already sent over a boarding party he couldn’t guess. Apparently, Thrawn and Ar’alani had found a way to stall them.

  “Ready,” Thrass called.

  Stepping to the navigation console, Car’das gave it one final check. Course set and locked in, ready to take Outbound Flight on its final voyage. Crossing to the engineering console, he settled his fingers on the power-feed controls.

  “Watch out!” Thrass snapped.

  Car’das spun around, expecting to see a whole squad of yellow-suited Chiss charging in on them.

  But to his astonishment, he found himself facing a lone female human. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Thrass snatch a weapon out of concealment in his robe. In reply, the woman produced a short metal cylinder and a green lightsaber blade blazed into existence.

  “No!” he barked, waving a hand frantically at Thrass.

  But it was too late. The other’s weapon hissed out a blue bolt, which the woman sent ricocheting harmlessly into the ceiling. “I said stop,” Car’das called again. “She’s a Jedi.”

  To his relief, Thrass didn’t fire again. “What do you want?” the Chiss demanded instead, keeping his weapon aimed.

  “He wants to know what yo
u want,” Car’das said, translating the Cheunh for her.

  Her eyes flicked to him. “He doesn’t speak Basic?”

  “No, no one here does except Thrawn,” Car’das said. “But he knows some Sy Bisti, if that helps.”

  “It does.” She looked back at Thrass. “Who are you?” she asked, switching to that language.

  “I am Syndic Mitth’ras’safis of the Eighth Ruling Family of the Chiss Ascendancy,” Thrass identified himself.

  “And I’m Jorj Car’das,” Car’das added. “Mostly an innocent bystander to all of this.”

  “Mostly?”

  “I got here through a hyperdrive malfunction,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “Lorana Jinzler,” she said. Lowering her lightsaber, but leaving it ignited, she crossed the threshold and continued on into the bridge, limping noticeably. Her eyes flicked across the dead bodies, and an edge of fresh pain crossed her face. “Who else is aboard?”

  “At the moment, just us,” Thrass said. He hesitated, then slipped his weapon back into his tunic. “But a member of one of the ruling families is trying to claim Outbound Flight for himself. We’re trying to prevent that.”

  Jinzler’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

  “We’re going to have to scuttle it,” Car’das said, watching her face carefully. Even with nothing left but torn and broken metal, there was an even chance she would be attached enough to the hulk to object violently to its destruction. People went all weird like that sometimes.

  Sure enough, her eyes widened. “No,” she insisted. “You can’t.”

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Car’das said as soothingly as he could. “But there’s nothing left but dead metal and droids—”

  “Never mind the dead metal,” she snapped. “There are people still aboard.”

  Car’das felt his heart catch. No—that was impossible. A Jedi might possibly have survived Thrawn’s attack, but surely no one else could have. “Who?” he asked. “How many?”

  “Fifty-seven,” Jinzler said. “Including children.”

  Car’das looked at Thrass, seeing his own horror reflected in the other’s face. “Where are they?” he asked. “Can we get them out of here?”