Star Wars

Survivor's Quest

by Timothy Zahn

For Vader's Fist: The Fighting 501st

CHAPTER 1

The Imperial Star Destroyer  moved  silently  through  the  blackness  of

space, its lights dimmed, its huge sublight engines blazing with  the  urgency

of its mission.

The man standing on the command walkway could feel the  rumble  of  those

engines through his boots as he listened to the muttered conversation from the

crew pits below him. The conversation sounded worried, too, as worried  as  he

himself felt.

Though for entirely different reasons.  For  him,  this  was  a  personal

matter, the frustration of a professional dealing with fallible beings and the

capriciousness of  a  universe  that  refused  to  always  live  up  to  one's

preconceived notions as to what was fitting and  proper.  An  error  had  been

made, possibly a very serious error. And  as  with  all  errors,  there  would

likely be unpleasant consequences riding in its wake.

From the starboard crew pit came  a  muffled  curse,  and  he  stifled  a

grimace. None of that mattered to the Star  Destroyer's  crew.  Their  worries

stemmed solely from their performance, and whether they would be facing a  pat

on the back or a boot in the rear at journey's end.

Or possibly they were merely worried about the sublight  engines  blowing

up. On this ship, one never knew.

He shifted his attention downward, his gaze leaving the grandeur  of  the

starscape and coming to rest on the bow of the Star Destroyer  stretching  out

more than a kilometer in front of him. He could remember  the  days  when  the

mere sight of one of these ships would send  shivers  up  the  spines  of  the

bravest of fighters and the most arrogant of smugglers.

But those  days  were  gone,  hopefully  forever.  The  Empire  had  been

rehabilitated, though of course many within the New Republic still refused  to

believe that. Under Supreme Commander Pellaeon's firm guidance, the Empire had

signed a treaty with the New Republic, and was no longer any more  threatening

than the Bothans or the Corporate Sector or anyone else.

Almost unwillingly, he smiled as he gazed along the Star Destroyer's long

prow. Of course, even in the old days of  the  Empire,  this  particular  ship

would probably have inspired more bewilderment than fear.

It was, after all,  hard  to  take  a  bright  red  Star  Destroyer  very

seriously.

From behind him, audible even over the rumble of the  engines,  came  the

sound of clumping boots. "Okay, Karrde," Booster Terrik grunted as he came  to

a halt at his side. "The comm's finally fixed. You can transmit  whenever  you

want."

"Thank you," Talon Karrde said, turning back toward  the  crew  pits  and

trying hard not to blame Booster for  the  state  his  equipment  was  in.  An

Imperial Star Destroyer was a huge amount of ship to take care of, and Booster

never had nearly enough personnel to do the job right. "H'sishi?"  he  called.

"Go."

[Yes, Chieftain,] the Togorian called back from the comm board,  her  fur

fluffing slightly as  her  clawed  fingers  touched  the  keys.  [Transmission

complete. Shall I begin alerting the rest of the network now?]

"Yes," Karrde said. "Thank you."

H'sishi nodded and returned her attention to the board.

With that, Karrde knew, he'd done all he could for  the  moment.  Turning

again to face the stars, he folded his arms across his chest and tried hard to

cultivate his patience. "It'll be all right,"  Booster  murmured  from  beside

him. "We'll be around this star in half  an  hour  and  be  able  to  jump  to

lightspeed. We can be in the Domgrin system in two standard days, tops."

"Assuming the hyperdrive doesn't break down again." Karrde waved a  hand.

"Sorry. I'm just?you understand."

"Sure," Booster said. "But relax, all right? This is Luke and Mara  we're

talking about, not some fresh-hatched Neimoidian grubs. Whatever's  going  on,

they're not going to be caught flat-footed."

"Maybe," Karrde said. "Though even Jedi can be surprised." He  shook  his

head. "But that's not the point, is it? The point is that I messed up. I don't

like it when that happens."

Booster shrugged his massive shoulders. "Like any of the rest of us  do?"

he asked pointedly. "You have to face the facts, Karrde, and Fact  Number  One

is that you simply can't know everyone who works for you anymore."

Karrde glared out at the mockingly cheerful red  ship  stretched  out  in

front of him. But Booster was right. This whole thing  had  gotten  completely

out of hand.

He'd started out modestly  enough,  merely  offering  to  provide  timely

information to the leaders of the New Republic and Empire so that  both  sides

could be assured that the other wasn't plotting  against  them.  And  for  the

first couple of years everything had gone just fine.

The trouble had come when the various planetary  and  sector  governments

within the New Republic had woken up to the benefits of this handy service and

decided they wanted aboard, too. After the near civil war that had broken  out

over the Caamas Document, Karrde hadn't really felt like  turning  them  down,

and with permission from his clients on Coruscant and Bastion he'd gone  ahead

and expanded his operations.

Which naturally meant expanding his personnel as well. In retrospect,  he

supposed, it had only been  a  matter  of  time  before  something  like  this

happened. He just wished it hadn't happened to Luke and Mara. "Maybe not,"  he

told Booster. "But even if I can't handle everything personally, it's still my

responsibility."

"Ah," Booster said knowingly. "So it's your pride that's hurt, is it?"

Karrde eyed his old friend. "Tell me, Booster. Has anyone ever  told  you

you're truly irritating when you try to be sympathetic?"

"Yeah, the subject's come up once or twice," Booster said,  grinning.  He

slapped Karrde's back. "Come on. Let's go down to  the  Transis  Corridor  and

I'll buy you a drink."

"Assuming the drink dispensers are working  today,"  Karrde  murmured  as

they headed back along the command walkway.

"Well, yeah," Booster conceded. "Always assuming that."

* * *

As cantinas went, Mara Jade Skywalker thought as she  sipped  her  drink,

this was definitely one of the strangest she'd ever been in.

Part of that might simply have been due to the locale. Here in the  Outer

Rim, culture and style weren't exactly up to the standards  of  Coruscant  and

the rest of the Core Worlds.  That  might  explain  the  gaudy  wall  hangings

juxtaposed with ancient plumbing woven around modern drink dispensers, all  of

it set against a background decor consisting mainly of  polished  droid  parts

dating back to before the Clone Wars.

As for the unbreakable mugs and the heavy,  stone-topped  table  she  was

seated at, the smoothed-over blaster scars in the walls and ceiling were  more

than enough explanation. When the patrons dived under the tables in the middle

of a firefight, they would want those tables to afford them  some  protection.

And they wouldn't want to find themselves sitting on bits of broken  crockery,

either.

There was no rationale at all, of course, for the very loud, very off-key

music.

A brush of air touched her shoulder, and a  heavyset  man  appeared  from

behind her, pushing his way through the milling crowd. "Sorry," he  huffed  as

he circled the table and landed his bulk back in the  seat  across  from  her.

"Business, business, business. Never lets up for a minute."

"I suppose not," Mara agreed. He didn't  fool  her  for  a  second;  even

without Force sensitivity she would have spotted the furtiveness hidden behind

the noise and bustle. Jerf Huxley, master smuggler and  minor  terror  of  the

Outer Rim, was up to something unpleasant.

The only question was how unpleasant he was planning for  that  something

to be.

"Yeah, it's crazy out here," Huxley went on, taking a  noisy  swallow  of

the drink he'd left behind when he hurried off on the mysterious  errand  that

had taken him away from their table. " 'Course, you know all that. Or at least

you used to." He eyed her over the rim of his mug. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," Mara said, not bothering  to  erase  the  smile  that  had

caught the other's attention. "I was  just  thinking  about  what  a  trusting

person you are."

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Your drink," Mara said, gesturing to his mug. "You go away and leave  it

alone with me, and then you just come back  and  toss  it  down  without  even

wondering if I've put something in it."

Huxley's lips puckered, and through the Force Mara caught a hint  of  his

chagrin. He hadn't worried about his drink, of course, because  he'd  had  her

under close surveillance the whole time he was gone. He also  hadn't  intended

for her to know that. "All right, fine," he said, banging the  mug  back  onto

the table. "Enough with the games. Let's hear it. Why are you here?"

With a man like this, Mara knew, there was no point in glaze-coating  it.

"I'm here on behalf of Talon Karrde," she said. "He wanted me to thank you for

your assistance and that of your organization over the past ten years, and  to

inform you that your services will no longer be required."

Huxley's face didn't even twitch. Clearly, he'd  already  suspected  this

was coming. "Starting when?" he asked.

"Starting now," Mara said. "Thanks for the drink, and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast," Huxley said, lifting a hand.

Mara froze halfway to her feet.  Behind  Huxley,  blasters  had  abruptly

appeared in the hands of three of the men who had hitherto been minding  their

own business at the bar. Blasters that were, not surprisingly, pointed at her.

"Sit down," he ordered.

Carefully, Mara eased back into her chair. "Was  there  something  else?"

she asked mildly.

Huxley gestured again, more  emphatically  this  time,  and  the  off-key

background music shut off. As did all conversation. "So  that's  it,  is  it?"

Huxley demanded quietly. In the sudden silence, even a soft  voice  seemed  to

ring against the battered walls. "Karrde's going to toss us aside,  just  like

that?"

"I presume you read the news," Mara said, keeping  her  voice  calm.  All

around her, she could sense the single-minded animosity of the  crowd.  Huxley

had apparently stocked the place with his friends  and  associates.  "Karrde's

getting out of the smuggling business. Has been, for the past three years.  He

doesn't need your services anymore."

"Yeah, he doesn't need," Huxley said with a sniff. "What  about  what  we

need?"

"I don't know," Mara said. "What do you need?"

"Maybe you don't remember what it's like in the Outer Rim, Jade,"  Huxley

said, leaning over the table toward her. "But out here, you don't split things

three ways against the ends. You work for one group, period, or you don't work

at all. We burned our skyarches behind us years ago when  we  started  working

for Karrde. If he pulls out, what are we supposed to do?"

"I expect you'll have to make new arrangements," Mara  said.  "Look,  you

had to have known this was coming. Karrde's made no secret  of  the  direction

he's been taking."

"Yeah, right," Huxley said contemptuously.  "Like  anyone  believed  he'd

really go straight."

He drew himself up. "So you want to know what we need? Fine. What we need

is something to tide us over until we  can  get  back  in  the  business  with

someone else."

So there it was:  a  simple  and  straightforward  pocket-shake.  Nothing

subtle from this bunch. "How much?" she asked.

"Five hundred thousand." His lip twisted slightly. "In cash credits."

Mara kept her face expressionless. She'd come here prepared for something

like this, but that number was way beyond reason. "And where  exactly  do  you

expect me to get this little tide-me-over?" she asked.  "I  don't  carry  that

much spending money on me."

"Don't get cute," Huxley growled. "You know as well as I do that Karrde's

got a sector clearinghouse over on Gonmore. They'll have all the credits there

we need."

He dug into a pocket and produced a hold-out blaster.  "You're  going  to

call and tell them to bring it to us," he said, leveling  the  weapon  at  her

face across the table. "Half a million. Now."

"Really." Casually, keeping her hands visible, Mara turned  her  head  to

look behind her. Most of the cantina's nonsmuggler patrons had already made  a

quiet exit, she noted, or else had gathered into groups on either side of  the

confrontation, staying well out of  the  potential  lines  of  fire.  Of  more

immediate concern was the group of about twenty  humans  and  aliens  who  had

spread themselves out in a semicircle directly behind her, all  of  them  with

weapons trained on her back.

All of them also showing varying degrees of wariness, she  noted  with  a

certain malicious amusement. Her reputation had apparently preceded her.  "You

throw an interesting party, Huxley,"  she  said,  turning  back  to  face  the

smuggler chief. "But you don't really think you're equipped  to  deal  with  a

Jedi, do you?"

Huxley smiled. A very evil smile. A surprisingly  evil  smile,  actually,

given the circumstances. "Matter of fact, yeah, I do." He  raised  his  voice.

"Bats?"

There was a brief pause. Mara reached out with the  Force,  but  all  she

could sense was a sudden heightened anticipation from the crowd.

Then, from across the room ahead and to  her  right  came  the  creak  of

machinery. A section of floor in a poorly lit area at the far end of  the  bar

began to rise ponderously toward the ceiling, revealing an open-sided keg lift

coming up from the storage cellar below. As it rose, something  metallic  came

into view, its shine muted by the patina of age.

Mara frowned, trying to pierce the gloom. The thing was tall and slender,

with a pair of arms jutting out from the  sides  that  gave  it  a  not-quite-

humanoid silhouette for all its obvious mechanical origins. The design  looked

vaguely familiar, but for those first few seconds she couldn't place  it.  The

lift continued to rise, revealing hip-bone-like protrusions at the base of the

object's long torso and a trio of curved legs extending outward beneath them.

And then, suddenly, it clicked.

The thing was a pre-Clone Wars droideka?one of the destroyer droids  that

had once been the pride of the Trade Federation army.

She looked back at Huxley, to find that his  smile  had  widened  into  a

grin. "That's  right,  Jade,"  he  gloated.  "My  very  own  combat  droideka,

guaranteed to blast the stuffing out of even a Jedi. Bet you never expected to

see one of those here."

"Not really, no,"  Mara  conceded,  running  a  practiced  eye  over  the

droideka as the lift reached the top and wheezed to a  halt.  It  had  arrived

fully open in combat stance, she  noted,  instead  of  rolled  into  the  more

compact wheel form used to move into position. That could mean it wasn't  able

to maneuver anymore.

Did that mean its guns wouldn't track, either? Experimentally, she leaned

back in her seat.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the droideka's left arm twitched, its

twin blasters shifting angle to match her movement.

So the weapons could indeed track,  though  they  appeared  to  be  under

someone's manual control instead of a central computer's or anything on  board

the droideka itself. In the dim lighting, she couldn't tell whether or not its

built-in deflector shield was functioning, but it almost  didn't  matter.  The

thing was armed, armored, and pointed straight at her.

Huxley was right. Even the Jedi of that era had gone out of their way  to

avoid fighting these things.

"But of course I should have," she  continued,  turning  to  face  Huxley

again. "This place is littered with old droid parts. Stands to reason  someone

would have scraped together enough pieces to  make  a  reasonable  copy  of  a

droideka to scare people with."

Huxley's eyes hardened. "You try something cute and you'll see how good a

copy it is." He looked over at the group of casual observers to his right, and

his eyes locked on someone in the crowd. "You?Sinker!"

A kid maybe sixteen years old stepped out from a knot of older men. "Yes,

sir?"

Huxley gestured toward Mara. "Get her lightsaber."

The kid goggled at Mara. "Get?uh??"

"You deaf?" Huxley bit out. "What are you afraid of?"

Sinker made as if to speak, looked furtively at Mara, swallowed  visibly,

then stepped hesitantly forward. Mara kept  her  face  expressionless  as  she

watched him approach, his nervousness increasing with each step, until he  was

visibly shaking as he stopped beside her. "Uh... I'm?I'm sorry, ma'am, but?"

"Just take it!" Huxley bellowed.

In a single desperate motion Sinker ducked down, unhooked her  lightsaber

from  her  belt,  and  scampered  backward  with  it.  "There,"  Huxley   said

sarcastically. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Wasn't so useful, either," Mara said. "You think that's all it takes  to

stop a Jedi? Taking her lightsaber?"

"It's a start," Huxley said.

Mara shook her head. "It's not even that." Looking over  at  Sinker,  she

reached out with the Force.

Abruptly, the lightsaber ignited in his hand.

Sinker's startled  squeak  was  mostly  lost  in  the  snap-hiss  as  the

brilliant blue blade blazed into existence. Rather to her surprise, he  didn't

drop the weapon and run, but held gamely on to it. "Sinker, what the frost are

you doing?" Huxley snapped. "That's not a toy."

"I'm not doing it," Sinker protested, his voice running about  an  octave

higher than it had been before.

"He's right," Mara confirmed as Huxley drew in another bellow's worth  of

air. "He's not doing this, either."

She reached out to the lightsaber again, making it weave back  and  forth

in Sinker's grip. The kid wove back and forth with it,  hanging  on  with  the

grim air of someone who's found himself astride an angry acklay with  no  idea

how to get off.

The rest of the crowd was probably feeling much the same way.  For  those

first few seconds there had been a mad scramble by everyone near Sinker to get

out of range of the weapon bobbing in his hands like a  drunken  crewer.  They

had mostly stopped moving now, though a few of the smarter ones had decided it

was time to get out entirely and were making tracks for the  exits.  The  rest

were watching Sinker warily, ready to move again if necessary.

"Knock it off, Jade," Huxley snarled. He  wasn't  smiling  anymore.  "You

hear me? Knock it off."

"And what do you plan to do if I don't?" Mara  countered,  continuing  to

swing the lightsaber even as she kept an eye on Huxley's blaster.  The  others

wouldn't shoot her without orders or an immediate threat, she knew, but Huxley

himself might forget what his goals and priorities were here.

It was a risk worth taking. With every eye in the cantina on  Sinker  and

his disobedient lightsaber, no one was paying the slightest attention  to  the

droideka standing stolid guard across the room.

Not the droideka, and certainly not the barely visible tip  of  brilliant

green light stealthily slicing a circle through  the  lift  floor  around  its

curved tripod feet.

"I'll blast you into a million soggy pieces, that's what I'll do," Huxley

shot back. "Now, let him go, or I'll?"

He never finished the threat. Across the room, with a sudden creaking  of

stressed metal, the lift floor collapsed, dropping the droideka with  a  crash

back into the cellar.

Huxley spun around, screeching something vicious.

The screech died  in  midcurse.  From  the  direction  the  droideka  had

disappeared, a black-clad figure now appeared, leaping up from the  cellar  to

land on the edge of the newly carved hole. He lifted the short cylinder in his

hand to salute position, and with another snap-hiss, a green lightsaber  blade

blazed.

Huxley reacted  instantly,  and  in  exactly  the  way  Mara  would  have

expected. "Get him!" he shouted, stabbing a finger back toward the newcomer.

He didn't have to give the order twice. From the  semicircle  of  gunners

behind Mara erupted a blistering staccato of blasterfire.  "And  you?"  Huxley

added over the noise. He lifted his blaster toward Mara, his finger tightening

on the firing stud.

Mara was already in motion. Rising halfway out of her chair, she  grabbed

the edge of the stone-topped table and heaved  it  upward.  A  fraction  of  a

second later Huxley's shot ricocheted off the tabletop now angled toward  him,

passing harmlessly over Mara's head to gouge yet another hole in  the  ceiling

behind her. Mara heaved the table a little higher, and Huxley's eyes  abruptly

widened as he realized she intended to drop its full weight squarely into  his

lap, pinning him helplessly into his chair and then crushing him to the floor.

He was wrong. Even as he scrambled madly to get out of his chair and away

from the falling table before it was too late, Mara kicked her own chair  back

out of her way. Using her grip on the table edge as a pivot point, she  lifted

her feet and swung herself forward and downward.

With a lighter table, the trick wouldn't have worked, and she would  have

simply landed on her rear in front of her chair with the table in her lap. But

this one was so massive, with so much inertia, that  she  was  able  to  swing

under the edge now falling backward toward her,  land  on  the  floor  beneath

where it had been standing, and get her hands clear before  the  edge  crashed

into the floor behind her.

This put the  heavy  tabletop  neatly  between  her  and  the  twenty-odd

blasters that had been trained on her back.

Huxley, still completely off stride, had time for a  single  yelp  before

Mara lunged forward, slapped his gun hand aside with her left hand,  and  then

grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hauled him down into cover  with  her.  Her

right hand snaked up her left sleeve, snatched her small sleeve gun  from  its

arm holster, and jammed the muzzle up under his chin. "You  know  the  drill,"

she said. "Let's hear it."

Huxley, his eyes on the edge of  terror,  filled  his  lungs.  "Huxlings!

Cease fire! Cease fire!"

There was a second of apparent indecision. Then,  around  the  room,  the

blasters fell quiet. "Very good," Mara said. "What's part two?"

Huxley's lip twisted. "Drop your weapons," he growled, opening  his  hand

and letting his own blaster fall to the floor. "You hear me? Drop 'em."

There was another brief pause, then a dull clatter as the others followed

suit. Mara stretched out with the Force, but she  could  sense  no  duplicity.

Huxley had caved completely, and his gang knew better than to try  to  second-

guess his decisions. Keeping her blaster pressed under his chin,  she  got  to

her feet, hauling Huxley up with her. She gave each of the half-sullen,  half-

terrified gang members a quick look, just to make it clear what  rash  heroics

would cost, then turned to the man in black as he walked up to her. "So didn't

you see that droideka before Huxley lifted it up here?" she asked.

"Oh, I saw it," Luke Skywalker acknowledged, closing down his  lightsaber

but keeping it ready in his hand.

"And?"

Luke shrugged. "I was curious to see whether it still worked. Did it?"

"We didn't get a complete field test," Mara said. "It  didn't  look  very

mobile, and I'd guess its tracking is on manual instead of automatic.  But  it

probably fires just fine."

"Fired," Luke corrected. "It's going to need a little reworking."

"That's okay," Mara assured him, sliding her sleeve  gun  back  into  its

concealed holster. "Huxley's people will have some time on their hands."

She gave Huxley a push away  from  her,  letting  go  of  his  shirt.  He

staggered slightly but managed to maintain  his  balance.  "Here's  the  deal.

Before I leave, I'll credit twenty  thousand  to  your  account.  Not  because

Karrde owes you anything at all, but simply as a  thanks  for  your  years  of

service to his organization."

"Karrde's a little softhearted that way," Luke added.

"Yes, he is," Mara agreed. "I, on the other hand, am not. You'll take it,

you'll be happy with it, and you will never even think  about  making  trouble

for any of us again. Clear?"

Huxley had the look of a man chewing droid parts, but he nodded. "Clear,"

he muttered.

"Good." Mara turned to Sinker and held  out  her  hand.  "My  lightsaber,

please?"

Bracing himself, Sinker walked toward her, the lightsaber  still  humming

in his grasp. He offered it to her at arm's length; taking it, she closed down

the blade and hung it back on her belt. "Thank you," she said.

Across the room, the door slid open, and a young man darted  in.  He  got

two steps before everything seemed to register, and he faltered to a  confused

halt. "Uh... Chief?" he called, looking at Huxley.

"This better be important, Fisk," Huxley warned.

"Uh..." Fisk looked around uncertainly. "It's?I just got a signal in  for

someone named Mara. It was from?"

"It was from Talon Karrde," Luke cut in. "He wants Mara  to  contact  him

aboard the Errant Venture as soon as possible at?" He narrowed his eyes as  he

gazed across the room at the boy. "?in the Domgrin system."

Fisk's mouth was  hanging  slightly  open.  "Uh...  yeah,"  he  breathed.

"That's right."

"Yes," Luke said, almost offhandedly. "Oh,  and  it  came  in  under  the

Paspro-five encrypt. That's the one that starts  out  usk-herf-enth?well,  you

know the rest."

The kid's jaw was hanging even lower now. Blinking once, he nodded.

"We'd better get going then," Mara said. She started to step  around  the

table, then paused. "Oh, and by the way," she added, looking back  at  Huxley.

"It's not Jade  anymore.  It's  Jade  Skywalker.  This  is  my  husband,  Luke

Skywalker. The Jedi Master. He's even better at this stuff than I am."

"Yeah," Huxley muttered, eyeing Luke. "Yeah, I got the message."

"Good," Mara said. "Good-bye, Huxley."

She and Luke headed toward the door through a wide  path  that  magically

opened up for them through the crowd. A moment later, they  were  out  in  the

cool evening air.

"Very impressive," she commented as they headed down  the  street  toward

the spaceport and the waiting Jade Sabre. "When did you start  being  able  to

pull details like that out of other people's minds?"

"It's easy enough when you know how," Luke said with a straight face.

"Uh-huh," Mara said. "Let me guess. Karrde sent you the same message?"

Luke nodded. "I got it in relay from the ship while I was  poking  around

the storage cellar."

"That's what  I  thought,"  Mara  said.  "And  so  when  the  opportunity

presented itself, you couldn't resist playing the Omniscient Jedi trick."

Luke shrugged. "It never hurts for these fringe types to  have  a  little

healthy fear of Jedi."

"I suppose not," Mara agreed hesitantly.

Luke looked sideways at her. "You don't agree?"

"I don't know," she said. "Something about it bothers me.  Maybe  because

Palpatine always ruled through fear."

"I see your point," Luke admitted. "But this isn't quite the  same.  It's

more like putting the fear of justice into them. And of course, I would  never

pull anything like this with regular people."

"I know," Mara said. "And it should help keep Huxley in line.  I  suppose

that's what counts."

She waved an impatient hand. "Never mind. I'm just feeling the weight  of

my past, I guess. So what exactly was this message from Karrde?"

"Basically just what I said in there," Luke told her. "We're to meet  him

and Booster at Domgrin as quickly as we can get there."

"And he sent it to the Sabre and Huxley's people both?"

"Apparently so." Luke shook his head. "He must really be anxious to  talk

to us if he's doubling up messages this way."

"I was just thinking that," Mara said. "And that's not like him. Unless,"

she added thoughtfully, "there's some crisis brewing."

"Isn't there always?" Luke asked dryly. "Come on, let's get  these  funds

of yours transferred and get out of here."

CHAPTER 2

The bright red Star Destroyer was waiting silently  in  the  Distance  as

Luke brought the Jade Sabre out of hyperspace. "There it is," he said, nodding

at the curved forward canopy. "What do you think?"

"I'm picking up some mining and transport ships in the area," Mara  said,

peering at the long-range scanner. "We'd better get  a  little  closer  if  we

don't want eavesdroppers."

"You want to take us in, or shall I?"

"I'll do it," Mara said. Taking a quick look at the monitors, she  got  a

grip on the control stick and pushed it forward. Luke leaned back in his seat,

hunching his shoulders once to stretch tired muscles,  and  watched  his  wife

work.

Wife. For a moment he listened to the  word  as  it  bounced  around  his

brain, marveling at the sound of it. Even after nearly three years of marriage

there was something that felt strange and awesome about the whole concept.

Of course, it had hardly been three years the way normal couples  counted

time. Even Han and Leia, who'd dealt with crisis after crisis early  in  their

marriage, had at least been fighting those battles at each  other's  side.  In

Luke and Mara's case, his responsibilities at the Jedi academy and her need to

disengage herself in an orderly fashion from the intricate workings  of  Talon

Karrde's organization had kept them apart almost as much as they'd been before

their wedding. Their moments together had been few and  precious,  and  they'd

had only a handful of the longer periods of togetherness  that  Han  had  once

privately referred to as the breaking-in period.

That was in fact one of the reasons Luke had suggested he accompany  Mara

on this particular trip. She would still be working, of course,  meeting  with

groups of Karrde's current and former associates. But  between  meetings  he'd

hoped they would be able to spend some decent stretches of time together.

It had actually worked pretty well. Up until now.

"I trust you've already noticed how strange this is," Mara said into  his

musings. "Even if we push the Sabre for all she's worth, we're at least a week

away from Coruscant. Whatever this new crisis is, we're too far away to be  of

any use to anyone."

"Especially since I made it clear to Leia at the start  that  we  weren't

supposed to be disturbed unless it was a flat-out invasion," Luke agreed.  "Of

course, if this isn't Leia, it only leaves one possibility."

"Two, actually," Mara corrected. "And I'd  certainly  hope  Karrde  knows

better by now than to flag us for anything trivial."

"Leia and Karrde make two," Luke said. "Who's this third option?"

She threw him a sideways look. "We're meeting Karrde  aboard  the  Errant

Venture, remember?"

Luke made a face. "Booster."

"Right," Mara said. "And Booster might not know better.  If  he  doesn't,

shall we make a pact right now to make sure  he  does  before  we  leave  this

system?"

"Deal."

She threw him a slightly evil smile and returned to her piloting.

Luke turned back to the canopy, smiling out at the stars. Despite all the

time they'd spent apart, he and Mara had a distinct advantage: They were  both

Jedi. And because of that, they shared a mental and emotional  bond  that  was

far deeper than most  couples  were  able  to  forge  in  an  entire  lifetime

together. Deeper and stronger even than anything Luke had experienced  in  his

doomed relationships with Gaeriel Captison or the long-departed Callista.

He still remembered vividly the moment  that  bond  had  first  appeared,

hammered into existence as the two of them fought  those  combat  droids  deep

under the fortress their old adversary Grand Admiral Thrawn had set up on  the

planet Nirauan. At the time Luke had  thought  it  was  nothing  more  than  a

temporary melding of their minds created by the heat and pressure of  a  life-

and-death situation. It was only afterward, when the battle was over  but  the

bond remained, that he'd realized it had become  a  permanent  part  of  their

lives.

Even then, he hadn't completely understood it. He'd assumed that  it  had

sprung forth complete; that in those few hours it had brought the two of  them

into as deep an understanding of each other as it was possible to have. But in

the three years since then, he'd come to  realize  that  he  had  just  barely

scratched the surface. Mara was far more complex a human being than he'd  ever

suspected. As, in fact, he himself was.

Which meant that, Jedi or not, Force-bond or not, there was going  to  be

more for them to learn about each other for  a  long  time  to  come.  In  all

likelihood, a lifetime's worth of time. He was very much  looking  forward  to

the journey.

And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a  small  twinge  of

uncertainty. His marriage to Mara felt right to him, in every  respect...  but

hovering in the background behind all their  happiness  and  success  was  the

distant echo of Yoda's stories of the old Jedi Order during Luke's training on

Dagobah.

Specifically, the part about Jedi keeping  themselves  out  of  precisely

this kind of love relationship.

He hadn't given those teachings much weight at the time. The  Empire  was

in control of the known galaxy, Darth  Vader  was  breathing  down  the  Rebel

Alliance's collective neck, and all his  thoughts  were  focused  on  his  own

survival and the survival of  his  friends.  When  Han  and  Leia  had  gotten

married, Leia having Force skills hadn't seemed  like  a  big  deal.  She  was

certainly strong in the Force, but she hadn't progressed nearly far enough  in

her training to call herself a Jedi.

But it was different with Luke. He had been a Jedi when he'd  asked  Mara

to marry him. True, their chances of survival at the time  had  been  somewhat

uncertain, but that hadn't affected the sincerity of his proposal or the depth

of his feelings  toward  her.  And  despite  these  occasional  twinges,  he'd

certainly found peace in his decision and in their subsequent marriage.

Could Yoda have been wrong about how Jedi relationships were supposed  to

work? That was the easiest answer. But that would mean the entire  Jedi  Order

had been wrong about it. That didn't seem likely, unless on some level all  of

them had lost the ability to hear the Force clearly.

Could that particular dictum have ended with the fall of that  particular

group, then? Yoda had also said something about the Force having been  brought

back into balance, though he'd been somewhat vague about  the  details.  Could

this have rendered that part of the Jedi Code no longer applicable?

He didn't have the answers. He wondered if he ever would.

"Okay, they're on us," Mara announced, leaning back in her seat. "Got  an

antenna swiveling for a tight beam. I've been wondering how far  away  a  Star

Destroyer's sensors could pick us up."

Luke forced his thoughts back to the situation at hand. "Though with  the

Errant Venture you always have to allow for malfunctions," he reminded her.

"True," she agreed. "Sometimes I think of that ship as  one  massive  red

warning light."

"It's certainly bright enough." Luke shook his head. "I am  never,  ever,

going to get used to that color."

"I kind of like it," Mara said. "Especially given where it came from."

"You mean Booster strong-arming General Bel Iblis to refit and repaint?"

"I was thinking of the paint itself," Mara said. "Did you  know  the  New

Republic bought all of it from Karrde?"

Luke blinked. "You're kidding. Did Bel Iblis know?"

"Don't be silly," Mara said with a lopsided smile. "You know  Bel  Iblis.

He'd have had a fit on general principles if he'd known Karrde  had  made  any

money on this deal. No, Karrde played it all very cool and  through  at  least

three intermediaries and a dummy  corporation.  I  don't  think  even  Booster

knows."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Luke said. "Corran  once  told  me  that  one  of

Booster's great joys in life these days is telling people how he managed  this

whole thing without any help or interference from the great  Talon  Karrde.  I

wonder what he'd say if he knew that was Karrde's Paint on his hull."

"I know what Karrde would say," Mara warned. "Both before  and  after  he

nailed my hide to the hull. One of his great joys is  watching  Booster  strut

around blissfully unaware of the ways he's  dipped  in  and  out  of  the  old

pirate's life over the years."

Luke shook his head. "They're a matched pair. You know that?"

"Don't tell them that, either," Mara said. There  was  a  beep  from  the

board. "Okay, here we go. Encrypt Paspro-nine..."

She touched a few keys. There was a second beep, and  suddenly  the  comm

display lit up with Karrde's familiar face.

He wasn't smiling.

"Mara; Luke," he greeted them, his voice as grim as he looked. "Thank you

for coming so promptly. I'm sorry I had to drag you out here like  this,  away

from your schedule. Especially you, Luke; I know how much you went through  to

free up time for this."

"Don't worry about it," Mara said for both of them. "The trip was getting

a little routine anyway. What's up?"

"What's up is that I've lost a message," Karrde said bluntly. "Four  days

ago my sector relay post at Comra picked up a transmission, marked urgent, and

addressed to you, Luke."

Luke frowned. "Me?"

"So the chief of the station says," Karrde replied. "But that  was  about

all he got. Before he or anyone else could  pass  it  on  down  the  line,  it

vanished."

"You think it was stolen?" Luke asked.

Karrde's lips compressed briefly. "I know it was stolen,"  he  said.  "We

even know the name  of  the  man  who  stole  it,  because  when  the  message

disappeared from the station, so did he. Have you ever heard of anyone by  the

name of Dean Jinzler?"

"Doesn't sound familiar," Luke said, searching his memory. "Mara?"

"No," Mara said. "Who is he?"

Karrde shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't know, either."

"Wait a second," Mara said. "This is one of your people,  and  you  don't

know everything there is to know about him?"

The corner of Karrde's lip twitched. "I didn't know everything about  you

when I hired you, either," he pointed out.

"Sure, but I was a special case," Mara countered.  "I  thought  you  knew

better with everyone else. Do we have any idea where the message originated or

who sent it?"

"Actually, we have both," Karrde said, his voice going even darker.  "The

planet of origin was Nirauan." He paused. "The  sender  was  an  Admiral  Voss

Parck."

Luke felt his forehead creasing, a strange  sensation  trickling  through

him. Nirauan: Thrawn's  private  base,  full  of  Imperials  and  warriors  of

Thrawn's own people, the Chiss. The fortress he and Mara had escaped  from  by

the skin of their teeth three years before.

And Admiral Voss Parck, the onetime Imperial captain whom Thrawn had left

in command of that base before his death. They'd had a brief run-in with Parck

during their time on Nirauan, too,  right  after  the  admiral  had  tried  to

recruit Mara to their side.

"I see that name is familiar to both of you," Karrde said.  "I've  always

had the feeling I didn't get the complete story of your little visit out  that

way."

Luke could sense Mara's sudden discomfort. "That was my doing," he  said.

"I insisted we keep most of the details  from  everyone  except  the  highest-

ranking New Republic officials."

"I quite understand," Karrde said calmly. "Actually, with Parck's name  I

think I can probably re-create most of the missing pieces  myself.  He  was  a

close associate of Grand Admiral Thrawn's, wasn't he?"

"Actually, he was the Victory-class  Star  Destroyer  captain  who  found

Thrawn at the edge of the Unknown Regions after he'd been exiled by  the  rest

of his people forty-odd years ago," Mara  said.  "He  was  so  impressed  with

Thrawn's tactical skill that he took a chance and brought  him  to  Palpatine.

When Palpatine himself later exiled Thrawn back to the Unknown Regions,  Parck

was one of the officers who was sent out there with him."

"Exiled," Karrde murmured. "Yes. And I take  it  whatever  Thrawn's  true

mission was, Parck stayed behind to complete it?"

"Basically," Luke conceded. So much for the  clever  little  cover  story

Palpatine had created to explain Thrawn's departure from the Empire. But then,

Karrde had always been good at reading between the lines. "I wish I  could  be

more specific."

"That's all right." Karrde smiled. "I suppose the  New  Republic  has  to

have some secrets."

"Not that they have very many from you anymore," Mara  said.  "So  what's

the story on this Dean Jinzler?"

Karrde shrugged. "He's a middle-age man, somewhere in his sixties.  Quite

intelligent, though he's apparently never made much of a name for  himself  in

any profession or system. He traveled around quite  a  bit  during  the  Clone

Wars, though the  details  of  his  activities  are  sketchy.  He  joined  the

organization  about  a  year  ago  with  certificates  in  comm  tech,   droid

maintenance, and hyperdrive tech."

"Impressive credentials," Mara commented. "Doesn't sound like the sort of

person you'd stick in an Outer Rim Dead Zone station."

"Well, that's where it gets interesting," Karrde said  heavily.  "When  I

pulled up his file, I discovered that about eight weeks ago he  himself  asked

for a transfer to that particular post."

Luke and Mara exchanged looks. "Now, that  is  interesting,"  Mara  said.

"Eight weeks, you say?"

"Yes," Karrde said. "I don't know if it means anything, but that was just

about the time my researchers finished pulling together the material I'd asked

for on Nirauan, Thrawn, and associated topics."

"Sounds  like  our  boy  Jinzler  may  have  a  certificate  in  creative

eavesdropping, too,"  Mara  said.  "I  presume  we  have  someone  digging  up

everything we can on him?"

"We do," Karrde said. "Unfortunately, it's going to  take  time.  In  the

meantime, Admiral Parck has apparently sent you a message important enough for

Jinzler to consider worth stealing. The question is what exactly we  do  about

it."

"I don't see that we have any choice," Luke said. "Until we know what the

message says, we can't even begin to guess what Jinzler might want  with  it."

He shrugged. "So I guess we're off to Nirauan."

Beside him, Mara stirred in her chair, and he sensed her sudden  tension.

But she remained silent. "I was afraid you'd say that," Karrde  said  heavily.

"Given all I don't know about your last trip there, I do know  that  you  were

chased out of the system. True?"

"Not exactly chased out," Luke said. "On the other hand, I'll admit  I've

never felt we'd be especially welcome if we went  back.  But  the  situation's

changed. If Parck has a message for us, I assume he'll  at  least  wait  until

he's delivered it before he tries to shoot us out of the sky."

"Not funny," Mara muttered.

"Sorry," Luke apologized. "I'm open to other suggestions."

"Why can't you just signal him from here?"  Karrde  asked.  "Between  the

Venture and the HoloNet, we should be able to boost a signal that far."

Luke shook his head. "No. He sent the signal through  your  station,  not

the regular HoloNet. And he addressed it to me, not the Senate or anyone  else

on Coruscant. That implies it's something he doesn't want leaking out."

"A little late for that," Karrde murmured.

"Even  so,  we  can't  risk  running  any   of   this   through   regular

communications channels," Luke said. "And under the circumstances, we'd better

not trust your network with it, either. Jinzler may have left  friends  behind

in case of follow-up messages."

"I suppose that makes sense," Karrde said reluctantly. "Mara? Thoughts or

comments?"

"Only that if we're going, we'd better do it," she said, her voice  under

careful control. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"Under the circumstances, it seemed the least I could do,"  Karrde  said.

"It also occurred to me that if you went, you might prefer to use  that  alien

ship you brought back from there. I've sent Shada and Wild Karrde to  go  pick

it up."

"A nice thought," Luke said. "But I don't think we've got  time  to  wait

for it."

"Definitely not," Mara agreed. "Thanks anyway. How many people  have  you

told about that ship, by the way?"

"Just Shada," Karrde said. "No one else."

"Good," Mara said. "I'd like to keep it a secret a little longer,  if  we

can."

"No problem," Karrde assured her. "If and when we dig out information  on

Jinzler, shall I send a courier to Nirauan to meet you?"

"Don't bother," Luke said. "Chances are we'll be heading straight back to

Coruscant within a couple of days anyway."

"And never mind Jinzler's history," Mara added. "You just concentrate  on

tracking down the man  himself.  The  last  time  secret  information  slipped

through our fingers, we nearly ended up with a civil war."

Karrde winced. "Yes; the Caamas Document," he said. "Don't  worry,  we'll

find him."

"Good," Luke said. "We'll talk to you when we get back to civilization."

"Right," Karrde said. "Good luck."

"And happy hunting to you," Luke said.

He touched the comm switch, and Karrde's face vanished. "Well,  like  you

said, the trip was starting to get routine," he commented.

Mara didn't answer. "I take it you're not happy  about  all  this?"  Luke

suggested as he punched for the nav computer.

"You mean about going to Nirauan?"  Mara  asked,  her  voice  thick  with

sarcasm. "Nirauan, where I single-handedly destroyed their whole  docking  bay

deck for them? I'm sure Parck's just dying to see me again."

"Oh, come on," Luke soothed. "I'm sure he's  gotten  over  that  by  now.

Anyway, it's really Baron Fel you should be worried about. He was probably the

one in charge of the fighters you wrecked."

She turned a high-voltage glare on him. "You're just dripping with  cheer

and good humor today, aren't you?"

"Somebody has to be," Luke said, giving her a totally innocent look.

Mara held the glare another moment. Then her face  softened.  "You're  as

worried as I am, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Luke sighed. "I can think of only one reason Parck would suddenly want to

talk to us," he admitted. "Probably the same reason that's already occurred to

you."

Mara  nodded.  "The  unidentified  enemy  he  told  me  was  coming  this

direction," she said. "The one that had both him and Fel seriously concerned."

"Unless they were lying about that," Luke suggested. "They were trying to

talk you into joining them, remember."

Mara turned to look out at the canopy. "No," she  said.  "No,  they  were

convinced. They might have been wrong, but they were sincerely wrong."

"You're probably right," Luke agreed. "I wish now we'd brought Artoo with

us. He came in pretty handy the last time we were there."

"We're not going down to the planet itself," Mara said firmly.  "Besides,

I know Leia is a lot more comfortable having him aboard during this  stage  of

Jaina's flight training."

Behind Luke, the computer beeped completion of its task. "Here we go," he

said, feeding the course setting into the helm.

"It's almost funny, you know," Mara commented thoughtfully. "You actually

called it, not fifteen minutes ago. Remember?"

Luke grimaced. Especially since I made it clear to Leia at the start that

we weren't supposed to be disturbed unless it was a  flat-out  invasion.  "The

Force is strong in my family," he murmured.

"So I've heard," Mara said. "Let's just hope that was you talking and not

the Force. Come on; let's get this over with."

* * *

Two days later, they reached the Nirauan system.

"Looks quiet enough," Luke said as they flew  through  space  toward  the

battle-scarred planet itself. "No fighter patrols or anything else I can  pick

up."

Mara was silent a moment, and Luke could sense her reaching out with  the

Force. "I'm not getting anything, either," she said. "I get  the  bad  feeling

Parck wasn't expecting us."

Luke frowned at her. "I thought you didn't want him waiting for us."

"I didn't want his fighters waiting for us,"  Mara  corrected.  "But  the

complete lack of a welcoming committee implies that the message  he  sent  was

complete in and of itself. He may be annoyed to find he has visitors."

"Well, there's one way to find out," Luke said, adjusting  the  comm  for

one of the frequencies the Imperials and Chiss had been using  the  last  time

they were here. "Let's knock and see if anyone's home."

He tapped the key. "This is  Luke  Skywalker,  Jedi  Master  of  the  New

Republic, to Admiral Voss  Parck.  Repeat;  this  is  Luke  Skywalker  calling

Admiral Parck. Please respond."

He leaned back in his seat. "Now, I guess we wait until?"

Abruptly, the comm display came on, revealing the blue face  and  glowing

red eyes of a Chiss. "Hello, Skywalker," the alien said. His  eyes  seemed  to

burn into Luke's face. "And Jade is here, too, I  see,"  he  added,  his  face

turning slightly to gaze at  Mara.  "This  is  Kres'ten'tarthi,  commander  of

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's household phalanx for the Empire  of  the  Hand.  This  is

certainly a surprise."

"I don't know why it should be," Luke said evenly. "Or  didn't  you  know

Admiral Parck had sent me a message?"

"Yes, I knew," Kres'ten'tarthi said. "The  admiral  will  be  here  in  a

moment. In the meantime, would you care to land and join us?" His face  seemed

to tighten slightly.  "Don't  worry,  the  docking  bay  has  been  completely

repaired since your last visit."

"Thanks for your hospitality," Mara said before  Luke  could  answer.  "I

think we'll stay here."

The Chiss inclined his head. "As you wish."

The display blanked. "You know him?" Luke asked.

"Yes, though I'd only heard his core name, Stent," Mara said. "He was one

of the Chiss on guard duty when Parck and Fel were talking to me. I  think  he

took it personally when you came charging to the rescue."

Luke shook his head. "We have friends all over this planet, don't we?"

"We have friends all over this whole region  of  space,"  Mara  retorted.

"Don't forget, the rest of Thrawn's people are out there somewhere. Whole star

systems full of Chiss, whom I notice haven't exactly been eager to make  their

presence known to the New Republic."

"Maybe they've got enough troubles of their own, and  figure  they  don't

need to share ours," Luke offered.

"Maybe," Mara said. "Interesting term Stent used. Did you notice?"

"Empire of the Hand," Luke said, nodding. "Probably relates to  the  Hand

of Thrawn."

"Obviously," Mara said. "I was wondering more about the Empire part.  You

and your Rebel friends  certainly  had  plenty  of  trouble  with  Palpatine's

Empire. You suppose the Chiss might be having similar problems with Thrawn's?"

"Could be," Luke said doubtfully. Grand Admiral Thrawn?Mitth'raw'nuruodo,

to give his full Chiss name?had been arguably the greatest military genius the

galaxy had ever known, certainly the greatest the Empire had ever had  in  its

ranks. Palpatine had sent him and a task force out into  the  Unknown  Regions

before the Rebel Alliance had been formed,  ostensibly  in  punishment  for  a

breach of palace politics, but in reality with the secret mission of exploring

and conquering new systems for future Imperial expansion.

On their last visit to Nirauan, Luke and Mara had learned just  how  well

he had succeeded at that task. In just those few short years he had opened  up

huge expanses of territory, putting them under the  control  of  his  Imperial

forces and the handful of Chiss such as Stent who had remained loyal  to  him.

The original secrecy of the project had also been maintained, with the leaders

of the Imperial Remnant on Bastion having never even heard of the  project  up

to that point.

Now, three years later, Supreme  Commander  Pellaeon  and  a  handful  of

trusted advisers had had some limited  contact  with  Parck  and  the  Nirauan

offshoot of their former regime. Leia and some of the other top people in  the

New Republic also  knew  of  its  existence,  though  Luke  suspected  neither

government had any idea how extensive the new territory actually was. Only  he

and Mara knew that, and for the moment they had decided to keep it private.

The designation Empire of the Hand for the region, however, was a new one

on them. "I can't see Thrawn becoming that kind of tyrant,  though,"  he  went

on, thinking back over the New Republic's  own  struggles  against  the  Grand

Admiral. "He never struck me as the sort to rule by terror or suppression."

"Doesn't mean he couldn't have learned," Mara pointed out. "Palpatine was

an excellent teacher. Or if not Thrawn himself, maybe those who succeeded  him

went in that direction. Happens all the time."

"I suppose," Luke conceded. "Still?"

He broke off as the comm display came on again,  this  time  revealing  a

gray-haired human with a lined face and quick, shrewd eyes. "Hello, Mara,"  he

said. "Master Skywalker. This is a surprise, I must say. I  assumed  you'd  be

well on your way to Crustai by now."

Luke frowned. "Crustai?"

"The rendezvous point," Parck said, his forehead furrowing as he  frowned

in turn. "Didn't you get my message?"

"Unfortunately, it took a wrong turn," Mara told him. "Someone named Dean

Jinzler made off with it before anyone else could see the contents."

"Really," Parck murmured, looking back and forth between them. "You  know

this man?"

"Never heard of him before," Mara said. "I take it this message was worth

stealing?"

"In the proper hands, it could  very  well  be,"  Parck  said,  his  lips

compressing briefly. "This is not good at all."

"Yes, that's basically the conclusion we came to," Mara agreed. "You want

to fill us in?"

"Of course," Parck said,  his  thoughts  clearly  still  on  the  wayward

message. "Though if the Chiss..." He seemed to shake  himself.  "Well,  what's

done is done," he said briskly. "Reality must always be dealt with, whether we

like it or not. Tell me, Skywalker, have you ever heard  of  something  called

Outbound Flight?"

"Yes, I think so," Luke said slowly, thinking  hard.  "I  came  across  a

reference to it when I was searching for information on  Jorus  C'baoth,  back

when his clone was  working  with?was  trying  to  kidnap  Leia's  twins,"  he

corrected himself  quickly.  C'baoth's  former  connection  with  Thrawn,  and

especially his connection with Thrawn's death, might not be a wise subject  to

bring up. "Wasn't it some grand effort a few years before the  Clone  Wars  to

send an expedition to another galaxy?"

"Very good," Parck  said.  "Yes,  that  was  basically  it.  The  project

consisted of six brand-new Dreadnaughts, clustered  together  in  a  hexagonal

pattern around a central storage core. The personnel  consisted  of  six  Jedi

Masters and a dozen Jedi Knights, including C'baoth himself, plus  some  fifty

thousand others, crewers and their families."

Luke blinked. "And their families?"

"Traveling to another  galaxy  would  take  time,"  Parck  reminded  him.

"Especially at  the  low  speeds  Dreadnaughts  were  capable  of  making.  In

addition, since they would be passing through the Unknown Regions on the  way,

there was some suggestion of planting a few colonies as they went."

"Ah," Luke said, nodding. "Hence the design."

"Correct," Parck said. "If  a  colony  was  indeed  formed,  one  of  the

Dreadnaughts could  be  easily  detached  from  the  cluster  to  provide  the

colonists with protection and mobility."

"Yes," Luke said. "Aside  from  that,  about  all  I  know  is  that  the

expedition never returned. Did they make it to another galaxy?"

Beside him, Mara stirred. "They didn't even make it  out  of  ours,"  she

said quietly. "Thrawn intercepted the mission at the edge of Chiss  space  and

destroyed it."

"Yes," Parck said. "The rest of the Chiss were not pleased,  to  say  the

least. Thrawn was nearly exiled on the spot, though he apparently was able  to

talk his way out of it somehow."

"Yes, I remember the history lesson from the last time I was here,"  Mara

said. "The Chiss are fanatics on the topic of preemptive strikes. So what does

a fifty-year-old tragedy have to do with us?"

"Just this." Parck's eyes bored into hers.  "The  Chiss  have  found  the

remains of Outbound Flight. And they want to give it back."

* * *

For a long moment, Mara just stared at the screen,  a  hundred  different

thoughts and emotions twisting themselves through her mind.  "No,"  she  said,

the word popping out without conscious effort. "That's impossible. It  has  to

be a trick."

Parck shrugged. "I agree it  sounds  odd.  But  Aristocra  Formbi  seemed

sincere when he contacted me."

"It's impossible," Mara insisted again. "You  told  me  Thrawn  destroyed

Outbound Flight. When Thrawn destroys something, he does a very  thorough  job

of it."

"Which I would know far better than you," Parck returned pointedly.  "The

fact remains that the Chiss say they've found Outbound Flight. The description

Formbi gave certainly fits the design, and there's no other reason I can think

of why even a single Dreadnaught should be out this far."

He lifted an eyebrow. "The hows and whys are questions  none  of  us  can

answer right now. The only question you have to deal with is what you're going

to do about it."

"What we're going to do?" Luke asked. "It seems to me this  is  something

for the entire New Republic leadership, not a couple of Jedi."

"Perhaps," Parck said. "But perhaps not. Outbound Flight was a brainchild

of the Jedi, after all, not the Old Republic Senate or even Palpatine.  That's

why Formbi asked that you be  contacted  and  invited  to  join  the  official

expedition to the site of the remains."

"He asked for Luke?" Mara asked.

"Specifically," Parck confirmed, turning to look toward a screen  to  his

right. "Here's the entire message:  'To  Luke  Skywalker,  Jedi  Master,  Jedi

academy, Yavin Four; from Chaf'orm'bintrano, Aristocra  of  the  Fifth  Ruling

Family, Sarvchi. A patrol  from  the  Chiss  Expansionary  Defense  Fleet  has

located what appears to be the remnants of the expeditionary mission known  to

you as Outbound Flight deep inside Chiss territory. As a token of respect, and

with deep regret for Chiss involvement in its destruction, we  offer  you  the

opportunity to join the official examination of the vessel. I will  await  you

at the world Crustai'?here he gave the coordinates?'for the next fifteen days,

at which time we will travel together to Outbound Flight's  location.  I  urge

you to attend, so that through you we may discuss arrangements for the  return

of the remains to your people.' End of message."

"And this all came from this Chaf'orm'whatever?" Mara asked. "The address

and everything?"

"Chaf'orm'bintrano," Parck  supplied.  "Call  him  Formbi.  Obviously,  I

supplied the location of the Jedi academy for him. The  Chiss  know  virtually

nothing about the New Republic, and certainly nothing about its worlds."

"Yet he knew Luke's name?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Parck said. "Formbi asked for the  name  of  the

New Republic's most prominent Jedi. That would of course be Master Skywalker."

"So you and Formbi are on good speaking terms?" Mara pressed.

"I wouldn't say we're on good speaking terms,"  Parck  hedged.  "Official

Chiss policy is still that Thrawn was  a  renegade  who  brought  nothing  but

dishonor on the rest of his people."

"Tell that to Stent," Luke murmured.

Parck shrugged. "I didn't say all the Chiss agreed. I  simply  said  that

was the official line. But Formbi and I  have  spoken  on  occasion,  and  the

conversations have been reasonably civil."

He glanced somewhere offscreen. "I've run the numbers on  travel  to  the

Crustai system. Assuming you can make at least point three in that  ship,  you

should have just enough time to get there before Formbi's fifteen days are up.

"

"Thank you," Luke said. "If you don't mind, we'll discuss it and get back

to you."

"As you wish," Parck said. "I hope to speak with you again soon."

He was still sitting there, gazing at them, when Luke  switched  off  the

comm.

Mara kept her eyes  on  the  planet,  feeling  Luke's  unspoken  question

hanging in the air between them. "What do you think?" she asked instead.

"It's an intriguing offer," Luke said. "As far as I could tell, the whole

Outbound Flight Project was wrapped in secrecy. There was hardly anything even

in the Coruscant archives that I could find."

"There's a lot we don't know anymore about that whole  era,"  Mara  said.

"The Clone Wars and Palpatine's purge saw to that."

"That's my point,"  Luke  said.  "If  even  a  part  of  Outbound  Flight

survived, there's a chance that some of its records  survived  with  it.  This

could be the kind of glimpse into the past that we've always wanted."

"That we've always wanted?" Mara countered,  looking  at  him.  "Or  that

you've always wanted?"

"All right, fine," Luke said, clearly puzzled by her reaction.  "I  admit

it: I'd like to know more about the Jedi of that time. Wouldn't you?"

"That's also when Palpatine came to  power,"  she  reminded  him  darkly,

turning back to the canopy. "Personally, there's a lot about that era  that  I

don't want to know."

"I understand," Luke said gently. "But on the other hand, we can't ignore

the potential of this offer."

"What potential?" Mara scoffed. "The chance  for  the  Chiss  to  assuage

their guilt over letting Thrawn run wild as long as they did?"

"I'm sure that's part of it," Luke  said.  "The  Chiss  claim  to  be  an

honorable people. Even Thrawn made a point of not killing or  destroying  more

than he thought was necessary. But I have a strong feeling that  there's  more

to this than just a simple act of atonement."

"Such as?"

Luke shrugged. "I don't know. It may be that the  Chiss  are  looking  to

open diplomatic relations with the New Republic, and finding  Outbound  Flight

has given them the opening they needed to do so."

"Really," Mara said. "Well, in that case, my dear, they're going about it

in an awfully strange way. I've been running some numbers, too,  and  even  if

that message had been delivered when it was supposed to be, we'd  barely  have

had time to alert Coruscant before we  flash-tailed  it  out  to  the  Unknown

Regions. And they wouldn't  have  had  time  to  even  organize  a  diplomatic

mission, let alone get it in space in time. Face it, Luke: Formbi doesn't want

the New Republic involved, at least not on any official level."

"I can't argue with that," Luke conceded. "Still, if the  Chiss  consider

Outbound Flight to have been a Jedi project, it makes sense for  them  to  ask

for me instead of someone from the Senate."

"If Parck's telling the truth," Mara said. "It also could  be  that  he's

lying through his teeth."

"There's one way to find out," Luke pointed out. "I doubt he  could  hide

that massive a deception from both of us in person."

"We're not going down there," Mara said flatly. "The last time I  sat  in

the same room with him he first tried to recruit me, then almost had  me  shot

with those wonderful little charric fire guns the Chiss carry. Thanks,  but  I

can hear him just fine from up here."

"Okay, don't get excited," Luke said. "I'm not in any  rush  to  go  down

there again, either. Just bear in mind that in that case all we've got  to  go

on is what he says."

"I know," Mara muttered. "I just don't like it."

Luke shrugged. "It's a gamble," he said. "But I think it's worth taking."

He cocked his head to the side, and again Mara could feel his mind pressing at

hers. "Unless you have something more solid to go on, one way or the other?"

"You mean am I getting something from the Force?" Mara grimaced. "I  wish

I was. But all I've got is my own natural suspicion."

"No, it's not just  that,"  Luke  corrected  her  thoughtfully.  "There's

something else there, something deeper than  just  caution  or  suspicion.  It

feels a little like the way I felt when Yoda told me I would have to  face  my

father before I would truly be a Jedi."

"But I've already been through that," Mara protested. "You told  me  that

that transition had to do with sacrifice. I made mine." She  jabbed  a  finger

toward the planet in front of them. "Right down there."

"I know," Luke said, and Mara felt a new warmth flow  into  his  concern.

That sacrifice, after all, was what had finally made this  whole  relationship

possible. "But it wasn't the sacrifice aspect I was thinking of. It  was  more

the?I don't know. Call it the need to face the past."

Mara snorted. "I've never even been to Chiss space.  How  can  going  out

there possibly have anything to do with my past?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "I just said  that  was  what  it  felt  like,

that's all."

Mara sighed. "You want to go, don't you?"

Luke reached over and took her hand. "I think we have to," he  said.  "If

Parck was right about an enemy moving in toward us, we're going  to  need  all

the allies we can get. If there's even a chance of getting the  Chiss  on  our

side, we need to take it."

"Yes," Mara said, a shiver running up her back. "Unless Parck  was  lying

about that, too. Well, if we're going to go, we'd better go."

Squeezing Luke's hand once, she let go and reached for the  comm  switch.

"Let's contact Parck and get those coordinates."

CHAPTER 3

The Jade Sabre was capable of somewhat better than 0.3  past  lightspeed,

and they made it to Crustai with nearly a  day  to  spare.  Here,  unlike  the

apparently more  casual  situation  they'd  found  at  Nirauan,  there  was  a

welcoming committee waiting.

There were five of them, in fact: alien fighters, midway in size  between

an X-wing and a Skipray blastboat, moving up behind the Sabre as Luke  brought

the ship out of hyperspace. "Identify yourself," a hard voice snapped from the

comm in passable Basic.

"Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and Jedi Knight Mara  Jade  Skywalker,"  Luke

replied, glancing at the tactical plot Mara had pulled up.  The  fighters  had

moved neatly into flanking positions around the Jade Sabre, a move that  could

easily be justified as an innocent escort formation,  but  which  would  serve

equally well for attack if necessary. "We're here at the request of  Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family."

"Welcome, Master Skywalker," the voice said. "We will escort you  to  the

Aristocra's diplomatic courier vessel. You will dock there and go aboard."

"Thank you," Luke said.

One of the fighters broke formation and moved out in front of the  group,

angling off to the left toward the edge of the planet directly  ahead.  Taking

the cue, Luke shifted course to follow. "What do you think?" he asked.

"If they've borrowed any of our technology, it sure doesn't  show,"  Mara

said, leaning over the sensor scan she'd done of the fighters.  "Most  of  the

weapons are registering as unknowns, but they seem to  be  mainly  energy  and

projectile types, with a couple of  small  missiles  racked  together  on  the

underside."

"Proton torpedoes?" Luke suggested, studying the  schematic  the  sensors

had drawn for them.

"Seems a bit big for that, but I can't tell  for  sure,"  Mara  said.  "I

definitely wouldn't want to go up against  one  of  these  things  in  combat,

though, let alone five of them."

"We'll do our best to avoid that," Luke  agreed.  "Seems  odd  that  they

haven't used any of our stuff, though, considering Thrawn's relationship  with

the Empire."

"You heard Parck," Mara reminded him. "They don't think  much  of  Thrawn

out here."

"Yes, but you'd think they'd at least swallow their  pride  where  useful

technology is concerned," Luke said. "Most people's  principles  don't  extend

that far."

Mara shrugged. "Maybe we've finally found a society of people where  they

do."

The courier ship the fighter  pilot  had  mentioned,  like  the  fighters

themselves, turned out to be something of a surprise. It was bigger than  Luke

had expected, for one thing,  nearly  half  again  as  big  as  the  Corellian

corvettes that the New Republic routinely used for such  tasks.  In  addition,

instead of the corvette's smooth lines, the Chiss ship seemed to be all planes

and corners and sharply defined  angles,  rather  like  a  Mon  Calamari  star

cruiser roughly carved out of stone before the sculptor  began  smoothing  the

surface into the proper curves.

"Interesting design," Mara commented as they flew toward it. "It would be

great for hiding in asteroid fields."

"It would blend in pretty well, wouldn't it?" Luke said, nodding. "I  was

just thinking that it wouldn't be easily mistaken for  anything  else.  That's

something else you want in a diplomatic ship."

"Maybe," Mara said. "Or maybe the Chiss just like lumpy ships. Does  make

me wonder what the docking bay's going to be like, though."

Luke winced. Back when he'd first presented the Jade Sabre to Mara, after

she'd thanked him for it, she'd made it casually clear what  would  happen  to

anyone who so much as scratched the paint. This could be trouble.

Fortunately, it wasn't. The starboard-side docking bay they were escorted

to?more of a half port,  really,  than  a  full-sized  bay?was  smooth-walled,

without any decorative angles or corners intruding on the  approach.  It  also

had maneuvering room to spare, and Mara got the Sabre's nose into position and

locked into the clamps on her first try. "We're in," she announced. "Now what?

"

"Looks like they're moving a transfer tunnel toward the portside  hatch,"

Luke said, craning his neck to peer out the side of the canopy. "Let's go meet

our host."

It took a few minutes for them to shut the ship down to standby and  then

make their way back to  the  hatchway.  Someone  was  already  waiting  there,

tapping politely and discreetly on the metal. "Here we go," Luke murmured, and

touched the release.

The hatchway slid up to  reveal  a  young  Chiss  female  dressed  in  an

exotically cut  jumpsuit  composed  of  shades  of  yellow.  "Welcome  to  the

Diplomatic Vessel Chaf Envoy," she said. Her Basic was  far  better  than  the

fighter pilot's had been, with only a trace of an exotic accent flavoring  the

words. "I am Chaf'ees'aklaio, aide to Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano. I would  be

honored if you would call me by my core name, Feesa."

"Thank you," Luke said. "I'm Luke Skywalker?call me Luke.  This  is  Mara

Jade Skywalker?Mara?my wife and fellow Jedi."

"Luke; Mara." Feesa repeated the names, bowing low from  her  waist.  "We

are honored by your presence. Please; come this way."

She turned and headed down the tunnel. "You speak our language very well,

" Luke commented as he and Mara fell into step behind her. "Is it common among

your people?"

"Not at all," Feesa said. "It  was  introduced  many  years  ago  by  the

Visitors, but only a few have felt the desire to learn it."

"The Visitors?" Mara asked. "You mean the people aboard Outbound Flight?"

"No; the Visitors," Feesa said. "The ones who came before."

"Before Outbound Flight?" Mara asked, frowning. "Who would have come  out

here before that?"

"I do not know their names." Feesa half turned to regard  Mara  over  her

shoulder. "But it is not my place to speak of such things,"  she  added.  "You

must not ask me anything more."

"Our apologies," Luke said, sending a warning thought at Mara and sensing

in  return  a  flicker  of  frustration  at  his  tacit  suspension   of   her

investigation. Probing for information was one of Mara's specialties.

Ahead, the tunnel came to an end at a wide hatchway  opening  up  into  a

large room beyond. Feesa stepped through into the room and moved to  the  side

of the hatchway, making room for the other two to enter. Luke stepped through?

His only warning was a flicker in the Force, a brief and unfocused  sense

of danger. But it was enough. Reflexively, he threw himself forward into a low

dive as something whipped through the space he'd just vacated.

Feesa gasped something as Luke hit the deck and  rolled  onto  his  back,

kicking off the flooring with his heels. The momentum of his kick  pushed  him

backward away from the point of danger, simultaneously shoving him back up off

the cold metal. Half a second later he was back on his feet, poised in  combat

stance with his lightsaber blazing ready in front of him.

His first concern was Mara. To his relief, he saw she was  still  in  the

tunnel, just inside the protection of the hatchway, her lightsaber ignited and

ready. For a moment their  eyes  met,  exchanging  assurances  that  each  was

unhurt. Feesa, he noted peripherally, was sprawled  on  the  deck;  apparently

Mara had used the Force to shove her down where  she'd  hopefully  be  out  of

danger. Mentally warning Mara to stay where she was, he shifted his  attention

to search for the source of the attack.

It wasn't hard to find. A thick, heavy-looking cable anchored to the high

ceiling was swinging ponderously alongside the wall,  apparently  having  come

loose just as Luke was stepping through the hatchway. Grimacing with a mixture

of relief and annoyance, he closed down his lightsaber. "It's all  right,"  he

called to Mara, measuring the swing of the cable with his eyes.  Another  five

seconds and it would cut back across the hatchway, but until then it would  be

safe to cross. "Come on through."

Mara came through, all right, but in typical  Mara  fashion.  She  waited

four of the five seconds, then suddenly leapt out and up, spinning 180 degrees

around in midair. As the  cable  swung  past,  she  slashed  upward  with  her

lightsaber.

He'd expected her to cut  the  end  completely  off  as  a  mark  of  her

displeasure at what had just happened. But the blue blade merely slashed  past

the flying cable without any apparent effect at all.

She landed back on the deck, the cable clattering noisily along the  wall

as it swung past her. "You all  right?"  she  asked  Luke,  closing  down  her

lightsaber and returning it to her belt.

"I'm fine," Luke assured her. "I  was  feeling  like  a  little  exercise

anyway."

A movement to his right caught his eye, and he turned to see  a  pair  of

Chiss males enter the room through a high  archway,  both  considerably  older

than Feesa, both wearing elaborate outfits that were almost certainly robes of

state. The shorter Chiss, his blue-black hair liberally sprinkled with  white,

wore a long, flowing robe in subdued shades of  yellow  with  gray  trim.  The

taller Chiss's outfit was shorter, more like a long tunic than an actual robe,

and was predominantly black, though  with  small  swatches  of  dusky  red  at

various places on the sleeves and upper shoulders. "Greetings to you, Jedi of?

" the black-clad Chiss began.

He broke off abruptly, his eyes narrowing, as the last echo of his  words

bounced briefly between the high walls. "What is this?" he demanded.

"There was an accident, noble sir," Feesa said, jumping  quickly  to  her

feet. "The cable broke and nearly struck Master Skywalker."

"I see," the Chiss said, the threatening tone fading from his voice.  "My

apologies, Master Skywalker. Are you injured?"

"No," Luke assured him as he and Mara  crossed  to  meet  the  newcomers.

"Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano, I presume?"

The Chiss shook his head. "I am General  Prard'ras'kieoni  of  the  Chiss

Defense Fleet," he said stiffly. "Military commander of this expedition."

He half turned to the Chiss in yellow. "This,"  he  said,  "is  Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano."

Luke shifted his attention to the other Chiss.  Alien  ages  were  always

hard to judge, but there was something about Chaf'orm'bintrano that marked him

as being much older than the general. A presence, perhaps, or something in his

face or stance. "My apologies, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano," he said.

"Hardly necessary," the other said easily. "No one would  expect  you  to

know one Chiss from another. I trust you had an uneventful journey?"

"Quite uneventful, thank you," Luke said. Chaf'orm'bintrano's accent  was

somewhat thicker than Feesa's, but his ease in speaking indicated he knew  the

language better even than she did.

"Aside from this last bit," Mara interjected, nodding  toward  the  cable

still swinging along  the  wall.  "You  speak  our  language  well,  Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano. Did you also learn it from the Visitors?"

"From the Visitors, and others," the Chiss said. "Since  the  arrival  of

your people at Nirauan, it has by necessity become a small but  growing  field

of study. All personnel aboard this mission are familiar with it, in fact, and

I have instructed them to use it whenever possible as a courtesy to you."

"Thank you, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano," Luke said,  nodding  his  head.

"That's an unexpected but welcome kindness."

"You're welcome," Chaf'orm'bintrano said. "Following that same pattern of

courtesy, I would also request that you address me by my core name, Formbi.  I

believe that will make our conversations easier."

"It will indeed," Luke assured him, feeling a definite relief at Formbi's

thoughtfulness. He'd never been  nearly  as  good  with  alien  languages  and

pronunciations as Leia or even Han, and C-3PO was  a  long  way  away  at  the

moment. "Again, I thank you."

"It's only a reasonable courtesy," Formbi continued, as if feeling he had

to somehow justify the decision. "After all, full names  are  mainly  reserved

for formal occasions,  for  strangers,  and  for  those  who  are  our  social

inferiors. As representatives of the New Republic, all of you must  surely  be

considered to be on a level with the very highest of the orders."

Luke glanced at Mara, caught the flicker that showed  she'd  spotted  it,

too. All of you? Shouldn't he have said both of you? "That's certainly one way

to look at it," he agreed.

"Good," Formbi said. "You may likewise address  General  Prard'ras'kleoni

as General Drask."

Luke looked at the general, caught the brief hardness about  the  other's

mouth before he carefully smoothed it away. Apparently, Drask wasn't nearly as

happy with upsetting the normal social order as Formbi was.

Or else he just didn't like humans.

"But come," Formbi added, gesturing back toward the archway he and  Drask

had entered by. "Let me show you the public areas of the vessel  before  Feesa

takes you to your personal quarters."

He turned and led the way  back  across  the  room  toward  the  archway.

"Pretty big room for an entry area," Mara commented as they passed  under  the

archway and into a curving hallway. Unlike the ship's outer hull, the interior

surfaces were all smooth and even. "Our ships usually can't  afford  to  waste

that much space."

"Do you view courtesy and formality as a  waste,  then?"  Drask  growled.

"Perhaps politeness is unnecessary, too, or positions or social levels?"

"General." Formbi spoke the title quietly, but there was something in his

voice that instantly silenced the other. "Our guests don't do things as we do.

Obviously, they don't understand."

He looked back at Mara. "This is a diplomatic vessel of the Fifth  Ruling

Family, and we often welcome high-positioned officials aboard. Each social and

professional position requires its own proper expanse, decor, and pattern.  In

each of those situations the reception area can be automatically  reconfigured

and decorated before the guest's arrival."

He shrugged. "As it is, the room  is  barely  large  enough  to  properly

welcome a brother or sister of one of the Nine Families. Fortunately, most  of

them travel but little, and then mainly in vessels of their own."

"I see," Mara said.

Formbi frowned at her, and Luke caught a sudden  ripple  of  uncertainty.

"Did you expect some ceremony of that sort?" he asked. "Admiral Parck told  me

that Jedi neither required nor wished such recognition. Was he incorrect?"

"No, not at all," Luke hastened to assure him. "Officials of our position

don't require any formal rituals or treatment."

"Especially not on a mission like this one," Mara added. "If  we're  ever

in a situation where ceremony is required, we'll inform you then, and instruct

you in the proper patterns."

"As we of course will expect you  to  do  for  us  if  the  situation  is

reversed," Luke said. "Until then, consider us to be merely  fellow  travelers

come to see the remains of an ancient Republic ship."

Formbi nodded, the uncertainty smoothing away. "Then we shall  do  that,"

he declared. "Now that all have arrived?"

He broke off as a trilling group of tones cut through the air.  "Incoming

vessel," a gentle voice announced from somewhere  above  them.  "Paskla-class;

unknown configuration."

Drask muttered something under  his  breath.  "Combat  preparations,"  he

called toward the ceiling as he took off at a run down the corridor.

"Come," Formbi said, gesturing them forward  as  Drask  disappeared  from

view around a curve. "We were going to the public areas anyway.  We  might  as

well begin with the command center."

He led them  through  a  dozen  twists  and  turns  to  a  small  balcony

overlooking a room that was, as near as Luke could judge, buried  nearly  dead

center in the core of the ship. It was about the same size  as  the  reception

area had been, but with a much lower ceiling. Unlike the  reception  room,  it

was crammed full of consoles, displays, wall monitors, and Chiss. Most of  the

aliens were dressed in the same black as General Drask, though  their  outfits

were tighter fitting,  less  elaborate,  and  clearly  more  functional.  Luke

spotted Drask himself on  a  circular  podium  in  the  center  of  the  room,

conferring with a Chiss wearing an  outfit  similar  to  his  but  with  green

patches where the general's uniform showed red.

"This is the command center," Formbi said, as calm as if he was leading a

tour through an interesting display of painted shellfish. "The officer wearing

green patches is Captain Brast'alshi'barku, the line commander of this vessel?

you may address him as Captain Talshib. And that," he added,  pointing  across

to the largest of the wall displays, "is apparently our incoming vessel."

Luke focused on the image. The alien ship looked like a slightly squashed

sphere, light-colored but with a close-order pattern of  dark  spots  covering

the hull that could have been viewports, vents, or even just decoration. There

was no scale on the display that he could see, but if the ships  now  swarming

around it were more of the fighters that had run escort for  the  Jade  Sabre,

then the intruder was decently sized.

"Doesn't look like a warship," Mara  commented  from  beside  him.  "They

usually have at least one low-silhouette, high-firepower  plane  available  to

present to an approaching enemy. That thing's going to be a perfect target  no

matter what direction it comes at you from."

"You forget the Death Star," Luke reminded her. "It was  shaped  more  or

less like that."

"And its design stunk, too," Mara retorted. "It just happened to  be  big

enough and mean enough to get away with it."

"Mostly," Luke couldn't resist saying.

"Whatever." Mara gestured. "This thing, on the other hand,  doesn't  seem

to be even half the size of a Dreadnaught."

Formbi turned to Feesa. "Feesa, please go and ask the ambassador to  join

us," he said. "He, too, may find this interesting."

"I obey," Feesa said, bobbing her head in a quick bow and  then  hurrying

off.

"The ambassador?" Mara asked.

"Yes," Formbi said. "Did I understand you to say you knew of a vessel  of

this type?"

"No, just a battle station of a similar shape," Luke said.

"It was destroyed  a  long  time  ago,"  Mara  added.  "Now,  about  this

ambassador?"

She was interrupted by another trilling tone, a different combination  of

notes than the one they'd heard earlier. "Signal alert," Formbi identified it.

"They're trying to communicate."

One of the smaller displays to the side cleared to reveal a pair of alien

faces with large violet eyes, flattened ears rising high on the skull,  and  a

pair of small mouths set just above the jawline. The skin was light tan,  with

a hint of exotic gold marbling about the jaw and cheeks. "What are they?" Luke

asked.

"It's not a species I've seen before," Formbi  said,  leaning  forward  a

little as if trying to see the image better.

"I thought you were the dominant species out here," Mara said. "Don't you

know all your neighbors?"

"We have a significant number of stars and  star  systems,  yes,"  Formbi

said. There was neither arrogance nor apology in  his  voice;  he  was  simply

stating a fact. "But the Nine Families have long discouraged our  people  from

probing or prying into the territories of others. Certainly the Defense  Fleet

and all official personnel are required to stay within our own borders."

He shrugged. "Besides which, there are also many  small  groups  in  this

region of space, remnants of pirate attack or refugees of mass destruction  by

other  aggressors.  Plus,  of  course,  there  are  those  same  pirates   and

aggressors. Even if we wished to do so, it would be a great undertaking to try

to know them all."

"There are a hundred different threats out there that would  freeze  your

blood if you knew about them," Mara murmured.

Formbi frowned at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was just remembering something a Chiss once told me," Mara  explained.

"A warrior named Stent, back on Nirauan."

"Yes," Formbi said, his tone a little odd. Perhaps he didn't  like  being

reminded that Parck had a lot of renegade Chiss working with him.  "In  actual

fact, he  may  have  underestimated  the  number.  The  galaxy  outside  Chiss

territory is not a very safe place to be."

On the display, one of the aliens  opened  his  mouths,  and  a  flow  of

melodic sounds suddenly filled the room. Luke stretched out  with  the  Force,

wondering if he could get a sense of the words the way he'd once done with the

Qom Qae and Qom Jha of Nirauan.

But those species' communication had had a Force component  to  it.  This

one did not, and his efforts were of no use.

"Ah," Formbi said. "At least they've been around the region  long  enough

to pick up Minnisiat."

"What's that, a trade language?" Mara asked.

"Exactly,"  Formbi  said,  glancing  at  her  with  an  approving   look.

"Minnisiat is the chief trade language among the various peoples of this area.

Most Chiss know at least some of it, particularly those  who  live  on  border

worlds like Crustai."

"What's he saying?" Luke asked.

Formbi pursed his lips. "  'Greetings  to  the  noble  and  compassionate

people of the Chiss Ascendancy,' " he said  slowly.  "  'I  am  Bearsh,  first

steward of the Geroon Remnant.' "

From the podium, General Drask was speaking now. It seemed to be the same

language, though his voice was considerably less melodic than the Geroon's.  "

'I am General Prard'ras'kleoni of the Chiss  Expansionary  Defense  Fleet,'  "

Formbi translated. " 'What is your business in Chiss territory?' "

To Luke's ears, Drask's question  hadn't  seemed  particularly  angry  or

threatening. The Geroon, though, apparently heard something different than  he

did. Bearsh's voice abruptly took on what seemed to  be  an  alarmed  tone,  a

sense that Formbi's translation merely  confirmed.  "  'We  mean  no  affront.

Please do not harm our vessel. We wish merely to honor those who died to  free

our people.' "

Drask looked up from  his  podium,  his  eyes  searching  briefly  before

locating Formbi on the observation balcony. "Aristocra?" he called.  "Are  you

familiar with the event he refers to?"

"I have no knowledge of any such event," Formbi called back. "Ask him  to

explain."

The general turned and began speaking again. "I thought you didn't go out

of your way to help people outside your territory," Mara said.

"We don't," Formbi said. The Geroon spoke  again,  and  Formbi's  glowing

eyes narrowed as he listened. "I see," he said. "Interesting. Listen: 'We have

heard you have located the bones of the  Republic  vessel  known  as  Outbound

Flight. The people who traveled in it sacrificed their lives that we might  be

freed from our enslavers.' "

"Wait a minute," Luke said, turning to Mara. "I thought you  said  Thrawn

destroyed Outbound Flight."

"That's what Parck told me," Mara confirmed. "Maybe he was wrong."

"Or maybe this happened before Thrawn got to it?" Luke suggested.

Drask was speaking again. "General Drask is asking  who  their  enslavers

were," Formbi said, a thoughtful tone in his voice. "I wonder..."

His voice trailed off. "You know something?" Mara prompted.

"I have a thought," Formbi said. "Let's first see what the Geroon says."

Bearsh answered, stepping back from the holocam and waving his hands in a

complicated pattern. "What's that behind him?"  Luke  asked,  frowning  as  he

tried to see past the two alien faces that were now only partially filling the

screen. The area behind them seemed to be a large  open  room,  possibly  even

larger than the reception area he and Mara had come through earlier. The walls

and ceiling were colored a white-textured blue, and he could just see the tops

of some kind of open structures above the aliens' heads.

And then, as he watched, two small figures moved into view, climbing hand

over hand on the nearest structure. "What in the??"

"It's a playground," Mara breathed. "It's a children's playground."

"You're right," Luke said. One of the small Geroons reached  the  top  of

the structure he was climbing, pulling a red headband from around his ears  as

he did so and waving it in triumph. "Looks like a version of Hilltop Emperor."

"Complete with flag and loud gloating," Mara agreed. "What in  the  world

is a playground doing aboard a starship?"

"The Vagaari," Formbi murmured.

"What?" Luke asked, turning to him.

Formbi gestured to the display. "He has just confirmed my  expectations,"

the Chiss said darkly. "He says it was the Vagaari who enslaved them."

"I take it that is a species you've seen before?" Mara asked.

"Not seen, but far too familiar with," Formbi said. "They  were  a  great

race of nomadic conquerors and slavers  who  once  flew  freely  through  this

region of space, taking and destroying at will, particularly among the smaller

species and worlds."

"Are they still around?" Luke asked.

"They and their deeds have not been seen for many  years,"  Formbi  said.

"Not since the battle where the Outbound Flight was destroyed, in fact."

Luke and Mara exchanged startled looks. "They were at that battle?"  Luke

asked.

"And on whose side?" Mara added. "Outbound Flight's, or the Chiss's?"

"There was no  'Chiss'  side  of  the  battle,  Jedi  Skywalker,"  Formbi

countered,  his  red  eyes  flashing  at   her.   "There   was   only   Syndic

Mitth'raw'nuruodo and his one very small picket force. They did not  represent

the Chiss Defense Fleet, or the Nine Ruling Families, or any  other  group  of

the Chiss people."

"Yes, we understand that," Luke assured him  hastily.  "Mara  was  simply

wondering how exactly the battle lines were drawn up."

Formbi shook his head. "I arrived after the battle was  over,  after  all

the destruction had already taken place."  He  rumbled  deep  in  his  throat.

"Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo was not very informative on what exactly  had  taken

place."

"So it's possible that the Jedi aboard Outbound Flight  really  did  help

them against the Vagaari?" Luke asked.

Formbi shrugged. "You know the Jedi," he said. "You must tell me  whether

that is possible."

Luke looked back at the display and the pleading Geroons. Faced with both

a pirate gang and Thrawn's forces, threatened by both,  what  would  the  Jedi

have done? "I'm sure they would have tried to help," he said slowly. "How much

they could have done... I don't know."

"Though the Geroons clearly think they did something  significant,"  Mara

pointed out. "You suppose Outbound  Flight  and  Thrawn  could  have  combined

forces long enough to stomp the Vagaari before Thrawn turned on them?"

Luke shrugged. "I suppose that's possible," he said. "Hard to believe  he

could have conned six Jedi Masters into wasting their strength against pirates

when he knew all along he was going to attack them afterward."

"Unless they knew that, but decided to risk it anyway in  order  to  save

the Geroons," Mara suggested. "You  Jedi  Masters  get  all  noble  and  self-

sacrificing at the oddest moments."

"Thank you," Luke said dryly. "The question is?"

"Ah," Formbi said, turning. "Here he is now."

Luke turned to see Feesa coming toward them. Striding  along  behind  her

was a medium-tall human male with  silver  hair  and  a  close-cropped  silver

beard, his face lined and dark with the evidence of  too  many  of  his  years

spent under unforgiving suns. "Welcome, Ambassador," Formbi greeted  him.  "We

seem to have more visitors."

"I see," the man said, looking past the group toward the command center's

displays. His voice  was  deep  and  rich,  full  of  intelligence  and  quiet

confidence. Up close now, Luke could see that his eyes were an  unusual  shade

of gray. "Interesting. Do we know them?"

"They call themselves the Geroons," Formbi said, turning back as  someone

called his name. "Excuse me, but I'm needed below. Come, Feesa."

"Introductions?" Mara murmured, her eyes on the newcomer.

"I'm sorry," Formbi said as he and Feesa paused at the top of  the  short

stairway that linked the balcony to the main  floor  of  the  command  center.

"Ambassador, may I present Jedi Master Luke Skywalker  and  Jedi  Knight  Mara

Jade Skywalker."

There was a flicker of something in the man's eyes, but his smile  showed

nothing but easy friendliness. "Pleased to meet you,"  he  said.  "I've  heard

many things about you both."

"And this," Formbi continued,  "is  the  person  Coruscant  and  the  New

Republic have sent as their representative.

"Ambassador Dean Jinzler."

CHAPTER 4

Formbi hurried off down the stairway to where General Drask was  waiting,

Feesa following close behind.

Leaving the three humans gazing at each other.

Jinzler broke the silence first. "I see  you've  been  talking  to  Talon

Karrde," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Luke asked, his voice giving nothing away.

"Your expressions," Jinzler said. He smiled faintly.  "Or,  rather,  your

complete lack of them. You probably want to know what this is all about."

"Why don't you tell us?" Luke suggested. From the calmness in  his  voice

it was clear Luke was willing to give the man the benefit  of  the  doubt,  at

least for the moment.

Which was a full moment longer than Mara herself was interested in giving

him. She threw a quick glance down at the command floor, wondering  what  Luke

would say if she called Formbi back up here and denounced Jinzler on the spot.

But Formbi seemed to be having a quiet, three-way argument with Drask and

Talshib on the podium. Interrupting them at this point might not  be  a  smart

thing to do.

"For starters, let me assure you I'm not here for any kind  of  financial

gain," Jinzler said. "I'm not looking for power  or  influence  or  blackmail,

either."

"Well, that cuts  out  all  the  interesting  possibilities,"  Mara  said

tartly. "How about telling us what you are here for?"

"I can  also  promise  you  that  I  won't  make  any  trouble,"  Jinzler

continued. "I won't try to influence the Chiss or get in the way  of  whatever

negotiations or other diplomatic plans you have."

"You're already making trouble, just by being here," Mara told him.

"You're also stalling," Luke said. "What do you want?"

Jinzler took a deep breath, let it out in a controlled huff. "I  have  to

see Outbound Flight," he said quietly, his gaze drifting to  the  display  and

the image of the Geroon ship. "I have to..."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, but it's extremely personal."

"Very touching," Mara said. "Also very inadequate. Let's try  it  from  a

different direction. Why are you impersonating a New Republic official?"

Jinzler's throat tightened. "Because I'm a nobody," he said, a  touch  of

bitterness edging into his voice. "And because the only way to get to Outbound

Flight is aboard an official Chiss ship, at the  invitation  of  the  official

Chiss government. You really think they'd let  me  aboard  if  they  knew  the

truth?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "Why don't we try it?"

Jinzler shook his head. "I can't risk it," he said. "I have to  see  that

ship, Master Skywalker. I have to..." He shook his head again.

"How did you expect to get away with it?" Luke asked. "Did you  think  we

wouldn't notice you weren't a properly credentialed ambassador?"

"I thought you might not get the message in time and would miss  Formbi's

deadline," Jinzler said. "If you did make it?" He shrugged  uncomfortably.  "I

hoped you'd understand."

"Understand what?" Mara retorted. "You won't even  tell  us  what  it  is

we're supposed to understand."

"I know." He smiled wanly. "Pretty foolish of me, I guess. But it was all

I had."

Mara looked past him at Luke, a sour taste in her mouth. An  accomplished

actor, she knew, could pull off a performance this good. So could most of  the

good con men she'd known throughout her life.

But acting ability and deep sighs weren't nearly enough to fool  a  Jedi.

Try as she might, she couldn't ignore the fact that her senses were picking up

the same earnest emotional struggle in his mind as was coming out in his  face

and words.

The man was rash, not much of a long-range thinker, possibly even an out-

and-out fool. But he was also completely sincere.

But then, she'd been sincere, too, the whole time she'd served  Palpatine

as the Emperor's Hand. She'd done everything he'd ordered  her  to,  including

assassinations of corrupt officials and Rebels alike, with all  the  sincerity

anyone could ever have asked for.

No, sincerity alone didn't count for much. In fact, when you  came  right

down to it, it didn't count for anything at all.

"Mara?" Luke invited.

"No," she said firmly. "Unless he's willing to tell us?right  now?exactly

why he wants aboard, I say he gets tossed off."

She lifted her eyebrows at Jinzler. "Well?"

The lines around Jinzler's eyes deepened, and his shoulders seemed to sag

a little. "I can't," he said softly. "It's just?"

He broke off, his gaze flicking over Mara's shoulder. "Aristocra Formbi,"

he said, the indecision and pain abruptly gone from his voice, though not from

his sense. "What's the situation with our guests?"

Mara turned to see Formbi climbing back up the steps toward them, an  odd

tightness in his face and tread. "They're coming with us," he said.

"What, all of them?" Luke asked.

"Apparently, that is exactly what you are seeing," Formbi  said  soberly.

"The Geroon Remnant, all that remain of their people, packed into that  single

vessel."

"What happened?" Jinzler asked.

Formbi shrugged. "Apparently, their release from slavery by those  aboard

Outbound Flight came too late," he said. "The Vagaari had already  caused  too

much damage to their world for it to continue to support life."

"Like the Caamasi," Luke murmured. "Or the Noghri."

"I'm not familiar with those peoples," Formbi said. "At any rate, in  the

end, after plagues and starvation, they had no choice but to leave.  Even  now

they search for a new world where they may live again in peace."

"That's terrible," Jinzler murmured. "Can you help them?"

"Perhaps," Formbi said. "A  delegation  will  come  aboard  presently  to

examine some of our star charts. Perhaps we  can  find  an  uninhabited  world

outside Chiss territory where they can settle."

"I take it General Drask isn't too pleased with that?" Jinzler asked.

"He's not pleased at all," Formbi agreed with a wry smile. "Though to  be

honest, he's not pleased to have all you humans aboard,  either.  But  in  the

end, my counsel prevailed."

"What about their request to visit Outbound Flight?" Luke asked.

"We'll allow their vessel to accompany us to  the  edge  of  the  cluster

where the remains are located," Formbi said. "At that point,  I  may  need  to

have another discussion with General Drask. Still, I'm sure at least  a  small

delegation of their people will be continuing on with us."

"What exactly do they want there?" Jinzler asked.

Formbi sighed. "To pay their respects to those who saved them," he  said.

"To say their final farewells."

It was all Mara could do to keep from jerking backward. The sudden  flood

of emotion that erupted from Jinzler's mind was  like  a  stun  burst  from  a

blaster rifle.

She looked at him sharply. But aside  from  a  twitching  muscle  in  his

cheek, his face showed nothing of the sudden anguish and  heartache  that  had

been triggered by Formbi's comment.

To pay their respects. To say their final farewells...

"At any rate, with all now assembled, we  may  finally  proceed,"  Formbi

continued. "Feesa will show you to your personal quarters, Master Skywalker."

"Thank you," Luke said. He looked at Mara, a question in his eyes.

Again, there was a sour taste in Mara's mouth. But there'd been something

in Jinzler's silent burst of emotion that had touched a part of her she hadn't

even known was there.

Or perhaps she had. Perhaps it was her own past as  the  Emperor's  Hand,

and her own reluctance to talk about it, that  his  presence  had  brought  to

mind.

She took a deep breath, caught the expectation  in  Luke  and  the  quiet

dread in Jinzler as she did so. Both of them knew exactly what she  was  about

to say.

Both of them were wrong. "I thank you, as well,  Aristocra  Formbi,"  she

said. "We'll look forward to spending more time with you."

She had the minor satisfaction of catching the surprise from both men  at

her comment. "You're quite welcome," Formbi said, oblivious to what was  going

on beneath the surface. "We shall meet again in a few hours. There will  be  a

reception dinner; Feesa will meet you at your quarters shortly  beforehand  to

escort you there. I will then introduce  you  to  the  rest  of  the  vessel's

officers and diplomatic staff."

"Thank you, Aristocra," Luke said. "We'll look forward to both the dinner

and the meetings."

"Yes," Mara agreed, looking pointedly at Jinzler.  "And  I'm  sure  we'll

have a chance there to talk more fully, Ambassador."

Because she would find out about this man, she promised herself as  Feesa

led them back down the curving corridor. She would find out about him, and she

would find out the reason he was here.

And she would do so before they reached Outbound Flight. Guaranteed.

* * *

The quarters Feesa took them to were small but  well  laid  out,  with  a

compact conversation area as well as the usual  sleeping  room  and  refresher

station. "Not bad," Luke commented as he looked around. "A  lot  roomier  than

some shipboard berths I've been put up in."

"Yes," Mara said, watching the door slide shut behind her,  her  thoughts

still on Jinzler and his disturbing emotional reaction.

"You're not even looking at it," Luke said, stepping through  an  archway

into the bedroom and flopping backward onto the bed. "Let me guess. Jinzler?"

"Since when does a Jedi Master have to guess?" Mara asked  dryly,  trying

to shake away the questions long enough for  at  least  a  perfunctory  glance

around the room. Overall, the  decor  was  simple,  as  one  would  expect  of

shipboard accommodations. But at the same time it had  the  small  touches  of

elegance that showed someone had put thought and  care  into  it.  The  Chiss,

apparently, took their host responsibilities seriously.

"Even Jedi Masters sometimes have trouble  sorting  through  a  plate  of

prunchti noodles," Luke countered, just as dryly. "That's  about  what  you're

looking like right now."

"What an appetizing image," Mara said. "And with dinner?" She  looked  at

the chrono on the wall. "?still almost  three  hours  away.  Maybe  there's  a

cantina aboard where I could get a snack."

"You want to talk about it?" Luke asked.

She shrugged. "I don't think he's a con man," she said. "Too  emotionally

connected to the whole thing. I can't see him acting as an agent  for  someone

else, either, for the same reason. I suppose?"

"I meant you," Luke interrupted her gently. "Your reaction."

Mara grimaced. One of the minuses of having a Jedi husband was  that  you

were never completely alone. "I don't know," she confessed.  "There  was  just

something in Formbi's comment about paying respects that got to me somehow."

"Any idea why?"

"Not really." She looked around the room, a small shiver running  through

her. "Or maybe it has to do with this place. Going back to  Nirauan;  and  now

the Chiss?"

"And Thrawn?"

"Maybe Thrawn," she agreed. "Though I don't know why that  should  bother

me so much."

Luke didn't reply, but she could sense his invitation. Crossing the room,

she lay down on the bed beside him. He slipped  his  arm  around  beneath  her

shoulders, and for a minute they just lay snuggled together, their  minds  and

emotions wrapping around each other in much the  same  way.  "Maybe  it's  the

Force, then," Luke suggested.  "Maybe  there's  something  you  need  to  work

through, something you've been putting off or suppressing, and  the  time  has

come for you to deal with it. That's happened to me once or twice."

"I suppose," Mara said. "I just wish the Force would  pick  a  time  when

things are quieter if it's going to push me into something."

She sensed his smile. "Me, too," he said. "If you ever figure out how  to

schedule things that neatly, let me know."

"You'll be the first," she promised, reaching up to pat the  hand  around

her shoulder.

He caught her hand and held it. "Until then," he said  quietly,  stroking

her hand with his fingertips, "just  remember  that  I'm  here  for  you.  For

whatever you need from me."

She squeezed his hand.  "I  know,"  she  said,  feeling  his  warmth  and

strength and commitment flowing into her, flooding into the  dark  areas  that

Jinzler's emotions had opened in her.

One of the plusses of having a Jedi husband, she thought contentedly, was

that you were never completely alone.

They lay there together for a few minutes. Then, with a sigh, Mara forced

her mind back to business. "So," she said. "What do you think of the  rest  of

this setup?"

"Well, it's definitely not as cheering as we might like," he  said.  "Did

you notice the way Formbi looked when he came up after that talk with  General

Drask and Captain Talshib?"

Mara thought back. She'd been concentrating  mainly  on  Jinzler  at  the

time, and all she could remember about Formbi was his general expression.  "He

looked tired," she said.

"It was more than that," Luke said. "It was as  if  he'd  just  fought  a

battle, and wasn't sure whether he'd won or lost."

"Mm," Mara said, slightly annoyed at herself. Usually she was  better  at

catching details like that. "You think Drask and Talshib  aren't  happy  about

having all these aliens aboard a Chiss ship and are giving Formbi a hard  time

about it?"

"They're certainly not happy about  something,"  Luke  said.  "Though  it

sounds to me like an Aristocra is higher in rank than a general."

"That's never stopped anyone else from complaining,"  Mara  pointed  out.

"And I've seen a higher-ranking person give in just to shut the complainer up.

"

"So have I," Luke said. "We'll want to keep an eye on things and see  how

Drask does as we go along."

"Uh-huh," Mara murmured. "Tell me, do you think Drask  might  be  annoyed

enough about us to actually do something about it?"

"Such as?"

"Such as that accident with the cable in the reception room," Mara  said.

"The timing there was almost too good to be coincidence."

For a few seconds Luke didn't  answer.  Mara  listened  to  the  silence,

watching the kaleidoscope of thought and emotion go through  his  mind  as  he

examined the possibilities. "I don't know," he  said  at  last.  "It  probably

wouldn't have killed me even if it had hit me dead-on.  But  it  could  easily

have put me out of action for a time while I went into a healing trance."

"Which  would  have  left  me  more  or  less  on  my  own,"  Mara  said.

"Alternatively, it might have given Drask an excuse to kick us off the mission

completely."

"He would have had a tough job  selling  it,"  Luke  pointed  out.  "It's

pretty clear Formbi wants us along."

"Maybe, but at least it would have given him an added lever," Mara said.

Abruptly, she came to a decision. "I'll be back," she said,  making  sure

her lightsaber was securely fastened to her belt as she headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Luke called after her, propping himself up  on  an

elbow.

"Back to the reception room," Mara said. "I want a closer  look  at  that

cable."

"You want me to come with you?" Luke asked, starting to stand up.

"Better not," Mara said, shaking her head. "One  Jedi  poking  around  is

idle curiosity; two of them is an official investigation. There's no point  in

adding fuel to Drask's fire."

"I suppose." Reluctantly, Luke sat back down on the bed. "Whistle if  you

need any help."

"Of course," Mara said, giving him an innocent look. "Don't I always?"

She managed to get out of the  room  before  he  could  come  up  with  a

suitably sarcastic reply.

* * *

The corridors back to the reception room  were  fairly  quiet.  Mara  saw

perhaps a dozen black-uniformed Chiss on her way, and most of them pretty much

ignored her. A few seemed interested or intrigued by her alien appearance, but

even that small handful said nothing as they passed by. Either the culture was

just naturally polite, or else Formbi had given strict instructions as to  how

his guests were to be treated.

It was interesting, though, how much more of their emotional  states  she

was able to pick up this time around. Back on Nirauan, during her first  brush

with groups of Chiss, she'd barely even been able  to  sense  their  presence.

Experience and practice apparently paid off in this area.

Of course, back then she hadn't been a true Jedi, either. Maybe that  was

part of the difference.

Not surprisingly, the reception room was deserted when  she  reached  it.

Somewhat more surprising was the fact that the loose cable that had nearly hit

Luke had already been reattached.

She stood just inside the archway for a moment, eyeing the cable. It  was

nestled into a cable groove between the ceiling and the bulkhead, a  good  six

meters off the deck. That wasn't an impossible jump for a Jedi, but  a  simple

jump wouldn't accomplish very much. She needed to be able to sit there  for  a

minute or two in order to examine the end where it had either broken  or  been

cut. And as far as she knew, even Jedi couldn't hover in midair.

But there might be another approach. Formbi had said that  the  reception

area could be automatically reconfigured and decorated for arriving guests...

It took a minute for her to find the control panel, set into the bulkhead

just inside the archway and hidden behind a plate  colored  the  same  neutral

gray as the rest of the paneling. The controls consisted of a  dozen  buttons,

each labeled with an alien mark. Experimentally, she pushed one of them.

Smoothly, and in complete silence, the room began to change. A dozen wall

sections of  various  sizes  and  shapes  began  to  swing  outward,  exposing

intricate symbols or painted patterns on their other sides, then settled  back

against the bulkheads with the patterns now  showing.  Parts  of  the  ceiling

likewise swung free to hang like flags or else began to lower  as  rectangular

or circular columns to various heights,  leaving  the  room  with  a  sort  of

stylized stalactite look.

The deck itself underwent the most dramatic  changes.  Instead  of  large

panels flipping or rotating  or  otherwise  changing,  tiny  lights  that  had

hitherto been invisible came to life, forming intricate spirals  and  patterns

of color. As she watched, the  patterns  altered,  giving  a  sense  of  water

flowing from the hatchway over to the arch.

A minute later, it was finished. Mara looked around at the  entirely  new

room that had appeared, impressed in spite of herself, wondering  which  level

of Chiss official could command this particular brand of welcome.

She tried two more buttons in turn. Each time, she noted, the  room  went

back to neutral before changing into its new configuration.

Unfortunately, none of the changes did anything with the cable she wanted

to examine. Through it all, that particular edge of ceiling  stayed  where  it

was, with the cable remaining firmly out of reach.

Which meant she was going to have to be clever.

She went back to the first button she'd tried, studying the positions  of

the swinging wall panels and lowering ceiling columns  and  counting  off  the

seconds to herself. It would  just  be  possible,  she  decided.  And  in  her

philosophy, anything that was possible might as well be tried.

She put the room back into neutral and prepared herself for  action.  One

Jedi poking around is idle curiosity, she'd told Luke. She wondered if  Formbi

would really take it that way if he caught her.

Taking a deep breath, she touched the button and ran.

She caught the lowermost of the panels before it had swung  more  than  a

few degrees open, leaping up and grabbing its top edge  with  her  fingertips.

Her first fear, that it  would  break  off  under  her  weight  and  dump  her

ignominiously onto the deck, didn't happen. She didn't give it the  chance  to

change its mind, either, but quickly pulled herself partway up and then shoved

off it, lunging toward the next panel a meter to her right. She caught the top

of this one about a quarter of the way open,  again  pulled  herself  up,  and

again shoved off for the next in the climbing pattern she'd worked out. By the

time her last stepping-stone panel was about to swing closed,  she  was  where

she needed to be. Pushing off one final time, she leapt across a meter  and  a

half of empty space and wrapped her arms around the side of the nearest of the

lowered ceiling columns.

For a moment she just hung there, catching her breath and stretching  out

to the Force to draw renewed strength into her muscles. The  column's  texture

was rough enough for a good grip and, like the wall panels,  seemed  perfectly

capable of handling her weight. Getting a grip on the lower part of the column

with her knees, she started up.

The going wasn't  particularly  easy,  but  the  thought  of  some  Chiss

wandering in and catching her hanging up here like an oversized  mynock  added

motivation to the climb. Halfway up, she reached another column  and  switched

to a back-and-feet chimney-style ascent. Reaching the top, she grabbed  on  to

one of the flaglike ceiling sections that was now hanging straight down. Using

it as a pivot point, she swung over to a column hanging down in the corner.

And with that, she finally had a close-up view of the rogue cable.

She squinted at it, wishing she'd thought to  bring  a  light.  The  room

itself was well lit, but the end where the cable had been  reattached  to  its

connector was inconveniently lying in shadow from the ceiling column  she  was

hanging on to.

Still, a Jedi was never entirely  without  resources.  Looking  awkwardly

over her shoulder toward her waist, she reached  out  through  the  Force  and

unhooked her lightsaber from her belt. Levitating it carefully, she maneuvered

it over to the corner, turning the handle over so  that  the  blade  would  be

pointing safely downward. Then, eyeing the stud, she ignited it.

The snap-hiss somehow sounded louder than usual in the corner of a  quiet

room. The lightsaber didn't put out all that much light, but it was enough.

The cable had not, in fact, been cut, which had been her first suspicion.

On the other hand, the connection appeared to be a double screw-type  linkage,

which was almost impossible for vibration or tension to work loose.

So how had it come apart?

Moving the lightsaber as close to the connection  as  she  could  without

risking damage, she peered at it. On the side of the  cable,  just  above  the

connector, was a slight indentation. Lifting her gaze to the  ceiling  itself,

she spotted a small round opening above and to the right of the groove.

Adjusting her grip on  the  column,  she  freed  one  hand  and  gingerly

extended a finger into the opening. Nothing. She moved the finger around in  a

circle  inside  the  opening,  searching  for  the  machinery  or   electronic

connectors or heat radiator vanes that should naturally be behind any  opening

on a ship.

Or rather, the equipment that should be behind any opening that was  part

of a ship's actual design. The lack of anything up there strongly implied that

this particular hole had been put in as an afterthought.

She was still  working  through  the  possibilities  when  a  flicker  of

sensation touched her mind.

Instantly, she closed down the lightsaber, shutting off its  gentle  hum.

In the sudden silence, she could hear footsteps coming her way. Several  sets,

by the sound, but in too close a step to be Chiss on a  casual  stroll  around

the ship. This group was definitely military.

And here she was, trapped  in  a  compromising  position  six  meters  in

midair.

She looked around her, biting back an old curse from her  days  with  the

Empire. The column she was hanging on to was the only  cover  anywhere  within

reach. Problem was, she was hanging on the wrong side of it, in full  view  of

the room below. She would have to work her way around to the wall side if  she

was going to have  any  chance  of  concealment;  and  from  the  speed  those

footsteps were approaching, she wasn't likely to have enough time.

Reaching out her free hand, she grabbed her lightsaber and  reestablished

a firm two-armed, two-kneed grip on the column. Then, moving as quickly as she

could, she started maneuvering herself around toward the far side.

She was almost halfway around when the intruders marched in  beneath  the

archway. She froze in place, shifting her gaze downward to look.

As she did so, her heart seemed to turn to stone.

Those weren't Chiss soldiers, sent by General Drask  to  hunt  her  down.

They weren't even Chiss soldiers on routine patrol, searching  for  suspicious

activities.

There were five figures below her, standing  just  inside  the  reception

room in a loose box formation. The one in the center was a human  male,  young

looking, wearing a gray Imperial uniform modified with rings of red and  black

trim on the collar and cuffs.

The other four were Imperial stormtroopers.

CHAPTER 5

Mara stared down  at  the  stormtroopers,  a  sudden  flood  of  memories

whipping around her like stones and debris in a hurricane-strength wind. She'd

worked with stormtroopers many times through the years she served Palpatine as

his Emperor's Hand. She'd ordered them to do her bidding; occasionally,  she'd

led small groups of them on special missions.

She'd stood by and watched as they killed.

It was impossible. It had to be. The elite cadre of stormtroopers was all

but extinct, wiped out in the long war against the Empire. Most of the cloning

tanks used to create them so many years ago were gone, too, tracked  down  and

destroyed so that no one else would ever again unleash such a terrible wave of

death and destruction upon the galaxy.

And yet, there they were. It  wasn't  an  illusion,  or  a  fraud,  or  a

twisting of her own memories. They stood like stormtroopers, they  held  their

BlasTech E-11 blaster rifles like stormtroopers, they wore stormtrooper armor.

The stormtroopers were back.

The young Imperial was looking around the room, his hand resting  on  the

belted DH-17 blaster pistol riding his hip. One of the stormtroopers  murmured

something, and he looked up. "Ah," he called. His voice  sounded  young,  too.

"There you are, Jedi Skywalker. Are you all right?"

With a supreme effort, Mara found her voice. "Sure," she called back. "No

problem. Why?"

He seemed a bit taken aback. "We heard the sound of  a  lightsaber  being

activated," he said. "With a Jedi, that usually means there's trouble."

"Trouble for whom?" Mara asked pointedly.

"Just trouble in general." The Imperial seemed better on balance now. "Do

you need any help getting down from there?"

"Who said I wanted to come down?" Mara countered.

He snorted under his breath, and Mara caught a hint of annoyance. "Fine,"

he said. "Have it your way. I just thought you might be interested in talking,

that's all."

"About...?"

"About what you're doing up there, for starters,"  the  young  man  said.

"Maybe we could discuss this whole crazy mission, too."

She frowned, stretching out with  the  Force.  It  was  hard  to  read  a

stranger, especially at this distance. But as near as she could tell he seemed

sincere.

Though she'd concluded the same thing  about  Jinzler,  and  had  already

decided how much simple sincerity was worth.

Still, if these Imperials were out to kill her, the simplest time to  try

it had already passed. And if she and they were on the  same  side,  comparing

cards might not be a bad idea. "Fine," she said. "I was mostly done anyway."

"You need any help?"

"No, thanks," Mara said, setting her teeth as it  occurred  to  her  that

there was perhaps one more  tactical  advantage  he  was  waiting  for  before

ordering his stormtroopers to open fire. Time for a small calculated risk. "On

second thought, you can hold my lightsaber for me. Here?catch."

She tossed it toward him. The young man stepped forward and deftly caught

it.

There was no shout of triumph as he held her only defensive weapon in his

hand. More importantly, none of the  stormtroopers  raised  his  BlasTech  and

started shooting.

She started breathing again. So they really didn't mean any mischief.  At

least, not yet. "Okay," she called. "Stand clear."

She shifted her gaze to the control panel in the corridor behind them and

stretched out with the Force, activating one of the buttons.

Once again, the room began to reconfigure. Mara swung herself over to one

of the other columns as hers retracted toward the ceiling, then pushed off and

down to grab hold of a swinging  wall  panel.  A  brief  pause  to  catch  her

balance, and she jumped down to the next one in line. Three panels later,  she

landed on the deck.

"Thanks," she said, stretching out her hand to the Imperial,  her  senses

alert for a last-second betrayal.

But he merely handed over her lightsaber, most of his  attention  on  the

room itself. "Impressive," he commented as the room hit neutral and then began

shifting into the mode Mara had keyed it for. "Instant redecoration,  whenever

the mood strikes you."

"It's a little more functional than that," Mara said. Up close, he looked

even younger than he had from the ceiling, no older than his midtwenties. Like

a kid playing soldier, the  irreverent  thought  struck  her.  "Didn't  Formbi

explain it to you? Or didn't you get one of these rooms when you came in?"

"We haven't talked to Formbi much," the young man said. "Or  any  of  the

other Chiss. We've been trying to keep a low profile since we came aboard." He

smiled tightly. "I don't think  General  Drask  is  exactly  thrilled  by  our

presence here."

"General Drask doesn't seem very easy to  thrill,"  Mara  said.  Stepping

past the group to the control panel, she keyed the room back to  its  original

neutral mode. "So," she said, turning back to face them. "You going to tell me

who you are? Or do I have to guess?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." He stiffened to full attention. "I'm Commander Chak Fel,

warrior of the Hand. You may remember meeting my father a couple of years ago.

"

"Very well," Mara said, smiling tightly at the memory. "I'm sure  General

Baron Fel remembers me, as well."

"With the greatest respect and admiration," Fel assured her. "He asked me

to send you his greetings, and to tell you he  still  has  hopes  that  you'll

bring your talents to the Empire of the Hand someday."

"Thanks, but I've had my fill of Imperial service," Mara told  him.  "Any

Imperial service. So you knew I was going to be here?"

"I hoped you would be," Fel said. "Admiral Parck told me you  and  Master

Skywalker had been invited, though he wasn't sure you'd be willing or able  to

come."

"He didn't let you know we'd contacted him a few days ago?"

"No," Fel said. "Of course, we were already on our way. Maybe  he  didn't

think it was worth recalling us at that point."

"Which brings us to the rest of your party," Mara said,  looking  at  the

silent stormtroopers.

"Oh, yes." Fel waved a hand to encompass his escort. "This is Unit Aurek-

Seven of the Imperial Five-Oh-First Stormtrooper Legion."

Mara felt her stomach tightening. The Imperial  501st:  Vader's  personal

stormtrooper unit during  the  Rebellion.  Dubbed  "Vader's  Fist,"  its  very

arrival in a star system had often caused Rebel forces  and  corrupt  Imperial

officials alike to run for cover.  Nonhumans  of  every  sort,  even  innocent

bystanders, quickly learned to tremble at the sight  of  those  white  armored

face masks. The Emperor's bias against aliens had impressed  itself  indelibly

onto the combat psychology of all his stormtrooper legions, but even  more  so

on the soldiers of the 501st.

And so, of course, that was the specific unit Parck had revived  for  his

Empire of the Hand. That said a lot right there as  to  how  the  admiral  was

running things. "I guess the old saying is right," she said stiffly. "The  one

about old units never really dying."

Fel shrugged noncommittally. "So what exactly were you doing up there?"

Mara glanced around. Still no Chiss in  sight,  but  that  wouldn't  last

forever. "Not here," she told Fel. "Follow me."

Turning her back on them, she headed down the corridor. A  moment  later,

without complaint or question, they had formed up behind her.

The Force connection between her and Luke  wasn't  nearly  as  clear  and

precise as most people in the New Republic thought, as if  it  were  a  mental

comlink conversation. He became aware of her  approach  as  she  neared  their

quarters, and she could tell he was also aware that she was bringing company.

But it wasn't until he opened the door for her that he realized just what

kind of company it was.

As usual, he recovered quickly.  "Hello,"  he  said  calmly,  nodding  in

greeting. "I'm Luke Skywalker."

"Commander Chak Fel," Fel said, nodding in return.  "This  is  my  escort

guard, Unit Aurek-Seven of the Five Hundred and First."

Mara caught Luke's flicker of  recognition  at  the  name  and  the  unit

designation. But he merely nodded again. "Honored, Commander," he said. "Won't

you come in?"

"Just the commander," Mara said before Fel could reply. "There's no  room

for everybody, and I'd just as soon not have Drask's people see  stormtroopers

hanging around outside our quarters."

"Good point," Fel agreed, giving the stormtroopers a hand signal. "Return

to the ship."

"Acknowledged," one of them said  in  that  flat,  mechanically  filtered

voice that was one of the marks of a stormtrooper. Turning in perfect  unison,

they marched away.

"Now," Mara said, waving Fel toward the conversation  area  as  the  door

slid shut behind him. "Let's start with you, Commander.  What  are  you  doing

here?"

"I thought I'd explained that," Fel said, lowering himself  into  one  of

the chairs. "Admiral Parck wasn't sure you'd be coming, so he sent me  to  act

as his representative."

"And Formbi went along with it?" Mara asked,  sitting  down  beside  Luke

across from the young Imperial.

Fel shrugged. "Actually, Formbi didn't seem to have a problem. As I said,

it was mostly General Drask who objected."

"He doesn't seem too happy with our presence, either," Luke told him.

"Or Ambassador Jinzler's," Mara added, watching Fel closely.

But there was no bump of reaction at the mention of Jinzler's name. "Yes,

I've noticed," Fel said. "Frankly, I don't think Drask likes anyone. Certainly

not aliens. Possibly not even Formbi."

"So why did Parck send you and a bunch of stormtroopers instead of coming

himself?" Mara asked. "The way Formbi talks about  it,  you'd  think  Outbound

Flight was the diplomatic high point of the year.  Or  does  Parck  just  like

irritating Chiss generals?"

"Not a hobby I'd like," Fel said.  There  was  a  flicker  of  something?

"Actually, I really don't know why we're here."

Liar. Mara didn't have to look at Luke to know he'd caught it, too.  "All

right," Luke said, not giving any hint that they'd caught Fel's prevarication.

"Let's try this, then. Why didn't Parck mention you when he talked to us?"

Fel shook his head. "I don't know that, either. I more or less assumed he

had."

That one, at least, did seem to be the truth. "But then?" Mara began.

"Just a moment," Fel said, cutting her off with a  lifted  finger.  "I've

answered a whole batch of questions. It's your turn now. What were  you  doing

climbing around the ceiling of the entry chamber that way?"

Mara had already decided there was no point in playing coy with this one.

If Fel was involved in the cable incident, he already knew what had  happened.

If not, there was no reason for him not to know. "There was a  small  accident

when we first arrived," she said. "A heavy cable attached to the ceiling  came

loose and nearly knocked my husband across the room."

Fel's eyes shifted to Luke, gave him a quick once-over.  "No,  it  missed

me," Luke assured him. "But as Mara said, it was close."

"I wanted to see if the cable might have  been  deliberately  cut,"  Mara

continued. "It had already been put back up, so that's where I had  to  go  to

look at it."

"What did you find?" Fel asked.

"No evidence that it had been cut, but it also shouldn't have come  loose

by itself," Mara said. "Still, I did find indentations on  the  end  like  you

might get if it had been held in a spring clip for a while."

"Um," Fel murmured thoughtfully.  "As  if  someone  had  had  it  already

disconnected and held in a clip, so that they could release  it  at  just  the

right time. Unless they swapped out the entire cable?"

Mara shook her head. "I marked the original with my lightsaber before  we

left the area," she told him. "Just a nick  in  the  insulation,  but  visible

enough if you know where to look. No, it was the same cable."

"So you suspect it was  a  deliberate  attack  framed  to  look  like  an

accident," Fel said. "Just as well?" He broke off.

"Just as well what?" Mara demanded.

Fel reddened. "I'm sorry," he said.  "I  wasn't  supposed  to  tell  you.

Admiral Parck sent us along because he thought you might be in danger on  this

trip." He smiled self-consciously. "We're sort of your escort."

Mara looked at Luke, saw her same surprise mirrored there.  Unlike  hers,

though, his surprise had a touch of amusement to it.  "Very  kind  of  Admiral

Parck," Mara said tartly. "You can tell him thanks on your way out."

"Now, Jedi Skywalker?"

"Don't Jedi Skywalker me," Mara retorted.  "We  don't  want  a  bunch  of

stormtroopers clattering along behind us everywhere we go.  Drask  is  already

glowering more than I like. So climb aboard whatever shuttle you  came  in  on

and get out."

Fel looked pained. "I'm afraid it's not as easy as that," he said.  "Yes,

we're here to protect you?"

"Which we don't need."

"No, I agree completely," Fel said. "The idea of  us  protecting  Jedi...

but at the same time, I'm under Imperial orders, not yours."

"Besides, Formbi's already given them permission  to  come  along,"  Luke

pointed out.

"So what?" Mara demanded.

Luke shrugged. "You and I were wondering if Formbi was using this mission

as a pretext for opening full diplomatic relations with the New Republic,"  he

reminded her. "Maybe he's looking to do the same thing with the Empire of  the

Hand."

"What makes you think Parck even  wants  diplomatic  relations  with  the

Chiss?" Mara countered.

"We do," Fel said quietly. "Very much."

Mara glared at him. There are a hundred different threats out there  that

would freeze your blood if you knew about them... "All right, fine," she  said

between clenched teeth. "This isn't my ship. You want to  hang  around,  fine.

Just don't get in our way."

"Understood," Fel said. "Do you want me to start any inquiries as to  who

aboard might have wanted Master Skywalker injured?"

"Absolutely not," Mara said. "We'll handle that. You  just  stay  in  the

background and keep quiet."

Fel smiled slightly. "As you wish," he said, getting  to  his  feet.  "If

you'll excuse me, then, I'll return to our transport and prepare for dinner."

"We'll see you there," Luke said.

"Good talking with you." Fel crossed to the door, opened it, and left.

"Great," Mara growled. "Just what we needed. Our own private entourage."

"Oh, I don't know," Luke said soothingly. "It's no worse than a group  of

Noghri following us around."

"Of course it's worse," Mara retorted. "Noghri at least know  how  to  be

invisible. You ever see a stormtrooper who wasn't as obvious as a Wookiee at a

formal dinner?"

"Well, they're here, and we might as well get used  to  it,"  Luke  said.

"Now, what about this cable?"

"It was deliberately dropped," Mara said, reluctantly changing gears. She

wasn't really finished ranting about Fel yet, but she was practical enough  to

realize there were higher-priority matters  that  needed  to  be  dealt  with.

"There was also a hole bored in the ceiling where the spring clip  would  have

come through to hold the cable."

"So it could have been handled by remote control?"

"Easily," Mara said. "Which means Drask himself might have been  the  one

to trigger it."

"Or Feesa," Luke pointed out. "She was in the best position to handle the

timing."

"I thought  she  was  Formbi's  assistant,  though,"  Mara  pointed  out.

"Formbi's the one who wants us aboard."

"Does he?" Luke asked. "Or is he under orders from above that he  himself

doesn't necessarily agree with?"

"Point," Mara conceded, frowning as she thought back to their  encounters

with the Aristocra. "I don't know, though. He seemed genuinely pleased to have

us here."

"Yes, but there's something else going on below the surface," Luke  said.

"Some extra tension he's trying to hide. Of course, that could be nothing more

than the fact he's having to deal with so many aliens."

"Possibly with the future of the whole Chiss diplomatic structure hanging

on how well he does?"

"That could be part of it," Luke agreed. "So if we leave Formbi  off  the

list, who's left? Drask?"

"Who's left is basically everyone except the Geroons,"  Mara  said.  "And

only because they weren't here at the time. It could have been Drask, Jinzler,

or Fel and his group." She snorted. "The Five-Oh-First. Can you imagine  Parck

reviving that one? I guess old units die hard."

Luke shrugged, a little too casually. "Old units aren't the only  thing,"

he murmured.

"What was that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"I was just noticing how easily you slipped into  the  role  of  Imperial

commander a few minutes ago," Luke said. "You led them here, you  ordered  the

stormtroopers away, and you basically told Fel what you wanted him to do."

"So?" Mara said with a shrug of her own. "Since  when  have  I  been  shy

about telling anyone what I wanted them to do?"

"I know," Luke said. "I'm just pointing out how comfortably you took back

that role, that's all. I'm not saying anything else."

"You'd better not be," Mara said darkly. But whether he said it  or  not,

she could sense there was something  else  behind  his  words.  Something  not

entirely comfortable with the way she'd behaved.

Her first impulse was to have it out right now, to insist that  he  bring

his thoughts on the subject out into the open where she would have the  chance

to knock them down one by one.

But something held her back. Perhaps she sensed it wasn't the proper time

or place for that kind of discussion.

Or perhaps she wasn't so sure she could knock them all down.

He was right in a way. She had found it disturbingly easy  to  slip  back

into that role. It had been refreshing to deal with soldiers who  took  orders

without question,  instead  of  a  mixed  group  of  humans  and  Bothans  and

Devaronians  and  Mon  Cals,  all  of  whom  had  their  own  prejudices   and

perspectives and who sometimes heard or obeyed orders  in  entirely  different

ways.

I've had my fill of Imperial  service,  she'd  told  Fel.  But  had  she?

Really?

"Anyway, we should probably go back to the Jade Sabre and  see  if  we've

got anything that'll pass as formal wear," Luke went on. Apparently, he didn't

want to have it out yet, either. "Dinner's going to be served soon, and  we'll

want to be ready when Feesa comes to get us."

CHAPTER 6

After the size of the reception room, Luke had expected the Chaf  Envoy's

main dining salon to be equally grand and expansive. To his surprise,  it  was

in fact built more along the lines  of  a  standard  ship's  wardroom,  though

decorated with the same sort of elegant touches he'd already  noted  in  their

quarters. Apparently, once the high-level dignitaries had been ushered  aboard

in proper style, the pomp and ceremony diminished considerably.

Perhaps the dignitaries' wardrobes were  supposed  to  make  up  for  it.

Formbi and Drask were dressed even more elaborately than they had been at  the

Jade Sabre's landing, though each maintained the same color scheme  he'd  been

wearing then. Fel had switched to a dress uniform that bordered on the  regal,

with much of the tunic's upper left covered with rows of colored bits of metal

that apparently denoted specific campaigns  or  victories.  Jinzler  had  done

equally well, with a layered robe-tunic that would have fit right  in  with  a

diplomatic reception on Coruscant. Mara wasn't too far behind  him,  with  her

flowing wraparound gown and embroidered bolero jacket.

It made Luke feel decidedly out of place in his plain dark  jumpsuit  and

sleeveless, knee-length duster. Next trip, he made a mental note, he was going

to have to make sure to bring a couple of fancier outfits along.

Still, he was far from being the worst-dressed guest at  the  party.  The

two Geroons on the far side of  the  wide  circular  table  looked  positively

shabby in comparison with the Chiss staffers seated on either  side  of  them.

Both aliens wore simple but heavy-looking brown robes of some  kind  of  thick

material over long tan tunics. One of them,  the  Geroon  who  had  spoken  to

Formbi from the refugee ship, also had what appeared to  be  a  complete  dead

animal thrown over his shoulders, its long-snouted head  and  clawed  forepaws

hanging down across his chest nearly to his waist, while most of the torso and

hind legs hung  down  behind  his  back.  An  elaborate  blue-and-gold  collar

glittered around the animal's neck, about the only real decoration anywhere in

the Geroon's outfit.

"I trust the food is pleasing?" Feesa asked from her seat at Luke's left.

"It's excellent, thank you," he assured her. In actual  fact,  it  was  a

little too spice-heavy for his taste, and the combination fork-knife he'd been

given to use left an oddly metallic aftertaste after each bite. But it was  so

clearly an attempt to create a New Republic-style banquet  that  he  certainly

wasn't going to quibble over minor details. More than  once,  he  wondered  if

Parck had supplied the recipes.

"Interesting trophy Steward Bearsh is wearing,"  Jinzler  commented  from

Feesa's other side. "That dead animal thing?"

"The wolvkil, yes," Feesa said, nodding. "I heard Steward Bearsh say they

were a feral variant of a predator creature the Geroons once  domesticated  as

pets. The one he wears is a mark of honor that has been in his family for four

generations."

"Pets, huh?" Jinzler shook his head. "Frankly, I  don't  think  I'd  even

like to meet it in the woods, let alone have it curled up by my bed."

"I doubt that will happen soon," Feesa said, a note  of  sadness  in  her

voice. "All remaining wolvkils died with the Geroon world."

"I see," Jinzler murmured, and again Luke caught  a  flicker  of  emotion

from him. For all his surface calm, he was  clearly  a  man  who  felt  things

deeply. "A terrible tragedy, that. Was Aristocra Formbi able to help them find

a new world?"

"Our knowledge of the regions outside our borders is very limited," Feesa

said. "I don't believe anything suitable was found."

"I hope the Aristocra isn't giving up this quickly," Jinzler said, a note

of challenge in his voice. "They couldn't have had more than a couple of hours

to study your star charts."

"Perhaps more  study  will  be  scheduled,"  Feesa  said  diplomatically.

"Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has not told me his plans."

Across the table Bearsh stirred and looked  over  at  Luke,  linking  his

fingers and dipping both hands and head in a sort of unified bow. Luke  nodded

in reply; and as he did, the Geroon picked up his fluted drink glass  and  got

up from his seat. Circling the table, he came up behind Luke. "Good  evening,"

he said, the words coming out from both his  mouths.  "Am  I  correct  in  the

belief that you are Jedi Master Luke Skywalker?"

Luke blinked in surprise. Back in the command center, he'd only heard the

Geroon speak in the Chiss trade language. "Yes, I  am,"  he  managed.  "Please

forgive my surprise. I didn't realize you spoke Basic."

The Geroon opened his mouths slightly, showing  a  double  row  of  small

teeth in each. A smile? "Should we not know at least a portion of the language

of our liberators?" he countered. "It was we who were surprised to learn  that

the Chiss aboard this vessel could understand it."

"Yes, they do," Luke agreed, feeling suddenly  like  a  hopeless  bumpkin

who'd just been dropped off the bantha cart at the edge of town. He understood

probably a dozen languages, but all were anchored solidly to the cultures that

dominated the Core Worlds and Inner Rim. It had never even occurred to him  to

try to add an Outer Rim trade language to his repertoire.

Which now meant that everyone else out here was having to go out of their

way to accommodate his shortcomings.

But then, to be fair, this was hardly a situation he would normally  have

expected to find himself in. At least not without C-3PO or some other protocol

droid along to assist with language duties.

"It is their way of honoring those of Outbound Flight, no doubt,"  Bearsh

said, a note of reverence in his voice. "If I may intrude, I overheard you and

Feesa speaking of our search for a world for our people."

"Yes," Luke confirmed. "I hope you will succeed."

"As do I and all the Geroon Remnant," Bearsh  said,  a  note  of  sadness

replacing the reverence. "That is indeed why I came across to see you. I hoped

you might be willing to help."

"In what way?"

Bearsh waved his hand, nearly spilling his drink in the  process.  "I  am

told your New Republic has great resources and  vast  territories  within  its

borders. Perhaps when you are finished with your meal you would be kind enough

to search your records to see if any of your worlds near this region of  space

might be available for our use." He ducked his head. "We would of  course  pay

for any world you might find to offer us. Our resources  are  small,  but  all

Geroons stand ready to serve with their hands and minds and bodies  until  any

such debt is repaid."

"If we find a suitable world, I'm sure something can be worked out," Luke

assured him. "Actually, I'm finished now if you'd like to accompany me  to  my

ship."

The Geroon started back. "You would  take  me  aboard  your  vessel?"  he

breathed.

"Would that be a problem?" Luke asked cautiously, wondering if he'd  made

some terrible mistake in etiquette. Were the Geroons afraid of  strangers  and

strange ships? And yet, they were here, aboard a Chiss ship.  "Because  if  it

would make you uncomfortable?"

"Ah, no," Bearsh said, dropping suddenly onto one  knee  and  bowing  his

head low to the deck. This time some of his drink did slosh up  over  the  rim

and dribble down over his fingers. "It is too much. There is  too  much  honor

for one Geroon. I cannot accept."

"Maybe I should just give you the  data  cards,  then,"  Luke  suggested.

"Though you might not be  able  to  read  them,"  he  added  as  that  thought

belatedly struck him. "I'd have to bring a datapad along, too."

"You would be willing to allow us to honor you?"  Bearsh  asked  eagerly.

"You would come aboard our humble vessel?"

"Certainly," Luke said, touching his mouth with his napkin  and  standing

up. "Shall we go?"

"The honor is great," Bearsh said, bowing repeatedly as he stepped  back.

"The honor is great."

"You're welcome," Luke said, feeling decidedly awkward. The sooner he got

himself and this groveling Geroon out of here, the better.

He turned to Mara, who was practically radiating  her  amusement  at  his

fumbling. "I'll see you back at our quarters," he  told  her,  sending  her  a

silent warning with his eyes that she ignored completely.  "If  you  need  me,

I'll be in the Geroons' shuttle."

"Understood," Mara said blandly. At least her voice  was  polite  enough.

"I'll see you later. Have fun."

"Thanks," Luke growled, turning back to  the  still-bobbing  Geroon.  And

Leia made this diplomatic stuff look so easy. "Lead the way, Steward Bearsh."

* * *

The Geroon shuttle, as it turned out, was docked on the starboard side of

the Chaf Envoy about twenty meters aft of the Jade Sabre. Luke ducked into the

Sabre as they passed and grabbed  a  set  of  astrogation  data  cards  and  a

datapad, then followed Bearsh back to their ship.

Twenty-two years before, back at  the  Mos  Eisley  spaceport,  he  could

remember gazing at the Millennium Falcon and wondering how a ship that  looked

like that could even be permitted to fly the Imperial  space  lanes.  Now  his

first reaction to the Geroon shuttle was  that  such  thoughts  had  done  the

Falcon a disservice. Not only should this thing not be flying, he couldn't see

how it even could be flying.

The entire interior was a patchwork of repaired, reworked,  or  readapted

equipment, patched pipes and conduits, and power cables that would have had  a

New Republic safety inspector scrambling for emergency cutoff switches. Two of

the bunkrooms and a storage compartment had been sealed off  with  vacuum-leak

warnings on the doors, and half the displays on the  control  deck  seemed  to

have been permanently shut down. Overlaying it  all  was  a  faint  odor  that

seemed to be a mixture of lubricating compound, battery solution,  maneuvering

fuel, and hydraulic fluid. It was, Luke thought more  than  once,  astonishing

that the thing had managed to make it here from the main Geroon ship.

Or perhaps the Chaf Envoy had a really good set of tractor beams.

There were three other Geroons in the ship when he  and  Bearsh  arrived,

and it was quickly evident that the steward's adulation in  the  dining  salon

had actually been greatly restrained. The other Geroons clustered  around  him

practically from the moment he ducked through the rusty  hatchway,  blathering

excitedly and repeating over and over again how much of an  honor  it  was  to

have him aboard, until he was about as embarrassed as he'd ever  been  in  his

life.

Several times he tried gently to explain that he  wasn't  really  someone

who deserved such adulation. But all it did was inspire fresh salvos of praise

even more insistent and pathetic than what had gone before.

Eventually, he gave up. Whatever those aboard Outbound  Flight  had  done

for these people, it was so deeply ingrained that even after fifty years there

was no holding it back. All he could do was endure it, try not to let it go to

his head, and hope they would eventually run out of adjectives.

"All right," he said when they had finally quieted  down  enough  to  sit

around a small table together. "I've pulled all  the  information  I  have  on

Outer Rim systems. Just bear in mind  that  a  lot  of  these  systems  aren't

members of the New Republic, and a lot more give only token allegiance. But if

we can help you, we will. Now, what sort of world exactly are you looking for?

"

"One with air like this," Bearsh said, waving a hand  around  him.  "Less

full and flavorful than the Chiss air."

Probably meant a lower oxygen content, Luke  decided.  "Okay,"  he  said,

keying that parameter into the datapad. "I presume you need water,  too.  What

about climate and terrain?"

"We need places for the children to play," one of the other  Geroons  put

in eagerly. "Many places, for many children to play."

"Peace, young one," Bearsh soothed, his mouths opening in another  toothy

Geroon smile. "On an entire world, there will be  plenty  of  places  for  the

children."

He turned back to Luke. "You must excuse Estosh," he  said  quietly.  "He

has never known life anywhere but within our vessel."

"I understand," Luke said. "I can tell your people  put  great  store  in

your children, too."

"How do you know that?" Bearsh asked, his face puckering oddly.  Then  it

cleared. "Ah?of course. The great and renowned powers of the jedi."

"Actually, there was nothing special needed on this one," Luke said.  "We

saw your earlier conversation with the Chiss.  Any  people  who  would  put  a

playground right in their command center must certainly care a lot  for  their

children."

"Ah," Bearsh said. "Yes. Our vessel was originally built  for  scientific

surveys. That  space  was  designed  to  contain  the  center  for  instrument

responses." His face puckered again. "It was the only place large enough for a

proper play and exercise area. All the rest of the vessel is composed of small

rooms for the singles and families. We had no need for the instruments, so  we

took them out and gave the space to the children."

He straightened his head and shoulders, his eyes unfocusing as if  gazing

into the future. "But one day," he said firmly. "One day we will have  a  real

place for the children. And then you will see, Jedi Master Skywalker, what the

Geroon people can become."

"I'll look forward to it," Luke promised. "Now, about terrain?"

Bearsh seemed to come back from his dreams. "We  will  live  in  whatever

grounds you find for us," he said. "Mountains or lakes, woodlands or plains?it

does not matter."

"All right," Luke said. They certainly weren't a picky lot.  "What  about

temperature ranges?"

Again, Bearsh waved his hand. "The temperature in this vessel is somewhat

warm for us," he said. "But we will adapt and adjust to whatever?"

He broke off as the deck beneath them gave a sudden  gentle  jolt.  "What

was that?" Estosh asked fearfully, looking quickly around.

A second later they had their answer  as  a  distant  thunderclap  echoed

faintly through the open hatchway. "An explosion," Luke told him,  jumping  to

his feet and sprinting toward the entry tunnel, stretching out to the Force as

he pulled out his comlink. The opposite side of the ship,  he  estimated  from

the sudden surge of consternation in that  direction,  somewhere  in  the  aft

quarter. "Mara?"

"We've got an explosion and fire on the aft port side,"  her  voice  came

back. "I'm heading back to see if I can help."

"I'll join you," Luke said, clearing the end  of  the  entry  tunnel  and

heading for the nearest cross-ship corridor. "Any idea what's back there?"

"Fel's transport, for one thing," Mara told him. "No idea what else,  but

from the way Drask took off I'd guess something serious. Vital  equipment,  or

possibly fuel storage."

Luke winced. "Right. See you there."

The air began to smell of smoke before  he  was  halfway  down  the  main

portside corridor. He kept going; and then, suddenly, he was there, braking to

a halt behind a dozen Chiss with handheld extinguishers running into  a  half-

open door through which smoke was pouring. He spotted Mara  off  to  one  side

with Fel and eased his way past a Chiss in  military  dress  uniform  shouting

orders in a sharp, staccato language. "Situation?" he called to Mara.

"The fire's right by a nexus of maneuvering jets and their fuel  supply,"

she told him grimly. She'd stripped off her fancy jacket  and  gown,  and  was

dressed now only in the gray combat leotard and soft-boots she'd been  wearing

underneath the  formal  wear.  "The  stormtroopers  are  already  inside  with

extinguishers, trying to keep it away from the tanks."

Luke looked over at Fel. The young Imperial was wearing a  stormtrooper's

headset comlink, an intense expression on his face as he  stared  through  the

open door. "Don't they have automatic extinguisher systems?" he asked.

"They used to," Mara said. "Apparently, a malfunction in the  system  was

what caused the explosion in the first place."

"That's useful," Luke said, blinking back tears as the acrid smoke  stung

his eyes. Some of the Chiss who had gone into the fire zone were  starting  to

come out now, most of them staggering  slightly  as  they  trailed  plumes  of

smoke. "How come the stormtroopers are in there?"

"They were the first ones on  the  scene  with  self-contained  breathing

equipment," Fel said before Mara could answer. "Speaking of breathing, how are

Jedi in oxygen-poor atmospheres?"

"We can handle a few minutes," Luke said. "Less,  if  there's  a  lot  of

physical or mental exertion involved. What do you need?"

"Some delicate lightsaber work." Fel pointed to the doorway through which

the smoke was pouring. "They've got the fuel tanks isolated  for  the  moment,

but the fire's got too much of a head start and it's pushing in on them.  They

think they've located the extinguisher system?"

"They think?"

"That's why the work needs to be delicate," Fel said. "Otherwise,  they'd

just blast the lines open and be done with it. What we  need  is  for  you  to

lightly scratch the conduits, just enough to let out a few drops so we can see

exactly what kind of liquid's inside. The last thing we want is to  dump  more

fuel or something else flammable."

"No kidding," Mara said. "Assuming they're right, then what?"

"Then you cut them all the way  open,"  Fel  said.  "It  looks  like  the

explosion only warped the area around the main spray valves,  so  if  you  can

open the lines behind them we should be able to flood the compartment and  put

it out in short order."

Luke looked over at the dress-uniformed Chiss, now huddled with a pair of

crewers strapping on air tanks and breather masks. Protocol, he knew, probably

dictated that they clear this with one of the ship's officers before going in.

But the officer looked too busy to listen to passengers. And if the  fire

was already getting close to the fuel tanks... "All right," he said, coming to

a decision. "How do I find the conduit?"

"How do we find it?" Mara corrected, her lightsaber already in hand.

"Mara?"

"Don't even think it," she warned. "Besides,  I'm  better  with  delicate

work than you are."

Unfortunately, she was right.  With  an  effort,  Luke  forced  back  his

instinctive reaction to shield her from danger wherever possible.  "Fine,"  he

said. "How do we find the conduit?"

"They'll guide you in," Fel told him. "Watch for a bright light."

"Right." Unhooking his lightsaber from his belt, Luke took a deep  breath

and stretched out to the Force. He  lifted  his  eyebrows  at  Mara,  got  her

confirming nod, and ducked through the doorway.

The smoke  was  considerably  thicker  inside  the  room  than  Luke  had

expected, swirling madly around as the compartment's venting system tried  its

best to clear it away. Ahead, through another half-open door, he could see the

blaze of the fire, the crackling of flames punctuated by the  hiss  from  fire

extinguishers. Squinting against the smoke,  he  slipped  through  the  second

doorway, dodging around staggering crewers and trying to  stay  clear  of  the

flames as he looked around for the stormtroopers.

There was no sign of them. But there was another doorway angling  off  to

the right where the fire was burning even more intensely. Even as  he  sent  a

questioning thought toward Mara, a dim light suddenly shone out from the room,

the narrow beam fighting its way through the smoke.

Mara had seen it, too. Luke caught her  wordless  signal,  sent  back  an

equally wordless confirmation, and started picking his way through gaps in the

flames. He managed it with only a few minor burns, and a  minute  later  eased

into the room.

The four stormtroopers were standing in the far  corner,  arranged  in  a

combat semicircle with their backs  to  an  extensive  array  of  fuel  tanks,

sending short bursts of spray from their extinguishers at any tendril of flame

that threaded its way too close. The one shining his light through the doorway

looked over as the two Jedi came in and flipped the  light  upward,  centering

the beam on one of a set  of  five  conduits  snaking  their  way  across  the

ceiling. Luke nodded acknowledgment and looked for a way through the flames.

Unfortunately, there wasn't one.

He peered into the smoke, listening to his  heartbeat  counting  out  the

seconds. Even Jedi breath control had its limits, and he and Mara were getting

dangerously close to them. He could use the Force to lift  his  lightsaber  to

the conduit, of course, but he wasn't at all sure he would have enough control

at that range for the delicate scratch Fel wanted. The only  other  option  he

could see would be to lift Mara there directly and let her do the job.

It would be risky. That much activity would put a severe  strain  on  his

system in his current oxygen-deprived state, quickly running him to the  limit

of his breath control and leaving him at the mercy of the smoke still  filling

the room. If the smoke also contained toxic gases,  he  could  be  in  serious

trouble.

He would have to chance it. Turning to Mara, he replaced  his  lightsaber

on his belt and gestured toward the conduit. He could sense  her  own  doubts,

but she knew better than to waste time arguing. She nodded her readiness,  and

he stretched out to the Force to lift her gently off the deck. Keeping her  as

high over the flames as he could without banging her head against the  various

pieces of equipment jutting down from the ceiling, he moved her into position.

She had her lightsaber ignited before he eased  her  to  a  stop,  giving  the

conduit a quick and almost casual-looking slash with the tip of the blade.

For a long moment nothing happened. Then, through the haze of smoke, Luke

saw a few drops of liquid collect  on  the  underside  of  the  conduit.  They

coalesced into a single large drop and fell onto the deck below.

With a sizzle audible even over the crackle of the flames, the particular

tongue of flame directly below flickered and went out.

Mara didn't wait for further instructions. Her lightsaber slashed  again,

slicing the conduit lengthwise; and suddenly the room was filled with a  noisy

spray of liquid, splattering against the ceiling and walls and showering  down

onto the fire.

It was almost too late. Luke's vision was starting to waver  now  as  his

body ran out of air, and it was all he could do to  keep  from  dropping  Mara

onto the dying flames and fire-heated deck below her.

Clenching his teeth, he hung on. A few  more  seconds,  he  told  himself

sternly. A few more seconds and the fire would be out, or near enough. Then he

could set Mara down and they could both start breathing again.

Unless between the lingering smoke and the extinguisher  spray  the  room

contained nothing but those toxic gases he'd wondered about earlier.  In  that

case, he would just have to hope that the fire would be mostly gone before  he

blacked out, or at least that the stormtroopers would notice and pull him  out

of anything before he burned to death. A few more seconds...

He jerked as something suddenly came down over his head. He blinked;  but

even as his eyes registered the vision-enhancing eyepieces in front  of  them,

his skin registered something far more important: the feel of clean, cool  air

being blown at his face.

He reached a  hand  up  to  his  head,  the  fingertips  bumping  against

something hot and hard. But the reaction had been pure reflex anyway,  because

he'd already figured  out  what  was  happening.  One  of  the  stormtroopers,

recognizing his desperate need for air, had come to his side and put  his  own

helmet over Luke's head.

He took a deep, careful breath. The air smelled as good as  it  felt.  He

took another breath, and another,  filling  his  lungs  and  replenishing  the

oxygen in his bloodstream. His thoughts flicked to Mara, but before  he  could

ask he sensed that she, too, was being given the same care by  a  stormtrooper

standing on the hot but no longer burning  deck  beneath  her.  He  eased  his

Force-hold on her, lowering her down into the Imperial's waiting arms.

There were a pair of hands on  his  shoulders  now,  half  guiding,  half

pushing him back the way he'd come. A moment later they  reached  the  doorway

and stepped through. "I'm all right," he called, taking one final  breath  and

pushing the helmet away. Its owner caught it on its way up, and Luke got  just

a glimpse of an intense, dark-skinned face before the other  slid  the  helmet

back down over his own head again. He glanced back over his shoulder  to  make

sure Mara was all right?

And froze, feeling his mouth drop open in astonishment.  Like  him,  Mara

had taken a few breaths of clean air and was in the process of  returning  the

borrowed stormtrooper helmet to its owner.

Only the head sticking up out of the white armor  wasn't  human.  It  was

green  with  touches  of  orange,  dominated  by  large  eyes  and  a   narrow

highlighting of glistening black scales that curved over the top and sides  of

the head almost to the nose. He caught sight of Luke staring at  him  and  his

mouth gaped open in what had to be a grin.

Luke could only stare back. The 501st Stormtrooper  Legion?Vader's  Fist?

the absolute epitome of  Emperor  Palpatine's  hatred  of  nonhumans  and  his

determination to bring them under human domination.

And one of its own members was an alien...

* * *

Under the circumstances, Luke had to privately admit, General  Drask  was

surprisingly polite about the whole thing. "We appreciate the assistance,"  he

said, standing like a small, immovable pillar in the smoke-stained corridor as

a small river of Chiss moved past and around him on cleanup  duty.  His  voice

was under careful control, but there was no mistaking the smoldering  fire  in

his glowing red eyes. "But in the future, you will not take action aboard this

vessel    without    specific    authorization    from    myself,    Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano, Captain Brast'alshi'barku, or another command-rank officer.

Is that understood?"

"Clearly," Fel said before either Luke or Mara  could  say  anything.  "I

apologize for overstepping our bounds."

Drask nodded shortly and  brushed  past  them,  heading  aft  toward  the

damaged area. "Come on," Fel said to Luke, lip twitching  in  an  ironic  half

smile. "Our work here appears to be done."

They headed forward. "Certainly a  gracious  bunch,  aren't  they,"  Mara

commented sourly as more Chiss hurried past them going in the other direction.

"You have to look at it from his point of view," Fel reminded her. "First

of all,  we're  supposed  to  be  honored  diplomatic  guests,  not  volunteer

firefighters."

"That's Formbi's point of view, not Drask's," Mara countered.  "At  least

the honored part is."

"Doesn't matter how he personally feels," Fel said. "He has  his  orders,

and when a Chiss accepts orders he  carries  them  out,  period.  Still,  that

said"?he smiled suddenly?"I suspect he's chewing hull fasteners right now.  He

doesn't like anything about the Empire of the Hand or humans in  general,  and

it has to gall him no end for us to have saved his ship for him."

"Which brings up a more  serious  question,"  Luke  said.  "Namely,  what

exactly happened back there? Accident, or sabotage?"

"I'm sure they'll be looking  into  that,"  Fel  said.  "But  if  it  was

sabotage, it was a pretty poor job of it. Even if those tanks had ruptured, it

would only have put one relatively minor sector of the ship out of action.  It

certainly wouldn't have killed everyone aboard or anything so dramatic."

"Unless that's all the  damage  the  saboteur  needed,"  Mara  suggested.

"Maybe all he wanted to do was scuttle the mission, or delay it while  another

ship was brought out for us to use."

"Fine, but why would  anyone  want  to  delay  the  mission?"  Fel  asked

reasonably. "Everyone aboard seems pretty eager to get on with it."

"Seems being the operative word," Mara pointed out. "Someone could easily

be faking."

"Really," Fel said, frowning. "I thought you Jedi could pick up on things

like that."

"Not as well as we'd sometimes like," Luke  said.  "We  can  pick  up  on

strong emotion, but not necessarily subtle lies. Especially  if  the  liar  is

good at it."

"Or maybe our saboteur does want to get to Outbound Flight,  but  doesn't

want all the rest of us getting there with him," Mara said  thoughtfully.  "If

he could manage alternate transport for himself while we  were  left  hanging,

that again might be all he needs."

"But what would getting to Outbound Flight first gain him?"  Luke  asked.

"Besides, the Chiss have already been there, haven't they?"

"Actually, all they did was a long-range fly-by,"  Fel  said.  "They  got

enough readings to figure out what they'd found, then  hightailed  it  out  of

there and forwarded the data to the Nine Ruling Families with  a  request  for

instructions. The Families held a quick debate, declared the area off  limits,

and put Formbi in charge of getting in touch with all of us."

"Then let's try backing up a step," Luke suggested.  "What  is  it  about

Outbound Flight that anyone might particularly want?"

Mara shrugged. "It's Old Republic technology," she pointed  out.  "Fifty-

plus years out of date. That makes it pretty much of historical value only."

"Only to the three of us here," Fel said. "A lot of the cultures in  this

part of space are pretty primitive, technologically. Any  one  of  them  could

learn a lot from a set of Dreadnaughts in even marginal condition.  I  daresay

even the Chiss military would learn something if they had  the  time  to  take

everything apart and study it."

"Or maybe the Geroons figure they can trade what's left for a new  home."

Luke shook his head. "I wish we had more information."

"We do," Fel said, sounding puzzled. "Or rather, I do."

Luke looked at him in surprise. "You do?"

"Sure," Fel said. "Before we left, Admiral Parck went looking in Thrawn's

records for anything he might have on Outbound Flight.  Turns  out  he  had  a

complete copy of the project's official operational manual."

"The whole thing?" Luke asked, frowning.

"The whole thing," Fel confirmed. "Four  data  cards  covering  personnel

lists, inventory manifests, technical readouts and maintenance guides,  flight

operations checklists and procedures, schematics?everything. You want to  take

a look?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Mara said dryly. "Let's go."

The Imperial transport was docked in a mirror image of the half port  and

reception room that the Jade Sabre was using on the opposite side of the ship.

The stormtroopers were already inside in the ready room, stripping  off  their

armor to check for damage from their  battle  against  the  fire  and  talking

quietly together about the incident.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a stormtrooper without his  armor

before," Luke commented as Fel led the way through the ready room and  into  a

narrow corridor. "Not a conscious one, anyway."

"They do come out on occasion," Fel said with a grin.  "Though  never  in

public, of course."

"Fine, but why stormtroopers?" Mara asked. "Why didn't  you  just  design

and create your own elite force if that's what you wanted?"

Fel shrugged. "Mainly because the psychological advantage was already  in

place," he said. "Thrawn had brought several stormtrooper  legions  out  here,

and used them very effectively against a whole series of  troublemakers.  Once

potential enemies came to respect and fear men in stormtrooper armor, it  paid

to keep using it."

"Even if not all those inside the armor are men anymore?" Luke asked.

Fel smiled. "Yes?Su-mil. Also goes by the warrior name Grappler."

"Your stormtroopers have names?" Mara asked. "I thought  they  were  just

assigned operating numbers."

"Even some of Palpatine's stormtroopers had names," Fel told her. "We all

have names here. In case you're interested, Aurek-Seven consists of  Grappler,

Watchman, Shadow, and Cloud."

"Colorful," Mara commented. "I hope you don't expect us to keep track  of

them in public."

"Especially since they don't seem to have  gotten  around  to  imprinting

their names on their helmets," Luke added.

"And  they  never  will,"  Fel  said.  "We  don't  put   that   kind   of

identification on stormtrooper armor. That way, no one can  tell  whether  the

stormtroopers he's facing are the absolute best the Empire of the Hand has  to

offer or a set of freshly trained recruits facing their first genuine  action.

It keeps our enemies from playing the odds against us."

"Were Su-mil's people one of those enemies?" Mara asked.

"Not at all," Fel assured her. "Su-mil is an Eickarie, one of the  latest

peoples to join the Empire of the Hand. They were a fragmented  tribal  people

whom we helped liberate from the domination of a very organized warlord with a

relative handful of disciplined troops."

"Helped how?" Mara asked. "Threw him out, then moved in yourselves?"

"Hardly," Fel said. "The Eickaries  were  actually  very  good  fighters.

They'd just gotten used to fighting among themselves over the years,  and  the

Warlord took advantage of that to keep them working at cross-purposes. All  we

did was help organize and arm them. They did all the rest."

"And once they were free they simply decided to join up with  you?"  Luke

asked.

"We're not Palpatine's  Empire,  either,  Master  Skywalker,"  Fel  said.

"We're more like a confederation than a true  empire,  in  fact,  with  allies

instead of conquered  peoples.  We  keep  the  name,  again,  mainly  for  the

historical aspects."

"And the psychological value, of course," Mara murmured.

"Of course," Fel agreed. "If you've gotten used  to  the  notion  of  the

Empire of the Hand being unbeatable, you're likely to give up that much sooner

when a Star Destroyer appears over your planet or  a  squad  of  stormtroopers

blows a hole through your defensive perimeter. Frankly, our philosophy is that

the best battles are those where the enemy gives up before any shots  have  to

be fired at all."

"You still  don't  strike  me  as  a  stormtrooper  officer  type,"  Luke

commented. "What does your father think of your career choice?"

Fel shrugged. "Actually, I'm in the fleet end of the Imperial  military,"

he said. "My usual command is a fleet-arm of  clawcraft."  He  grinned  again.

"And my father is very proud of me."

They emerged from the corridor onto a deserted command deck. "No  one  on

duty?" Luke asked, looking around.

"Is there anyone on duty in your ship?" Fel countered  reasonably  as  he

crossed to what appeared to be the main sensor station and waved his guests to

a pair of chairs at nearby consoles.  "Actually,  we  don't  have  a  separate

flight crew. This kind of transport is designed for a stormtrooper unit to  be

able to fly by itself, at least on  routine  operations.  Takes  some  of  the

strain off our pilot cadre."

"Does that mean you're low on trained personnel?" Mara asked as  she  and

Luke sat down.

"Everyone's always low on skilled pilots," Fel  said,  sitting  down  and

swiveling his chair toward a rack of data cards. "I doubt the  New  Republic's

any different. But at the moment we're doing all right. There are at least two

alien groups within the Empire that have shown very good aptitude for  general

flight operations..."

He trailed off, and Luke caught a sudden dark flicker in  Fel.  "What  is

it?" he asked.

Slowly, Fel swiveled back to  face  them.  "Well,"  he  said,  his  voice

studiously conversational. "I think I know now what that fire was  all  about.

Whoever it was figured the Imperial Five-Oh-First would go  charging  back  to

help, nobly oblivious to our own safety."

"What are you talking about?" Mara demanded.

Fel gestured to the rack of data cards. "The Outbound Flight  operational

manual," he said. "It's gone."

CHAPTER 7

Mara looked at Luke, to find him looking back at her. "Really," she said,

looking over at Fel. "That's handy."

"Isn't it, though," Fel said. His voice was still  quiet,  but  his  face

suddenly seemed older and harder. More  mature,  somehow,  than  Mara's  first

impression of him as a kid playing soldier. "Yes, that's certainly one way  of

putting it."

"I take it you don't have another copy?" Luke asked.

"This was the copy," Fel said. "The original records are back on Nirauan.

"

"Of course," Luke said. "What I meant?"

"I know what you meant." Fel passed a hand across his face; and  when  he

had lowered it, some of the hardness had faded. "Sorry. I'm just...  I  messed

up. I hate when I mess up."

"Welcome to the club," Mara said, an odd feeling flickering through  her.

In all her time with the Empire, she wondered, had she ever heard an  Imperial

officer actually admit to having  made  a  mistake?  "Let's  skip  the  finger

pointing and see if we can figure out who's got it. You have any idea how many

people are aboard?"

"Not that many," Fel said, sounding a little more on  balance.  "I  think

this size ship runs a crew of only thirty to thirty-five. There seems to be an

honor guard running around, too?call it  two  squads  of  six  warriors  each.

Typical ambassador's staff runs to twenty, plus Formbi, so that's  sixty-eight

Chiss, max."

"Plus five Geroons, you and four stormtroopers, Jinzler,  and  us,"  Luke

said. "Unless there's someone else we don't know about."

"Right," Fel said.

"Wait a second," Mara said, frowning in concentration as she searched her

memory. "You said Formbi had a staff of twenty?"

"I said that was typical for an ambassador," Fel  corrected.  "I  haven't

actually run the numbers myself."

"And I presume most of them would be from  Formbi's  family,"  she  said.

"That means they'd all be wearing yellow, right?"

"That's the Chaf family color, yes," Fel confirmed. "Why?"

"Because I didn't see more than four yellow outfits at  dinner  tonight,"

Mara said. "Formbi, Feesa, and two others. Everyone else was wearing black."

"She's right," Luke agreed. "Which family wears black?"

"None of them," Fel said, frowning.  "That's  the  Chiss  Defense  Fleet.

Black's a combination of all colors, since the military  draws  from  all  the

families."

"What about his honor guard?" Mara asked. "Would they be from his family?

"

Fel shook his head. "All honor guards wear military black. Huh. I  wonder

what he's done with the rest of his entourage."

"Maybe he had to leave them behind," Luke suggested. "With a  mission  of

this sort the Nine Families might not have wanted any one family  too  heavily

represented."

"I suppose that would make sense," Fel  agreed  slowly.  "There's  always

been a tricky balance of power among the families."

"We can do a head count in the morning," Mara said.  "Let's  go  on.  How

many of these assorted people might have known you had those files?"

Fel grimaced. "That's not going to narrow it nearly as much as you think.

I was talking about it to Ambassador Jinzler this  evening  in  the  reception

corridor before we were seated for dinner."

"You told Jinzler about it?" Mara bit out.

"Yes," Fel said, frowning at her vehemence. "I wanted  to  know  if  he'd

brought any records of his own I could compare against ours. Why, shouldn't  I

have done that?"

Mara waved a hand in disgust. Of course Fel had no way of knowing the man

was a fraud. "Skip it," she said. "Did he?"

"What, have any records?" Fel shook his head.  "No.  He  said  everything

useful the New Republic might once have had had been lost or destroyed."

"Probably true," Luke murmured. "Could anyone have been able to  overhear

this discussion?"

Fel exhaled noisily. "Could everyone have been able to overhear  it,  you

mean," he said. "The whole dinner crowd was milling around the corridor  being

sociable."

"Yes,  but  the  whole  dinner  crowd  wasn't  paying  attention,"   Mara

countered. "Tell us who was."

Fel frowned into space, searching his memory. "For starters,  of  course,

there were several Chiss," he said slowly. "I remember Feesa passing by at one

point?I think she'd just brought you two in. Then there was?"

"Wait a minute," Luke said, straightening in his chair a little. "We were

there by then?"

"Yes, but you were all the way across the corridor," Fel  said.  "Talking

with Formbi, I think."

"That's not the point," Luke said, looking at Mara. "What do you think?"

"Worth a try," she agreed. "Just hold those thoughts a minute, Fel. We'll

be right back to you."

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stretched out to the Force.

The memory-enhancement technique the Emperor had taught  her  only  worked  on

short-term memories, but the reception corridor ought to be recent  enough  to

be accessible. She let the pictures flow backward through her mind's eye:  the

fire, the dinner, the flow of conversation before dinner...

There it was: Formbi stepping forward to greet them as Feesa brought them

into the gathering. She  and  Luke  speaking  with  him,  assuring  him  their

quarters were quite satisfactory and that, no,  they  didn't  know  very  much

about Outbound Flight but were looking forward to the voyage.

And in the background, Fel and Jinzler across the corridor by  one  wall,

deep in conversation.

She froze the image, studying it. Then, slowly, she let  it  run  forward

again, watching everything and everyone around them.

All too soon, she had her answer. With a sigh, she  slipped  out  of  the

trance and looked over at Luke.

He was already finished with his own memory  enhancement.  "What  do  you

think?" he asked.

"He's right," she said in disgust. "It'd be simpler  to  figure  out  who

didn't know. I spotted at least two Geroons close enough to listen in, plus  a

couple of the Chiss crewers and two command-rank officers."

"Including General Drask," Luke agreed. "About the only  likely  suspects

who couldn't have known were Formbi and us."

"And, of course, Feesa works for Formbi," Mara reminded him.  "She  could

have clued him in at any time."

Luke lifted a hand, let it fall into his lap. "Which leaves you  and  me.

Dead end."

"Not necessarily," Mara said as a sudden thought struck  her.  "Okay,  so

they got the data cards. But they'd also need a datapad  to  read  them  with.

That leaves only Jinzler."

"And the Geroons," Luke said. "I was talking to them when  the  explosion

went off, and I left my datapad behind in their shuttle."

"Sorry, but that's a dead end, too," Fel spoke up,  pointing  to  another

rack above the console. "Whoever took the data cards also helped himself to  a

datapad." He brightened  suddenly.  "Which  means  it's  not  Jinzler  or  the

Geroons," he said. "Like you said, they wouldn't need to take one."

"Unless they deliberately took it  to  throw  us  off  the  trail,"  Luke

pointed out gently.

Fel's face dropped. "Oh. Right." He muttered something under his  breath.

"Sorry. This sort of thing is a little outside my area of expertise."

"Ours, too," Luke assured him. "Don't worry,  we'll  figure  it  out.  If

necessary, we can always ask Formbi to search the ship."

"What do you mean, if necessary?" Fel asked, frowning. "Don't we want him

to do that anyway?"

Luke shrugged. "There are any number of places aboard a  ship  like  this

where you can hide something as small as four data cards," he pointed out. "Or

the thief could easily have copied them into a different system?a droid, even?

and then gotten rid of the originals."

"The Chiss don't have droids," Fel said. "But I see your point."

"On the other hand," Luke went on, "if we don't make a  fuss,  the  thief

won't know whether or not we've even missed them. That might give us  a  whole

different set of advantages."

"Maybe," Fel said, not sounding entirely convinced.

"Trust me," Luke assured him. "Knowledge of any sort is power,  as  Talon

Karrde always says."

"As Grand Admiral Thrawn usually proved," Fel rejoined.

"Don't remind us," Luke said ruefully. "Do you know if this ship  carries

any hypercapable transports or shuttles?"

"I believe this class usually carries one," Fel said, forehead  wrinkling

in concentration. "The commander's glider, it's called, though on a diplomatic

ship like this it would probably be assigned  to  Formbi  instead  of  Captain

Talshib. Why?"

"You might still be right about someone trying to delay us and get a head

start," Luke explained. "Especially now that he's got an operational manual in

hand. If so, he'd need a way to get there once he'd disabled  the  ship.  With

your transport, ours, and Formbi's, that means he's  got  at  least  three  to

choose from."

"Plus the Geroons' shuttle and whatever Jinzler used," Mara put in.

"You can forget the Geroons' shuttle," Luke said, shaking  his  head.  "I

wouldn't trust it to fly to the far side of the Chaf Envoy."

"That bad, is it?" Mara asked.

"It makes my old T-sixteen look good by  comparison,"  Luke  said  wryly.

"Anyway, I don't think it has a hyperdrive."

"Okay, so that leaves Jinzler's ship," Mara concluded. "Fel, do you  know

what he's got?"

"Actually, I don't think he has a ship," Fel  said.  "I  didn't  see  him

arrive?he got here before we did?but I believe Formbi mentioned he'd gotten  a

ride from someone."

"He got a ride?" Luke asked incredulously. "Out here?"

Fel shrugged. "All I know is what Formbi said. Maybe he contacted Nirauan

and Admiral Parck arranged something."

"Maybe," Mara said. Personally, she didn't believe that for a minute, but

there was no point arguing about it. "So what's our next move?"

"Our next move is to go back to our quarters," Luke said firmly. "I don't

know about you, but I've got a few small burns that need to be attended to."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fel said, getting up quickly from his chair and starting

toward one of the medpacs fastened to the wall  beside  the  emergency  oxygen

tanks. "I didn't even think about?"

"No, no, that's all right," Luke hastened to assure him. "We  don't  need

medical help. We'll be able to fix ourselves up just  fine  overnight  with  a

Jedi healing trance."

"Oh." Fel stopped short, and Mara could  sense  his  embarrassment.  "I'm

sorry. I guess I don't know as much about Jedi as I thought I did."

"Have you ever even met one before?" Mara asked.

"Well, no," Fel admitted. "But I have read up on them. I mean, on you.  I

mean?"

"We know what you mean," Luke said, smiling slightly. "Don't worry  about

it." He stood up. "Mara?"

"We'll see you tomorrow, Commander," Mara said, getting to her feet.

"All right," Fel said. "I'll see you out."

"Don't bother," Luke said. "We can find the way. You'd better go  see  to

your men."

"Maybe discuss some new security arrangements," Mara added.

Fel made a face. "Point taken. Good night."

The stormtroopers had vanished from the  ready  room  as  Luke  and  Mara

passed through, their armor hung neatly on the racks lining the  walls.  "That

last comment was a little unfair, you know," Luke  commented  as  they  walked

down the corridor toward their quarters. "I'm sure he did have  some  security

set up."

"That's why  I  said  they  needed  a  new  set  of  arrangements,"  Mara

countered. "The old ones obviously weren't good enough."

"Mm," Luke said. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Mara looked sideways at him. "You have a thought?"

He shrugged, glancing casually behind them. "I don't know if it  occurred

to you, but we only have Fel's word that there were any data cards here in the

first place."

"Or that he really did talk to Jinzler about them  before  dinner,"  Mara

agreed. "He could just be venting waste gases here, trying to get us  to  look

suspiciously at everyone except him. You think we ought to pay a little  visit

to Jinzler before we lock down for the night?"

Luke shook his head. "Not worth it. We definitely need to talk  with  him

sometime before we get to Outbound Flight, but I don't  want  to  do  it  with

these burns distracting us. Besides,  even  if  Fel  did  talk  to  him  about

Outbound Flight, it doesn't prove anything. By  Fel's  own  admission  he  was

trying to see what Jinzler knew about the  mission.  If  Jinzler  didn't  have

anything, but said he wanted to see Fel's records?"

"Records Fel didn't have," Mara murmured.

"Right?records he didn't have," Luke said, "then Fel would still have  to

fake a robbery. It'd be easier to fake it to us than wait until  Jinzler  came

by."

"Except that we might catch him at it," Mara pointed out.

"You're forgetting the sequence of the conversation," Luke reminded  her.

"It wasn't until we told him we couldn't always catch people in lies  that  he

even mentioned he had the data cards."

Mara played back the memory. Blasted if he wasn't right.  "You're  really

making me look bad tonight," she growled. "I thought I was  the  one  who  was

supposed to have had the investigative training."

"It's all the time I've spent hanging  around  Corran  Horn,"  Luke  said

dryly. "Some of it rubs off on a person. Besides, you've got other  things  on

your mind."

Mara felt her muscles stiffen. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

He shrugged, too casually. "I was hoping you'd tell me," he said. "All  I

know is that there's something still churning around  behind  those  beautiful

green eyes of yours."

Mara snorted under her breath. "So it's flattery now,  is  it?  That's  a

sure sign you've run out of logical arguments and persuasive skill."

"Or else it's a sign of my sincerity and  commitment  to  your  continued

happiness as my wife and companion," Luke countered.

"Ooh?I like that," Mara said approvingly.  "Commitment  to  my  continued

happiness. Make sure you use that one again sometime."

"I'll make a note," Luke promised. His smile faded into seriousness. "You

know that I'm always ready to listen."

She caught his hand, squeezed it. "I know," she assured him. "And it's no

big deal?really it isn't. I just have to do some thinking on my own  before  I

can talk about it, that's all."

"Okay," Luke said, and she could feel his concern fading  a  little.  But

only a little. "Oh, and there's one more  factor  here  we  shouldn't  forget.

Fel's stormtrooper squad isn't exactly homogeneous."

Mara frowned. "Are you talking about that alien, Su-mil?"

"Yes," Luke said. "We don't know anything about him or his people,  after

all. It's possible he's running with his own agenda."

"Possible, but unlikely," Mara said, shaking her head. "The Five-Oh-First

wasn't exactly your run-of-the-star-lane stormtrooper unit. They were an elite

among elites, and I can't imagine Parck reviving it without holding  to  those

standards."

"I didn't say it was likely," Luke reminded her  mildly.  "I  would  hope

that Fel hadn't just thrown chance cubes when he picked his  people  for  this

mission. I just thought it was something we should keep in mind."

* * *

They did make one short side trip on the way back, stopping by  the  Jade

Sabre to make sure she was properly locked down against intruders. After  that

admittedly snide comment to Fel, Mara knew she would never live it down if her

own ship got broken into. Back in their quarters, they were preparing for  bed

when Formbi's official announcement came over the shipwide speaker system that

the fire damage had been repaired and that the mission would continue  without

interruption. He made no mention of the assistance the Chiss had  received  in

battling the blaze; nor was there any comment as to the cause of the explosion

that had started the fire in the first place.

Later, lying beside Luke in the darkness, Mara stared at the ceiling  and

wondered what exactly was going on inside her.

It had come on so quickly, this quiet feeling of guilt that had  suddenly

taken hold of her like a hand gently gripping her throat.  Suddenly,  all  the

things she'd done through the years she was Palpatine's agent were coming back

to haunt her. The heavy-handed investigations; the casual  brushing  aside  of

even the limited rights  that  had  existed  under  the  Empire;  the  summary

judgments.

The summary killings.

But she'd put all that behind her. Hadn't she? She'd never truly been  on

the dark side, after all?Luke himself had pointed that out to her three  years

ago. She'd served Palpatine and the Empire as best and as  honestly  as  she'd

known how, based  on  the  admittedly  slanted  information  he'd  given  her.

Certainly the fact that she was now a Jedi seemed to support the view that her

actions were redeemable.

So  what  was  it  that  was  bringing  all  this  back?  Fel   and   his

stormtroopers, the most visible image  of  Imperial  rule  and  excesses?  The

mission itself and its constant reminder  that  the  destruction  of  Outbound

Flight had been one of Palpatine's early atrocities?

Or was it something else entirely,  something  more  subtle?  After  all,

Palpatine had paid for his deeds with his life. So had Darth Vader and  Tarkin

and all the other Grand Moffs. Even Thrawn, whom she now realized had probably

been nobler than all the rest of them put together, was gone. Only  she,  Mara

Jade, the Emperor's Hand, had survived.

Why?

She rolled uncomfortably over onto her side, transferring her stare  from

the darkness of the ceiling to the darkness on  the  far  side  of  the  room.

Survivor's guilt, she remembered hearing someone call it once. Was  that  what

Fel and Outbound Flight had sparked in her? If true,  it  was  pretty  stupid,

particularly at this late date.

Unless it was what Luke had suggested  earlier.  That  there  were  still

things about the Empire that she was reluctant to let go of.

She took a deep breath, let it out quietly. Luke was  still  awake,  too,

she knew, watching her emotions  swirl  around,  ready  to  join  her  in  her

struggle whenever she was ready to invite him in.

She reached over and found his hand. "We're supposed  to  be  doing  Jedi

healing trances, right?" she murmured.

He took the hint. "Right," he murmured back. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said. "Good night."

"Good night."

She closed her eyes, settling herself more comfortably against the pillow

and stretching out to the Force. After all, Luke had accepted her,  dark  past

and all. If he could do it, she certainly ought to be able to.

* * *

Mara's breathing slowed, her mind and emotions quieting  as  she  slipped

into the healing trance. Luke watched her lovingly as she  went  silent,  then

gently disengaged his hand from hers and rolled  over  to  face  the  opposite

wall. It had been a long and busy day, and he had his own burns to deal  with.

He'd best get to it.

But the calmness and  concentration  necessary  for  the  healing  trance

refused to come. Something was going on aboard this ship, something wrapped in

a dark and murky purpose. Someone aboard?maybe more than one someone?was going

to Outbound Flight for some other reason besides respect or penance.

He  shifted  his  shoulders  uncomfortably  beneath  the  weight  of  the

blankets. But then, to be perfectly honest, didn't he have an ulterior  reason

of his own for being here?

Of course he did. Outbound Flight was a relic from  the  last,  turbulent

days of the Old Republic, its existence and records  offering  the  chance  to

fill in some of the gaps in the New Republic's history  of  that  period.  But

even more importantly, it might offer  a  detailed  look  into  the  ways  and

organization of that last generation of the full Jedi Order.  There  might  be

information aboard that would fill in  the  gaps  in  his  own  knowledge  and

understanding, showing him what he was doing right.

And, more importantly, what he was doing wrong.

He grimaced in the  darkness.  Luke  Skywalker,  Jedi  Master.  The  Jedi

Master, as far as most of the New Republic was  concerned.  Founder,  teacher,

and leader of the resurgent Jedi Order.

How in the worlds had he wound up in this position, anyway?  How  was  it

that he had been loaded with the responsibility for rebuilding something  that

had taken past generations centuries or more to create?

Because he had been all that there was, that was how.  When  gone  am  I,

Yoda had said in those final moments, the last of the Jedi will you  be.  Pass

on what you have learned.

He'd done his best to live up to Yoda's command. But  sometimes?too  many

times?his best hadn't been enough.

Yoda's training had helped, but not enough. The Holocron had helped,  but

not enough. Advice and correction from Leia  and  Mara  had  helped,  but  not

enough.

Was there something that had survived aboard Outbound Flight  that  might

also help? He didn't know. To be honest, he was almost afraid to find out.

He was going to search for it just the same, because he had  to.  He  and

Mara had both felt the  gentle  but  unmistakable  leading  of  the  Force  in

accepting Formbi's invitation, and he knew too well that ignoring  that  nudge

would bring bitter regret somewhere down the line. For good or evil, they were

going to Outbound Flight.

And who could tell? Maybe there was  even  something  aboard  that  would

finally lay to rest his questions about  Jedi  marriage.  Dissenting  opinions

from other Jedi Masters, perhaps, or even an indication that the  whole  Order

had been wrong in the prohibition.

But he wouldn't know until they arrived. And  he  might  as  well  arrive

healthy. Taking a deep breath, letting the doubts and concerns slide away from

him, he stretched out to the Force.

* * *

All the noise and bustle in the corridors outside had died  down  by  the

time Dean Jinzler put aside his datapad and started getting ready for bed.  It

had been a long, strange day, full of odd people and odd events,  and  he  was

tired with the kind of weariness that had haunted him for so much of his adult

life.

And yet, at the same time, there was a fresh  excitement  underlying  the

fatigue. An excitement, and a darkly simmering dread.

Outbound Flight. After half a century, he was finally going  to  see  the

huge, mysterious project that had taken Lorana  away  from  the  Republic.  He

would stand where she had stood, see what she had seen.  Perhaps,  if  he  was

very lucky, he would even be able to catch an echo of the idea  or  goal  that

had captured her own imagination, and to which she had dedicated her life.

And he would see where that all-too-short life had ended.

He gazed at his reflection in the refresher station mirror as he  cleaned

his face and teeth. Behind the lines and wrinkles, he could still see  a  hint

of the much younger face that had sneered at Lorana and resented  her  for  so

many years, the face that had sent her off without even a proper farewell. The

eyes gazing back at him?had her eyes been that same shade of gray? He couldn't

remember. But whatever the color, he knew her eyes hadn't been cold  and  hard

like his, but warm and alive and compassionate. Even toward  him,  who  hadn't

deserved any compassion at all. The hard set to his mouth hadn't  been  there,

of course, way back then.

Or maybe it had. He'd carried this edge of quiet bitterness with him  for

a long time.

Rather like that young woman he'd met earlier, the stray thought occurred

to him: that Mara Jade Skywalker. There was an  air  of  old  and  bittersweet

memory about her, too. For all the evidence of recent smoothing he  could  see

in her face, it was clear that some of those memories would take a  long  time

to fade.

Some memories, of course, never faded completely, no matter how much  one

might wish them to. He was living proof of that.

He finished in the refresher and stepped back into  the  bedchamber.  And

yet, for all the traces of old hardness and cynicism he could see in her face,

he also knew that it had been Mara who had made  the  final  decision  not  to

expose him to Formbi.

That made him nervous all by itself. Compassion was something  he'd  long

ago learned to dislike, and compassion from Jedi was even more ominous.  Jedi,

if you believed the old stories and New Republic propaganda, were supposed  to

be able to read people's characters and attitudes with a single glance.  Could

they also read minds and thoughts and intentions? If so, what exactly had Mara

read in him?

He snorted. Nonsense. How in the name of Outer Rim bug-eaters  could  she

possibly read his feelings when he himself couldn't even sort them out?

He didn't have an answer. Maybe she would, if he asked her.

Or maybe she would just decide that her mercy and second chances would be

better spent on someone else, and turn him in to Formbi after all.

No. The chance cube had been thrown, and all he could do now was  to  sit

back and see it through to the end. And as for the Jedi, his best bet would be

to simply keep his distance from both of them.

Turning off the light, he settled himself down into the bed. And tried to

push back the memories long enough to sleep.

CHAPTER 8

The next two days went by quietly. Luke spent much of the time  with  the

Geroons, poring over New Republic planetary listings and  trying  hard  to  be

patient with  their  continual  and  wearying  mixture  of  hero  worship  and

eagerness to please. Between world searches he tried to draw out some  details

of their encounter with Outbound Flight, but their stories seemed so  confused

and half mythic that he soon gave  up  the  effort.  Clearly,  none  of  these

particular Geroons had been there, and those who had hadn't done a  very  good

job of reporting the event.

He didn't see Mara much during that time  except  at  meals  and  in  the

evenings after they had settled in for the night. But a  comparison  of  notes

showed she was doing far better at the task of information gathering  than  he

was. With Feesa as her guide, she had begun a methodical  study  of  the  Chaf

Envoy and its crew.

Her first task had been to confirm some numbers. It turned  out  Fel  had

been right about the crew complement: besides General Drask  there  were  four

officers, thirty other crew members, and twelve line soldiers, making a  total

of forty-seven wearing the black Defense Fleet uniforms.  Formbi's  staff,  in

contrast, consisted only of Feesa and two other members of the Chaf family.

She never did get a proper explanation as to why Formbi was traveling  so

light, though Feesa did mention that under  normal  circumstances  the  entire

ship's crew would have been Chaf, with no Defense Fleet personnel  present  at

all. Eventually, she and Luke concluded that he had been right about the  Nine

Families' reluctance to have a single family get too much of  the  credit  for

the Outbound Flight expedition. The credit, or anything else that  might  come

out of it.

The Chiss, for the most part, seemed fairly neutral  to  Mara's  presence

and the various questions she put to them during her tour. Drask continued  to

be gruffly polite when she ran into him, though there was no  way  of  knowing

how much of the courtesy was because of Mara's own status and how much was the

fact that Formbi's aide was standing right there, ready to report any slippage

in proper behavior toward the Aristocra's guests.

Formbi was even busier than  the  general,  spending  most  of  his  time

consulting in private with his other two staffers, Drask, or Talshib  and  the

other ship's officers. Mara saw him a few times, but only at a  distance,  and

usually in deep conversation  with  someone  else.  After  that  first  formal

evening meal together, he also began eating elsewhere, leaving his host duties

mainly to Feesa and Talshib's officers.

As near as she could tell, Fel and his stormtroopers also kept largely to

themselves and mostly out of  sight  of  everyone  else.  On  the  handful  of

occasions outside of mealtimes when she ran into Fel, he was  cordial  enough,

though she reported sensing  a  certain  preoccupation  beneath  the  surface.

Neither of them mentioned the stolen data cards.

And though she readily admitted she couldn't prove it, she also  had  the

distinct impression that Dean Jinzler was avoiding her.

If so, Luke mused, and particularly under the current  circumstances,  it

was probably not the smartest move he could  have  made.  Though  Mara  didn't

actually say so, it wasn't hard for him to read between the lines and see that

by the middle of the second day she had set herself the task  of  deliberately

seeking Jinzler out wherever and whenever she could.

Even with that, though, the man was  mostly  successful  in  not  letting

himself be found. That irritated Mara all the more, and at one point Luke  had

to endure a prickly late-night hour in their quarters when he suggested to her

that she might want to ease back a bit.

Finally, thankfully, late in  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  Formbi

summoned his passengers to the command center observation deck. But not, as it

turned out, for the reason everybody thought.

* * *

"I welcome you to Brask Oto Command Station," Formbi announced, gesturing

to the double-pyramid-shaped mass of glistening white metal  floating  in  the

center of the main viewing display. "It is here where you must all  pause  and

consider."

There was a multiple buzz from the Geroons,  like  a  cluster  of  honey-

darters hovering over a promising flower  bush.  "Pause  and  consider  what?"

Bearsh asked. "Are we not arrived at Outbound Flight?"

"We are not," Formbi said. "As I said, you are here to consider."

"But we were told we had arrived," Bearsh persisted, sounding as upset as

Luke had ever heard him. Small wonder, really, given the extent to  which  the

Geroons had dressed for the occasion. Not only  were  they  wearing  elaborate

robes covered with tooled metal filaments that looked to be twice as heavy  as

their usual garb, but all of them had also come to the meeting outfitted  with

their own shoulder-slung wolvkil body. Added to the already uncomfortable heat

of the Chiss ship, they must have been sweltering under their loads.

"We have arrived at the point where the difficult  part  of  the  journey

begins," Formbi told him patiently. "All must hear  of  the  dangers  we  will

face, then make a final decision whether you wish to proceed."

"But?"

"Patience, Steward Bearsh," Jinzler soothed the Geroon. Even  here,  Luke

noted, Jinzler was standing as far away from the two Jedi as he could  without

being obvious about it. "Let's hear what he has to say, shall we?"

"Thank you, Ambassador," Formbi said, inclining his head toward  Jinzler.

He gestured behind him, and  the  double-pyramid  station  vanished  from  the

display.

Luke inhaled sharply as a murmur of similar astonishment rippled  through

the assembled dignitaries. Centered on the display was a stunningly  beautiful

globular cluster, hundreds of stars tightly packed into a compact sphere.

"The Redoubt," Formbi identified it. "Within this group of stars lies the

last refuge of the Chiss people should  our  forces  ever  be  overwhelmed  in

battle. It is impregnable, impossible for even a determined enemy  to  quickly

or easily penetrate, with war vessels  and  firepoints  scattered  throughout.

There are also other surprises that nature itself has created for the unwary."

"Starting with some really  tricky  navigation,"  Fel  commented.  "Those

stars are awfully close together."

"Correct," Formbi said. "And that is where the principal danger lies,  to

us as well as any potential enemy."

He gestured again at the display.  "As  you  say,  the  stars  lie  close

together, and the routes between them have not been entirely  mapped  out.  We

will need to travel slowly, making many stops along the way  for  navigational

readings. The journey will take approximately four days."

"I thought your ships had already located the  planetoid  where  Outbound

Flight crashed," Fel reminded him. "Can't we just follow their course?"

"We indeed will use their data as our starting point," Formbi  confirmed.

"But inside the Redoubt, nothing is ever constant or stable. There is a  great

deal of radiation to which  we  will  be  subjected  each  time  we  halt  for

readings. There are also many planetoids and large cometary bodies that travel

on  unpredictable  paths,  driven  by  the  constantly  changing   battle   of

gravitational forces. These, too, pose a significant hazard."

"We waste time," Bearsh spoke up. The annoyance had passed, and his voice

was calm again. "Those of Outbound Flight gave their lives for us.  Shall  the

Geroons shy away from danger as we seek to honor their memory?"

"Agreed," Fel said firmly. "We're going in."

"As am I," Jinzler added.

"We're in, too," Luke said, making it unanimous.

"Thank you," Formbi said, inclining his head toward them. "Thank you all.

"

Luke felt a strange shiver run up his back. Formbi's thanks,  of  course,

had been addressed to all of them. But at the same time,  he  had  the  oddest

feeing that the words had somehow been specifically directed at him and Mara.

Formbi turned to the Geroons. "And now,  Steward  Bearsh,  you  and  your

companions must  say  farewell  to  those  aboard  your  vessel.  They  cannot

accompany us farther, but must wait here for our return."

"I understand," Bearsh said. "If you will prepare a signal  frequency,  I

will speak with them."

Formbi nodded and gestured again. For a few seconds the  Redoubt  cluster

remained centered on the display. Then the image  cleared  away  to  reveal  a

Geroon standing in front of the children's playground they had  seen  earlier.

"You may speak," Formbi said.

Bearsh drew himself up to his full height and began speaking in an  alien

language whose singsong tones ran mostly to  two-part  harmony.  The  kind  of

language, Luke decided, that a species with twin  mouths  might  logically  be

expected to create.

Formbi had drifted off to one side and was gazing down into  the  command

center. Trying to be unobtrusive, Luke drifted over to join him.

"Master Skywalker," Formbi greeted him softly. "I'm pleased you  will  be

accompanying us the rest of the way."

"That's why we came," Luke reminded him. "I  was  wondering  exactly  how

tricky the navigation is going to be for this trip."

Formbi smiled, his glowing eyes glittering in the relative dimness of the

observation deck. "It won't be simple, but it certainly won't  be  impossible,

either," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"There are some Jedi techniques that can help with hyperspace navigation,

" Luke told him. "Especially with something as complicated and crowded as this

Redoubt cluster. We can sometimes find easier  or  safer  routes  than  a  nav

computer can come up with."

"An interesting thought," Formbi said. "I wish  we  could  have  borrowed

some of you Jedi when we first set out to study the cluster. Many lives  would

undoubtedly have been saved."

Luke frowned. "Are you saying you only just started building this haven?"

"I make a small joke,"  Formbi  admitted.  "No,  we  began  studying  the

cluster more than  two  hundred  years  ago,  before  we  even  knew  of  your

existence." He turned back to gaze at the Geroons on the  display.  "Though  I

will also say that it has only been in the past fifty years that the work  has

been set at the current pace of urgency," he conceded.  "Fortunately,  it  now

nears completion."

"I see," Luke said. Fifty years ago: just about the time Outbound  Flight

made its appearance in this area. Was the Old Republic the "determined  enemy"

that had worried the Chiss so much that they'd started in earnest to  build  a

place to hide? Or could they have foreseen  the  rise  of  Palpatine  and  the

Empire? Thrawn might have, certainly, if the other leaders had been willing to

listen to him.

It would probably have worked, too. Even a man as arrogant as Grand  Moff

Tarkin might have hesitated before taking his Death  Star  into  a  maze  like

that. "I see now why your people don't need to bother with preemptive strikes,

" he commented. "With a refuge like this, you can afford to let any enemy take

the first shot."

Formbi swiveled sharply to face him. "That has nothing  to  do  with  the

Redoubt," he said stiffly. "It is completely and purely a matter of honor  and

morality. The Chiss are never to be the aggressor people. We cannot  and  will

not make war against any until and unless we have been attacked. That has been

our law for a thousand years, Master Skywalker, and we will not bend from it."

"I understand," Luke said  hastily,  taken  aback  by  the  vehemence  of

Formbi's response. No wonder Thrawn and his aggressive military philosophy had

rubbed these people backward. "I didn't mean to imply  anything  else.  Please

forgive me for not making myself clear."

"Yes, of course," Formbi said, the fire in his eyes fading somewhat as he

pulled himself back under control. "And forgive me in turn  for  my  outburst.

The subject...  let's  simply  say  that  it's  been  a  matter  of  strenuous

discussion in recent days among the Nine Ruling Families."

Luke lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes," Formbi said in a tone that said, Drop the subject. "At any rate, I

thank you for your offer of assistance, but your  Jedi  powers  of  navigation

should not be needed."

Luke bowed. "As you wish, Aristocra. If  you  choose  to  reconsider,  we

stand ready to  assist."  Turning,  he  headed  back  toward  where  Mara  was

standing, wondering yet again how Leia could make this diplomacy stuff look so

simple.

The Geroons, he noted, seemed to be near the end of  their  conversation.

The alien on the display was humming  something  that  sounded  like  a  cross

between a military fanfare and a Huttese opera excerpt, and  Bearsh  had  just

started his equally musical reply.

"What was that all about?" Mara asked as Luke came up beside her.

"I was offering Formbi our help in navigating the  Redoubt,"  Luke  said,

frowning. There was a new tension in his wife's face that  hadn't  been  there

when he'd left a minute ago. "He says they can do it themselves. What's wrong?

"

"I don't know," Mara said, her eyes narrowed as she swept her gaze slowly

around the room. "Something just hit me..."

"Something bad?" Luke suggested, stretching out to the Force as he  tried

to read the pattern of her thoughts. "Something dangerous?"

"Something not right," she said. "Something  very  much  not  right.  Not

dangerous, I don't think, at least not in and of itself. Just... not right."

Across the observation deck, the two-toned  music  stopped.  "Thank  you,

Aristocra Formbi," Bearsh said, switching back to his stilted Basic. After the

Geroon language, the words sounded startlingly drab. "My people express regret

that they cannot all pay homage to the  heroes  of  Outbound  Flight,  but  we

understand your concerns."

His mouths made quick chopping motions. "At any rate,  our  vessel  would

most certainly not survive the voyage. And if the Geroon people  perish,  what

use then would be Outbound Flight's sacrifice?"

"What use, indeed," Formbi agreed. Turning toward the command  floor,  he

lifted his voice. "We are ready, Captain Talshib,"  he  called.  "Take  us  to

Outbound Flight."

* * *

Feesa had called this place the forward observation lounge  during  their

inspection tour of the Chaf Envoy, Jinzler remembered as he sipped  the  drink

he'd brought with him and gazed out the curved viewport stretching across  the

entire end of the room in front of him. It had had a spectacular view  of  the

Chiss starscape at the time, as well as a  large  collection  of  comfortable-

looking chairs and couches, and he'd made a mental note  to  come  back  later

after things had quieted down.

Now, of course, half a standard hour into their trip to Outbound  Flight,

the view wasn't nearly so interesting. Hyperspace, after  all,  looked  pretty

much the same anywhere you went.

But the couch was still comfortable, he had his drink and  his  solitude,

and they were on their way to Outbound Flight. At the moment, that was all  he

asked out of life.

He lifted his glass to the mottled patterns of hyperspace  streaming  by.

To Lorana, he gave a silent toast.

Behind  him,  the  lounge  door  slid  open.  "Hello?"  a  voice   called

tentatively.

Jinzler sighed. So much for the solitude part. "Hello," he  called  back.

"This is Dean?Ambassador Jinzler," he corrected himself.

"Oh," the other said tentatively, and as Jinzler turned he  could  see  a

shadowy figure move into the darkness. "I am Estosh. Do I intrude?"

One of the Geroons. The youngest, in fact, if Jinzler was remembering the

introductions correctly. "No, of course not," he assured the alien. "Come in."

"Thank you," Estosh said, groping his way through the maze  of  furniture

to Jinzler's couch. "What do you do here?"

"Nothing, really," Jinzler said. "I was just watching the light-years fly

past, and thinking about Outbound Flight."

"They were a great people," Estosh said  softly,  sitting  gingerly  down

beside Jinzler. "Which of course  makes  you  yourself  a  great  person,"  he

hastened to add.

Jinzler grimaced in the dark. "Perhaps," he said.

"You are great," Estosh insisted. "Even if you do not feel it."

"Thank you," Jinzler  said.  "Tell  me,  what  do  you  know  about  what

happened?"

"I was not yet alive at that time, so I know only what I have been told,"

Estosh said. "I know that long before your people arrived the Vagaari came  to

our worlds, conquering and  destroying  and  taking  everything  of  value  to

themselves. They used us as laborers and craftspeople and slaves. They sent us

into unsafe mines and dangerous mountains, and forced us to walk  before  them

on warfields that we might die instead of them." He gave a shiver  that  shook

the whole couch. "They wore us down until we were almost nothing."

"And then Outbound Flight came?"

Estosh sighed deeply, a sound like a whistle in a deep cave. "You  cannot

imagine it, Ambassador Jinzler," he said. "Suddenly they were there before us,

weapons blazing from all directions, shattering our  oppressors'  vessels  and

destroying them."

Ahead, the churning hyperspace sky faded abruptly into starlines, and the

starlines collapsed into a brilliant mass  of  stars.  "Must  be  one  of  the

navigation stops Aristocra Formbi mentioned," Jinzler commented, gazing out at

the view. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Estosh said. "It is a shame the Chiss have no worlds here  they

would be willing to give us. To live here among such beauty?"

"Quiet," Jinzler cut him off, listening hard as a quiet warning bell went

off in the back of his mind. Something was wrong...

Abruptly, it clicked. "The engines," he said, scrambling to his feet.

"You feel that? They're sputtering."

"Yes," Estosh breathed. "Yes, I do. What does it mean?"

"It means something's wrong  with  them,"  Jinzler  said.  "Or  with  the

control lines. Or," he added grimly, "with the people in the command center."

* * *

Mara had just pulled off her boots in preparation for bed when  the  deck

seemed to shiver beneath her feet.

She paused, stretching out to the Force, all her senses alert. "Luke?"

"Yes," he murmured, frowning  in  concentration.  "Feels  like  something

funny's going on with the engines."

"They've picked up a wobble," Mara said, flipping her legs  up  over  the

edge of the bed and rolling across to Luke's side, the side that had the  comm

panel. Stretching out, she jabbed the button. "Command center,  this  is  Jedi

Skywalker," she called. "What's going on?"

"There is nothing to be worried about, Jedi  Skywalker,"  a  Chiss  voice

answered. "There is a problem with the control lines to the  aft  end  of  the

vessel."

"What kind of problem?"

"It is not your concern," the voice said tartly. "It is a  small  problem

only, and we will deal with it. Stay in your quarters."

There was a click as the connection was cut from the other  end.  "I  can

hear the soothing tones of General Drask's voice in that  order,"  Luke  said,

grabbing his shirt and starting to put it back  on.  "Sounds  like  he's  been

talking to his people about us."

"We going to check it out anyway?" Mara  asked,  rolling  back  to  where

she'd left her boots.

"Actually, I was thinking we might try a different approach," Luke  said,

finishing with his shirt and reaching for his lightsaber. "We've already  seen

one noisy diversion aboard this ship, and there's a lot of the same  smell  to

this one."

"I agree," Mara said, picking up her own lightsaber. "He said the problem

is aft. We go forward?"

"Right," Luke said. "You've been  studying  the  ship.  What's  up  there

someone might be interested in?"

"All sorts of good stuff," she told him. "Forward  navigational  sensors,

meteor defense systems,  shield  generators,  some  crew  quarters,  and  bulk

storage."

"Including food?"

"Right," Mara said. "Best of all, not very far back from the bow  is  the

commander's glider."

"The hyperdrive-capable boat Fel told us about?"

"That's the one," Mara said. "Pick your target."

"Well,  you  can't  expect  him  to  make  it  easy  on  us,"  Luke  said

philosophically. "Here's the plan.  You  head  for  the  bow  along  the  main

starboard corridor, watching for anyone or anything suspicious. I'll backtrack

past the Geroon shuttle, see if there's any unusual  activity  in  that  area,

then cross over to port side  and  check  out  the  Imperials'  transport.  If

everything looks okay, I'll head forward along the port-side corridor and meet

you at the bow."

"Sounds good," Mara said. "See you there. And watch yourself."

"You, too."

The starboard corridor was largely deserted as Mara made her way forward,

her senses alert for trouble. Most of the on-duty crewers were apparently aft,

dealing  with  the  engine  trouble,  while  the  rest  were  either   snugged

comfortably in their beds or engaged in other  late-evening  relaxations.  The

fact that the whole crew had obviously not been turned out implied that  Drask

did indeed consider the problem to be a minor one. Just the sort  of  low-key,

not-quite-crisis-level event their mysterious data card thief  might  use  for

his next bit of sleight of hand.

She just wished she knew which of the possible targets he was after  this

time. Still, with a little luck, maybe she'd get a chance to ask him.

She was nearly to the bow when the corridor lights abruptly went out.

She froze in her tracks, pressing her back against the  side  wall  in  a

pocket of shadow thrown by a misaimed  emergency  light.  Wisps  of  sensation

seemed to swirl around her as she stretched out with the  Force,  marking  the

presence of thoughts and emotions  somewhere  ahead.  Someone  was  definitely

moving around nearby. Maybe two someones.

Maybe even three.

She scowled to herself, peering into the darkness as she fought  to  push

the hazy impressions into something solid. Between the Chiss and Geroons,  the

presence of so many unfamiliar minds surrounding her was severely limiting her

ability to focus. There, ahead and to the right? Was that one  of  the  beings

she was sensing?

And then, from a side corridor in that direction, came a  barely  audible

clink, as if someone had brushed the bulkhead with something hard. Holding her

lightsaber ready, she slipped toward the archway leading  into  the  corridor,

keeping to the shadows as much as she could.

There was another faint clink as she reached the archway, this  one  much

closer. She pressed her back to the wall and lifted her lightsaber high, thumb

ready on the activator.

For a second she held the pose. Then, in a sudden smooth surge of motion,

she swung around, igniting her lightsaber as she rotated, and planted  herself

in combat stance squarely in the center of the archway?

To find herself facing an  Imperial  stormtrooper  as  he  simultaneously

swung out from behind a coolant pump into the same stance, his  BlasTech  E-11

pointed squarely back at her.

Mara's first impulse, from somewhere deep in  the  dark  corners  of  her

mind, was to lower her weapon and order him to lower his. Her second  impulse,

from a more recent frame of reference, was to slash the blue lightsaber  blade

forward and cut him in half. Her final impulse, as her brain finally caught up

with the conflicting reflexes, was to simply do nothing.

Fortunately, perhaps, the stormtrooper himself seemed  to  have  no  such

confusion of loyalties or responses. Even as Mara  fought  back  the  urge  to

kill, he snapped the  muzzle  of  his  weapon  upward  away  from  her.  "Jedi

Skywalker," he said. "My apologies."

"No problem," Mara said, fighting the words  out  through  a  momentarily

stiff throat as she closed down her lightsaber. That unexpected surge of  past

patterns had been incredibly disconcerting. "What are you doing here?"

"Commander Fel heard of the problem with the ship's engines  and  ordered

me to secure the bow from potential danger," he said. "You?"

"Same thing," Mara said, peering down  the  darkened  corridor  over  his

shoulder. "You find anything?"

"The area around the glider appears secure," he said. "My  intention  was

to continue forward and check the shield generators."

"Fine," Mara said. "We'll go together."

"Acknowledged," he said. Without asking, he stepped past  her  and  moved

into point position, ahead and slightly  to  Mara's  left.  In  silence,  they

continued forward.

They had gone perhaps ten more meters  when  Mara  caught  a  glimpse  of

something ahead.  "Hold,"  she  murmured,  running  through  the  Jedi  sight-

enhancement techniques as they stopped. It hadn't been a movement she'd  seen,

exactly, but something else.

The stormtrooper, with his  helmet's  own  vision  enhancements,  got  it

first. "We're looking through the archway into the shield generator room,"  he

murmured back. "That was a reflection from the generator shell."

"Right," Mara agreed, trying to overlay the view ahead  onto  her  mental

schematic of this part of the ship. A reflection off the semi-spherical cap of

the shield generator meant someone  was  inside  the  room,  moving  port  and

possibly aft.

Unfortunately, there were three other exits from the compartment in  that

direction: one heading aft toward the  shield  monitor  room  behind  it,  one

heading forward toward a small cluster of crew quarters, and the third all the

way across the chamber to a mirror-image archway into the  portside  corridor.

Three possible ways out, with only her and one stormtrooper available to cover

them all.

Except that Luke should be on his way  toward  that  far  portside  exit.

Luke? She sent out the mental call.

Coming, the  reply  came,  accompanied  by  a  glimpse  of  the  portside

corridor. It was apparently as dark over there as it was on this side  of  the

ship, but he seemed to be making good progress and she had the sense  that  he

was nearby.

At any rate, they couldn't afford to wait any longer.  "All  right,"  she

murmured to the stormtrooper. "You keep going straight  ahead.  Make  sure  he

doesn't double back and get out through the starboard archway up there. If  it

looks like you can do it without risking him getting behind you, go ahead  and

sweep him portside. I'll head back to that last cross corridor and try to  cut

him off before he can get out through the monitor room."

"Acknowledged," the stormtrooper said. Lifting  his  BlasTech,  he  moved

cautiously forward.

Mara didn't wait to see how he fared, but turned and moved as quickly and

silently as possible back to the cross-corridor. Unlike the  main  passageway,

this one had several jogs in it as it wended its way around and between  rooms

of various sizes and shapes.  That  meant  more  cover  for  her,  of  course;

unfortunately, it also meant she wouldn't get a glimpse of the  exit  she  was

trying to block until she was practically on top of  it.  Setting  her  teeth,

stretching out to the Force, she headed in.

She'd gone maybe five steps when the whole thing fell completely apart.

From somewhere ahead came a sharp shout and the sudden scuffle of running

feet. Breathing a curse,  Mara  ducked  ahead  around  the  next  jog  in  the

corridor, coming into view of the generator room exit just in time to see  the

reflected blue flash  of  a  Chiss  charric  heat  weapon.  Someplace  in  the

distance, over the ruckus, she  heard  the  distinctive  snap-hiss  of  Luke's

lightsaber. Sprinting to the doorway, she ducked through?

There was just the briefest flicker of warning, and she  barely  got  her

lightsaber ignited in time to block another  charric  blast  that  would  have

burned her upper right shoulder if it  had  gotten  through.  "Hold  it!"  she

snapped, ducking back into the relative protection of the doorway  as  another

pair of charric bolts shot past her face.

"Halt!" a harsh Chiss voice countered. "Identify!"

"Who do you think?" Mara shot back. "How many people have you got  aboard

with lightsabers?"

For a moment there was no reply. But at least the shooting  had  stopped.

"Very well, Jedi Skywalker," the Chiss said in a somewhat  more  polite  tone.

"Come forward."

Warily, Mara  stepped  into  the  room.  Over  by  the  starboard  shield

generator to her right were two  armed  Chiss  dressed  in  leisure  clothing,

apparently having come straight from the crew quarters a couple  of  corridors

away. Behind them was the stormtrooper she'd sent in,  his  BlasTech  held  in

ready position across his chest. Possibly the reason they'd  stopped  shooting

at her, the cynical thought crossed her mind.

She turned her head to her left. At the far end of  the  generator  room,

Luke was coming toward the party from the  portside  archway,  his  lightsaber

blade looking brighter than usual in the gloom.

And in the long gap between Luke and the  Chiss,  standing  straight  and

tall and yet looking strangely vulnerable and forlorn, was Dean Jinzler.

CHAPTER 9

"There's really nothing to tell," Jinzler protested as Mara  led  him  to

one of the lounge's couches and gave him a not-entirely-gentle push down  onto

it. "I was sitting right here, watching the stars, when the lights went out."

"Were you alone?" Luke asked, stretching out  with  the  Force.  The  man

clearly knew he was in trouble, yet was amazingly calm for all  that.  It  was

the sort of calm Luke had seen before, sometimes in a person who no longer had

anything to lose.

Unfortunately, he'd also seen it in people with hidden  tricks  up  their

sleeves, or in people who fully believed they  could  lie  their  way  out  of

anything. So far, he still couldn't tell which category Jinzler fit into.

"By then I was," Jinzler said. "A little earlier I'd  been  talking  with

one of the Geroons?Estosh, the young one?but he left when the engines  started

acting up. He said he was worried there was going to be another fire. I stayed

here until the lights went out, as I said, at which point I decided  something

serious must be happening and started back toward my quarters."

In the ceiling above them, the lights abruptly came back on.  That  part,

at least, was apparently fixed. "Why did you go through the  Chiss  quarters?"

Luke asked. "Why didn't you use one of the  outer  corridors?  They're  better

lit."

"Yes, I know." Jinzler shrugged. "I  didn't  really  think  about  it,  I

suppose. At any rate, I heard someone moving around in the darkness  and  went

to investigate."

"Like a complete idiot," Mara pointed out, standing behind him.  "Suppose

he'd taken a shot at you?"

Jinzler's lips compressed briefly. "I guess I didn't  think  about  that,

either."

Mara  glowered  a  look  over   his   head   at   Luke.   Luke   shrugged

microscopically: he couldn't detect any lie either.

Which, unfortunately, wasn't conclusive proof one way or the other.  "All

right, so you heard someone," he said. "What did you see?"

Jinzler shook his head. "Nothing, I'm afraid. Whoever it  was  must  have

heard me coming, because there was no one in the generator  room  when  I  got

there. I was looking around, trying to see if I could  spot  anything  out  of

place, when all of you burst in on me."

Luke looked back at the lounge door, where the stormtrooper and  the  two

Chiss were silently observing the interrogation. The Chiss, he noted, had made

a point of standing as far away  from  the  armored  Imperial  as  they  could

without abandoning the doorway entirely. "Thank you all for your  assistance,"

he told them. "Jedi Skywalker and I will handle it from here. You  may  return

to your other duties."

"He was found in a restricted area," one of the Chiss said  stiffly.  "He

must answer to General Drask."

"He's an ambassador from the New Republic  government,"  Luke  countered.

"There  are  certain  rights  and  privileges  associated  with  that   title.

Furthermore, I  don't  remember  General  Drask  or  Aristocra  Formbi  saying

anything about any part of the ship being restricted."

"What about him?" the other Chiss demanded, jabbing a contemptuous finger

toward the stormtrooper. "He cannot claim ambassador's privileges."

"He was with me," Mara said. "Or were you planning to  deny  ambassador's

privileges to me, as well?"

The Chiss looked at each other, and Luke held  his  breath.  Technically,

neither he nor Mara had any official standing here, apart from being  Formbi's

guests. He still didn't know what had gone wrong with the Chaf Envoy's  lights

and engines, but he suspected Drask would be perfectly justified in  declaring

a state of emergency and confining all non-Chiss to their quarters.

In which case, Mara's attempt to pull rank  might  be  looked  upon  very

suspiciously, reflecting not only on them but on Formbi as well. In the subtle

pull-war going on between the two Chiss leaders, that might have long-reaching

consequences.

But for now, at least,  the  crewers  didn't  seem  inclined  to  make  a

challenge out of it. "We will wait in the corridor,"  the  first  Chiss  said.

"When you are finished here, we will escort you back to the  public  areas  of

the vessel."

He looked at the stormtrooper. "The faceless soldier is invited to return

to his proper place right now," he added.

The stormtrooper stirred, as if choosing from among the various  possible

responses. "Go ahead," Mara said before  he  could  pick  one.  "Please  thank

Commander Fel for your assistance."

"Acknowledged."  Swiveling  in   a   crisp   military   about-face,   the

stormtrooper disappeared out the door. The  two  Chiss  gave  short  bows  and

followed.

Quietly, Luke let out the breath he'd  been  holding.  One  of  the  best

things about stormtroopers, he reflected, was their willingness  to  instantly

and unquestioningly obey orders. It was, of course,  also  one  of  the  worst

things about them. "All right, Jinzler," he said, pulling a chair up in  front

of the older man and sitting down facing him. "We've been  very  patient  with

you up to now. But game time is over. We want to know who  you  are  and  what

you're doing here."

"I know you've been patient," Jinzler said, nodding.  "And  I  very  much

appreciate it. I know you've both stuck your necks out for me?"

"Stalling time is over, too," Mara interrupted, coming around from behind

the couch to face him, remaining on her feet as she leveled the full weight of

her stare down at him. "Let's hear it."

Jinzler sighed, some of the stiffness going out of his  shoulders  as  he

dropped his gaze to the deck. "My name's Dean Jinzler, just as I told you," he

said.  "I  work  sort  of  on  the  edges  of  Talon   Karrde's   intelligence

organization?"

"We know all that," Mara cut him off again. "What are you doing here?"

"A gentleman came to me a little over eight weeks ago," Jinzler said.  "A

rather old gentleman, flying a spacecraft of a type I'd never seen before."

"What was his name?" Luke asked.

Jinzler hesitated. "He said he didn't want me spreading it around...  but

I suppose you two would be all right. He said his name was Car'das."

Luke looked at Mara, feeling a ripple of shock from her that  echoed  his

own surprise. That was a name he remembered quite well.

"Car'das?" Mara demanded. "Jorj Car'das?"

"That's the one," Jinzler said, nodding.  "He  said  he'd  once  been  an

associate of Karrde's. Do you know him?"

"Never met the man," Mara said, her voice carefully neutral. "Though  not

from lack of trying. How do you know him?"

"I don't, really," Jinzler said. "I'd never seen him before that day.  He

came to me and suggested?strongly?that I put in for a transfer to  the  sector

relay post at Comra. He said there would likely be a  message  coming  through

soon that would be of great personal interest to me."

"And you just went?" Luke asked. "Not even knowing who he was?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Jinzler admitted. "But frankly, I  had  nowhere

else to be just then. Besides, there was something about  him..."  He  trailed

off.

"Okay, so you transferred to Comra," Mara said. "I take it  this  message

he mentioned was the transmission addressed to Luke that you filched?"

Jinzler winced. "Yes," he admitted. "It showed up about, oh, I  guess  it

was a little over a week ago now. I?" He looked up at Mara, his lip  twitching

in a slightly shamefaced smile. "?I filched it, grabbed  one  of  our  courier

ships, and headed for the rendezvous point Formbi had specified."

"Only the ship didn't make it," Luke commented.

Jinzler blinked. "How did you know that?"

"We're Jedi," Luke reminded the other pointedly. "What happened?"

"The hyperdrive gave out in the  Flacharia  system,"  Jinzler  said.  "It

would have taken me more than a week to repair it by myself, and I didn't have

enough money to hire out the job. Fortunately, at that point Car'das showed up

again and offered me a lift."

"Really," Mara said. "What an intriguing coincidence."

Jinzler lifted a hand, palm upward. "Maybe he was following  me  to  make

sure I got here okay. I never saw him on my sensors, but with a  courier  that

doesn't mean a whole lot. He did say?" He broke off.

"He did say what?" Luke prompted.

"It didn't make any sense to me," Jinzler said. "All he said was that  he

was trying to fulfill a promise he'd been neglecting for a very long time."

"Did he say what that promise was?" Mara asked. "Or to whom it  had  been

made?"

"Neither," Jinzler said. "Actually, the way he said it,  I  had  the  odd

impression he wasn't talking to me so much as he was talking to himself."

"Okay," Luke said. "Go on."

"That's all there is, really," Jinzler said.  "We  came  into  the  outer

Crustai system and Car'das sent a message in. Formbi  came  out  in  the  Chaf

Envoy's glider and picked me up."

"What did he think of Car'das?" Mara asked. "Or had Car'das left by then?

"

"Actually, the two  of  them  had  a  long  talk  together  while  I  was

transferring across to the glider," Jinzler said.  "I  didn't  understand  the

language, but it sounded a lot like the one the  Geroons  were  speaking  when

they first arrived. They finished their conversation, I introduced  myself  as

Ambassador Jinzler from Coruscant, and Formbi brought me back to the ship. And

that was that."

Luke nodded. Straightforward enough, and they  could  presumably  confirm

some of the details with Formbi. Assuming Formbi was willing to talk about it,

of course. "Okay, that's the how," he said. "Now let's hear the why."

"There was a Jedi aboard Outbound Flight," Jinzler said. "Well,  actually

there were several Jedi aboard. This particular one was named Lorana Jinzler."

He seemed to brace himself. "She was my sister."

He stopped. Luke frowned at Mara, caught her own  suspicious  puzzlement.

"And?" he prompted.

"What do you mean, and?" Jinzler asked.

"So your sister died with Outbound Flight, and you wanted to go pay  your

respects to her memory," Luke said. "So what was so dark and personal that you

couldn't tell us earlier?"

Jinzler lowered his eyes, his hands wrapping tightly together in his lap.

"We didn't part on... very good terms," he said at last. "I'd rather  not  say

any more if you don't mind."

Luke felt his lip twist. More evasion, which seemed  to  be  an  integral

part of this man.

But at the same time there was the sense  of  truth  to  his  pattern  of

thought and emotion. He glanced a  question  at  Mara,  caught  her  reluctant

agreement. "All right," he said. "We'll let that part sit for now. But."

He let the word hang in the air a moment like a threatening sandstorm  in

the distance. "We may need to hear more before we're done here," he continued.

"If and when that time comes, you will tell us everything. Clear?"

Jinzler straightened up. "Clear," he agreed. "And thank you."

"Don't thank us yet," Luke warned, nodding toward the  door.  "The  Chiss

are waiting. Go back to your quarters."

"And the next time you think you hear something suspicious,  use  one  of

the corridor comm panels to call it in," Mara added. "If you'd done  that,  we

might have caught him."

"I understand," Jinzler said. "I'll see you in the morning."

He crossed the lounge and disappeared into  the  corridor.  "Well?"  Luke

asked as the door slid shut behind him. "What do you think?"

"For starters, I'm  getting  tired  of  this  piecemeal  approach,"  Mara

growled, stalking over to the viewport and leaning against it  as  she  stared

out at the stars. "I'd like nothing better than to sit him down and  drag  the

whole story out of him. With hydrogrips, if necessary."

"You really think that's the  best  way  to  approach  it?"  Luke  asked,

crossing to the viewport to stand beside her.

"No, of course not," she said with a sigh. "I just wish we could,  that's

all."

"At least we've got a few new puzzle pieces to work with,"  Luke  pointed

out. "Let's start with Jorj Car'das. You think this is  the  same  man  Karrde

asked you and Lando to try to track down ten years ago?"

"Who else could it be?" Mara countered. "Contacting someone  working  for

Karrde's organization and flying a ship that wasn't a New Republic design? No,

it's got to be him."

"What makes you think his ship wasn't a New Republic design?"

"Jinzler has a certificate in hyperdrive tech," Mara reminded him. "If he

didn't recognize the ship, it had to be something pretty exotic."

"Mm," Luke said. "I don't suppose you ever got Karrde to  open  up  about

who Car'das actually was."

"Karrde, no," Mara said. "But I was able to coax a bit  out  of  Shada  a

couple of years ago. Apparently sometime in  or  around  the  Clone  Wars  era

Car'das started up a smuggling operation, building it up into  something  that

rivaled even the Hutts' organizations. A few years after that, he suddenly and

mysteriously disappeared, and one of his lieutenants took over for him."

"Karrde?"

"Right," Mara said. "No one apparently heard anything of or from  Car'das

until you found that beckon call on Dagobah after Thrawn's return  and  Karrde

sent Lando and me out hunting for him. When the  Caamas  Document  crisis  hit

three years ago and the New Republic started to tear itself apart over what to

do about the Bothans, Karrde and Shada took  the  Wild  Karrde  and  went  out

hunting for him themselves."

"Did they find him?"

"Shada was rather evasive on that point, but it  seems  clear  that  they

did," Mara said. "Reading between  the  lines,  I'd  also  guess  Car'das  had

something to do with the dramatic collapse of that  Return-of-Thrawn  hysteria

that happened while we were out on Nirauan. She also  mentioned  a  huge  data

card library that she said rivaled  the  official  New  Republic  archives  on

Coruscant."

"Karrde's former mentor," Luke murmured thoughtfully.  "And  Karrde  with

his deep and abiding interest in gathering information. It fits, I suppose."

"What fits?" Mara asked. "The bit about Car'das knowing something was  in

the works and pointing Jinzler to exactly the right place at the right time to

intercept an incoming message?"

"Guessing the  right  place,  at  least,  wouldn't  have  taken  anything

special,"  Luke  pointed  out.  "Comra's  the  logical  spot  to  pick  up   a

transmission coming from Nirauan or Chiss space. If Car'das  knew  or  guessed

Formbi would be contacting us, that's where the message would come through."

"That assumes he knew the message was on its way," Mara pointed out.

"Right," Luke agreed. "And that part would have taken something  special.

Though even there you'll notice he seemed to be  a  bit  off  on  his  timing.

Jinzler was at the station a good seven weeks before the message came through.

"

"Maybe Formbi had to argue with the Nine Families longer than he expected

before he got permission to contact  us,"  Mara  suggested.  "You  can't  dock

Car'das points for someone else's bureaucracy."

"I suppose not," Luke conceded. "There's also  the  question  of  how  he

could have found out about Jinzler and his sister."

"Yes?Jinzler's sister," Mara growled. "I presume you've noticed  that  up

until a couple of days ago there would have been a perfect way  to  check  out

that part of his story."

Luke nodded. "Fel's Outbound Flight operational manual and its  personnel

lists."

"Except that it was stolen," Mara said. "And now all of a sudden he comes

up with a sister. Convenient timing, wouldn't you say?"

"I might," Luke had to admit. "But that's not  proof  that  he  took  the

manual."

"We're not exactly rolling in proof on any part of  this,"  Mara  pointed

out. "Still, if Jinzler didn't take the cards, who did? And why?"

"I don't know," Luke said, half turning to look back  toward  the  lounge

exit. "Right now, I'm more intrigued by the question of what someone was doing

lurking in the dark up here. Unless you think Jinzler made that part up to try

to deflect suspicion from himself."

"Oddly enough, I don't," Mara said slowly. "He strikes me  as  being  too

smart to trot out such a lame story without dressing it up a bit."

Luke frowned. "Dressing it up how?"

"Suppose he wanted to do some mischief in  the  shield  generator  room,"

Mara said. "Say, someplace over at the starboard end. The first thing  a  real

professional would do when he got inside would be to go to  the  portside  end

and open one of the storage cabinets there. Not too obviously, but  enough  to

see if you were looking for it. Then, if he gets caught, he  still  spins  his

story about chasing down an intruder, but  adds  that  he  got  a  glimpse  of

someone over by the portside cabinets before he took off."

"The investigators go to look, and they  find  the  open  cabinet,"  Luke

said, nodding his understanding.

"Right," Mara said. "Not only does it make his story play better, but  it

also automatically shirts attention away from his real target."

Luke nodded. "Simple, but effective."

"All the best tricks are," Mara agreed. "It's basically the same thing we

assumed our saboteur was doing right from the start: drawing attention to  the

engines, then going and hitting something in the bow."

"Right," Luke said. "Assuming the engine thing was a diversion."

"Also true," Mara admitted. "It could just as well be  that  that  was  a

genuine accident, and that Jinzler or someone else simply took advantage of it

to do some late-night skulking."

Luke shook his head. "This is starting to make my head  hurt,"  he  said.

"If Jinzler set the fire to steal Fel's Outbound Flight data,  shouldn't  that

have been the end of it? What would he have needed to do up here?"

"Who knows?" Mara said. "He may be on some special  mission,  either  for

Car'das or someone else, and had to steal the operational manual first so that

we couldn't crack his story."

"And since most of what we know comes solely from him, we  wouldn't  even

be able to guess from that what he's really up to."

"Actually, everything we know about him  comes  solely  from  him,"  Mara

corrected. "Karrde told us about Dean Jinzler's background, but we  only  have

our gray-eyed friend's word for it that he really is Dean Jinzler."

Luke hissed between his teeth. That one  hadn't  even  occurred  to  him.

"Which means what I  said  about  us  having  a  few  more  puzzle  pieces  is

meaningless, isn't it?"

"They could be pieces to an entirely imaginary puzzle," Mara agreed. "And

it gets worse. It could even be we  have  two  different  sets  of  late-night

skulkers, each with different agendas, working either parallel  or  at  cross-

purposes to each other. Don't forget, we had not only Jinzler up here  but  at

least two Chiss crewers and one of Fel's stormtroopers, as well."

"And if Jinzler's telling the truth, one of the Geroons,"  Luke  reminded

her. "All we're missing is Formbi and Drask to round out the suspect list."

"Right," Mara said. "On the other hand, Jinzler's the only  one  who  got

caught where he wasn't  supposed  to  be.  How  does  that  story  about  just

happening to head through the Chiss quarters strike you?"

"It's actually not as far-fetched as it sounds," Luke said. "If there was

a Jedi in his family, he could easily be Force-sensitive enough to  be  nudged

to the right place at the right time without knowing how or why he'd done  it.

Not many people know enough about Jedi family patterns to spin  that  sort  of

subtlety into a lie, either."

"Car'das might have known," Mara said. "And whatever he senses or doesn't

sense, Jinzler still needed Car'das's advice to  get  himself  transferred  to

Comra in time." She waved a hand. "Yes, I know that's not the same thing."

"Still, we do keep coming back to Car'das, don't we?" Luke  murmured.  "I

wonder what he and Formbi might have had to talk about."

"No idea," Mara said. "As far as I know, Karrde  himself  never  did  any

work out in the Unknown Regions. If Car'das made  it  out  this  far,  it  was

before he and Karrde met."

"Or after Car'das disappeared," Luke pointed out. "We don't know anything

about him during that period, either."

"Maybe we should go ask Formbi," Mara suggested.

"Sure, why not?" Luke said. "We need to warn  him  to  check  the  shield

generators, anyway."

Mara shook her head. "I don't think the generators were the target,"  she

said. "I think it was something else."

"Any idea what?"

"Not really," Mara conceded. "But if I had to vote, I'd vote for  someone

putting a tap on the sensor lines. Remember  when  we  were  called  into  the

command center earlier this evening and Formbi was listing all the dangers  we

would be facing inside the cluster?"

"Yes," Luke said, wondering where she was going with this.

"Among the various  natural  hazards  to  life  and  happiness,  he  also

mentioned something called firepoints," she went on. "I've been meaning to ask

him what exactly those are, but I think  I  may  have  figured  it  out."  She

pointed out the viewport. "You see that asteroid over there? The one with  all

the dark spots?"

Luke peered out into the brilliant starscape. A spotted asteroid... "Yes,

" he said as he picked it out of the shadows.

"Ten to one it's either a missile cluster or a fighter nest," Mara  said.

"Those dark spots are almost certainly the ends of launching tubes."

"A firepoint," Luke murmured, studying the asteroid. There were a lot  of

dark spots on it, too. "Aptly named."

"Very aptly named," Mara agreed. "An unfriendly ship that stops here  for

a nav check is going to be in for a world of hurt."

She looked at Luke, her  expression  grim  in  the  reflected  starlight.

"Anyone who might be thinking about taking on the Chiss would have a  definite

interest in locating as many of those defenses as possible."

Luke felt his stomach tighten. "Fel?"

"Or the Geroons might have an interested client with an unused planet  to

swap them," Mara said. "Jinzler could be fronting for someone, too."

"Car'das?"

She shrugged. "Could  be.  We  do  know  that  Car'das  likes  collecting

information. This would certainly come under that heading."

"Point," Luke said, taking one last look around at the  stars.  The  last

refuge of the Chiss people, Formbi had called  it.  Who  out  there  would  be

interested in learning its secrets? "I think we've pushed this set  of  puzzle

pieces around as much as we can. Let's go see if we can pick up another  piece

or two."

Mara pushed away from the viewport. "Formbi?"

Luke nodded. "Formbi."

* * *

They found the Aristocra in a service corridor midway between the control

center and the main engines, watching in silence as a pair  of  Chiss  crewers

dug into an open conduit access panel with  long,  tonglike  probes.  A  third

crewer stood expectantly by with a sealed  metal  container.  "Ah,  our  noble

Jedi," Formbi said as they maneuvered past the workers in  the  cramped  space

and came to his side. "I understand you've been busy this evening."

"I see you have, too, Aristocra," Luke pointed out. "Have you  found  the

problem?"

Formbi nodded. "Line creepers, as we suspected."

"Line creepers?"

"Long, slender creatures that chew  their  way  into  power  and  control

systems and live on the electrical power generated within," Formbi  explained.

"They're a vermin we've worked very hard to destroy or contain."

"Sounds like conduit worms," Mara commented. "That's  a  type  of  vermin

we've tried hard to destroy."

"With no more success than we've had, I suspect," Formbi said.

"True," Luke said. "What was this particular batch working on? The engine

control lines?"

"Yes," Formbi said. "That's what caused the flutter you  apparently  felt

earlier. We're clearing them out now."

"What about the lights in the forward part of the ship?" Mara asked. "Did

they get in there, too?"

"No," Formbi said. "It appears someone merely shut them down."

"Accidentally?" Mara asked.

Formbi's glowing eyes seemed to blaze a bit brighter as he looked at her.

"What do you think?" he countered.

"We think the Chaf Envoy has some serious problems,"  Luke  said.  "We're

not sure everyone aboard wants this mission to succeed."

He stretched out to the Force, hoping for a telling reaction. But  Formbi

merely shook his head. "You're wrong,  Master  Skywalker,"  he  said  quietly.

"Everyone aboard very much wishes the mission to succeed."

"Maybe so," Mara said. "But it may not be the same mission as the one you

have scheduled."

"I presume you've heard of the incident in the bow a  few  minutes  ago?"

Luke asked.

"I have," Formbi said. "Captain Talshib is already searching  for  damage

or theft in that part of the vessel."

"Good," Mara said. "What did you and Jorj Car'das talk about?"

Luke had been trying, without success,  to  spark  a  reaction  from  the

elderly Chiss. Mara's attempt was  just  as  futile.  "Jorj  Car'das?"  Formbi

asked, lifting his eyebrows politely, his composure not even flickering.

"The human who brought Ambassador Jinzler to Crustai,"  Mara  said.  "The

ambassador said you two spoke at length."

Formbi smiled faintly. "And you suspect something sinister about it?"  He

shook his head. "Not at all. He introduced the ambassador to me and listed his

credentials and honors. I greeted him in turn, and welcomed him on  behalf  of

the Chiss Ascendancy."

"And you did all this in that trade language, Minnisiat?"

"At the time I doubt he was aware I could speak your New Republic Basic,"

Formbi said.

"And you'd never met Car'das before?" Mara persisted.

"How could I possibly know anyone from the New  Republic?"  Formbi  asked

patiently. "I've never been farther  than  a  few  light-years  outside  Chiss

space. Ah."

He pointed over Luke's shoulder. Luke turned to see one  of  the  workers

pull a long, segmented worm from the conduit with his tongs. The  third  Chiss

had his container open, and the  first  eased  the  worm  carefully  into  the

opening. "A line creeper," Formbi identified it as the third crewer sealed the

container again. "A young one, too, from its size. If  left  undisturbed  long

enough, they can grow to be as long as an adult  Chiss  and  thick  enough  to

nearly fill a conduit that size."

"I can see why you don't want them around," Luke said. "Any idea  how  it

got in there?"

"Not yet," the Aristocra said. "We'll begin  a  thorough  search  of  the

vessel in the morning." His eyes bored into Luke's. "Of our  vessel,  and  all

others associated with it."

"Of course," Luke said,  sensing  Mara's  sudden  wariness.  "May  I  ask

exactly what this search will entail?"

"For you, it will most likely be noninvasive," Formbi assured them. "Line

creepers exhale a distinctive mixture of gases that is quite easy  to  detect.

If none of those gases is detected in your vessel's compartments, that will be

the end of the procedure."

"And if you do detect any?" Mara asked.

"Then we will of course need to examine  those  areas  more  thoroughly,"

Formbi said. "But you should have  nothing  to  be  concerned  about.  If  you

haven't opened your vessel elsewhere in this  region  of  space,  it's  highly

unlikely you could have picked up any vermin. But we must check nevertheless."

"We understand," Luke said. "Actually, if one of these things  is  aboard

the Sabre, we'd be just as glad for you to get rid of it. Is there anything we

can do to help?"

"Thank you, but no," Formbi said. "We'll alert you before  entering  your

vessel, of course."

"We thank you in turn," Luke said, sensing the  dismissal  in  his  tone.

"We'll see you in the morning, then."

"One other thing," Formbi said as they turned to go. "I'm  informed  that

both you and Jedi Skywalker activated your lightsabers during your search this

evening."

"Yes, we did," Mara said. "We were hunting a possible  saboteur,  if  you

recall. Not to mention defending ourselves against  a  Chiss  warrior  with  a

twitchy trigger finger."

"Yes?that,"  Formbi   said,   sounding   embarrassed.   "An   unfortunate

occurrence. The warriors have been spoken to, and it will not happen again."

Something seemed to flicker through the Aristocra's  eyes  too  fast  for

Luke to catch. "But in return, I must ask you not  to  activate  your  weapons

again as long as you are aboard a vessel of the Chiss Ascendancy."

Luke frowned. "Not at all?"

"Not at all," Formbi said flatly.

"What if we're in danger?" Mara demanded. "Or  if  you  or  one  of  your

people is in danger?"

"Then of course you may do whatever you  deem  necessary,"  Formbi  said.

"But General Drask has insisted that the casual waving of alien weapons aboard

the Chaf Envoy will no longer be tolerated."

"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 out 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 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 helpful. 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 remains 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.

At that point, they ran into  an  unexpected  problem.  The  docking  bay

hatchway Drask had selected, which had looked  completely  functional,  turned

out to be warped just enough to be impossible to open, and the Chiss ended  up

having to use cutting torches to carve out an access.

It was a slow process. Even  the  relatively  thin  hatchway  of  an  Old

Republic warship was incredibly tough, and the need to maintain  a  margin  of

safety in the enclosed area limited how much power  the  Chiss  could  run  to

their torches. More than once as he watched them work, Luke  considered  going

to Formbi and offering to do the job with his lightsaber instead. It would  be

easier and cleaner and a lot faster.

But each  time  he  suppressed  the  impulse.  The  Aristocra's  midnight

discussion about the casual waving of alien weapons was  still  fresh  in  his

mind, and he'd already learned enough about Chiss pride to  know  that  Formbi

and the others would probably rather do it their way  than  accept  his  help.

Particularly when that help wasn't really necessary.

And so the company waited as the crewers finished the  job.  Once  they'd

broken through the hatchway there was another short delay as the ship's  medic

tested the atmosphere, confirming  that  none  of  the  microorganisms,  trace

gases, or suspended particulates present would be dangerous to Chiss or human.

With only a few days' worth of data on Geroon biochemistry he was less certain

as to whether there would be any adverse effects on them, and there  was  some

talk of rigging protective suits for the four who would be coming aboard.

But Bearsh declined the  offer.  The  proper  ritual  clothing  would  be

impossible to wear inside such suits, he stated, and assured  Formbi  that  he

and his people were willing to take whatever risks were necessary.

With all the delays, it was actually closer to  three  hours  before  the

party was finally ready to go.

A strange-looking party they were, too, Luke reflected as they  lined  up

on the Chiss side of the transfer tunnel. Drask and Formbi were dressed in the

same stately outfits they'd worn at the first night's reception dinner,  while

Feesa and a black-uniformed Chiss warrior carrying an elaborate  banner  on  a

pole wore much simpler and more functional clothing. Fel was back in his dress

uniform, and Luke would swear that the four stormtroopers had put extra effort

into making sure their armor was gleaming. Jinzler had discarded  his  earlier

layered robe-tunic in favor of something simpler and  less  constrictive,  and

Luke found himself wondering if the older man was  expecting  dirt  and  close

quarters aboard  the  Dreadnaught  or  whether  he  was  just  tiring  of  his

ambassadorial play-acting.

Each of the four Geroons who would be attending wore one of the blue-and-

gold-collared wolvkil bodies over the  shoulders  of  his  thick  brown  robe,

making an odd contrast to Estosh and  the  bandages  he  was  wearing  on  his

shoulder. The young Geroon had argued at length with Bearsh in  their  melodic

language about going along, and was clearly still not happy that he was merely

there to see the others off. He stood off to one side,  nursing  his  shoulder

and looking even more lost and pathetic than usual.

Luke was back in his dark jumpsuit and duster, but Mara had passed up her

formal gown in favor of a jumpsuit similar to Luke's that she could move  more

freely in if necessary. Still, her natural poise and elegance made him feel as

if she were far better dressed than he was. "Next trip," Luke murmured to  her

as the Chiss standard-bearer led the way into the tunnel, "remind me to pack a

couple of formal outfits."

"I've always said you and Han are the scruffiest heroes I've  ever  met,"

she murmured back.

He looked sideways at her. The comment was  typical  Mara?that  sarcastic

manner that had proved so useful in distracting and  irritating  opponents  in

the past.

But this time he could tell that the words were pure  reflex.  There  was

something going on behind her eyes, some strange concentration.

Shifting his eyes back forward, Luke  stretched  out  to  the  Force.  If

something was bothering Mara, he'd better get up to speed, too.

They emerged from the tunnel into an entryway and storage area  that  was

probably half again the size of even the extravagant  equivalents  aboard  the

Chaf Envoy. A few boxes were still stacked along the bulkheads, their markings

somewhat faded with age, but most of the room was empty. Everything seemed  to

be coated with a thin layer of dust.  "Amazingly  clean,"  Jinzler  commented,

looking around as the group gathered in the center  of  the  room.  His  voice

echoed strangely from the bare metal walls. "Shouldn't there be more dust?"

"Must be some housekeeping droids still functioning," Fel  said.  "Or  at

least there were. Repair droids, too?see where they've patched the  cracks  in

the hull?"

"These machines can still function after all these years?"  Bearsh  asked

in wonderment. "With no one to supervise or repair them?"

"Everything aboard Outbound Flight was well automated," Fel said. "It was

all internal rather than being linked to a lot of other ships. Otherwise  they

would have needed probably sixteen thousand people on each Dreadnaught just to

crew it."

"So few?" Bearsh asked, looking around. "Our own vessel is less than half

this size, yet it carries more than sixty thousand Geroons."

"Sure, but this wasn't just a colony ship with  everyone  packed  tightly

inside," Fel pointed out. "The Dreadnaughts were warships, the biggest the Old

Republic had before the Clone Wars, with weaponry and equipment?"

Formbi cleared his throat. Fel took the hint and subsided.

"On behalf of the Nine Ruling Families of the Chiss Ascendancy, I welcome

you all to this solemn and sorrowful occasion," the Aristocra began, his voice

deep and resonant. "We stand today on the deck of an ancient vessel that  lies

here as a symbol of human courage and Chiss failing..."

Luke let his eyes drift around the group as Formbi continued his  speech.

Off to the side, he noticed, Bearsh was murmuring into a bulky comlink in  the

melodic Geroon language. Probably giving Estosh a running  commentary  on  the

ceremony, he decided, and found himself wondering why  the  young  Geroon  had

been left aboard the Chaf Envoy in the first place. Surely this short  a  trip

wouldn't have strained his injuries that much. About the only thing  he  could

come up with was the fact that the positioning of Estosh's injuries  precluded

his wearing one of the ceremonial wolvkils.

Personally, Luke considered that a rather ridiculous reason to leave  him

behind. But he'd been with the New Republic long enough to know that not every

aspect of an alien culture had to make sense to him. It was enough  that  such

rules and customs were important to the people who lived under them, and  that

as such they were worthy of his respect if not necessarily his approval.

And then, without  warning,  something  touched  Luke's  mind.  The  last

sensation he would ever have expected.

He twisted his head to look at Mara. One glance at her widened  eyes  was

all he needed to show she'd caught it, too. "Luke??" she whispered tightly.

"What is it?" Formbi demanded, cutting off  his  speech  in  midsentence.

"What's happened?"

Luke took a deep breath. "It's Outbound Flight," he said, stretching  out

harder to the Force. No mistake.  They  were  there:  minds?human  minds,  not

Chiss?somewhere deep beneath them. A lot of them. "We're not alone,  Aristocra

Formbi. There are survivors aboard."

CHAPTER 11

Someone gasped, a sharp intake of air, just as quickly cut off. "What did

you say?" Bearsh demanded, his comlink sagging forgotten  in  his  grip.  "You

say... survivors?"

"Unless the Chiss are running a vacation transport service,"  Mara  said,

stretching out harder to the Force as she  tried  to  sort  out  the  twisting

tapestry of sensations. "There are humans down there, at least  a  hundred  of

them. Probably more."

"But that's impossible," Jinzler said, his voice hoarse. "This ship  died

fifty years ago. It died."

Mara frowned, drawing some of her concentration  away  from  the  distant

minds to focus on Jinzler. His lined face was tight, his sense  swirling  like

storm clouds in a crosswind, every mental barrier stripped away in  a  strange

combination of hope and dread and guilt.

And in that moment she knew that he hadn't been lying, at least not about

his sister having been aboard.

Or was she possibly still aboard? Was that the thought that  was  sending

this emotional groundquake through him? "Maybe the ship died, Ambassador," she

told him. "But not everyone aboard died with it."

"Well," Fel said, his voice studiously matter-of-fact. "This  complicates

things."

"It  does  indeed,"  Formbi  said,   his   glowing   eyes   narrowed   in

concentration. "It complicates things tremendously."

Mara caught Luke's eye. "What do you think?" she asked. "Shall  we  leave

them here to discuss the diplomatic ramifications while you and I just go find

these people?"

The gambit worked. "No," Formbi insisted, snapping out of  whatever  deep

thoughts he'd been working on. "You cannot go alone."

"Absolutely not," Drask agreed, gesturing to the  standard-bearer.  "You?

return to the Chaf Envoy and instruct Captain  Brast'alshi'barku  to  issue  a

drace-two alert. He is to prepare three squads?"

"Wait a minute," Luke interrupted.  "You  can't  bring  a  contingent  of

soldiers in here."

"This vessel is still the property of the Chiss Ascendancy," Drask  said,

glaring warningly at him. "We will do whatever we please."

"I'm not disputing that," Luke said. "I'm simply concerned about what the

passengers may do if they see a group of armed Chiss coming down the corridors

toward them."

"He raises a fair point," Formbi said  reluctantly.  "They  may  remember

that it was a picket unit of the Chiss  Defense  Fleet  that  destroyed  their

vessel."

"And so they will be afraid until we can speak with them and assure  them

of our intentions," Drask said impatiently. "I do not think a few  minutes  of

fear is too much to ask of them."

"I wasn't worried about how they would feel," Luke said. "I was  thinking

about what they might do if they saw a corridor full of armed  Chiss.  Bearing

in mind what happened the last time they saw a group like that."

"Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo did not  send  warriors  aboard,"  Drask  said.

"There is no record in any testimony of his doing so."

"But they would have seen someone with blue  skin  and  red  eyes,"  Mara

pointed out. "Either  Thrawn  himself  or  some  other  envoy.  Unless  you're

suggesting he would have attacked without even offering  them  the  chance  to

surrender?"

Drask glared at her. "No," he growled. "Not even Mitth'raw'nuruodo  would

have done that."

"Right," Mara said. "So they'll have known who the enemy was. And they've

had fifty years to prepare for attack."

"And  as  Commander  Fel  pointed  out,  Dreadnaughts  were  designed  as

warships," Luke added.

There was a moment of silence from the others as the implications of that

finally sank in. "What do you suggest?" Formbi asked.

"What Mara just said," Luke told him. "She and I go find them. Alone."

"No," Bearsh pleaded. "You must not leave us  apart.  We  wished  to  pay

tribute to the memories of these brave people. How much more should we not pay

tribute to the people themselves?"

"We can bring you down afterward," Mara told him. "Once  we've  explained

the situation?"

"No," Bearsh repeated, starting to become agitated. "You must  not  leave

us apart."

"Your plan is unacceptable to us, as well," Drask put in. "I accept  your

reasoning as to why we should not bring a full boarding party.  But  Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano and I must at least be present at your  first  contact  with

these survivors. And the Aristocra must have a guard."

"He'll have the Five-Oh-First, General,"  Fel  reminded  him.  "They  can

handle anything these people can throw at us."

"Your assurances are welcome but insufficient," Drask said  stiffly.  "We

will bring a half squad of three Chiss warriors. No fewer."

He looked a challenge at Luke. "Do you argue that, Jedi?"

"No," Luke said, giving up. "Three warriors should be all right.  I  take

it you're coming, too, Ambassador?"

"Absolutely," Jinzler said firmly. His tension had faded a bit  into  the

background of his mind, but it was definitely still there. "My si?my superiors

on Coruscant would insist on it."

"Then it's unanimous," Fel commented.  "Good.  Now  all  we're  doing  is

wasting time."

"After fifty years, I do not think a  few  more  minutes  will  make  any

difference," Drask said acidly. He turned back to the standard-bearer, who had

stopped when the discussion began and was standing awaiting orders. "Return to

the Chaf Envoy and signal drace-two alert," the general said. "Then order  the

Number Two Honor Squad to report to this chamber. They must be standing  ready

in the event we require immediate assistance." His blazing eyes  dared  anyone

to argue with him.

No one did. "Very well, then," Formbi said. "Let us  all  return  to  the

Chaf Envoy and obtain such equipment as each person wishes to  carry  on  this

journey through the past." He  glanced  down  at  his  elaborate  robes.  "And

perhaps a change of clothing would be in order, as well," he added.  "We  will

reassemble here in thirty standard minutes and begin our search."

* * *

The first stretch of the trip went smoothly enough. The place  felt  like

an extended tomb, with the bare metal decks and bulkheads dully reflecting the

dim glow of the permlight emergency panels  set  into  the  ceilings  and  the

brighter light from the party's own glow rods. But at  least  the  passageways

were open and relatively uncluttered by debris. Various rooms opened  off  the

main corridor, some of them large enough for the glow rod beams to  fade  into

the darkness, and the distant walls and ceilings of those larger rooms  echoed

their footsteps eerily as they stepped briefly inside for a look. Most of  the

rooms were loaded with silent equipment or dusty storage  boxes.  Occasionally

they came across a sleeping area with rows of empty bunks and  personal  items

scattered on the deck around them.

Mara walked up front with Luke, trying to read beyond the  reach  of  her

glow rod beam and wondering a little how this particular  marching  order  had

been set up. She and Luke were the most reasonable  ones  to  take  point,  of

course, and she had no particular problem  with  Formbi,  Drask,  and  Jinzler

following directly behind them.

But then came Fel, Feesa, and one of the stormtroopers, with the  Geroons

behind them. At the very back, walking silently despite their armor, came  the

other three stormtroopers.

The more she thought about it, the more the arrangement bothered her. Her

own training would have put Fel and all four stormtroopers at the back,  where

they could act as a rear guard in case of trouble from that direction. If  Fel

still insisted on detaching one of his men, that spare stormtrooper  ought  to

be closer to the front, probably directly  behind  her  and  Luke,  where  his

firepower would be available without him having to worry about shooting around

Jinzler and both of the senior Chiss.

Twice in that first stretch she  thought  about  halting  the  party  and

calling for a  rearrangement.  But  both  times  something  stopped  her,  and

eventually she gave up on the idea. Fel's military training was certainly more

recent than hers, and it was possible the Empire of the Hand's tacticians  had

come up with a more efficient military doctrine than she'd been taught.

After the first fifty meters,  travel  abruptly  became  more  difficult.

Shattered slabs of insulation material, buckled bulkheads, and twisted support

beams seemed to be everywhere, littering the corridors and sometimes  blocking

doorways and the smaller side corridors completely.

"What happened here?" Feesa murmured as Luke carefully pushed aside a set

of dangling power cables covered with splintered armor sheaths.

"We've reached the part of the  ship  where  the  main  turbolasers  were

located," Fel told her. "You remember  Mara  pointing  out  that  the  weapons

blisters had been severely damaged? They  would  have  been  Thrawn's  primary

target."

"He did a thorough job, too,  I  see,"  Formbi  said.  "Why  haven't  the

maintenance machines fixed this?"

"None of the droids they had aboard would have been big enough to  handle

damage this extensive," Fel said. "The survivors must have decided  it  wasn't

worth the trouble to clear it away themselves."

"Or were unable to work in safety," Drask added. "With so many  stars  in

such close proximity to each other, the radiation levels are higher inside the

Redoubt cluster than most humans are accustomed to."

"Are we therefore in danger?" Bearsh asked nervously.

"We won't be here long enough for that," Luke  assured  him.  "The  outer

hull is thick enough to stop most of the radiation. You'd have  to  live  here

months or years before you started having problems."

"Which probably explains why they decided to live in  one  of  the  lower

Dreadnaughts," Mara put in. "Whatever the hull doesn't block,  all  that  rock

out there should be able to handle."

"Or else the other Dreadnaughts aren't damaged this badly," Fel said.

Luke shrugged. "We'll find out."

"Is that where we're going?" Jinzler asked. "To the lower ships?"

"That seems to be where the survivors are," Luke said. "Before we try  to

find the way down, though, I'd like to see if we can work our  way  up  a  few

levels to the command deck. If it's in decent shape, there may be records left

that'll tell us exactly what happened."

Bearsh made a subdued whistling sound in the back of  his  throats.  "And

what truly is the  chance  of  that?"  he  asked  darkly.  "We  see  here  how

thoroughly this Thrawn was committed to its destruction."

"Thrawn never destroyed more than was absolutely  necessary,"  Fel  said.

"There would have been no reason to wreck the command deck if taking  out  the

shield generators and turbolasers was all he needed."

Jinzler turned his head. "What in the worlds are you talking  about?"  he

demanded. "All he needed? What did he need to destroy Outbound Flight  for  in

the first place?"

"He had his reasons," Fel insisted.

"He had reasons for killing civilians?" Jinzler shot back.  "Men,  women,

and children who never did him any harm? What,  he  just  needed  some  target

practice that day and they conveniently happened along? And  you."  He  turned

his glare on Formbi and Drask. "You Chiss. What did you do to stop him?"

"That's enough, Ambassador," Mara put in, flashing a warning at him  with

her eyes. Formbi had already said the Chiss were carrying their  own  load  of

guilt over this thing. There was no need to hammer it into  the  ground.  "The

past is over and done with."

"Is it?" Jinzler asked her pointedly. "Is it really?"

"Yes," Luke put in firmly. "And bringing up  anyone's  failures?anyone's?

isn't going to accomplish anything. Let's concentrate on finding these  people

and seeing what we can do for them, all right?"

"Of course," Jinzler muttered. "I'm sorry. I'm just?"

"Something's coming," the stormtrooper beside Fel cut  in,  swinging  his

BlasTech toward  a  half-crushed  equipment  crawl  space  branching  off  the

corridor to their right.

The other three stormtroopers were at his side in an  instant,  spreading

themselves into a defensive semicircle between the crawlspace and the rest  of

the party, their weapons leveled at the opening.  "Steady,"  Fel  warned.  "If

there's going to be shooting, we don't want to be the ones to start it."

Soft but steady footsteps could be heard now. Mara  drew  her  lightsaber

but didn't ignite it, stretching out to the Force. There didn't seem to be any

presence that direction that she could detect. "Probably a droid," she said.

"What kind  of  walking  droid  could  fit  through  that  opening?"  Fel

objected.

A few seconds later he got his answer as a low-slung,  badly  dented  box

about half a meter long and  a  few  centimeters  high  rolled  into  view  on

battered treads. "A walking droid with a bad limp?" Luke suggested as  one  of

the treads gave a soft thunk that sounded exactly like a  footstep.  "What  is

that, a floor cleaner?"

"Probably does floors and small-object  retrieval,"  Fel  said,  stepping

back as the droid rolled past his feet toward  a  pile  of  shattered  plastic

insulation, leaving faint tread marks in the dust as it  went.  "Part  of  the

main cleaning system, I'd guess."

"I see," Luke said, looking over at Mara.

She nodded back. Given  the  layer  of  dust  on  everything,  it  seemed

unlikely that their group had shown up just as the cleaner  was  starting  its

monthly or yearly run. It was far more likely that the droid had been equipped

with a holocam and comlink and sent to check out the intruders.

Either as an observer, or as a decoy.

She shifted her attention away from the  droid,  searching  the  corridor

ahead. There was too much debris to see very  far,  but  it  looked  like  the

passageway widened a short way ahead. A  perfect  place  for  an  ambush.  She

caught Luke's eye and nodded toward it; he nodded back and  slipped  past  her

into the corridor.

"It is truly amazing," Bearsh said, shaking his  head  in  wonderment  as

they watched the cleaner droid extend a pair of slender arms and begin sorting

through pieces of the insulation. "So that is a droid.  And  it  runs  all  by

itself?"

One of the stormtroopers looked over at Luke as he disappeared  behind  a

section of hanging ceiling material, the armored chest lifting slightly as  he

took a breath to speak. Mara shook her head  in  warning;  his  helmet  dipped

slightly in acknowledgment  and  he  remained  silent.  "This  one's  probably

connected to a central housekeeping computer," Jinzler told the Geroon. "Small

units like this don't have the logic capacity to run completely on their own."

"I see," Bearsh said. "But there are those that do, correct?"

"All sorts," Jinzler  confirmed.  "Everything  from  protocol  droids  to

astromech droids to medical droids."

"And battle droids and droidekas?" one of the other Geroons  asked.  "Did

they also run independently?"

"Some of the later versions could," Jinzler said.  "But  again,  most  of

them were run off a central computer system."

"A terrifying weapon," Bearsh murmured.

"Not really," Fel said. "The whole droid  army  concept  is  pretty  well

outmoded these days, at least in the Empire of the Hand. How about in the  New

Republic, Ambassador?"

"A few systems  still  use  droidekas,"  Jinzler  said.  "Mostly  smaller

colonies on undeveloped worlds in  Wild  Space  where  people  need  perimeter

guards at night to protect against native predators."

Bearsh shivered. "Such awesome power in your hands. Yet you make  no  use

of it?"

"We're not in the conquering business anymore, Steward," Jinzler reminded

him.

"Besides, power's only one part of the equation for good  soldiers,"  Fel

said. "The problem with battle droids was that they were really pretty stupid.

.."

Mara felt the urgent touch of her husband's  mind.  Leaving  Fel  to  his

lecture, she slipped quietly down the corridor.

Luke was standing just  inside  the  wide  area  she'd  spotted  earlier.

"What've we got?" she murmured.

He pointed at a stack of flat gray boxes along  the  left-hand  bulkhead.

"Looks a little too neat for random debris," he murmured back. "Booby trap?"

Mara ran through the Jedi sensory-enhancement techniques and took a slow,

careful breath. The subtle background smells of the ship suddenly jumped  into

full focus: dust, plastic, metal, rust,  a  general  odor  of  age.  She  took

another breath, sorting through them all.

And this time she caught the faint but unmistakable tang of explosives.

"If it's not, it's a terrific imitation of one," she  confirmed,  letting

the odors fade into the background again. "Remote-triggered, you think?"

"You're the demolitions expert in the family,"  he  reminded  her.  "They

can't have it on timer, though, and I can't see anyone wasting a droid to come

in and set them off."

"Me, neither," Mara agreed. "I presume we're not stupid  enough  to  just

rush the stack?"

"I don't even think we're stupid enough to get anywhere  near  it,"  Luke

said. "Let's back up a bit and see if we can find another route."

"I don't know," Mara said doubtfully, looking around at the  devastation.

"There's enough damage here  in  the  central  corridor.  The  other,  smaller

passageways are likely to be even worse."

"Only until we get through the weapon and shield  sections,"  Luke  said.

"The rest of the ship may be in better shape. Actually, this is  one  of  four

central corridors through this part of the ship. They  run  parallel  to  each

other on opposite sides  of  the  centerline,  collapsing  down  to  two  main

corridors as you get closer to the bow."

"Really," Mara said, frowning. "Since when do  you  know  so  much  about

Dreadnaughts?"

"Since Han and I had a running battle with a bunch  of  Imperials  aboard

the Katana," Luke told her dryly, "You learn a lot about a ship's architecture

when you're dodging blaster bolts. Come on, let's go tell the others."

Fel had finished his lecture by the time they rejoined the group.  "There

you are," Drask said, his eyes flashing. "Where did you go?"

"Just scouting ahead," Luke assured him. "Looks like we're going to  have

to cross to one of the other corridors."

Drask's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Luke looked over at the housekeeper  droid,  still  picking  through  the

rubble. "There's a booby trap in there," he said. "I'd just as soon  not  have

to take the time to disarm it. There's another cross-corridor we can use about

ten meters ahead that'll get us back to this one."

"There is a trap?" Bearsh gasped. "But why would anyone wish to hurt  us?

We have come to honor them."

"Yes, but they don't know that," Luke said. "All we  can  do  is  try  to

avoid trouble until we can explain it to them."

"Until then, we must make certain such a meeting does in fact take place,

" Drask said grimly, pulling out a comlink.

"Wait a minute," Fel said. "What are you doing?"

"Summoning an escort," Drask said.  "This  is  no  longer  a  matter  for

diplomats."

"We have an escort," Fel countered.  "Trust  me:  the  Five-Oh-First  can

handle things."

"That is not sufficient," Drask insisted. "Even if they are  as  good  as

you claim, they cannot adequately protect us all. We require a stronger force.

"

"That  might  not  be  a  good  idea,  General,"  Luke  warned.  "If  the

inhabitants are monitoring our progress, a show of that much  force  might  be

taken as a threat."

"He's right," Formbi said, not  sounding  particularly  happy  about  it.

"Leave the warriors in reserve for now, General Drask. We'll retreat  and  use

the route Master Skywalker suggests."

"I disagree completely," Drask growled.  But  he  put  the  comlink  away

without further argument. "Very well, Master Skywalker. Lead the way."

* * *

The side corridors Luke had chosen weren't any easier  to  navigate  than

the main corridor  had  been.  There  was  less  actual  debris  lying  around

underfoot, but the state of the bulkheads and ceiling more than  made  up  for

it. Many of the bulkheads had buckled,  twisting  wall  plates  out  at  crazy

angles into the corridor, many of them broken and  sharp-edged.  Something  in

here must have exploded during the battle, Mara decided  as  the  group  eased

gingerly past the rubble.

It took them more than an hour to pick their way through that  first  150

meters. They saw two more droids in  that  time,  both  of  them  housekeeping

types, both of them eliciting words of amazement  from  the  Geroons.  It  was

clear, at least to Mara, that someone was indeed watching their progress.

But there were no other booby traps, at least none that they were able to

detect. Certainly nothing went off in the confining spaces. Perhaps,  as  Luke

had hoped, whoever was monitoring the droids had gotten the message that their

visitors had no ill intentions toward them.

Or else they were simply preparing a more memorable reception farther in.

As expected, once they were past the main turbolaser batteries the damage

began to drop off considerably. Fifty meters after that, it  became  no  worse

than a sort of dusty clutter. "What is  this  place?"  Bearsh  asked  as  they

passed through a large room lined with consoles and monitor displays.

"This is the fleet tactical room," Fel said. "In a battle, this is  where

this ship would coordinate combat with the rest of its companion ships."

"The Vagaari must have had rooms like this aboard their vessels," one  of

the other Geroons said. "Larger even than this, perhaps. They had huge fleets.

"

"Yes," Bearsh agreed, a shiver running through him.  "They  darkened  the

sky when they passed through the air of our world."

"This appears to be in a workable state," Drask commented, stepping  over

to  one  of  the  consoles  for  a  closer  look.  "Would  this  be  a   place

Mitth'raw'nuruodo might have deliberately spared?"

"It's  possible,"  Fel  said.  "The  six  Dreadnaughts  were   presumably

coordinated directly from the primary command ship, without any need for  this

room to even be crewed."

"Unless this is the command ship," Jinzler reminded him.

"And of course, we don't know whether  any  of  these  consoles  actually

works," Mara added, frowning as she stretched out to the Force.  There  seemed

to be a flicker of a  presence  lurking  somewhere  ahead  of  them.  But  the

sensation came and went, as if the person was appearing and then disappearing.

Someone only half conscious, perhaps?

"Might be worth trying to start them  up,"  Luke  suggested,  throwing  a

glance at Mara. So he'd caught the tentative contact, too. "What do you think,

Commander?"

Fel's forehead furrowed briefly, then cleared as he caught on. "Sure, why

not?" he agreed with false enthusiasm. "In fact, it might be  easier  to  find

records back here than it would on  the  command  deck.  That  console  you're

looking at, General?let's see if we can get it started."

Drask stepped back and gestured toward the board. "Go ahead."

"Right," Fel said, pulling out the chair and  sitting  down.  "Let's  see

now..." Tentatively, he keyed a few switches. The console beeped twice, and  a

few of its indicators came reluctantly to life. "Okay. Let's try this..."

Luke, Mara noted, was already gone. She waited until the entire group was

watching Fel, then slipped out after him.

He was waiting for her just outside the tactical  room.  "You  felt  her,

too?" he asked quietly.

Her? Mara's mind flashed back to Jinzler's story  about  his  sister.  "I

felt something, but it kept coming and going," she said.  "You  think  it's  a

woman?"

"A girl, actually," he said. "Too young to be Lorana. Sorry."

"Well, it was a long  shot,"  Mara  conceded,  trying  not  to  feel  too

disappointed. "Let's see if we can find her before we're missed."

"Too late," a voice murmured darkly from behind her.

She glanced at Luke, caught his grimace. "Hello, General,"  she  said  as

she turned around.

Drask was standing alone in the corridor, his posture  stiff.  "You  must

think we are fools," he bit out. "You and Commander Fel both.  Do  you  really

think the Chiss can be so easily deceived in the same way twice?"

"Forgive us," Luke said, bowing to him. "We  were  merely  concerned  for

your safety."

"I do not need my safely guarded," Drask countered. "I do  not  know  how

you humans do such things, but Chiss leaders do  not  merely  sit  behind  the

young warriors and watch them fight."

"I understand," Luke said. "Perhaps I misspoke. I meant we were concerned

for the Aristocra's safety."

"Better," Drask rumbled. "But be advised: this is still a  Chiss  vessel,

and you will not again move ahead of me."

"Understood," Luke said. "Again, our apologies."

"Very well." Drask glanced back over his shoulder. "Then let us  continue

before the others notice our absence."

They had gone perhaps ten meters when the wisp of sensation again touched

Mara's mind. Luke had been right: it was definitely female. "She's just ahead,

" she warned Luke, peering at the equipment and occasional piles of debris  as

she tried to pin down the girl's location. Five  meters  ahead,  the  corridor

opened into a large room with its door frozen partially open,  and  she  could

see more of the same type of consoles as they'd found in the tactical room.

"She must be in the sensor room," Luke said, pointing toward  the  frozen

door. "You want to hang back while General Drask and I check it out?"

Mara bit back a retort. Obviously, Luke  was  being  diplomatic.  "Sounds

good," she said. Stepping to the  side,  she  planted  her  back  against  the

corridor wall. Luke and Drask continued forward, the general's hand resting on

the charric belted at his waist. They stepped to the sensor room door and Luke

ducked down and started to ease his way beneath it?

"Are you Jedi?" a soft voice asked from behind Mara.

Mara spun around, old combat reflexes flaring as her  hand  automatically

went to her lightsaber. The girl standing quietly in the corridor was no older

than ten, plainly but neatly dressed, her dark auburn hair glistening  in  the

light. She was looking at Mara with bright, unblinking blue eyes.

Standing in the corridor behind Mara. How in blazes had she managed that?

Mara found her voice. "Yes, we are," she told the girl.  "We're  here  to

help you."

"Oh," the girl said. For a moment she seemed to study Mara, an  uncertain

look on her face. Then she shifted her gaze to Drask and Luke, eyeing  her  in

turn as they stood together by the sensor room door. "And  a  Blue  One,"  she

went on. "Are you here to hurt us?"

"No one will hurt you," Drask assured her. "As the Jedi said, we are here

to help."

"Oh," the girl said, her voice completely matter-of-fact. "Well, you  can

tell him that." She gestured to an alcove just behind her. "He's  waiting  for

you."

"We'll look forward to seeing him," Luke  said,  wondering  who  she  was

talking about. The survivors' leader, perhaps? "What's your name?"

"I'm Evlyn," she said. "Will you follow me, please?"

"We must first alert the others of our group," Drask added,  pulling  out

his comlink.

"They'll be all right," Evlyn assured him as she stepped into the alcove.

"They'll be brought through right behind us."

She touched a control. The wall blocking the far end of the  alcove  slid

smoothly up into the ceiling, revealing a short corridor with another door  at

the far end. "Come on," she invited, stepping inside and heading for the  door

in the opposite wall.

Mara frowned. Aside from the door at the far end and another  one  midway

along the left-hand  wall,  the  corridor  was  completely  bare.  A  security

transit, perhaps, with hidden sensors that would allow whoever was  beyond  to

get a close look at prospective visitors?

Possibly. It could also be another booby trap.

Still, unless the rest of the survivors were prepared  to  sacrifice  the

girl, it ought to be safe enough. Provided, of course, she and the others  got

inside with the girl before she disappeared through the far door.

Again, Luke's thoughts were mirroring hers. "Mara, you  and  the  general

had better stay here," he said as he stepped into the corridor  behind  Evlyn,

taking long strides as he tried to catch up without looking too obvious  about

it. "He can call back and alert the rest of the party."

"No," Drask insisted, brushing past Luke in turn and  striding  into  the

corridor ahead of him. "You do not go ahead alone."

Evlyn had reached the far end and was reaching for a small control  panel

set into the wall beside the door.  Mara  hesitated,  stretching  out  to  the

Force, trying to reach back to Formbi's group behind them. There was  no  fear

or sudden surprise back there that she could detect.

Abruptly, she made up her mind. If this whole thing  was  legitimate,  it

wouldn't hurt to be separated from the others for a  few  minutes,  especially

with Fel and the 501st there to guard them. If it was a trap, two Jedi  always

had a better chance than one. "We can call them  on  the  way,"  she  decided,

stepping in behind Drask.

She was just in time. Even as she ducked beneath the door, it  slid  down

behind her. "Hurry," Evlyn said, beckoning them forward. Mara took a long step

to catch up to Luke?

She caught the warning flicker an instant before it happened. But it  was

too late. Even as she and  Luke  grabbed  for  their  lightsabers,  two  doors

abruptly slammed down from the ceiling, one  in  front  of  Drask,  the  other

behind Mara, cutting the corridor into thirds and trapping them in the  center

section.

With a lurch, the floor dropped out from under them.

CHAPTER 12

"Jedi!" Drask bellowed, making the word a curse. "Do something!"

But for that first terrifying second there was  nothing  either  of  them

could do. Luke fought for balance, feeling Mara's chagrin mixing with his own.

The room kept falling, far faster than the planetoid's own weak gravity  could

possibly have pulled it. Too late, now, he realized they'd been decoyed into a

disguised turbolift car.

Then, so unexpectedly and abruptly that he  nearly  fell  over,  the  car

braked to a halt.

"Good day, Jedi." The disembodied  voice  came  from  the  control  panel

beside the side door. "Good day, Blue One."

"We are called Chiss," Drask corrected the voice tartly.

"Ah," the voice said. "Good day, then, Chiss. I'm Jorad Pressor, Guardian

of the People."

"Interesting way you have of greeting peaceful visitors," Mara commented.

"You at least going to come out where we can talk face to face?"

"Whom I deal with is my decision, not  yours,"  Pressor  said.  "For  the

moment, that's not going to be you."

"For a very short moment," Mara countered. "Or do you really expect  this

box to hold us for long?"

"Long enough," Pressor assured her. "Let me explain.  The  reason  you've

stopped moving is that your turbolift car is currently sitting  at  a  gravity

eddy point being balanced by two equal and opposite focused repulsor beams. If

either of them is cut off, you'll be instantly shot through the tube to  smash

into either the  Dreadnaught  you  just  left  or  the  Dreadnaught  you  were

intending to travel to. Either way, it will be very messy."

"For your vessel as well as for us," Drask warned. "Such an impact may do

serious damage to your structural integrity."

"I don't think so," Pressor said. "Of course, none of you would ever know

for certain."

"True," Luke conceded. "I presume there's more?"

"I know about Jedi lightsabers," Pressor said. "I know you could normally

cut your way out of the car with ease. In this  case,  however,  I'd  strongly

advise against trying it. The power and control cables for both repulsor beams

are wrapped in random patterns around the car. Cut any of the wires, upsetting

the balance of forces, and it will be the last thing you ever do."

Luke looked at Mara. "You've spent a lot of time thinking this  out,"  he

said. "Have you had a lot of Jedi visitors in the past fifty years?"

"We haven't had any visitors at all," Pressor said,  his  voice  suddenly

cold and bitter. "But I've always known that someday the Republic  would  send

someone to hunt us down. It seemed only prudent to take precautions."

Luke shook his head. "You've got it all wrong," he said, putting all  the

persuasion he could into his voice. "We're not here for revenge or retribution

or whatever. We're?"

"Don't bother trying to communicate with the rest of your people, either,

" Pressor interrupted him. "All comlink frequencies  are  being  jammed.  Make

yourselves comfortable, and cultivate that renowned Jedi patience."

There was a click, and the voice was gone.

"Interesting,"  Drask  commented,  turning  to  face   Luke.   "Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano has often stated that the Jedi are honored  and  admired  by

all. Apparently, he was mistaken."

"Very much mistaken," Luke agreed, looking  slowly  around  the  car.  Up

close, the walls appeared to be solid metal, with no signs  of  tampering.  If

their captors were monitoring them, the holocams  and  voice  pickups  had  to

either be hidden in the control board or else buried in  the  line  where  the

walls and ceiling met, where numerous age cracks had opened up in  the  metal.

"There are any number of people who don't like Jedi,"  he  continued,  lifting

his eyebrows at Mara. She nodded to the control  panel,  then  put  her  hands

together in a right angle.

So she'd come to the same conclusion he had. Nodding back,  Luke  slipped

off his emergency-kit backpack and popped it open.

Mara picked up the explanation: "Of course, most of them are criminals or

warmongers." She had her own backpack off now, her fingers sorting through the

contents. "Jedi are supposed to keep the peace, so of course those groups hate

us."

"Corrupt politicians don't like us much,  either,"  Luke  added,  digging

beneath the ration bars and water  tubes  and  pulling  out  his  liquid-cable

dispenser. Mara was already ready with her contribution: her medpac's tube  of

synthflesh wound healer. "I wonder which category Pressor falls into."

"Maybe none of them," Mara said. Stepping to a corner of  the  room,  she

began laying a thin bead of the synthflesh into the line between  ceiling  and

wall. "Maybe he just doesn't think talking to us would get him anywhere."

"Maybe," Luke said, coming up beside his wife and playing out an  equally

thin line of liquid cable on top of the synthflesh before it  could  solidify.

"Not here in Chiss space, anyway."

"If they even  know  where  they  are,"  Mara  said.  "Maybe  once  we've

persuaded them we're here to help we can all sit down together  and  hear  the

whole story."

An uncomfortable silence descended on the car. Mara  reached  the  corner

and continued on along the next wall, Luke right  beside  her.  Liquid  cable,

which solidified instantly on contact with the air, was designed  specifically

not to be sticky so that it wouldn't hang up  on  anything  as  it  was  being

extruded. The synthflesh, on the other hand, was designed just as specifically

to stick solidly to wounds, protecting them from the air and  further  injury.

Together, they made a perfect barrier against the age cracks and anything that

might be hidden behind them.

Once they finished with the walls, it would be a simple matter  to  block

the view from the control panel with one of their all-temperature  cloaks.  If

Pressor didn't interfere, they should be finished in a few minutes.

Pressor didn't, and they were. "There," Luke said at last, stepping  back

to admire their handiwork. "That should at least keep them from watching us."

"A useful start," Drask said, his tone neutral. Clearly,  he  wasn't  all

that impressed. "Yet we are still inside. What now?"

"Now," Luke said, smiling tightly at Mara, "you'll get to see how Jedi do

things."

* * *

From somewhere ahead came a distant clunk. "What was that?" Feesa  asked,

looking up.

"Machinery," Grappler said, lifting his BlasTech and taking a step toward

the passageway Luke and Mara had  disappeared  down  a  few  minutes  earlier.

"Possibly a door sealing."

"The Skywalkers!" Jinzler said sharply, looking around. "They're gone!"

"It's all right, Ambassador," Formbi said calmly. "They went with General

Drask to scout ahead." He peered in that direction. "It's time we joined them.

"

Fel suppressed a grimace. He'd assumed the two Jedi would be back  before

they were missed, or at least before it was time to move on. This was going to

play havoc with his marching order. "Stormtroopers, form up," he ordered. "Two

and two, front and rear."

"I'd prefer they hold rearguard position, Commander," Formbi said. "You"?

he gestured to the three Chiss warriors?"come with me."

Without waiting for comment or argument, he strode off down the corridor,

one of the Chiss warriors taking point two steps ahead of him as the other two

moved into position on either side of him.

Fel hissed between his teeth as Jinzler, Feesa, and the Geroons moved off

behind the procession. He hated being stuck all the way in the back this  way.

"Rearguard formation," he ordered the stormtroopers.

He was striding along behind Bearsh  when  a  young,  auburn-haired  girl

stepped out of concealment in front of the lead warrior,  bringing  the  whole

group to an abrupt halt. "Hello," she said calmly, as if visitors  dropped  by

Outbound Flight every day. "Are you here to see the Guardian?"

Formbi glanced at Jinzler, then back to the girl. "We're here to see  the

survivors of Outbound Flight, and to help them," he said. "Is the Guardian the

one we need to see?"

"Yes," the girl confirmed. "Come; I'll take you to him."

She turned and headed down the corridor toward the forward  sensor  room.

"Who are all of you?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I am Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family of the Chiss

Ascendancy," Formbi identified himself. "This  is  my  aide,  Chaf'ees'aklaio.

This"?he gestured to Jinzler?"is Ambassador Dean Jinzler of the New  Republic.

Our expedition also includes representatives of the  Geroon  Remnant  and  the

Empire of the Hand."

"So many people here to see us," the  girl  commented,  turning  into  an

alcove to her left.

"Yes," Formbi said. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Evlyn," she said. "This way, please." She touched a control  on  the

wall, and a door slid open in front of her. Gesturing the  others  to  follow,

she stepped inside.

Fel stepped close beside Cloud as Formbi and the others filed through the

doorway. "Are you picking up Drask or the Jedi anywhere?" he murmured.

"I have no sensor contact," the stormtrooper murmured back. "But  there's

a lot of metal and electronic equipment in here. It may be shielding them."

"Maybe," Fel said, pulling out his comlink as he  and  the  stormtroopers

reached the doorway. The opening led into  a  short  corridor,  he  saw,  with

another door at the far end and a third door  midway  down  the  wall  on  the

right. Formbi, the Chiss warriors, and two of the Geroons  were  right  behind

the girl, while Jinzler, Feesa, Bearsh, and the fourth  Geroon  had  fallen  a

couple of paces behind the leaders as they looked around the  empty  corridor.

"Cloud, Grappler: go catch up to Formbi," he ordered quietly. At the  far  end

of the corridor, Evlyn touched a control, and the door slid  up  in  front  of

her. "We'll stay back here and?"

He never finished the sentence.  Evlyn  stepped  through  the  door;  but

instead of staying open, the panel slammed violently down  right  in  Formbi's

face. Even as Fel drew his blaster, another door dropped out of  a  groove  in

the ceiling in front of Cloud, cutting the Imperials off from the rest of  the

party. He spun around in time to see the door they'd come though slam down  in

turn, isolating them from the rest of the ship.

An instant later, the floor seemed to drop out from under  him  as  their

newly created prison began to fall.

It braked to a stop before he had time for  more  than  a  single  curse.

"Good day," a voice said from a speaker in the  control  panel.  "My  name  is

Guardian Pressor. You're in a turbolift car that is being held  in  suspension

between two opposing repulsor beams. Do you understand this?"

"Perfectly," Fel said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm Commander Chak

Fel of the Empire of the Hand. Interesting trap you've got here."

"Merely  making  use  of  limited  resources,"  Pressor  said.  "The  six

turbolift  cars  running  through  this  pylon  were   designed   to   operate

independently, but could also be connected together for large cargoes."

"Ah," Fel said. "I take it this pylon you  mentioned  is  the  connecting

tube between these particular two Dreadnaughts?"

"The wiring that feeds power to the repulsor beams  also  wraps  randomly

around the outside of the car," Pressor  said,  ignoring  the  question.  "I'd

therefore advise against trying to shoot or cut your way out."

"Understood," Fel said. Clearly, Pressor  wasn't  interested  in  a  long

conversation. "What is it you want from us?"

"From you, nothing," Pressor said. "I'll speak with you again  when  I've

come to a decision concerning your group."

"Very well," Fel said, looking casually around the car. There would be at

least one hidden monitor in here, he knew. "Would it help to tell you we  come

in peace, and in the hope of helping you and your people?"

"Not really, no," Pressor said.

The speaker clicked off. "Anyone?" Fel invited sourly.

"They're jamming our comlinks," Shadow offered. "I can't raise any of the

others."

"Big surprise there," Fel said. "What about monitors?"

"One," Grappler said, pointing his BlasTech toward the control panel.  "I

mark the monitor system feed in there."

"Concur," Watchman agreed.

Fel nodded. "All right, then," he said, digging into his emergency  pack.

"The others are off by themselves, out of our reach and  protection.  That  is

unacceptable."

His fingers located the insulator blanket and emergency food  paste  he'd

been looking for. So Pressor was proud that  he  could  make  use  of  limited

resources? Fine. As far as Fel was concerned,  the  Empire  of  the  Hand  had

invented that particular operational philosophy. "So let's  make  ourselves  a

little privacy," he continued, crossing toward the hidden monitor,  "and  then

see what exactly we can do about this."

* * *

"...so I'd advise against trying to shoot your way  out,"  Pressor  said,

wiping the sweat from his forehead in the  hot  room  as  he  once  again  ran

through the warning message he'd prepared. "Is that understood?"

"Clearly," the Blue One?Chiss?who had  identified  himself  as  Aristocra

something-or-other said calmly. He'd ended up in  the  Number  Four  Turbolift

Car, along with three more Chiss and two of the other, unknown aliens.  "We'll

await your decision," the Aristocra continued. "I would simply say that  we've

come here to help you, not to harm you."

"I understand," Pressor said. "I'll speak with you soon."

He cut off the speaker, scowling blackly at the fuzzy image that was  the

best the turbolift monitors could handle anymore. Of course they weren't  here

to harm anyone. Just like those strange soldiers with their  white  armor  and

hidden faces weren't here to harm anyone, or the Jedi  weren't  here  to  harm

anyone.

Jedi.

For a long minute Pressor stared at the image of  the  two  Jedi  on  the

Number Two display. It was hard to tell on the ancient and failing  equipment,

but they looked young, probably younger than he himself was.

But of course, age didn't mean anything. According to Director Uliar, the

Jedi culture and methods were centuries old, passed down from  one  generation

to the next with all the passion and rigidity of a system kept  alive  through

sheer inertia. If these two were following in that same tradition, they  would

be exactly like the Jedi who had set out with Outbound Flight all those  years

ago.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Of course, he'd only been four when

Outbound Flight died, and admittedly nowhere near the center  of  the  action.

But still, he remembered those Jedi.

Or at least, he remembered one of them.

The control room door slid open, letting in a blast of even  hotter  air,

and Evlyn stepped inside. "Do we have all of them?" she asked.

"Every one," Pressor assured her, gazing back at his niece's bright  blue

eyes. They might look innocent?Evlyn herself might look  innocent?but  Pressor

wasn't fooled. There was something odd about the  girl,  something  he'd  been

aware of since she was three years old. Something the others would  eventually

notice, too.

"Good," Evlyn said, taking another stop toward Pressor to allow the  door

to slide shut behind her. "It's a lot cooler in here."

"A little cooler, anyway," Pressor said. "The repulsorlift generators are

running pretty hot."

"That's not good, is it?" Evlyn asked, peering over his shoulder  at  the

monitors.

"Not if one of them gets hot enough to fail, no," he conceded,  swiveling

back around in his creaky chair. "At least it would be a fast way to die."

He glanced over the bank of monitors, frowning. One of the  displays  was

suddenly showing nothing  except  black,  the  one  in  the  Number  Six  Car.

Muttering a curse at the antiquated equipment, he reached for the controls.

"That's not going to help," Evlyn said. "The man in the gray uniform  put

a piece of cloth over the monitor. I saw him do it as I was coming in."

Pressor glared over his shoulder at her. "And you didn't say anything?"

"What could you have done about it if I had?"

Disgustedly, he turned back around. She was right, of  course,  but  that

wasn't the point. "Next  time  you  see  something  important,  tell  me,"  he

growled. The low conversation coming from the Number Six speaker had  vanished

along with the video image, he noted, disappearing into a faint hum.  Cranking

up the volume did nothing but increase the intensity of the hum. "Did they  do

something to the voice pickup, too?" he asked Evlyn.

"I didn't see anything," she said, sounding puzzled. "That sounds  a  lot

like the hum from the repulsor generators, though."

"Of course it does," Pressor growled as  the  explanation  hit  him.  The

cloth they were using to block the camera was heavy  enough  to  pick  up  the

vibration from the wall and amplify it over the voice pickup, deafening him as

well as blinding him with a single move. So  much  for  keeping  tabs  on  the

armored soldiers and their officer.

And from the looks of things, the two Jedi were trying to shut him  down,

too. "Blast them all, anyway."

"You could," Evlyn reminded him.

Pressor grimaced. Yes, he could blast them, all right. He could blast all

of them. A flick of a switch, and they would be  slammed  down  the  turbolift

pylon hard enough to turn them into jelly. "We'll let them  be  for  now,"  he

told the girl. "Anyway, whether we can see them or not, they're still trapped.

"

He shifted his attention to the Number Five Car's monitor.  The  man  the

Aristocra had identified as Ambassador Jinzler was in  there,  plus  a  young-

looking Chiss and two of the aliens with the twin  mouths,  one  of  whom  was

currently pounding on the control panel as if trying to break it open.

Talking with them would be a  risk,  he  knew,  especially  if  this  New

Republic they'd mentioned was anything like the Republic Outbound  Flight  had

left all those years ago. But he had to talk to someone. And of all  those  in

the boarding party, at least none of this particular group  was  carrying  any

weapons.

"Go ahead and release Number Five," he told Evlyn. "Actually, give  me  a

couple of minutes to talk to them and then release it.  You  remember  how  to

deactivate the trap and put the car back on normal?"

"Sure," she said, reaching into a pocket  and  pulling  out  the  command

stick he'd given her. "Seven-three-three-six."

"Right," he said. "Bring them back up here and take  them  to  the  pilot

ready room. I'll be waiting for them there."

"Okay," she said, taking a step backward. The door behind her slid  open,

letting in another blast of hot air, and she was gone.

Pressor reached for the comm control, checking over the readings one last

time. Ambassador Jinzler?he repeated the name in his mind, making sure he  had

it right. Jinzler. Jinzler.

His fingers froze a centimeter from the comm switch. Jinzler?

He sucked in a lungful of hot air, staring at the  man  on  the  display.

Ambassador Jinzler, here aboard his ship. Jedi Lorana was how he'd known  her,

but her full name had been Jedi Lorana Jinzler.

With an effort, he forced his fingers to  travel  that  last  centimeter.

"Hello, Ambassador Jinzler."

* * *

Without warning, two huge panels slammed down  in  front  of  and  behind

them, the resonating thud as they hit the floor cutting across Feesa's  sudden

scream of fright. "It's all right," Jinzler said reflexively, reaching out  an

arm to catch her around her shoulders as she half fell,  half  lunged  against

his side. She jerked at his touch, but didn't pull away. "It's all right,"  he

repeated as soothingly as he could.

It wasn't soothing enough, evidently.  Her  body  was  trembling  as  she

pressed against him, her glowing eyes narrowed.  Jinzler  tightened  his  grip

around her shoulders, looking helplessly at Bearsh and the other Geroon  who'd

wound up trapped in here with them.

But neither alien was in any shape to give him any  assistance.  Bearsh's

companion had pulled his heavy wolvkil drapery half over his head, gripping it

by its blue-and-gold collar, as if instinctively preparing to  throw  off  the

extra weight and make a run for it, or else just as irrationally  hoping  that

he could hide underneath it. Bearsh himself was half crouched beside the door,

his twin mouths repeating the same agitated tones over and over as he clutched

the other Geroon's arm with one  hand  and  pounded  uselessly  on  the  small

control board beside the door with the other.

Jinzler looked around, searching for some clue as to what he  should  do.

But with the exception of the door and the  control  panel  Bearsh  was  still

pounding on, the room was completely devoid of decoration or  instrumentation.

The control panel itself didn't offer  much,  either.  There  were  only  five

options for stops, marked D-4-1, D-4-2, D-5-1, D-5-2, and SC, plus  the  usual

emergency buttons and a droid socket that would do  them  no  good  without  a

droid. Jinzler himself was unarmed, though what he  would  have  done  with  a

blaster even if he'd had  one  he  couldn't  guess.  He  did  have  a  comlink

connected to the Chaf Envoy, but whoever had sprung  this  trap  would  surely

have thought to jam their communications.

Still, it was worth a try. Slowly, carefully,  he  dug  into  the  proper

pocket of his survival pack.

There was a loud click  from  the  control  panel.  Bearsh  jumped  back,

twitching as if he'd been stung. "Hello, Ambassador Jinzler,"  a  man's  voice

said. "My name is Pressor, Guardian of this colony."

"Hello, Guardian," Jinzler said, trying to keep his voice calm. "This has

been something of a surprise."

"I'm sure it has," Pressor said. "And I apologize for that. But I'm  sure

you understand that we have to take precautions."

"Of course," Jinzler said, though he didn't, entirely. "May I ask  what's

happened to the rest of my party?"

"They're perfectly safe," Pressor assured him. "At least  for  now.  What

ultimately happens to all of you, of course, is still undecided. I'd  like  to

bring you out for a discussion, if I may."

An unpleasant thrill tingled across Jinzler's skin.  Ambassador  Jinzler.

He'd started  this  whole  charade  purely  to  get  himself  aboard  Formbi's

expedition. Quite unintentionally, he'd apparently sold these people  on  that

story, as well.

And unless he was misreading the tone of Pressor's voice, he was about to

be dropped into  negotiations  regarding  the  fate  of  everyone  aboard  the

expedition.

For a long second panic bubbled in his  throat.  He  wasn't  a  diplomat,

trained in mediation or negotiation. He was only an electronics tech. Mostly a

failed one, too, like he'd been a failure at everything else he'd tried.  Luke

and Mara should  be  handling  any  talks  with  Guardian  Pressor.  Them,  or

Aristocra Formbi?after all, this territory belonged to the Chiss, not the  New

Republic. Even  Commander  Fel  probably  had  more  experience  with  foreign

cultures than he did.

But he was the one Pressor had chosen. Arguing the point  would  probably

be a bad idea, and admitting his deception would be  even  worse.  Whether  he

liked it or not, it was up to him. "Certainly," he told the disembodied voice.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

"When the door opens you will step outside," Pressor said. "The girl  who

met you earlier will take you to a nearby room. I'll be waiting for you there.

"

"I understand," Jinzler said, glancing down at the top of  Feesa's  head.

"What about those in here with me?"

"They'll have to wait there until we're finished."

Feesa gave a soft whimper. "Please," she whispered. "Please. No."

"You  cannot  leave  us  here  alone,"  Bearsh  agreed  softly.  "Please,

Ambassador Jinzler."

Jinzler grimaced.  This  could  get  very  awkward.  "I  understand  your

concerns, Guardian," he said. "But my companions... they're not  exactly  what

you'd call heroic."

"We have no need of heroes here, Ambassador,"  Pressor  said,  his  voice

dark. "We don't need them, and we don't like them."

"Of course," Jinzler said hastily. "My point is that it's going to  be  a

severe hardship for them to stay here  alone.  Besides  which,"  he  added  as

inspiration finally struck, "First Steward Bearsh and the other Geroons came a

long way to pay you honor for saving them from  slavery  to  the  Vagaari  all

those years ago. I know they would  very  much  like  to  be  present  at  our

discussions."

There was no answer. Jinzler remained motionless, holding on to Feesa and

mentally crossing his fingers. "Very well," Pressor said at  last.  "They  may

all accompany you, provided they remain silent. I trust  you  are  willing  to

guarantee their behavior?"

"I am," Jinzler said firmly. "No one wants to hurt any of you. We're only

here to help."

Pressor snorted. "Of course you are."

* * *

With one final delicate slice  of  her  lightsaber,  Mara  cut  away  the

twenty-centimeter-square section of the turbolift car wall she'd been  working

on, leaving everything behind it untouched. The piece of  metal  fell  inward,

stopping abruptly in midair as Luke caught it in  a  Force  grip.  "Okay,"  he

said, easing it to the floor as warm air flowed in through the opening. "Let's

see what we've got."

"Mostly a lot of wires," Mara said,  switching  off  her  lightsaber  and

stepping closer to the wall.

Luke moved to her side. She was right: in just the  small  section  she'd

opened  up  there  were  no  fewer  than  eight  wires  of  different   colors

crisscrossing their way across the gap. "Guardian Pressor wasn't kidding about

the power cables being wrapped around the car," he commented.

"He sure wasn't," Mara agreed, pushing experimentally on one of them.  It

gave about a centimeter and then stopped. "Wrapped pretty tightly, too.  We're

not going to be able to push them far enough out of the way to squeeze between

them."

"What good would that do anyway?" Drask asked. "Even if we left the  car,

we would still be suspended in midair."

"Sure, but as long as we stayed out of the repulsor beams,  we'd  be  all

right," Luke told him. "All we'd have to deal with along the  edges  would  be

standard ship's gravity, and there should be access  ladders  built  into  the

sides of the tube we can use to get down."

"Except that the wires prevent us from reaching them," Drask said tartly.

"Have you any other ideas?"

"We're not finished with this one yet," Mara countered, just  as  tartly.

"What do you think, Luke? Should mine be on the other side?"

"Yes," Luke agreed. "Back to back always seems to work best."

"Right."

Crossing to the opposite side of the car,  Mara  ignited  her  lightsaber

again. With the delicacy of a surgical  droid,  she  began  to  cut  a  second

opening. "And this will accomplish what?" Drask asked.

"If we do it right, it'll get us out of here," Luke told him.

"And if we don't," Mara added helpfully, "at least it'll kill us quickly.

"

Drask didn't reply.

* * *

Watchman ran his induction meter to the lower edge of the rear  wall  and

straightened up. "Well?" Fel asked.

"The topside repulsor cable comes around the corner  right  about  here,"

the stormtrooper reported, marking the spot with a daub of synthflesh from his

medpac. "It's in slightly worse shape than the power  line  to  the  underside

generator?the field leakage is definitely stronger."

"Right." Fel shifted his attention to Grappler as he ran his  own  sensor

over the edges of the door. "Anything there?"

"Yes, but not promising," the other said. "If Watchman is right about the

differential in leakage levels, it appears the opposing sets of  power  cables

were dropped into a cross-connection  pattern  right  after  the  door  closed

behind us."

"So if we try to force it open,  we  break  one  of  the  circuits?"  Fel

suggested.

"Actually, we'd eventually break both of them," Watchman said dryly.  "At

least in theory. In actual practice, we'd probably be slammed  into  something

solid one direction or the other before the second circuit popped."

"Let's try to avoid that," Fel said, trying not to sound  sarcastic.  His

stormtroopers' apparently casual attitude, he knew, was just  that:  apparent.

Beneath the surface they were all working as hard as he was  to  sort  through

the facts and options. "Anyone have a less lethal suggestion to offer?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Cloud cleared his throat. "I'm not as

tech-trained as Watchman and Grappler," he said. "But if we drain some of  the

power to one of the repulsors, wouldn't the strength of the beam diminish?"

Fel rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. That was an interesting  direction  to

go. "Watchman?"

"I don't think so," the stormtrooper said slowly.  "Not  with  the  power

cables themselves."

"But we may be able to do something with  the  control  lines,"  Grappler

suggested. "If we can adjust them enough to lower their output, we may be able

to lower the car to ground level."

"Right," Watchman concurred. "Of course, we'll only be able to get to the

control cables if they're also wrapped around the car.  You  think  they  were

careless enough to do that?"

"I don't know," Fel said. "Let's find out."

* * *

The place Evlyn led them to reminded Jinzler of the meal room back at the

Comra relay post: a drab, viewportless place enclosed  in  undecorated  metal,

furnished only with a long, plain table and a handful of equally plain chairs.

Seated in the chair at the far end of the table was a dark-haired man  in

his midfifties with a lined, brooding face, dressed in the same simple fashion

as the girl.

"Good day," Jinzler said with a nod, trying  to  remember  how  diplomats

usually talked on the holodramas he'd liked to watch in  the  days  when  such

entertainments could still interest him. "Do I have the  honor  of  addressing

Guardian Pressor?"

"You do," Pressor  acknowledged.  His  eyes  flicked  to  Feesa  and  the

Geroons, lingered a moment on the wolvkils slung over the  aliens'  shoulders,

then came back to Jinzler. "Sit down."

"Thank you," Jinzler said, choosing a seat midway down the  table.  Feesa

took the chair beside him; Bearsh, perhaps sensing the lack  of  welcome,  sat

himself and his compatriot at the far end of the table, as far from Pressor as

possible.

"Let's make this simple, Ambassador," Pressor said as the  group  settled

in. "First of all, I don't trust you. Any of  you.  You  arrive  suddenly  and

without warning, invading my ship without even attempting to communicate  with

us first."

"I understand your feelings and your concerns," Jinzler  said.  "But  the

fact is, we didn't know anyone was here until we  were  already  aboard.  Even

then, if it hadn't been for the Jedi, we probably wouldn't  have  known  about

you until we stumbled over Evlyn here."

"Yes," Pressor murmured. "Well, we'll let that pass for the moment. Right

now, I'd like to hear why I should permit any of you to come farther into  our

world."

Jinzler smiled faintly. This  was  starting  to  sound  and  feel  almost

familiar.  Maybe  Pressor  had  learned  his  diplomatic  technique  from  the

holodramas, too. "Don't you mean, why should you permit any of us to live?" he

suggested. "Because that really is the question, isn't it?"

At least Pressor had the grace to blush.  "I  suppose  so,"  he  admitted

gruffly. "What can you offer that's worth risking the betrayal of my people?"

At the far end of the table Bearsh stirred in his seat. Jinzler threw him

a sharp look, and he subsided without speaking. "I  don't  know  exactly  what

happened to you," he said, turning back to Pressor. "It's obvious  you've  all

suffered tremendously. But I'm here?we're here?in the hope  of  bringing  that

suffering to an end."

"And then what?" Pressor demanded. "A glorious return  to  the  Republic?

Most of us volunteered for this voyage specifically to escape the  very  thing

you're offering."

"We're not the Republic you left," Jinzler said. "We're the New Republic.

"

"And, what, you no longer have squabbles  among  factions  and  members?"

Pressor countered. "The bureaucracy no longer exists? The leaders are wise and

benevolent and just?"

Jinzler hesitated. What exactly was he supposed to  say?  "Of  course  we

still have a bureaucracy," he said carefully. "It's impossible  to  operate  a

government without something of that  sort.  And  there  are  certainly  still

squabbles and factions. But we've already tried the other option:  rule  by  a

single, monolithic Empire. Most of us prefer the alternative."

"An Empire?" Pressor asked, frowning. "When was this?"

"The wheels were already in motion when Outbound Flight left  Coruscant,"

Jinzler said, wondering how much he should  say.  His  goal  was  to  convince

Pressor that the New Republic offered hope to these people, not  to  give  the

full history of one of the politicians' more spectacular failures. "At  first,

Palpatine only seemed to want peace?"

"Palpatine?" Pressor cut him off. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine?"

"That's the one," Jinzler confirmed. "As I was saying, at first  he  only

seemed to want to bring the Republic  together.  It  was  only  afterward,  in

hindsight, that we were able to see how he was drawing more and more power  to

himself."

"Interesting," Pressor said. "But that's the past. This is  the  present.

And I'm still waiting to hear a good reason why we should trust you."

Jinzler took a deep breath. "Because you're all alone out here," he said.

"You're in foreign territory, surrounded by the hazards and  lethal  radiation

of a tightly packed globular cluster, sitting in a ruined and useless ship."

"This ship is hardly useless," Pressor said stiffly. "With all  the  work

my father and the droids put into it, this particular  Dreadnaught  is  pretty

much ready to fly."

"Then  why  haven't  you  loaded  everyone  aboard  and  left?"   Jinzler

countered. "I'll tell you why. You haven't left because you have no  idea  how

to get out." He locked gazes with the other man. "The  bottom  line  is  this,

Guardian. If you don't trust us?if you kill us, or even if you  just  send  us

away, you and your descendants will be here forever."

Pressor's lip twitched. "I can think of worse fates."

"And if it were just you, I wouldn't have any problem with that decision.

" Jinzler turned to look at Evlyn, standing silently  just  inside  the  door.

"But it isn't just you, is it?"

Pressor muttered something under his  breath.  "Well,  one  thing  hasn't

changed between the Old and New Republics,"  he  said.  "The  politicians  and

diplomats still know how to fight dirty."

He waved a hand as Jinzler opened his mouth. "Never mind. I guess  that's

how the game has always been played."

"I'm not trying to push you into anything," Jinzler said quietly.  "We're

not in any rush, and you don't have to  make  any  decisions  right  now.  But

ultimately, you have to be aware that your decision is going  to  affect  more

than just your own life."

Pressor didn't reply. Jinzler listened to the silence, trying to think of

something else to say. "While you're thinking," he said as  he  finally  found

something, "we'd very much like to meet the rest of your people and  see  your

ship. It's a testimony to your ingenuity and perseverance that  you  were  all

able to survive for so long, particularly after suffering so much devastation.

"

For another long minute Pressor gazed at him with narrowed  eyes,  as  if

trying to decide whether the request was genuine or simply one more diplomats'

word game. Then, abruptly, he nodded. "All right," he said, pushing  back  his

chair and getting to his feet. "You want to see our home? Fine; let's  go  see

it."

"What about the  others?"  Jinzler  asked,  standing  up  as  well.  "The

Skywalkers and Aristocra Formbi and the rest?"

"They'll keep for now," Pressor said, circling the table toward the door.

"If we decide we're going to deal with you, I'll release them."

"It would be a nice  gesture  to  at  least  release  Aristocra  Formbi,"

Jinzler said, pressing the point cautiously. "You're in Chiss space, and  he's

a high-ranking member of the Chiss government.  You'll  certainly  need  their

help before this is over."

Pressor's lips compressed briefly. "I suppose," he said reluctantly. "All

right. The Aristocra and his group can join us. But the Jedi will  stay  where

they are." He considered. "So will those armored soldiers, I  think.  I  don't

much like the looks of them."

Jinzler bowed his head. "Thank you, Guardian," he said. To  be  perfectly

honest, he didn't much like the looks of the stormtroopers, either. Fel  could

talk all he liked about how his Empire of the Hand wasn't the despotic tyranny

Palpatine had created. Maybe he was even telling the truth.  But  Jinzler  had

lived under an empire once, and he'd long ago learned that words cost  nothing

to produce.

Pressor reached the door. Then, abruptly, he  turned  back  around.  "One

other thing," he said, his voice pitched just a bit too casually. "Your  name:

Jinzler. Any relation to the Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler?"

Jinzler felt a hard lump form around his heart. "Yes," he  said,  forcing

his voice to be as casual as Pressor's. "She was my sister."

Pressor nodded. "Ah."

He turned around again. "This way."

CHAPTER 13

"What was that?" Drask asked abruptly. "Did you hear something?"

Across the car, Mara closed down her lightsaber. Luke stretched out  with

the Force, straining to hear. There was the sound of a door closing... one  of

the repulsorlift generators seemed to change pitch subtly...

"One of the turbolift cars is moving," Mara  said,  her  head  cocked  to

listen. "Down, I think."

"Which one?" Drask demanded. "Can you tell which one?"

Luke frowned with concentration. The sense of those  in  the  car...  but

between the Geroons and Chiss, there was too much alienness all around for him

to get a good reading. "I don't know," he said. "Mara?"

"I think Jinzler's aboard," she said, shaking her head slowly.  "I  can't

get anything else."

Drask muttered something under his breath. "We must get out of here,"  he

said. "Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano may be in grave danger."

"We're working as fast as we can," Luke pointed out, trying  to  suppress

the sudden misgivings circling his stomach. If Jinzler was on  the  move,  did

that mean Guardian Pressor had decided he was the one the colonists should  be

talking to? Had that been Jinzler's plan the whole time, in fact?to be the one

to make first contact with them?

He shook the thought away. No?that was ridiculous. How could Jinzler have

possibly known there was anyone left aboard?

Still, even if there was  no  malice  in  the  man,  there  was  also  no

diplomatic training. "Mara?" he murmured.

"Working as fast as I can," she reminded him, scratching the tip  of  her

lightsaber blade gently across the metal.

Luke grimaced, but he knew as well as  she  did  that  this  couldn't  be

rushed. If she cut too far through the metal and nicked one  of  the  repulsor

power lines, none of them would be helping Formbi or Jinzler or  anyone  else.

He fingered his own lightsaber hilt, cultivating his Jedi patience.

And then, all at once, the square of metal popped out of the wall. Caught

slightly by surprise, Luke let it fall nearly to the floor before he was  able

to nab it in a Force grip and lower it more gently the rest of the way. "Okay,

" Mara said, closing down her lightsaber and stepping aside. "Your turn."

"Right." Stepping to the spot Mara  had  just  vacated,  he  ignited  his

lightsaber. Stretching out to the Force, he eased the tip of the blade between

the crisscrossing of wires behind the wall.

"Careful," Drask warned, taking a half step toward him. "If you touch the

wrong wire?"

"Don't worry," Mara said, waving him back. "He knows what he's doing."

Luke pursed his lips. He knew what he was doing, certainly, at  least  in

theory. Whether he could actually pull it off was another question entirely.

Just above the lightsaber blade a bright red wire stretched  horizontally

across the opening. Preparing his mind, he twitched the blade toward it.

Not close enough to actually touch it, of course.  But  close  enough  to

activate the short-range prescience that gave the Jedi  what  appeared  to  be

superfast reflexes.

And for that single brief  instant,  he  could  feel  a  sudden  pressure

against the soles of his feet.

"Red wire powers the upper repulsor,"  he  announced,  closing  down  the

lightsaber and stepping back.

"Right," Mara said, going to the opening and marking the  indicated  wire

with a bit of the dark brown coating from one of her ration bars. "One to go."

Luke nodded and turned around toward the first opening she'd made in  the

wall. Choosing a blue wire this time, he  ignited  his  lightsaber  and  again

twitched the tip of the blade toward it.

Nothing.

He tried again with a green wire, then a  red  wire,  then  another  blue

wire, with similarly negative results.  Then,  finally,  he  waved  the  blade

toward a black-striped white wire and felt a  brief  sensation  of  the  floor

dropping out from under his feet. "There," he told Mara, backing away. "Black-

striped white."

"Got it," she confirmed, marking it as she had the red wire on the  other

side. "Okay. We ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Luke agreed, getting into position again facing

the black-striped white wire. Mara stepped behind him, pressing  her  back  to

his as she faced the other side and the red wire he'd identified.

"Just a moment," Drask said, sounding more than a little  alarmed.  "What

exactly do you plan here?"

"It should be clear enough, General," Mara said. "We're going to cut  the

power lines."

"But?" Drask broke off. "You really can do this?"

Luke could feel Mara's red-gold hair shift against the back of  his  neck

as she turned to face the Chiss. "Trust us," she said.

Her hair resettled itself as she turned back to her target,  and  with  a

snap-hiss she ignited her lightsaber.

And with a sensation Luke still found astonishing, he felt her mind  flow

into, around, and through his.

For that exquisitely stretched-out moment  in  time  they  were  truly  a

single mind, a single spirit poured into two separate bodies. They thought  as

one; they felt as one; they moved as one.

And their lightsabers struck as one,  each  of  the  two  glowing  blades

slashing through its targeted power cable in perfect synchronization.

There was a slight jerk, more  imagined  than  truly  felt;  and  with  a

decided feeling of anticlimax, the turbolift car began to sink downward.  Luke

took a deep breath...

As suddenly as it had begun, the melding ended. The sensation of  oneness

faded away, leaving only the warmth of the memory behind. "There," Mara  said.

To Luke's ears, her voice sounded a little strained as  she,  too,  worked  to

regain mental and emotional balance after their  moment  of  unity.  "See?  No

problem."

"What do you mean, no problem?" Drask bit out. "We are falling."

"Don't worry," Mara said. "Now that we're traveling at  a  normal  speed,

there are built-in safeties to catch us at the other end. The problem was that

Pressor's repulsors would have slammed us down too fast for them to trigger."

"That was a dangerous chance to take," Drask growled.

"You want out of here or not?" Mara countered.

The Chiss hissed between his teeth.  "You  Jedi  have  the  arrogance  of

untested power," he told her bluntly. "One day, you will  take  one  too  many

chances, and it will destroy you."

There was a gentle jolt  from  above,  as  if  the  car  had  momentarily

shivered. "What was that?" Luke asked, glancing at the ceiling.

"We have changed direction," Drask said, cocking his head  oddly  to  the

side. "We are now traveling more vertically than before."

"How do you know?" Luke asked. Standing in the car's artificial  gravity,

he couldn't feel anything different.

"I simply know," the Chiss said. "I cannot explain. It simply is."

"All right, fine." The last thing Luke wanted  right  now  was  something

else to argue about. "But in that case, where are we going?"

"Perhaps Guardian Pressor enjoys layering his  traps,"  Drask  said,  his

hand on his charric. "This may lead to a special place reserved for anyone who

defeats the first layer."

"I don't know," Mara said, looking around. "Seems a little like overkill.

Luke, do you remember what this setup looked like from the outside? There were

a pair of curved tubes leading off the main one, right?"

"Right," Luke confirmed, pulling up the  image  from  his  memory.  "They

looked like they were heading toward each other when they disappeared into the

hill."

"One coming off each side of the  tube,"  Mara  added.  "Like  they  were

branch routes you could take from either of the two Dreadnaughts."

"Branch routes heading to the central supply core," Luke said, nodding as

the explanation suddenly hit him. "Of course: the SC  button  on  the  control

panel."

"Right," Mara agreed. "That must be where we're going."

The words were barely out of her  mouth  when  the  car  abruptly  jerked

again, and the floor seemed to drop gently out from under  them.  Reflexively,

Luke tensed, then relaxed as he realized what had happened. Now that  the  car

was out of the main tube and Pressor's trap, it had been grabbed by the branch

tube's normal repulsor beam and was being pulled sedately downward toward  the

storage core. "We are turning over," Drask said, again doing that head-cocking

thing.

"Must be lining up with the storage core's gravity direction," Luke said.

"Is that good?"

"Definitely," Luke assured him. "Shipboard gravity  is  usually  tied  in

with the rest of the environmental system. If the gravity is working,  chances

are the core's got air and heat, too."

A few seconds later the car settled to a stop, and the door slid open  to

reveal a large, musty-smelling cavern.

Luke stepped out of the car, lightsaber  ready  in  his  hand.  The  room

stretching out in front of him was only dimly lit, with perhaps a third of the

permlight emergency panels still operating. The nearest true bulkhead was  ten

meters away toward the forward end of the core, with another  bulkhead  twenty

meters in the other direction toward the rear. The space right in front of the

turbolift was reasonably open, but the rest of the room had  been  partitioned

by a grid of floor-to-ceiling meshwork panels dividing the  floor  space  into

three-meter-by-three-meter sections. A few of the sections had been  partially

or completely emptied, but most still held stacks of crates.

"Haven't made much of a dent, have they?" Luke commented  as  the  others

stepped out to join him.

"This facility was supposed to supply fifty thousand  people  for  up  to

several years," Mara reminded him. "I'm surprised they got even this far  into

it."

"This may have been used up during the first part of the voyage, when all

were still alive," Drask said, moving the beam from  his  glow  rod  down  the

labels of one of the stacks. "Surely not many of the original crew could  have

survived."

"How anyone survived is still beyond me," Luke said,  shifting  his  glow

rod to point at the aft bulkhead. Just visible at the edge of  the  beam  were

two doorways: one human sized, the other obviously  built  for  cargo.  "Let's

head aft and see what else is back?"

He broke off as the comlink at his waist emitted an odd  chirping  noise.

He pulled it from his belt, peripherally aware that Mara and Drask were  doing

the same with theirs, and clicked it on.

A burst of static crackled at him, and he  quickly  shut  it  off  again.

"That's strange," he said, frowning at it.  "It  sounded  like  something  was

coming through just then."

"Same here," Mara said, turning her comlink over  in  her  hand.  "Yours,

too, General?"

"Yes," Drask said, sounding thoughtful. "It was as if?" He stopped.

"As if?" Mara prompted.

"As if someone had used a?I do not know the proper word in your language,

" the Chiss said. "It is a signal that  stretches  across  all  parts  of  the

communications range in an attempt to penetrate jamming."

"Some kind of full-spectrum burst," Mara  said,  nodding.  "We  use  that

technique ourselves sometimes. Usually between vehicles or ships,  though?I've

never seen it used on anything as small as a comlink."

"Do Chiss comlinks have that capability?" Luke asked Drask.

The other hesitated. "Certain of them do," he said. "Those I equipped our

party with do not."

"Let's put it a different way," Mara said. "Are there any of  these  more

sophisticated comlinks aboard the Chaf Envoy?"

Drask looked away. "There are," he conceded.

Mara looked back at Luke. "Terrific," she said.  "So  someone's  able  to

communicate with the ship. Only that someone isn't us."

"Maybe  it  was  just  the  survivors  talking  among  themselves,"  Luke

suggested, hunting for a less ominous explanation. "Maybe  Pressor  needed  to

send a signal to one of the other Dreadnaughts."

Mara shook her head. "Intership comms ought to be hardwired."

"Unless some of the lines are out."

"Maybe," she said. Clearly, she didn't believe that for a second.

Unfortunately, despite  what  she  still  sometimes  called  his  farmboy

navet , neither did Luke.

Someone  aboard  Outbound  Flight  was  communicating  through  Pressor's

jamming. The question was, who?

And what were they saying?

He looked at Mara, but she just shrugged. "Nothing we  can  do  about  it

right now," she said. "Come on, let's see what's back this way."

* * *

"In hindsight, I suppose we shouldn't have been  surprised  to  find  you

here," Ambassador Jinzler commented as Pressor led the group back  toward  the

Number Five Turbolift Car. "Even in the most  adverse  of  conditions,  humans

always seem to find a way to survive."

"Yes," Pressor said, keeping his voice neutral as  he  waved  the  others

ahead of him into the car. The  two  Geroons,  he  noticed,  hesitated  before

stepping through the doorway. Jinzler himself didn't even  break  stride.  The

man was either very trusting, very overconfident, or very stupid. "Though  the

fact we lived through all of that certainly  wasn't  for  lack  of  trying  on

somebody's part," he added.

"Indeed," Jinzler murmured as he and the female Chiss stepped to  one  of

the rear corners of the car. "Exactly how this all  happened  is  one  of  the

things we hope to find out."

"Perhaps you'll have that chance," Pressor said, pulling out his  command

stick  and  plugging  it  into  the  droid  socket  on  the   control   board.

"Unfortunately, most of the records were ruined in the attack." He  touched  a

button, and the barrier between Cars Four and Five slid open.

The three black-clad Chiss in the  car  reacted  like  dolls  on  twitch-

strings, spinning around as one of the walls of their prison  vanished,  their

hands darting to their holstered weapons. The two Geroons, in contrast, lifted

their arms and surged forward toward  their  compatriots  as  if  they'd  been

separated for years instead of just a few minutes. The older  Chiss,  the  one

dressed in yellow and gray, merely turned casually toward Pressor and  nodded.

"Good day," he said, his Basic oddly accented but quite understandable. "I  am

Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family, representing the Chiss

Ascendancy. You may address me as Aristocra Formbi. Do I  have  the  honor  of

addressing Guardian Pressor?"

"You do," Pressor said, returning the nod. The least he could do was show

himself to be as cultured and polite  as  his  visitors.  "I  welcome  you  to

Outbound Flight, Aristocra Formbi, and apologize for the necessity of greeting

you as I did."

"No apology required," the Aristocra assured him. Those glowing red  eyes

flicked to the female Chiss still hovering close to Jinzler, as if checking to

see that she was all right. "Your caution is completely understandable."

"Guardian Pressor is going to take us to see his people,"  Jinzler  spoke

up. "After that, I presume we'll be discussing the possibility of their return

to the New Republic."

The Aristocra frowned. "The possibility?"

"That's correct," Pressor said. "I'm not at all sure we'll choose  to  go

back to the Republic. Or to go anywhere at all, for that matter." He  made  an

adjustment on the command stick.

"You didn't tell him where they are?" Formbi asked, his eyes on Jinzler.

Pressor paused, his finger poised against the activation button. "What do

you mean, where we are?" he asked.

"I'm afraid our conversation didn't get that far," Jinzler admitted.

Pressor looked at Formbi, feeling a knot forming  in  his  stomach.  "Why

don't you tell me now?" he invited.

Formbi's mouth twitched. "You're deep within  a  high-security  defensive

position of the Chiss Ascendancy,"  he  said.  "Traveling  here  is  forbidden

without special authorization. Now that we know  about  you,  I'm  afraid  you

can't be permitted to stay."

The knot in Pressor's stomach tightened. "I see," he  said,  putting  his

voice back into neutral mode. "And if we refuse to leave?"

"I would hope you wouldn't," Formbi said, matching  Pressor's  tone.  "We

will, of course, give you any assistance you  might  require  in  moving  your

people wherever you wish to go.  It's  little  enough  compensation  for  what

you've suffered."

"I see," Pressor said again. "Well, you  can  present  your  case  before

Director Uliar and the Managing Council. They'll be the ones who'll  make  the

final decision."

Jinzler cocked his head. "Who is Director Uliar?"

"He's the head of the colony," Pressor told him, pressing the  activation

button on his command stick. Behind him the door to the alcove slid  shut  and

the double car began to descend.

"I see," Formbi said. "I'm sorry?I'd assumed you were the leader."

"I'm the Guardian," Pressor said.  "My  Peacekeepers  and  I  keep  order

within the colony. Director Uliar and the Managing Council make all the policy

decisions."

"Sounds rather like a corporation," Jinzler commented.

"And why not?" Pressor retorted. "Corporations work a lot better than the

political mess we left behind."

"Yes, of course," Jinzler said hastily.

"How many of you are there?" Formbi asked.

Pressor turned his face away from them. "I think I  should  let  Director

Uliar handle any further questions."

The car fell silent except for the distant creaks and  rumblings  of  the

turbolift equipment, and the melodic murmuring of the  four  Geroons  as  they

huddled together in a back corner. Probably still  assuring  each  other  that

they were all right, Pressor decided, eyeing the dead animals  wrapped  across

their shoulders with a mixture of distaste and fascination.

With a raucous squeak and a vibrating thump, the double  car  came  to  a

stop, snapping Pressor out of his thoughts. "This way," he said, touching  the

door release on the command stick. "We'll go find Director Uliar." He  stepped

outside?

And came to an abrupt halt. At the back of the turbolift lobby,  as  he'd

prearranged, three of  his  Peacekeepers  were  standing  ready,  their  faces

displaying expressions ranging from wary to hostile to simply nervous.

Standing in a silent group beside them were Director Uliar  and  the  two

Survivor members of the  Managing  Council.  Beside  Uliar,  her  auburn  hair

glinting in the corridor's light, was Instructor  Rosemari  Tabory.  Pressor's

sister, and Evlyn's mother.

And that part Pressor had most certainly not prearranged.

"Director Uliar," he said in greeting as he crossed the lobby toward  the

group, trying to keep his voice steady. "Councilor Tarkosa; Councilor  Keely,"

he added, nodding to each of the other two old men in turn. "What  brings  you

here?"

"Don't act the innocent,  Guardian,"  Uliar  advised,  the  age  wrinkles

around his eyes deepening as he gazed at the group emerging from the turbolift

car. "It doesn't suit you. So these are our visitors, are they?"

"These are some of them," Pressor said, flicking  a  quick  look  at  his

sister. Rosemari's expression was stiff, with a hint of paleness to her  skin.

"This is hardly the place for a historic diplomatic  meeting,  you  know."  He

looked significantly at the two councilors. "Or  the  correct  attendance  for

one, either."

"The entire council will be summoned in due course," Uliar said.  "But  I

think those of us who actually lived through the Devastation have first rights

to face our destroyers."

"This is a major event, with a major decision attached  to  it,"  Pressor

insisted, keeping his voice low. "Probably the most significant  thing  that's

happened since we arrived here. The Charter  specifically  requires  that  the

entire Managing Council, Survivor and Colonist members, be present."

"And they will be," Uliar promised. He twitched a smile. "Until  then,  I

daresay Instructor Tabory can act as observer for the Colonists."

"But?"

"Which ones are the Jedi?" Keely cut in, his nervous  eyes  darting  back

and forth across the group that had now paused a  little  uncertainly  by  the

turbolift door. "Guardian? Which ones are the Jedi?"

"None of those here," Pressor told him. "The Jedi are still being held in

one of the turbolift cars."

"No one here is a Jedi, you say?"  Uliar  said.  "Not  even??  Why  look,

Instructor Tabory; there's your daughter. Imagine that."

Pressor felt his stomach tighten as he glanced behind him. Evlyn was just

emerging from the car behind the last of the Geroons, the calmness in her face

in sharp contrast to the tension in her mother's. "She was assisting  me,"  he

said, looking back at Uliar.

"Was she really," Uliar said, as if it were a surprise to him. "You  took

your niece up to Four, exposing her to all the extra radiation up  there?  Not

to mention putting her at risk from potentially dangerous intruders?  What  an

extraordinary thing to do."

"She likes spending time with her uncle  Jorad,"  Rosemari  put  in,  her

voice firm for all the concern in her face. "She always has."

"Indeed," Uliar said as Evlyn slipped past Jinzler and Formbi and came to

stand beside her mother. "Hello there, Evlyn. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Director Uliar," Evlyn said with  a  seriousness  that  looked

strangely out of place on someone so young. But the quick  hug  she  gave  her

mother was pure ten-year-old. "You don't have to worry about me.  Uncle  Jorad

did everything just right. I wasn't in any danger."

"I'm sure you weren't," Uliar said, eyeing Pressor again.  "Just  as  you

weren't in any danger two years ago, hmm? Back when  Javriel  went  crazy  and

tried to take the entire nursery hostage? You were helpful to your uncle then,

too, if I remember correctly."

"You do," Pressor confirmed, feeling sweat starting to gather beneath his

collar. So Uliar had noticed Evlyn's abilities, too. He should have known  the

old Survivor would catch on. And of all the possible times for him  to  decide

to make an issue of it?

He felt his throat tighten. Or had Uliar in fact deliberately chosen this

moment? A moment when there were outsiders?including Jedi?aboard his ship  for

the first time in fifty years? Outsiders who, not knowing the realities aboard

Outbound Flight, might be willing and able to  confirm  his  suspicions  about

Evlyn?

"Indeed," Uliar said. "You have a strange way of returning  your  niece's

affection, Guardian."

"I needed her help today," Pressor said. "The same help I needed from her

back then: to act as decoy. It wasn't a  job  any  of  my  Peacekeepers  could

handle."

"But your own niece?" Uliar persisted. "Why not pick someone else?"

He smiled crookedly, the giveaway sign that he was  about  to  close  the

jaws of his verbal trap. "Or,"  he  said  smoothly,  "does  she  have  special

qualifications or talents that make her suited for such tasks?"

"My daughter has many special talents, Director," Rosemari  put  in,  her

arm wrapped protectively around her daughter's shoulders. "For one thing,  she

doesn't panic under pressure. She's quick and smart, and  she  knows  Four  as

well as anyone else in the colony. Certainly now that most of the work is done

and almost no one goes up there anymore."

"Did she also join  the  Peacekeepers  while  I  wasn't  looking?"  Uliar

countered, throwing a quick glare in her direction. His trap had been set  for

Pressor, and he clearly didn't appreciate Rosemari jumping in and blunting its

teeth. "As long as we're quoting from the  Charter,  Guardian,  I  believe  it

explicitly states that you and your Peacekeepers are the ones who are supposed

to stand between the colony and potential dangers."

"He just said he needed someone to decoy them," Rosemari said, her  voice

starting to match the director's own annoyance  level.  She  gestured  to  the

three Peacekeepers standing uncomfortably at the  edge  of  the  debate.  "You

think they would have just walked into a disguised turbolift behind Trilli  or

Oliet or Ronson?"

She shifted her finger to point squarely at Uliar's chest. "Or should  he

have asked someone else? One of your granddaughters, maybe?"

"A decoy  shouldn't  have  been  necessary,"  Uliar  insisted.  "Guardian

Pressor has assured us over and over that between the various  traps  and  the

droid surveillance, Four is perfectly secure."

"Oh, so now you want to set off  explosives  and  wreck  it  completely?"

Rosemari asked scornfully. "After all the time and effort my  father  and  the

others poured into putting it back together?"

She drew herself up to her full 1.58-meter height. "Or don't you mean  it

when you say you want to take us out of here someday?" she demanded. "Are  you

so comfortable in your private little kingdom that you want  to  keep  us  all

here?"

"Silence, woman," Tarkosa rumbled, his eyes  glinting  ominously  beneath

his bushy eyebrows. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, be silent," Uliar seconded gruffly. "I didn't  bring  you  here  to

listen to you make excuses for your brother."

"Then you apparently don't know her very well," Pressor told him, a small

part of him starting to enjoy this. "Meanwhile, our guests are waiting."

Uliar's lips pressed briefly together as his eyes flicked over  Pressor's

shoulder. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Introduce us."

"Certainly," Pressor said, half turning and waving  the  others  forward.

Uliar hadn't given up, he knew. All he'd  done  was  abandon  this  particular

probe, at this particular time.

But he would be back. He would definitely be back.

Walking at the head of the group, Jinzler stepped to Pressor's  side  and

stopped expectantly. "May I present the representative of the  New  Republic,"

Pressor said, watching Uliar's expression closely. "Ambassador Dean Jinzler."

The director was good, all right. There was  barely  a  twitch  from  the

corners of his eyes as the name registered. "Ambassador,"  he  said  smoothly.

"I'm Chas Uliar, current director of the Outbound  Flight  Colony.  These  are

Councilors  Tarkosa  and  Keely,  two  of  the  original  Survivors   of   the

Devastation."

"Honored, Director," Jinzler said, bowing from the waist like a  diplomat

from some old holodrama. "We're pleased to find you alive."

"Yes," Uliar said, a little too dryly. "I'm sure you are."

"This is Aristocra Formbi of the Chiss Ascendancy," Pressor went on, "and

First Steward Bearsh of the Geroon Remnant, along with their assistants."

"Such a varied group," Uliar commented as he exchanged nods  with  Formbi

and Bearsh. "I understand you brought two Jedi along with you, as well."

"Yes," Jinzler said. "Guardian Pressor informs  us  they're  still  being

held, along with the others."

"Others?" Uliar asked, looking questioningly at Pressor.

"Five others, in a separate car," Pressor confirmed. "Representatives  of

a government calling itself the Empire of the Hand."

"Empire of the Hand," Uliar repeated, as if to himself.  "Interesting.  I

presume, Ambassador, that you'll wish both groups released  at  once  to  join

you?"

Pressor held his breath. A simple, obvious suggestion; but he'd long  ago

learned not to trust simplicity when it came to dealing with  Uliar.  Was  the

director's question in fact an attempt to find out who was really in charge of

this expedition?

Jinzler hesitated, perhaps also sensing a trap. "I'm  sure  they're  fine

where they are, Director,"  he  said  carefully.  "We'll  want  them  released

eventually, of course, but we can  certainly  begin  our  discussions  without

them."

"Good," Uliar murmured. Apparently, Jinzler had passed the  test.  "Well,

then. The Managing Council chamber is located a short distance back this  way.

If you'll follow me?..."

"Thank you," Jinzler said, bowing again.

Uliar turned and headed aft down the corridor, the two councilors falling

into step beside him, Jinzler and Formbi following a couple  of  paces  behind

them. Pressor caught the eyes of his  three  Peacekeepers  and  nodded  toward

Uliar; nodding back, Ronson and Oliet moved into flanking positions beside the

three Survivors. The black-clad Chiss were  already  walking  in  a  military-

precise, lockstep line behind Formbi, with the Geroons following somewhat more

tentatively and not at all in step with the rest of the  group  or  even  each

other. "We're certainly  starting  off  with  a  bang,"  Pressor  muttered  to

Rosemari as the procession marched away. "You'd better take Evlyn and?"

He broke off as he glanced down at his sister's side. Evlyn  was  nowhere

to be seen. "Blast her," he snarled under his breath,  looking  around.  There

she was, of course, halfway  down  the  corridor,  walking  between  Aristocra

Formbi and the three black-clad Chiss striding along behind him. "How does she

do that?"

"I don't know," Rosemari murmured grimly. "But if she  doesn't  quit  it,

Uliar won't need any help figuring out what she is."

"No kidding," Pressor said, a tightness settling into his stomach. "You'd

better catch up and go with her."

"What, to a council meeting?" Rosemari countered. "I'm not authorized  to

be in there."

"Sure you are," Pressor told her. "You're representing the  Colonists  in

these negotiations, remember? Uliar said so."

"And that was as much of a fraud as asking why you keep using  Evlyn  for

these stunts," Rosemari shot back. "Speaking of which?"

"Save it," Pressor cut her off. "Look, if you don't go, Evlyn's going  to

crash the party by herself. What do you think Uliar will say when  he  finally

notices her and doesn't remember seeing her coming in?"

"You're right," Rosemari  conceded  reluctantly.  "But  you'd  better  be

there, too."

"I fully intend?"

Pressor broke off as the  comlink  at  his  belt  gave  an  odd  twitter.

Frowning, he reached down and pulled it free.

"That's weird," Trilli murmured, stepping to his side, his own comlink in

hand. "Your comlink just say something, Chief?"

"I thought it did," Pressor said,  tapping  the  switch.  On  the  normal

channel was only the static of  his  jamming,  while  on  the  special  twist-

frequency command line there was silence. "Strange."

"Want to know what's stranger?" Trilli pointed down the corridor  at  the

departing crowd. "I saw Jinzler and Formbi go for their comlinks, too."

Pressor frowned, an uncomfortable feeling creeping across his back.  With

the jamming still in place,  there  shouldn't  have  been  any  communications

getting through. Not to anyone's comlinks. "Get back upstairs and double-check

the jamming," he ordered Trilli. "Our guests may have a trick or two we  don't

know about."

"Right."

Trilli started to go; stopped again as Pressor caught his arm. "And while

you're there," the Guardian added quietly, "put a lock on the controls for the

forward trap cars' repulsors. Make sure no one but us can turn them on or off.

"

"Sure," Trilli said, sounding puzzled. "You  afraid  someone's  going  to

accidentally bump into them or something?"

Pressor gazed at Uliar's receding back. Uliar, who had lived through  the

destruction of Outbound Flight and still carried the scars  from  that  event.

Uliar, who knew where the Jedi and Imperials were currently being held.

Uliar, who was leading the  way  toward  a  meeting  room  far  from  the

turbolifts and the turbolift controls, where Pressor and the  others  wouldn't

be in a position to notice if someone slipped up to Four and  started  playing

with control switches.

"Yeah," Pressor said softly to Trilli. "Or something."

* * *

With a disconcerting thump, the turbolift car began moving. "Steady," Fel

warned, putting a hand on the vibrating wall for balance and watching  closely

as Watchman and Grappler adjusted the power splitters they'd cobbled together.

"Take it real easy. We're not in any particular hurry."

"We're keeping it slow," Watchman assured him. "It's running real smooth.

"

"Good," Fel said, not entirely sure he believed it. The  car's  vibration

seemed to be  increasing,  and  a  low-pitched  rumble  had  started  in  from

somewhere.

On the other hand, if the trick  failed,  they  would  probably  be  dead

before it even registered. Comforting.

"You still want us to head for the storage core?" Grappler asked.

"If you can manage it, yes," Fel said. That other car they'd  heard,  the

one with Jinzler and possibly Formbi aboard, seemed to have gone straight down

to the next Dreadnaught in the ring. It didn't seem like it would  be  a  good

idea to just burst in full-bore behind them, especially if Pressor  had  other

surprises prepared for unwanted company. Far better if they could bypass  that

ship entirely and find a way to come up on it from below.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloud's  head  twitch.  "Commander?"

the stormtrooper asked. "Did you get that?"

"Get what?" Fel asked, straining his ears against the rumbling.

"My comlink just chirped," Cloud said.

"Mine, too," Shadow confirmed. "Sounded like someone  sending  a  message

burst."

Fel frowned. He hadn't heard any such noise from  his  own  comlink;  but

then, the pervasive rumbling could easily have masked it.  The  stormtroopers,

with their comlinks built into  their  helmets,  would  be  less  affected  by

outside noises. "Could you get any kind of  fix  on  it?"  he  asked.  "Either

direction or distance?"

"Negative," Cloud said. "My gear wasn't rigged for that."

"Well, rig it now," Fel ordered, looking around. Suddenly, the car seemed

a little smaller and a lot more vulnerable. "And  let's  risk  a  little  more

speed," he added. "If Pressor's talking to his friends, I want us out of  here

as soon as possible."

"And if it wasn't Pressor?" Shadow asked.

Fel looked up at the ceiling. "Then I want us out of here even faster."

CHAPTER 14

The doorway opened into another storage room, identical to the one they'd

come in through except that in this one there was no turbolift access door. It

also didn't appear that any of the supply crates piled behind  their  meshwork

panels had ever been touched.

Neither had the crates in the next room back. Or in the room behind that.

"It's one thing to talk about ten years' worth of supplies for something  this

big," Luke commented as they walked past the stacked crates  toward  the  next

door leading aft. "It's something else to actually see them."

"And this is just one level," Mara murmured, an  odd  sensation  creeping

through her as she gazed at the rows of stacked  cartons.  All  those  people?

nearly fifty thousand of them?all gone. Destroyed in a matter  of  seconds  or

minutes or hours.

Murdered on the orders of the man she'd once proudly served.

"Hey?"

She shook off the mood. Luke was looking at her,  concern  in  his  face.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Sure," she assured him. "I'm fine."

Like she could actually fool him. "More ghosts from the past?"  he  asked

quietly.

She looked over at Drask, off examining a stack of crates  a  few  meters

away. "It's strange," she told her husband softly. "I thought I'd been through

this already. That I'd put it all behind me. But back on  the  Chaf  Envoy,  I

actually started feeling... I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"You started feeling comfortable?" Luke suggested.

Mara tried out the word in her mind. "Yes,  I  suppose  that's  it,"  she

agreed. "Fel and this new Five-Oh-First Legion seemed so different  from  what

Palpatine had created that it felt like something I could actually enjoy being

a part of."

Luke's forehead creased. "You're not seriously thinking of  taking  Parck

up on his offer of a job with the Empire of the Hand, are you?"

"Of course not." Mara hesitated. "Well, no, that's not entirely accurate,

" she confessed. "I mean, I certainly wouldn't go anywhere without you. But at

the same time..." She shook her head.

"I know," he said. "The  New  Republic  hasn't  exactly  been  a  shining

example of how to run a galaxy lately, has it?"

Mara snorted. "The understatement of the month,"  she  said.  "All  those

stupid little brush wars and conflicts?I thought they'd all die down after  we

finally found that intact copy of the Caamas Document. But half  of  them  are

still simmering, and the Senate hasn't done a thing to stop them."

"That's not entirely true," Luke said. "But you do have a  point.  Things

were a lot quieter under the Empire, weren't they?"

"At least until your Rebellion got going," Mara countered. "Then  it  got

noisy again."

"We tried," Luke said, smiling back. The smile  faded,  and  he  shrugged

fractionally.  "You  can't  play  the  what-ifs,  Mara.  Palpatine  may   have

suppressed all those regional conflicts, but he also  suppressed  freedom  and

justice, especially for nonhumans. If someone else had been in  charge...  but

we'll never know."

"I understand all that," Mara said. "But that's not really the point. The

point is that I was just starting to feel kindly, even nostalgic,  toward  the

Empire."

She gestured at the dusty stacks of crates around her. "And then  I  come

face to face with something like this: supplies carefully laid in  for  people

he knew he was going to have murdered." She let her hand  drop  to  her  side.

"There was just something about the cold-bloodedness of it that was  a  sudden

kick in the teeth, that's all."

"I know," Luke said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "You  never

really saw the results of Palpatine's policies, did you?"

"No, not usually," Mara said with a sigh.  "Not  the  big  ones,  anyway.

Alderaan and that sort. Mostly I dealt with individuals or small  groups,  and

half of them were Imperial officials suspected of embezzlement or  treason.  I

never saw anything on Outbound Flight's scale."

"It makes sense that he shielded you from as much of that  as  possible,"

Luke pointed out. "You might have started having doubts, and he couldn't  risk

that."

"Jedi?" Drask called.

Mara turned around. The general had moved to another stack of crates near

the aft set of doors and was shining his glow rod on one about halfway to  the

ceiling. "Come."

"What is it?" Luke asked as he and Mara crossed to the other.

"These two stacks," Drask said, indicating them with his glow rod.  "They

have been moved here from somewhere else."

Mara frowned at Luke, getting a similarly puzzled look in exchange. "What

do you mean?" Luke asked. "How do you know?"

"In the previous storerooms these stacks all followed a specific pattern,

" Drask said. "Foodstuffs of several particular types,  clothing,  replacement

components, various other types of supplies, emergency equipment, and  so  on.

They were all placed in specific positions, with the proportions of each  type

always the same."

Luke looked at Mara. "Is this making any sense to you?" he asked.

"Actually, yes," she said. "If you proportion out each room according  to

the rate of expected supply usage, you can more or less empty one  area  at  a

time and don't have to keep going back and forth among half a dozen storerooms

for what you want. That would also make it quicker  and  easier  to  apportion

things if you decided to plant a colony somewhere."

"Ah,"  Luke  said,  nodding.  "I  get  it.  You  give  your  colonists  a

Dreadnaught and, say, two levels' worth of supplies. No  sorting  needed:  you

just take aboard everything from those two levels."

"Right," Mara said. "And you say these stacks are out of order?"

"Yes." Drask gestured. "This  group  consists  of  electrical  and  fluid

maintenance supplies. It should instead be foodstuffs."

"I'll take your word for  it,"  Luke  said,  looking  around.  "Well,  it

doesn't look like they came from anywhere in here."

"Unless someone rearranged the whole room," Mara pointed out.

"No," Drask said. "The other stacks are properly placed."

"Maybe the next room back, then," Luke suggested. "Let's take a look." He

led the way back to the smaller of the two aft doors and touched the release.

Nothing happened.

"That's funny," he said, frowning as he touched the release again. Again,

the door didn't budge.

"Let's try the big door,"  Mara  suggested,  moving  over  to  the  cargo

hatchway and tapping the release for that one.

It didn't move, either. "Now that,"  Luke  said  thoughtfully,  "is  very

peculiar. All the other doors have worked just fine."

"Perhaps there is something in there the survivors do not wish us to see,

" Drask suggested, his voice ominous. "You have lightsabers. Cut it open."

"Let's not be too hasty," Luke said, running a  hand  along  the  smaller

door. "Maybe we can do it the easy way. Mara?"

Mara pulled her lightsaber from her belt  and  stepped  to  the  doorway.

"Ready."

"Okay." Luke took a deep breath, and Mara could sense him stretching  out

to the Force. A moment later, with a creak of metal that had been sitting  too

long in one spot, the door began to slide up into the ceiling.

Mara was ready. The gap was barely waist-high when she ducked  under  the

rising panel, igniting her lightsaber as she leapt into the room.

But there was nothing there except another storeroom,  empty  except  for

the usual stacks of boxes, exactly  like  all  the  previous  four  storerooms

they'd looked at.

She frowned, lowering the lightsaber blade a  little.  No;  not  exactly.

Back toward the center of the room, half a dozen sections of the mesh had been

cleared out.

And inside them...

"Mara?"

"All clear," she called, closing down her lightsaber and looking  around.

Lying against the near wall was a piece of slightly twisted girder. Stretching

out to the Force, she lifted it and set it upright beneath the door  Luke  was

still holding up. "See if that'll hold it," she said.

Carefully, Luke lowered the door onto the girder. The metal  creaked  but

held. "Odd thing to have lying around," he commented, frowning at  the  girder

as he ducked under the door and into the storeroom. "I haven't  seen  anything

like that in any of the other rooms."

"You haven't seen anything like this, either," Mara said as Drask came in

behind Luke. "Take a look."

"Furniture storage?" Drask asked, frowning past Luke's shoulder.

"It's a little more interesting than that," Mara said  as  the  three  of

them crossed over to the cleared sections. The contents were little more  than

a jumbled mess of broken furniture and tangled furnishings.  But  to  her  the

signs were obvious. "You can see three cots in that first one?they've  been  a

little broken up, but there are definitely three of  them.  Looks  like  there

were four in the next. Probably four in that back one there, too."

"That round thing was  probably  part  of  a  small  table,"  Luke  said,

pointing. "I don't see any chairs, though."

"Perhaps they had only stools," Drask  suggested.  "Those  short  pieces,

perhaps."

"Right," Mara agreed. "There are probably a lot of other  pieces  tangled

in with those blankets and draperies, too. And of course,  those  boxy  things

have got to be portable 'fresher stations."

"But this makes no sense," Drask objected. "What you are  describing  are

living quarters. Yet the vessels above are adequately intact. Why would anyone

have chosen to live here instead?"

"Maybe all the Dreadnaughts  were  too  badly  damaged  right  after  the

battle," Luke suggested. "It may have taken a while for  the  droids  to  make

them livable again."

Mara shook her head. "You're both missing the point. What did we have  to

do to get in here?"

"We had to lift?" Luke broke off. "Are you saying this was a prison?"

"What else?" Mara asked. "Small cubicles with minimal furnishings and not

much privacy, stuck away from everywhere else in the place, all of it behind a

door that doesn't open. What else could it be?"

"Interesting," Drask commented. "It would seem that your Outbound  Flight

experiment was a failure from the start. For there to have been a need  for  a

prison so quickly implies the passengers were not well chosen."

"Or that something drastic happened to them," Mara said.  "Some  kind  of

space madness or something."

"Any chance it could  have  been  a  medical  quarantine  instead?"  Luke

suggested.

"Unlikely," Drask said. "There are not  enough  beds  here  for  a  large

disease outbreak. A smaller problem would surely have been better  dealt  with

in the vessels' own facilities."

"He's right," Mara agreed. "Besides, I don't  see  any  sign  of  medical

equipment in here." She gestured into the area. "And you see what  else  isn't

here?"

Luke frowned. "No."

"I see," Drask said grimly. "There are no bodies."

"Or even the remains of bodies,"  Mara  confirmed.  "Which  either  means

someone got in through that door sometime in the past fifty years and disposed

of the dead?"

"?Or else they got out on their own," Luke finished for her.

"That's what I'm thinking," Mara agreed soberly. "I'm also  wondering  if

the timing of the breakout might have had an effect on the battle."

"Or perhaps it is connected  with  the  unexplained  appearance  of  this

vessel in Chiss space," Drask pointed out. "That mystery has  still  not  been

solved."

"No, it hasn't," Mara said. "Luke, do you have  any  idea  what  sort  of

justice system was in place during that era? Specifically, what sort of people

might the Jedi on Outbound Flight have locked up this way?"

"I don't know," Luke said, shaking his head. "But I can't see why  anyone

but the most violent or psychotic sorts would be buried this far away from the

rest of the expedition. There would certainly have been a brig on each of  the

Dreadnaughts for dealing with standard lawbreakers."

A whisper of sensation touched Mara's mind. "Someone's coming," she said,

unhooking her lightsaber from her belt.

"Who?" Drask asked,  drawing  his  charric.  "Guardian  Pressor  and  his

forces?"

Mara focused her mind, trying to isolate  and  identify  the  approaching

minds. They definitely seemed familiar, but they were still too  far  away  to

identify.

Luke got there first. "It's  all  right,"  he  said,  returning  his  own

lightsaber to his belt. "It's Fel and the stormtroopers."

"Is Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano with them?" Drask asked.

"No," Mara said. "Neither are Feesa or the Geroons. It's  just  the  five

Imperials."

"They pledged to protect him," Drask said ominously. "Why  are  they  not

with him?"

"I don't know," Luke said, heading for the propped-open door.  "Let's  go

ask them."

They met up with the Imperials two  rooms  back  toward  the  turbolifts.

"Well, well," Fel commented as the two groups crossed  the  room  toward  each

other. "I certainly wasn't expecting to find you  three  here.  Not  that  I'm

displeased, of course. What did you think of our host's little trap?"

"Where is Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano?" Drask cut in before  either  Luke

or Mara could answer. "Why are you not protecting him?"

Fel seemed taken aback. "Relax, General," he said. "He's hardly alone  up

there. Your three warriors are with him, remember?"

"Besides, if Pressor wanted any of us dead, he could have  done  it  long

before now," Mara added.

"She's right," Fel agreed. "I'm sure the Aristocra's fine."

"Your calmness is very reassuring," Drask bit  out.  "Do  you  even  know

where he is?"

"Not exactly," Fel said. "But from the sounds their turbolift car made as

it headed down, we're pretty sure they're  on  D-Five,  the  next  Dreadnaught

around the circle from where we came in."

"Then why did you not follow them after you made your own escape?"  Drask

asked.

"Because I thought it might make more tactical sense to come  in  from  a

direction they weren't expecting,"  Fel  said,  starting  to  sound  a  little

annoyed himself. "There are three other turbolift tubes we can use to  get  up

to D-Five: one straight aft along this deck, the other two fore and aft around

that direction." He gestured to his right.

"Wait a minute," Mara said. "If the Dreadnaughts are in a ring, shouldn't

the turbolift connections be on a lower deck instead of this one?"

Fel shook his head. "It has to do with the  way  the  gravity  directions

were set up," he explained. "All the  Dreadnaughts  are  oriented  with  their

bellies pointing inward toward the supply core, while the supply core runs its

own gravity toward its own center, sort of like a cylindrical planet, with the

lower decks 'down' from the upper ones.  That  means  that  from  any  of  the

Dreadnaughts, 'down' is always toward the core, while from the  core  'up'  is

always toward the nearest Dreadnaught."

"Strange approach," Mara commented.

Fel shrugged. "My guess is that they probably figured doing it any  other

way would mean attaching the connecting pylons in different places on each  of

the Dreadnaughts. This way, all the ships could be  modified  in  exactly  the

same way, with two turbolift pylons connecting to the  starboard  belly,  fore

and aft, and the other two to the port-side belly, fore and aft. It  certainly

doesn't matter to the crew; all the gravity changes are handled  automatically

as you travel from one place to another, with the turbolift cars  rotating  so

that you're matched with your destination by the time you get there."

"So Formbi and the others are where, exactly?" Luke asked.

"Dreadnaught-Five," Fel said. "D-Five for short. The  one  we  came  into

from the Chaf Envoy was D-Four."

"So that wasn't the primary command ship?"

Fel shook his head. "I assumed it would be, too, but the  labels  on  the

turbolift controls clearly showed we came in on either D-Four or D-Five. Given

the ships' orientations, the one on the surface is definitely D-Four."

"I presume you are getting this information from the Outbound Flight data

cards you have in your possession?" Drask asked.

"The data cards that used to be in my possession,  yes,"  Fel  corrected.

"Fortunately, we'd studied the layout before they were stolen."

"They were stolen?" Drask asked, his eyes narrowing. "When?"

"While we were helping put out that fire just after we left Crustai," Fel

said. "Whoever set it apparently did so as  a  diversion  to  get  aboard  our

transport."

Drask looked at Luke and Mara, then back at Fel. "Why was I not informed?

"

Mara sensed Fel's hesitation, and wondered if he would  have  either  the

honesty or the audacity to tell Drask that he hadn't been told because he  was

one of the suspects.  She  rather  hoped  he  would;  Drask's  reaction  would

probably be very interesting.

To her mild disappointment, Fel went with the diplomatic answer  instead.

"It didn't seem likely the thief could be found regardless," he explained.  "I

thought we might have an advantage if the culprit didn't know we'd noticed the

loss."

"What advantage did you expect to have?"

"I don't know, exactly," Fel conceded. "I just  thought  there  might  be

one."

"You just thought there might be one." In  a  being  of  lesser  inherent

dignity, Mara reflected, Drask's words and  tone  might  have  sounded  small-

minded or even childish. But from a command officer  of  the  Chiss,  it  came

across as bitingly and righteously angry. A neat trick, that. "In the  future,

Commander Fel,  you  will  not  think  when  aboard  a  vessel  of  the  Chiss

Ascendancy. You will instead bring any and all concerns of this  sort  to  the

commanding officer at once. He will decide what thinking is  to  be  done.  Is

that understood?"

"Completely, General," Fel said, his voice under careful control.

"Good," Drask said, not sounding particularly mollified. "Now.  You  will

lead us to these alternative  turbolifts  so  that  we  may  rejoin  Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano."

"Just a moment," Luke said. "Would the command ship have been  designated

D-One?"

"Right," Fel said.

"So with six Dreadnaughts, D-Four would be all the way on the far side of

the circle from it?" Luke persisted.

"Right again," Fel said, his forehead wrinkling.

"Is this important at this precise moment?" Drask put in impatiently.

"It might be, yes," Luke told him. "Because, logically,  D-One  is  where

they should have been flying Outbound Flight from. So why is that ship the one

that ended up farthest underground when they crash-landed?"

"Interesting question," Fel agreed thoughtfully.  "They  must  have  been

having some serious control problems there at the end."

"Maybe," Luke said. "Or maybe they had unwanted help on the command deck.

"

"Indeed," Drask said, the impatience in his voice temporarily subdued  by

a touch of interest. "The criminals, perhaps?"

"Criminals?" Fel asked, blinking.

"There seems to be a makeshift prison back there," Luke  said,  gesturing

aft. "No human or alien remains, though."

"Hmm," Fel said. "And considering the shape the Dreadnaughts  would  have

been in after the battle, they might well have been in the  best  position  to

get to the command deck and make trouble."

"Or we could have  it  completely  backward,"  Mara  warned.  "Maybe  the

prisoners were the ones in command, and someone else managed to  get  Outbound

Flight flipped over this way trying to stop them."

"Interesting speculation," Drask said. The moment of interest had passed,

and he was getting impatient again. "But this is all ancient history."

"Perhaps," Luke said. "But then, ancient history is why we're here, isn't

it?"

"We must rejoin Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano," Drask insisted.

"We will," Luke promised. "But first, I want to go have a look at  D-One.

Anyone going with me?"

Mara looked around the group. From Fel's expression she could  tell  that

he wanted to  go,  and  she  could  sense  definite  interest  from  the  four

stormtroopers, as well.

But Drask's agitation was practically bouncing off the stacks of  crates,

and once again Fel's sense of diplomacy won out. "Thanks, but we'll  wait  for

the second tour," he said, turning to Drask. "Whenever you're ready,  General,

we'll escort you to D-Five."

For a moment Drask's eyes bored into Luke's face, as  if  estimating  his

chances of either talking him or ordering him out of going on what he  clearly

considered a time-wasting side trip. Apparently, he decided  it  wasn't  worth

trying. "Thank you, Commander," he said, turning back to face Fel.  "You  said

there were three other turbolifts available?"

"Yes," Fel said. "Actually, the best approach would probably be to  go  a

little farther around the core and escort  Luke  and  Mara  to  the  turbolift

they'll need to get to D-One. We can use the same one to get  to  D-Six,  from

which we can then travel to D-Five."

"It sounds as if that will be a longer trip than  going  directly  to  D-

Five," Drask pointed out.

"It will be, a little," Fel conceded. "But it's occurred to  me  that  if

Pressor's people are hiding any surprises we ought to know about, they'll most

likely be on either D-One, D-Two, or D-Six."

"Why?"

"Because they're the three farthest underground, which  means  they  have

the best radiation shielding," Fel explained. "Luke and Mara will  already  be

checking out D-One; if we at least take a look at D-Six on our way to  D-Five,

we'll have two of the three covered."

Drask hesitated, then nodded. "Very well," he said. "Provided you do  not

propose to search the entire Dreadnaught with only the six of us."

"We'll just take a quick look," Fel promised. "If they're using the other

Dreadnaughts for anything at all, it should be obvious pretty quickly."

"Very well," Drask said again. "Lead on."

Fel nodded. "Stormtroopers: escort formation. This way, General."

CHAPTER 15

"This is the main school area," Uliar said, pointing across the  corridor

toward a room with a small plaque beside the door identifying it as AA-7  FIRE

CONTROL ROOM. A neatly printed sign had been fastened to the  wall  above  the

plaque that read PRELIMINARY TIERS. "All the lower tiers are in the complex of

rooms back there," he went on. "There's also a university of sorts  two  decks

above us, up where the main scientific and  technical  sections  of  the  ship

were."

"Interesting," Jinzler said, looking at the  door  and  wondering  if  he

dared ask to go in and take a look. "What courses do you teach?"

"Everything we can, of course," Uliar said, half turning to look at Evlyn

and her mother, walking silently behind Formbi. "This is  actually  Instructor

Tabory's field of expertise. Instructor, would you care to elaborate?"

"Many of the records were lost in the Devastation, of  course,"  Rosemari

said. "Either destroyed or buried in the wreckage of D-One where  we  couldn't

get to them."

She waved at the schoolroom door. "But the Survivors had fair amounts  of

skills and knowledge among them, so as soon as they could they set up a school

to teach the children what they would need to know.  In  the  lower  tiers  we

teach history, science, reading, galactic languages, political science, and  a

few others?the usual curriculum  of  a  Republic  school  back  home.  At  the

university  level?though  of  course  it's  not  a  real  university?we  teach

mechanics and electronics, higher mathematics, basic astrogation and  starship

operation, plus the sorts of things we'll need when we finally get out of here

and settle down on a real world again."

"Ah," Jinzler said. "And you were trained as an instructor?"

She shrugged. "That's what I  do  now,  but  my  actual  training  is  in

meteorology and music. I'm not very good at the latter,  though."  She  smiled

down at the girl beside her. "Evlyn's much better than I am.  And  of  course,

there are a lot of advanced maintenance classes."

"That being particularly important to our  survival,"  Councilor  Tarkosa

added gruffly, glaring briefly at  Rosemari.  Apparently,  her  comment  about

leaving Outbound Flight wasn't sitting well with him. "Even with many  of  the

old droids still functional, this ship still chews up a huge number of worker-

hours in repairs and maintenance. And the droids need constant maintenance  of

their own."

Jinzler nodded. "What about basic life  necessities?"  he  asked.  "Food,

water, and energy?"

"Fortunately, we have all of that in abundance," Uliar said. "The central

storage core suffered only minor damage in the Devastation, and we  were  able

to bring the D-Five  and  D-Six  fusion  generators  back  online  before  the

emergency power supplies were exhausted."

"You speak as if you were there," Formbi suggested.

Uliar favored him with a somewhat brittle smile. "Yes, I was,"  he  said.

"I was twenty-two, in fact, when your people viciously attacked and  destroyed

us."

It took every bit of Jinzler's strength to keep his face  from  reacting.

With  all  of  Uliar's  politeness  and  hospitality,  and  the  almost  homey

atmosphere of the place as the  inhabitants  had  fixed  it  up,  he'd  nearly

forgotten what had actually happened  here.  Hearing  Uliar's  straightforward

reminder had hit him  harder  than  he  would  have  expected.  "Yes,"  Formbi

murmured. "Though it was not the will of either the Nine Ruling Families or of

the Chiss people that that happen."

"Well, it was the will of someone with blue skin  and  red  eyes,"  Uliar

said bluntly. "And I'm constrained to point out  that  even  after  all  that,

knowing that it had happened, you waited until now to come see what had become

of us."

He peered closely at Formbi. "Or is this your first time here?  Have  you

actually been watching us all along, just for your own amusement?"

"Not at all," Formbi said, his voice even.  "We  didn't  even  know  this

vessel had survived until a few handfuls of days ago. Even  then,  we  had  no

reason to assume anyone had survived."

"Then why did you come?" Uliar countered. "Was it  the  ship  itself  you

wanted? Secrets from the Republic you hoped to plunder?"

He turned his unblinking stare on Jinzler. "Or was it you  and  this  so-

called New Republic of yours? Were you the ones who wanted it?"

Jinzler shook his head. "We came solely from a desire to  see  the  place

where so many of our people had died," he said, trying to match Formbi's  calm

diplomatic tone.

"And to honor those who gave their lives defending  our  people,"  Bearsh

spoke up from the rear.

"That's correct," Jinzler said. "No one here wants to take anything  away

from you."

Uliar smiled coldly. "No. Of course not."

The smile vanished. "At the very least I'm sure you didn't expect to find

anyone aboard who still remembered," he said. "You see, Ambassador Jinzler,  I

recognize your name. I knew that other Jinzler, too, the one who  deserted  us

at our time of greatest need. Who was she, a relative? Sister? Cousin?"

"She was my sister," Jinzler said, staring at him in  disbelief.  Lorana,

desert these people in the middle of trouble? No?that had to be a mistake.

"Your sister," Uliar repeated,  the  darkness  in  his  voice  deepening.

"Deeply beloved, of course, which is why you've come all this way to honor her

memory." He crossed his arms across his chest defiantly. "Well, we don't honor

her memory here, Ambassador. Are you still so eager to help us?"

Jinzler took a careful breath. "She wasn't beloved," he said, fighting to

control the trembling of emotion flowing into his voice. "At least, not by me.

"

Uliar lifted his eyebrows with polite skepticism. "No?"

"No." Jinzler looked the other man straight in the eye. "As a  matter  of

fact, I hated her."

The statement seemed  to  throw  Uliar  completely  off  his  stride.  He

blinked, then frowned; opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Of course  you

did," he said at last, clearly just to have something to say. He eyed  Jinzler

another moment, then turned resolutely back to Formbi. "The fact remains  that

it was your people who attacked us," he said, apparently trying to get back on

course with his earlier tirade. "What do you and these Nine Ruling Families of

yours intend to do about that?"

Formbi opened his mouth? "I'd like to see the school,"  Jinzler  put  in,

suddenly tired of hearing Uliar talk. "As long as we're here anyway."

Again, Uliar seemed to falter. He  looked  at  Jinzler,  hesitated,  then

nodded. "Certainly," he said. "Instructor Tabory, perhaps you'd be kind enough

to show the ambassador around?"

"Uh... sure," Rosemari said, her face  puckering  uncertainly.  Jinzler's

comment about his sister had apparently thrown her for a loop, too. "This way,

Ambassador."

She turned and headed toward the door  at  a  quick  walk,  her  daughter

beside her. Jinzler followed, fighting his way through the images and memories

swirling around him...

"This is the second-tier classroom."

Jinzler blinked the images away, to  find  himself  standing  in  a  low-

ceilinged room equipped with perhaps a dozen small desks arranged in a circle.

In the center of the circle was a holoprojector  showing  a  tree  with  three

animals of various species standing beneath it. The  children  at  the  desks,

four - and five-year-olds by the look of them, were busily scribbling away  on

their datapads while a young woman wandered around the outside of  the  circle

silently inspecting their work.

"I see," Jinzler said, trying to generate some genuine  interest  in  the

proceedings "Art class?"

"Art, plus elementary zoology and botany,"  she  told  him.  "We  combine

disciplines and lessons as much  as  possible.  The  third-tier  classroom  is

through here."

She led the way through an archway into another room  with  larger  desks

and no students or teachers. "Run out of thirders?" Jinzler asked.

"They must be on a field trip," she said, crossing over to a larger  desk

in the corner and peering down at a datapad lying there. "Yes; they're down in

the nursery today learning about the proper care and feeding of babies."

"Sounds like fun," Jinzler commented. "And the art  of  proper  changing,

too, no doubt. You said down? I thought we were on the lowest deck."

"The nursery's on Six, the next Dreadnaught down," Pressor's voice  said.

Jinzler turned, vaguely surprised to see  the  Guardian  walking  behind  him.

Preoccupied with his memories, he hadn't even noticed the  other  follow  them

inside. "There's less solar radiation down there,  so  that's  where  all  the

pregnant women and those with children under three are housed."

"And their families, too, of course," Rosemari added. "We'd all move down

there except that it suffered so much more damage in the battle  that  there's

less usable space for people to live in. And besides, Director  Uliar  doesn't

want us living too close to?"

"Rosemari," Pressor cut her off sharply.

Rosemari flushed. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Jinzler asked.

"So, did you really want to see the school?" Pressor asked. "Or was  that

just an excuse to get away from Uliar and his ranting?"

Jinzler hesitated, studying Pressor's face. The man's eyes were hard, his

expression set in pale stone. It would not, he decided  suddenly,  be  a  good

idea to lie to this man. "Mostly the latter," he  conceded.  "He  seems  so...

angry."

"Wouldn't you be?" Pressor countered. "The universe turned  upside  down,

with everything you'd planned to do with your life suddenly  cut  off  at  the

knees?"

"I suppose," Jinzler said. "Are he and the other  two  the  last  of  the

original survivors?"

"No, there are ten left," Pressor said. "But the other seven are old  and

weak and keep pretty much to themselves."

"Most of the fifty-seven Survivors were either injured in the  attack  or

suffered badly in the months after Outbound  Flight  arrived  here,"  Rosemari

said. "It affected both their health and their life spans, which is why  there

are only ten left."

"We're talking about the adults, of course," Pressor added.  "There  were

also several children like me who were alive during the Devastation  but  were

too young to know what exactly was going on.  We  certainly  didn't  have  any

plans for our lives yet." His eyes bored  into  Jinzler.  "Though  of  course,

plans or otherwise, our lives were pretty well destroyed, too."

"Tell it to Aristocra Formbi," Jinzler advised, holding his gaze  evenly.

"He's the one accepting guilt for all this, not me."

To his mild surprise, Pressor actually smiled. "You're  right,"  he  said

without apology. "I'm sure Uliar will remember to bring that up."

"Did you really hate your sister?" Evlyn asked.

Jinzler looked down at the girl. She was  gazing  up  at  him,  her  eyes

steady, her face expressionless. "Yes," he said. "Does that frighten you?"

"Why should it frighten me?" she asked.

"Maybe you're wondering if I hate all Jedi,"  Jinzler  suggested.  "Maybe

you're wondering if I hate you."

"No," Pressor  bit  out  before  Evlyn  could  answer.  "Whatever  you're

thinking, stop it right now. There's absolutely nothing special about her."

Jinzler frowned. An unexpectedly harsh reaction, far more  vehement  than

the comment deserved. "I just meant?"

"No," Pressor said, his voice softer and under  better  control  now  but

just as firm. "You're imagining things. Leave it alone."

Jinzler looked at Evlyn; and in his mind's eye he saw her calmly  leading

them into the turbolift trap. Unafraid of armed alien  strangers,  as  if  she

somehow knew they wouldn't shoot her the minute her back was turned.

And then stepping casually through the doorway with  exquisitely  precise

timing as the trap was triggered.

He looked at Rosemari. "Am I imagining things?" he asked.

Rosemari sent a hooded look at her brother. "Jorad worries about things,"

she said obliquely.

"There's nothing to worry about," Jinzler assured her. "If she  has  Jedi

abilities?"

"I said to let it alone," Pressor warned harshly.  "She's  not  going  to

have that kind of life. I won't let her. Neither will Rosemari. You hear me?"

Jinzler swallowed. The  Guardian,  he  suddenly  noticed,  had  his  hand

wrapped around the grip of his blaster, and the knuckles were white.  "I  hear

you," he said quietly. "But you're making a mistake."

"You just keep your mouth shut," Pressor said. His voice was still tight,

but his gun hand seemed to have relaxed a bit. "You hear me?"

Jinzler sighed to himself. "Yes. I won't mention it again."

"Why did you hate your sister?" Evlyn asked.

Jinzler looked at her again, feeling a tightness  in  his  chest  like  a

logjam starting to break up. For more than half  a  century  he'd  kept  these

thoughts and feelings locked away in the dark privacy of his own  mind,  never

speaking of them to family or friends or confidants.  The  closest  he'd  ever

come to even hinting at them before today had been his admission to  Luke  and

Mara that he and Lorana hadn't parted on good terms.

Perhaps he'd kept all of it in too long.

"She was my older sister," he said. "Third of four children, if you care.

I was the youngest. We lived on Coruscant, pretty much in the  shadow  of  the

Jedi Temple. My parents worked there, in fact, as maintenance engineers on the

electrical equipment."

His gaze drifted away from his audience to one of the empty desks,  where

a spare datapad was lying. "My parents adored Jedi," he said, the words coming

out with difficulty. "Adored them, honored them?practically worshiped them, in

fact."

"Did the Jedi return the affection?" Pressor asked.

Jinzler snorted. "What makes you think the grand exalted guardians of the

Republic even noticed a couple of lowly workers scurrying around beneath their

feet?" He shook his head. "Of course not. They had better things  to  do  with

their time.

"But that didn't matter to my parents. They still  loved  the  Jedi,  and

they thought the greatest thing in the universe would be if they could have  a

Jedi child of their own. As soon as each of their  children  was  old  enough,

they hustled us over there and had them run us through the tests."

"Was your sister the only one who made it?" Rosemari asked.

Jinzler nodded. "Right at ten months," he said, his  throat  aching.  "It

was the happiest day of my parents' life."

"How old were you when that happened?" Evlyn asked.

"I wasn't even born yet," Jinzler said. "Parents weren't allowed to  even

see their children once they'd been taken into the Temple, and my parents lost

their jobs. Still, they would hang around outside and finagle a glimpse of her

every once in a while as she passed by. I was four when I first saw her."

"The same age I was when I first met her," Pressor murmured.

Jinzler blinked. "You remember her?"

"Of course," Pressor said, sounding surprised that he would even have  to

ask. "Jedi Lorana, we called her. What, I look too young to you?"

"No, of course not," Jinzler said. "It's just that so much  has  happened

since then that it seems like... you know. So what did you think of her?"

Pressor shrugged, too casually. "She seemed nice enough,"  he  said,  his

voice guarded. "At least, for a Jedi. I didn't know any of them very well,  of

course."

"Yes, I suppose she could have become a nice  person  by  then,"  Jinzler

said, and immediately regretted it. "No, that's not fair,"  he  amended.  "She

was probably just as nice when she was six. I just... I suppose I wasn't in  a

position to notice."

"Let me guess," Pressor said. "You'd already failed your own test."

"Very good," Jinzler said sourly. "My parents never said  anything  about

it, but I knew without asking that they were disappointed. Anyway, when I  was

four they brought me to the Temple. The Jedi were coming out for some kind  of

public holiday. We waited and waited."

He took a deep breath. "And then, finally, there she was."

He closed his eyes, a whole flood of hated memories sweeping back through

him. The rustling of Lorana's robes  as  she  walked  by  them,  a  tall  Jedi

striding along watchfully beside her; the sudden tight grip  of  his  mother's

hands on his shoulders as she bent down and whispered  Lorana's  name  in  his

ear.

"They were proud of her," he went on in a low voice. "So  very  proud  of

her."

"I take it you weren't impressed?" Pressor asked.

Jinzler shrugged. "She was six. I was four. How impressed should  I  have

been?"

"What happened?" Rosemari asked. "Did she talk to you?"

"No," Jinzler told her. "The Jedi who was with her spotted us, and leaned

over to say something. She looked in our direction, hesitated  a  second,  and

then the two of them turned and headed off. She  never  even  got  within  ten

meters of us."

"That must have been disappointing," Rosemari murmured.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Jinzler said, hearing the  bitterness  in

his voice. "But not with my parents. Even as she disappeared into the crowd of

Jedi I could feel them practically swimming in love and respect and adoration.

None of it, of course, directed at me."

"But they loved you, too, didn't they?" Evlyn asked, her  voice  low  and

earnest. "I mean... they must have loved you, too."

Even after all these years, Jinzler's throat ached at  the  memories.  "I

don't know," he told her quietly. "I'm sure they?I think they tried.  But  the

whole time I was growing up it was clear that Lorana was the  real  center  of

their universe. She wasn't even there, but she was still  their  center.  They

talked about her all the time, held her up as an example of what people  could

make of their lives, practically made a shrine to  her  in  a  corner  of  the

conversation room. I can't even count the number of times a scolding  included

the words not something your sister Lorana would  ever  do  somewhere  in  the

middle of it."

"Setting a standard none of the rest of  you  could  ever  live  up  to,"

Rosemari said.

"Not a chance in the galaxy," Jinzler agreed tiredly. "I tried, you know.

I went into my father's own field?electronics?and pushed myself until I'd gone

farther than he'd ever made it. Farther than he'd  ever  hoped  to  go.  Droid

repair and pattern design, starship electronics  maintenance,  comm  equipment

architecture and repair?"

"And politics?" Evlyn murmured.

Jinzler looked down at her, startled.  She  was  gazing  at  him  with  a

disturbingly knowing look.

Abruptly, he got it. Ambassador Jinzler. In the rush of ache  and  memory

and old bitterness he'd completely forgotten the role he was playing here.  "I

tried as hard as I could to make myself into someone they could love  as  much

as her," he said, wrenching himself out of his meanderings  and  back  to  the

point. "And of course, they said they were proud of me and of what  I'd  done.

But I could see in their eyes that I still didn't measure up. Not to  Lorana's

standards."

"Did you ever see her again?" Rosemari asked. "Lorana, I mean."

"I saw her a couple more times at the Temple," Jinzler told her.  "Always

at a distance, of course. Then we met just before  Outbound  Flight  left  the

Republic." He looked away. "I don't want to talk about that."

For a long moment no one spoke. Jinzler stared at  the  empty  classroom,

watching the  memories  still  parading  themselves  in  front  of  his  eyes,

wondering why exactly he'd just bared his soul to a trio  of  total  strangers

that way. He must be getting old.

It was Pressor who eventually broke the silence. "We should get  back  to

the others," he said, his voice sounding odd. "Uliar's suspicious enough of us

as it is. We don't want him to think we're planning  some  conspiracy  against

him."

Jinzler took a deep breath, willing the ghosts of the past  to  go  away.

The ghosts, as usual, ignored him. "Yes," he said. "Of course."

* * *

They retraced their steps through the classrooms,  Rosemari  leading  the

way with Evlyn beside her. Not held quite so  closely  to  her  side,  Pressor

noted as he fell in behind Jinzler like a good Peacekeeper should. Apparently,

his sister didn't feel quite as nervous about their visitor as she had  a  few

minutes ago.

As for Pressor himself, he didn't know what to think anymore.  He'd  been

fully prepared to hate Jinzler and the others, or at  the  very  least  to  be

extremely distrustful of them, their words, and their motives.

But now, all that nice convenient caution had been thrown  for  a  twist.

True, Jinzler's story just now could have been a complete lie,  a  performance

carefully calculated to lull suspicions and evoke sympathy. But Pressor didn't

think so. He'd always  been  good  at  reading  people,  and  something  about

Jinzler's revelation had struck him as genuine.

Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything as far as the  rest  of  the

group was concerned. He'd caught the subtle hint  in  Evlyn's  question  about

politics; clearly, Jinzler was no ambassador, or at least  nobody  who'd  been

officially sanctioned in that post. Either he was  part  of  some  complicated

plot, which was seeming less and less likely, or else he'd wormed his way into

this expedition under false pretenses. Either way, the logical conclusion  was

that the chief Chiss, Formbi, was the one in actual charge here,  and  so  far

Pressor hadn't been able to read him at all. Hopefully, Uliar was making  some

progress on that front. The outer school door slid open, and Rosemari  stepped

out into the corridor?

And nearly collided with Trilli as he shot past at a fast jog.

"Sorry," the Peacekeeper muttered, managing to avoid running  them  down.

He caught sight of Pressor and came to an abrupt halt. "Jorad, I need to  talk

to you," he said.

Pressor glanced at Jinzler. Letting the pseudo-ambassador  wander  around

alone would not be a good idea, he knew. But the look in Trilli's eyes was one

that demanded immediate attention, and in private. "Rosemari, will you  escort

the ambassador to the meeting chamber?" he asked his sister. "I'll be along in

a minute."

"Certainly," Rosemari said. "This way, Ambassador." Walking side by side,

she, Evlyn, and Jinzler headed down the corridor.

"What is it?" Pressor asked when he judged the group far  enough  out  of

earshot.

"I went to lock down the turbolift controls like you said," Trilli  said,

his voice tight. "The other two trap cars?Two and Six?aren't midtube anymore."

Pressor felt his stomach tighten. "You mean they?? No, that's impossible.

We'd have heard the crash."

"I'd sure think so," Trilli agreed. "But if the cars  aren't  there,  and

they didn't smash themselves to a group pulp, it means the Jedi and  Imperials

somehow ungimmicked them and got out."

Pressor hissed softly between his teeth. This was not good. This was very

not good. "All right," he said slowly. "They didn't come down  here?there  are

enough people wandering around that we'd surely have heard about  it  if  they

had. That means they either went back up to Four, or else they're down in  the

storage core. Could you tell where the cars ended up?"

Trilli shook his head. "We messed up all the positioning sensors when  we

rewired the cars way back when. We'd have to physically go in there and see."

"Yeah," Pressor said. "Okay, go scare up a couple of  maintenance  droids

and send them into the shaft, one in each direction. Then get hold of Bels and

Amberson and have them lock down all  access  from  Four.  If  they  went  up,

they're probably planning to come back with reinforcements."

"And if they went down?"

Pressor grimaced. From the supply core, the intruders would  have  access

to both the main colony here on Five as well as the nursery on  Six.  And,  of

course?

"You think they know about Quarantine?" Trilli asked,  echoing  Pressor's

own thought.

"I don't know how they could," Pressor said. "But they're Jedi. Who knows

what they know?"

"Well, we sure as vacuum can't let them get back  there,"  Trilli  warned

darkly. "If they find those people?worse, if they spring them..." He shook his

head.

"Right," Pressor said grimly. "Who's on Quarantine duty?"

"Perry and Quinze," Trilli said. "You want me to send reinforcements?"

Pressor snorted. "Like who?"

"Yeah," Trilli said with a sigh. "We don't exactly have an army here,  do

we?"

"Hardly," Pressor agreed, frowning back over Trilli's  shoulder.  In  the

distance, in the direction of the forward turbolift lobby, some of the  lights

seemed to have gone off. Odd. "About all we can do is warn them. Better  alert

the maintenance crews to be on the lookout, too. Wired comms only on those;  I

want the comlink jamming kept in place for now."

"Right," Trilli said. "This could get ugly, Jorad."

Pressor looked the other way down the corridor,  where  glimpses  of  his

sister and niece and Jinzler could still be seen through colonists going about

their business. "Yes," he said. "I know."

CHAPTER 16

The last ten meters  of  the  turbolift  pylon  leading  to  the  command

Dreadnaught were crushed and twisted, as if that part of the  pylon  had  been

hit with a powerful impact. The final two meters of that,  in  addition,  were

blocked by what seemed to be the remains of a car that had been caught in  the

wrong place at the wrong time. Even with lightsabers, it was a  delicate  task

to cut enough of it away to get through. "Finally," Mara said  as  she  sliced

through one last section of car wall to reveal the tube doors, as mangled  and

distorted as the tube itself. "Maybe we should have gone  aft  and  tried  the

pylon back there."

"I doubt it would have been any faster," Luke said, stepping forward  and

carefully sniffing the air drifting in through  the  slightly  open  door.  It

smelled dank and stale, but otherwise livable. The door markings  were  upside

down, he noted, which meant that the  turbolift  car  hadn't  made  the  usual

rotation as it arrived, and D-1's gravity wasn't functioning. If  the  gravity

was off, the rest of the environmental system probably was, too, with the  air

he was smelling just the leakage from the rest of the Outbound Flight complex.

They would have to make sure they didn't get oxygen-starved. "Don't forget all

the debris we had to wade through when we first came  in  up  on  D-Four,"  he

reminded her as he stepped back and gestured in invitation toward  the  doors.

"Thrawn probably made even more  of  a  mess  of  the  turbolaser  and  shield

sections on this one."

"I suppose." With deft flicks of her lightsaber, Mara carved  an  opening

through the door. "Shall we?"

It wasn't as bad as Luke had expected, at least as far  as  basic  travel

difficulties were concerned. It was strange to walk along the ceiling with the

deck above them, and of course the planetoid's own gravity was far weaker than

what they were used to, but that  in  itself  didn't  present  any  particular

problems. The bulkheads and floors were horrendously crumpled and twisted, but

there was relatively little  actual  debris  lying  around  to  contend  with.

Occasionally they had to use their lightsabers to clear away a  support  strut

that was blocking a doorway, and twice they had to use the  Force  to  move  a

wayward console that had broken away from its connections and was lying, dust-

covered, across their path. But most of the obstacles were easily dealt  with,

and a handful of the permlights had survived to  supplement  the  illumination

from their glow rods.

The debris itself wasn't the tough part. The tough part was the bodies.

Not really bodies, of course, at least not the sort Luke had seen in  the

aftermath of the many battles he'd been through in his  lifetime.  After  five

decades, there was little left but piles of bones and scraps  of  clothing  to

show where someone had fallen. Sometimes he could see evidence  of  how  death

had come: severely broken skulls from flying  equipment,  or  pulverized  bone

showing where a hit from a laser or missile blast had turned part of the inner

hull into deadly shrapnel.

Most of the time, though, the remains showed no indication  of  what  had

happened. Those crewers, most likely, had either died of suffocation  or  from

the impact when the  Dreadnaught  had  slammed  into  the  gravel  pile  where

Outbound Flight now lay.

"You can see where the hull's been  repaired,"  Mara  commented  as  they

picked their way forward toward the command deck. "See the weld marks?"

Luke looked where she was pointing her glow  rod.  The  marks  were  very

professional, precisely following the jagged hull cracks. "Repair droids?"

"Definitely," Mara agreed. "The attack must  have  smashed  the  hull  in

enough places to bypass the blast  doors  and  emergency  compartmentalization

system, which then suffocated any of the crew and passengers still alive.  But

it didn't put all the droids out of commission, and they  automatically  began

emergency repairs. By the time anyone else got here, enough of  the  ship  was

airtight again for them to fly it."

The damage seemed to increase as they moved forward. So did the number of

bones. "The crew must have been trying to escape up here as  Thrawn  took  out

the turbolaser and shield blisters," Mara said as Luke sliced open yet another

frozen blast door. "There normally wouldn't have been this  many  people  this

far forward."

"Especially since most of the  ones  on  duty  would  have  been  farther

forward on the command deck," Luke agreed, eyeing her closely.  "How  are  you

doing?"

"I'm all right," she said. "Why? Shouldn't I be?"

"I just wondered," he said. "I mean, down here with more..."

"With more evidence of what Thrawn and Palpatine did to these people?"

Luke winced. "Something like that."

"Oddly enough, I'm all right," Mara said, her eyes  drifting  around  the

room. "I guess I must have already worked through  all  that  up  above."  She

gestured toward an upside-down arch ahead of them, a doorway partially blocked

by a half-closed blast door. "Looks like we're getting near  the  end  of  the

line."

"I think you're right." Slipping through the opening, Luke looked around.

It was a large room, with a lot of scattered chairs and broken  consoles  that

had once apparently been lined up in neat rows, all of  it  covered  with  the

same thick layer of dust that existed everywhere down  here.  "Definitely  the

monitor anteroom," he identified it as Mara joined him. "That  would  put  the

bridge just ahead, through that other archway in the middle of the far wall."

"What's left of it, anyway," Mara said, looking around.  "It  may  be  my

imagination, but it looks like there's less actual battle damage here."

"It does, doesn't it," Luke agreed, frowning. She was right: aside from a

few of the droid-repaired fissures, most  of  the  destruction  seemed  to  be

impact damage. "Either it happened when Outbound Flight plowed into this  rock

pile, or else Thrawn did some ship ramming during the battle."

"Thrawn, or someone else," Mara said. "Don't  forget  that  according  to

Bearsh, the Vagaari were also at that battle."

"True." Luke surveyed  the  wreckage,  a  strange  feeling  of  emptiness

flowing into him. "I'd hoped we'd be able to find  some  intact  records  down

here. Something about the Jedi of that time,  maybe  some  details  about  how

they'd been organized. But I can't see  how  anything  like  that  could  have

survived."

"Doesn't look promising, does it?" Mara said. "Still, as  long  as  we're

here, we might as well go the whole way. You said that was  the  door  to  the

bridge?"

"Should be," Luke said, ducking under a section  of  collapsed  deck  and

stepping over to the archway and the warped metal door blocking  it.  Igniting

his lightsaber, he sliced it open.

It was indeed the bridge, very much as he remembered from his brief  time

aboard the Katana some thirteen years before. Except,  of  course,  that  this

particular bridge was littered with bones and broken consoles  and  ankle-deep

in powdery dust.

And it was only about half as long as the other one had been.

"Now, that's impressive," Mara said. "I don't think I've ever even  heard

of a ship being crushed this badly, let alone seen it.  They  must  have  been

really scorching space when they hit."

"Yes," Luke murmured. "Question is, whose idea was it to hit this hard?"

"You still thinking about those prisoners in the storage core?"

"Off and on," Luke said, frowning  toward  the  crushed  bow.  There  was

something  glinting  dully  over  there  amid  the  shards  of  the  shattered

observation bubble, something that didn't seem to fit with  the  rest  of  the

wreckage they'd seen. "We know they escaped somehow," he  continued,  stepping

carefully through the debris, wincing as something snapped beneath  his  boot.

"We also know that there were eighteen Jedi aboard Outbound  Flight,  and  yet

Thrawn was still  able  to  beat  them.  I  keep  wondering  if  there's  some

connection."

"It could be that Thrawn had a bigger fleet than anyone wants to  admit,"

Mara suggested, leaning over one of the consoles for a closer look.

"Formbi said it was just his picket force," Luke reminded her.

"Formbi is also lugging around  about  two  bantha-weights  of  corporate

Chiss guilt over the whole incident," Mara countered, moving on  to  the  next

console. "Maybe there was more official Chiss involvement  than  he's  letting

on."

"Could be," Luke said, squatting down among  the  transparisteel  shards.

There it was. Gingerly, he reached into the debris and got a grip on it.

He froze. Not it; them. There were two objects buried in the rubble, both

archaic in design and  yet  instantly  recognizable  as  they  lay  among  two

distinct sets of broken bones.

Mara picked up instantly on his emotional reaction.  "What  is  it?"  she

asked, abandoning her survey and coming to his side.

"Exhibit One," Luke said, lifting up a dented cylinder that could only be

a lightsaber. "And," he added quietly, holding up  a  tarnished,  dented  hand

weapon, "Exhibit Two."

Mara inhaled sharply. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I think so," Luke told her, standing up and turning the weapon  over  in

his hand. "It's a few decades out of date, but the style is unmistakable.

"It's a Chiss charric."

* * *

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then, still wordlessly, Mara held out

her hand. Luke placed the unknown weapon in it, and  for  another  minute  she

studied it in silence. "Yes," she said at last. "You can see  Chiss  lettering

on it. It's a charric, all right."

"So what's it doing here?" Luke asked. "Drask told us Thrawn never sent a

landing party aboard."

"And how exactly would Drask know whether he did or didn't?" Mara pointed

out. "He wasn't there. Was he?"

"Not that I've heard," Luke admitted, taking the charric back  from  her.

An odd thought was starting to take shape around the edges of his mind...

"Not much we  can  tell  from  the  skeleton,  either,"  Mara  commented,

squatting down and gently touching one of the bones the charric had been lying

beside. "Humanoid, but definitely not human. That covers  a  lot  of  species,

unfortunately."

"Including the Chiss," Luke said. "Tell me, Mara. You spent a lot of time

talking to the Chiss on the trip  here.  Did  any  of  them  ever  say  they'd

actually seen any of the Vagaari? Or seen holos of a Vagaari, or even heard  a

description of one?"

Mara frowned, and he could sense her  stretching  to  the  Force  as  she

searched her memory. "No," she said. "In fact, I remember Formbi  specifically

saying they hadn't been seen anywhere in the  region  since  Outbound  Flight.

Though to be fair, I never actually asked anyone that particular question."

"Well, I did ask Bearsh once," Luke said.  "None  of  his  generation  of

Geroons ever saw a Vagaari, either."

"Which would make sense if they all disappeared fifty  years  ago,"  Mara

pointed out. "Are you going anywhere special with this?"

"The Chiss were at Outbound Flight," Luke said. "According to Bearsh  and

Formbi, so were the Vagaari."

He lifted his eyebrows. "What if they were in fact the same people?"

Mara blinked. "Are you suggesting the Chiss are the Vagaari?"

"Why not?" Luke asked. "Or at least, some particular group of Chiss were.

We both know how devious and creative Thrawn was. Would it have been that hard

for him to invent a completely fictitious race for his own purposes?"

"Probably wouldn't have been more than a lazy afternoon's work for  him,"

she conceded. "But why would he do that?"

"That's the real question, isn't it?" Luke conceded.  "I  don't  know.  I

just find it oddly suspicious that when Outbound Flight  disappeared,  so  did

the Vagaari."

"Mm," Mara murmured, frowning off into infinity.  "Maybe  we  should  sit

Formbi down in a quiet corner somewhere when we get back to the  rest  of  the

group. It's about time he was straight with us about what's going on."

"It's well past time," Luke said. "And we'll need to get him off alone. I

don't think we'll want Drask listening in."

"That goes without saying." Mara gestured to the  dusty  weapons  in  his

hands. "Either of those still work?"

"I don't know." Aiming at an empty spot across the  room,  Luke  squeezed

the charric's firing stud.

Nothing happened. "Dead as Honoghr," he said, sticking it into his  belt.

Pointing the lightsaber away from him, he touched the activator.

The weapon's snap-hiss sounded weak and rather asthmatic. But  the  green

blade that blazed out appeared functional enough. "Whoever built this built it

to last," he commented, closing it down and peering more  closely  at  it.  "I

wonder if it was C'baoth's."

"C'baoth's?"

"He was apparently the  senior  Jedi  Master  on  the  expedition,"  Luke

reminded her. "This is probably where he would have been  during  the  attack.

And look." He pointed to the activator. "See this? Looks  like  some  kind  of

gem."

"You're right," Mara said, leaning toward him  for  a  closer  look.  "An

amethyst, I think."

"I'll take your word for it," Luke said, sliding the lightsaber into  his

belt beside the charric. "Come on, let's finish and get  back  upstairs.  That

talk with Formbi is starting to sound more and more interesting."

* * *

The turbolift creaked and moaned as it arrived at Dreadnaught-6,  but  it

settled into place with only a couple of small bumps. "They've definitely been

using this car," Fel commented.

"As we had already concluded below," Drask said pointedly.

With an effort, Fel held his tongue. Yes,  Drask  had  noticed  that  the

core's stack  of  supplies  near  this  particular  turbolift  tube  had  been

systematically raided; and, yes,  Fel  had  agreed  then  with  the  general's

conclusion that this probably meant at least part of D-6 was in  use.  But  it

didn't mean extra evidence shouldn't be noted and commented upon.

With a little more creaking, the doors slid  open.  Grappler,  at  point,

stepped out into the corridor, his helmet turning back and forth as he scanned

the area. "Clear," he reported, moving aside to let the others emerge.  "Which

way, Commander?"

"The most direct path to D-Five, of course,"  Drask  growled  before  Fel

could answer. "That is, after all, our chief purpose in being down here."

With an effort, Fel controlled his temper. Drask had been nothing  but  a

blue-skinned lump of impatience and disapproval since he'd left Luke and  Mara

and linked up with the Imperials. Maybe, he thought unkindly, that was why the

two Jedi had been so eager to go  down  to  D-l  and  foist  him  off  on  the

Imperials. "We'll get to D-Five, General," he said with all  the  patience  he

could scrape together. "But as long as we're here, it wouldn't hurt  to  do  a

little looking around."

Drask rumbled something deep in his throat. "You do not  understand,"  he

bit out.

Fel looked aft along the corridor, trying to  ignore  him.  The  game  of

diplomacy, he decided, was rapidly losing whatever faint charm it  once  might

have possessed. As soon as he reasonably could, he would indeed  get  back  to

the others, turn Drask back over to Formbi, and be done with him.

In the distance, somewhere beyond  this  particular  Dreadnaught's  fleet

tactical room, he  could  see  a  glow  that  seemed  stronger  than  anything

permlights could put out. "Looks like the local civilization is back that way,

" he said, pointing. "Stormtroopers?"

There was a short pause as the stormtroopers turned their sensors in that

direction. "Infrared and gas-spectrum analysis readings indicate approximately

thirty to forty humans," Grappler reported.

"Picking up voices, too," Cloud added. "The pitch  would  suggest  mostly

females and infants."

Fel frowned. Infants? "Let's take a look."

Drask rumbled again. "Commander Fel?"

"We're going to take a look, General,"  Fel  said  shortly,  sending  the

Chiss's glare right back at him. "If you choose to argue with me  every  third

or fourth step, it's going to take a lot longer."

"Very well, Commander," Drask said, his eyes blazing. "As you  wish.  You

are in command of this unit, after all."

And don't you forget it. Again leaving the words unsaid, Fel gestured the

501st forward.

They headed down the corridor, Grappler in the  lead,  Cloud  and  Shadow

behind him, Watchman bringing up the rear behind Fel and  Drask.  The  general

maintained a stony silence, and possibly because of that they hadn't gone more

than a handful of steps before Fel began to hear the sounds of infant  squeals

and gurgles and female conversation. A few steps after that, and he  was  able

to see the light he'd noticed spilling gently out into  the  corridor  from  a

large room he tentatively identified as the forward sensor  analysis  complex.

"Easy, everyone," he murmured as Grappler neared the archway leading into  the

room. "We don't want to scare them. Better let me go first."

Grappler nodded, and the three stormtroopers in  the  lead  slowed  their

pace and moved apart. Fel passed through the middle of the formation;  to  his

annoyance, Drask stayed right at his side. "General?"

"If you pause to argue, this will take longer," Drask countered. "Let  us

finish and go to D-Five."

Fel squeezed his  hand  into  a  fist.  Having  a  stranger  drop  in  on

unsuspecting women and children would be bad enough; having two strangers, one

of them a glowing-eyed alien, would be an order of magnitude worse.

But there was a set to Drask's jaw implying that further  argument  would

be a waste of time. Sighing to himself, Fel stepped into the archway.

Even at first glance it was clear why Cloud had picked up only female and

infant voices: by its furnishings and decor, the room was clearly a large  and

well-equipped nursery.  Perhaps  twenty  women  were  visible  in  the  nearer

section, sitting on comfortable-looking  couches  and  chairs,  some  of  them

clearly pregnant, the rest just as clearly monitoring the activities of a herd

of infants, crawlers, and toddlers.  There  were  also  about  a  dozen  older

children in the seven-to-eight-year-old range, that group standing in  a  half

circle around another woman as if listening to a story or  a  lesson.  He  had

just enough time to see every eye turn to him, and to catch  the  startled  or

frightened expressions on several of the women?

The attack came as a  stuttering  burst  of  full-auto  blasterfire  from

somewhere farther aft, a screaming volley of red bolts sizzling and spattering

across the stormtroopers' armor. Instinctively, Fel ducked down, grabbing  for

Drask's arm only to find that the general's combat reflexes were better  honed

than Fel's and had already put  him  flat  on  the  deck.  The  stormtroopers'

reactions were just as quick: Watchman shouted something Fel didn't catch, and

suddenly a set of green blaster bolts was  scorching  the  air  in  the  other

direction.

"Cease fire!" Fel shouted over the din. "Stormtroopers: cease fire!"

"No!" Drask barked. "Lay down protective fire and retreat  to  the  fleet

tactical room. Fel, come."

Before Fel could even form a protest, Drask had the two of them  back  on

their feet, rapidly retreating  behind  the  stormtroopers'  moving  defensive

screen. They reached the fleet tactical room, and with  a  quick  look  inside

Drask shoved Fel through the doorway and jumped in after him. A second  later,

with one final burst of covering fire, the four stormtroopers were  inside  as

well.

"Report," Fel ordered, feeling like an idiot and hoping  the  effects  of

the exertion would adequately cover his embarrassment.  Getting  shot  at  was

hardly a new experience for him, but usually  he  was  in  the  cockpit  of  a

clawcraft at those times, with a familiar collection of sensors, shields,  and

weapons at his fingertips. Being attacked in dress uniform  had  startled  him

more than he would have expected. "Injuries?"

"No armor damage," Watchman  reported.  "Those  bolts  were  weaker  than

standard."

"Comes of using the same Tibanna gas reserves for fifty years, I  guess,"

Fel said. "All right, I guess that's that. Let's see if we can get back to the

turbolift without getting ourselves blasted."

"No," Drask said. "We go back."

Fel felt his jaw drop a couple of  centimeters.  "What  are  you  talking

about? We're here to help these people, not trade shots with them."

Drask  eyed  him  curiously.  "Interesting,"  he  said.  "You  have  more

restraint  than  I  would  have  expected  from  one  trained   under   Syndic

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's authority." He gestured down the corridor.  "But  in  this

particular situation, such restraint  is  inappropriate.  Those  warriors  are

protecting something. I wish to learn what it is."

Fel took a deep breath, his opinion of Drask's soldiering skills dropping

a few notches. "They were protecting that nursery," he said, as if  explaining

it to a small child. "Women and children. Remember?"

"No," Drask said. "If that had been their purpose, they would  have  been

positioned between the turbolift and that room."

"Maybe there aren't any good defensive positions this far forward."

"We passed at least three of them,"  Drask  countered.  "I  am  a  ground

soldier, Commander. Such things are my business."

"He's right, Commander," Watchman put in. "Actually, for that matter, the

position they were firing from wasn't very secure. Best  guess  is  that  they

were on their way forward from somewhere else when they ran into us."

Fel stepped to the doorway and hooked a cautious eye  around  it.  Beyond

the open nursery door, he could see  two  figures  jump-stopping  toward  them

along the corridor. "In fact, I  would  suspect  they  are  right  now  taking

advantage of the lull to move to better positions closer to  us,"  Drask  said

from behind him.

"They're coming, all right,"  Fel  confirmed,  his  estimation  of  Drask

reluctantly returning to its previous level. "Looks like just two of them."

"Then let us move quickly," Drask urged. "If we hesitate too long  before

launching a counterattack, the subsequent battle  will  take  place  near  the

nursery and risk injury to the women and children. That is unacceptable."

"I thought launching attacks in general was unacceptable to  the  Chiss,"

Fel muttered under his breath as he gestured the stormtroopers forward.

"They fired first," Drask reminded him coolly. "They are now  fair  game.

Do we go?"

Fel clenched his teeth. "We go," he confirmed. "Watchman? Clear out those

snipers. Try to do it without killing them."

"Copy, Commander," the stormtrooper  said  promptly.  "Grappler,  Shadow,

Cloud: Overrun Pattern Three. Go."

Grappler touched his fingertips to his helmet in acknowledgment and swung

halfway out into the corridor, dropping onto one knee and opening up with  his

BlasTech on full auto. The other two stormtroopers gave  the  pattern  half  a

second to settle in, then ducked out into the corridor and charged out  toward

the waiting enemy, Shadow adding his own blasterfire to the barrage.

Fel held his breath. Five seconds later came the  distinctive  sputtering

sizzle of a stun blast, and the firing abruptly ceased.

"All clear," Grappler announced, getting to  his  feet  and  disappearing

down the corridor toward his comrades.

Silently, Fel let out the breath he'd  been  holding.  He'd  worked  with

units of the 501st  on  several  occasions,  but  never  under  actual  combat

conditions. This was  going  to  be  an  educational  experience.  "Let's  go,

General."

The women and  children,  he  noted  as  they  passed  the  nursery,  had

retreated to the farthest part of the room and were standing huddled together,

some of them visibly trembling. He considered pausing to try to reassure them,

decided that anything he could say or do  would  only  scare  them  more,  and

continued on without breaking stride.

The two gunners were sprawled on the floor as he and the  others  reached

the spot. Shadow was kneeling beside them, checking for the heart palpitations

that sometimes occurred with stun blasts, while Cloud  stood  guard  with  his

BlasTech pointed aft  down  the  corridor.  "They'll  be  all  right,"  Shadow

reported as he stood up. "Shall I leave them their weapons?"

Fel looked down at the antique blasters lying beside  the  sleeping  men.

Disarming the enemy was standard procedure, of course. But he hadn't come here

to fight these people, and there was a chance that what had just happened  had

been some kind of misunderstanding. "Just put  them  up  there,"  he  ordered,

pointing to a makeshift ledge a meter and a  half  above  the  deck  that  was

supporting some reworked cable connections. "We don't want some kid  from  the

nursery finding them."

"Yes, sir."

He watched as the stormtrooper complied, fully expecting Drask to  object

to his decision. But the Chiss said nothing. "Cloud?"

"I'm not picking up  anyone  else  nearby,"  the  stormtrooper  reported.

"There's a lot of the same sort of structural damage back there  that  we  ran

into on D-Four, though, and that could be masking them."

"Not to mention providing  them  with  lots  of  choices  for  an  ambush

position," Fel said.

"Yes, sir," Watchman agreed. "Shall we go clean it out?"

Fel very much wanted to say yes. Antique weapons or  not,  those  blaster

bolts could still  do  considerable  damage  to  an  unarmored  body  if  they

connected. Staying here while the 501st did all the dangerous work made a  lot

of tactical sense.

But he couldn't do that. Not with Drask standing there listening.  "We'll

go together," he told Watchman.

"Yes, sir," the other said. "Stormtroopers: escort formation. Move out."

* * *

The council meeting chamber was simpler than Jinzler had expected  it  to

be. There was a long rectangular table in the center ringed by a dozen  padded

wire-mesh chairs, with another eight or nine chairs lined up against  each  of

the two side walls. In each corner of the room were a pair of  pedestals  with

oddly shaped sculptures sitting on them, clearly handmade, while  a  few  more

pieces of local art hung on the walls.

Uliar was seated at the far end of the table,  flanked  on  one  side  by

Councilor Tarkosa and on the other by Councilor Keely. Facing  them  from  the

other end of the table, the end nearest the  door,  were  Formbi,  Feesa,  and

Bearsh, the latter hunched over in his seat like  someone  fighting  a  losing

battle with disillusionment. The other three Geroons were seated  together  in

the chairs along the left-hand wall, looking equally dejected, while the three

Chiss warriors sat stiffly against the wall to the  right.  Each  of  the  two

latter groups had one of Pressor's Peacekeepers standing watch beside its row.

The conversation, or  perhaps  more  accurately  the  confrontation,  was

already under way as the door wheezed open and Jinzler,  Rosemari,  and  Evlyn

stepped into the room. "Not good enough, Aristocra Formbi," Uliar was  saying.

"The actions of your people have cost us fifty years of exile and deprivation,

not to mention the loss of nearly fifty thousand of our companions' lives.  If

you genuinely wish to atone for this atrocity, you'll need to do far more than

that."

He looked  up  at  Jinzler.  "Ah?Ambassador,"  he  greeted  him  gravely,

gesturing to the chair beside Feesa. "Did you enjoy your tour?"

"Yes, thank you," Jinzler said, moving reluctantly forward.  This  looked

like a discussion he really didn't want to get involved in, and for  a  moment

he wondered if he should try to come up with another excuse to get out of it.

But the door had already slid shut behind him, and the  others  were  all

looking at him with varying degrees of expectation. He was apparently  in  for

the duration.

So, it appeared, were Rosemari and Evlyn. Out of the corner of his eye he

saw one of the Geroons bound eagerly from his chair and  smilingly  usher  the

mother and daughter to chairs beside  the  Chiss  warriors.  Uliar's  forehead

wrinkled dangerously at that, but he apparently decided it wasn't worth making

an issue of. "We were just discussing the  extent  of  reparations  the  Chiss

government will be providing in  contrition  for  the  Devastation,"  he  said

instead.

"And as I've already explained, I cannot make the sort of  agreement  you

seek," Formbi said. "I have no instructions or mandate for  the  situation  we

find ourselves in here. I can offer a certain level of  monetary  compensation

from my own family's resources, the amount of which I've already stated. But I

can make no promise that will bind the other families."

"On the other hand, the Nine Ruling Families had agreed to turn  Outbound

Flight's remains over to the New Republic," Jinzler pointed out as he sat down

beside Feesa. "It shouldn't be stretching  that  offer  too  much  to  include

returning all the Colonists, as well."

"And what makes you think we want to return to that part of the  galaxy?"

Uliar asked. "What makes you think we want anything to do with you or your New

Republic?"

"Then what do you want?" Jinzler asked.

"In a perfect world, we'd want the slow executions of  everyone  involved

with what was done to us," Tarkosa bit out. "But Aristocra Formbi  informs  us

that most of them are unfortunately already dead. So we'll settle for a ship."

Jinzler blinked. "A ship?"

"Not just any ship, of course," Uliar cautioned. "We want a ship at least

as big as one of our Dreadnaughts?no, make that twice as big?equipped with the

best and most modern equipment available."

"And weapons," Keely murmured, his eyes staring darkly  at  something  in

the table apparently only he could see. "Lots of weapons."

From Jinzler's belt came a soft chirp, the same odd sound he'd heard back

in the turbolift foyer just after they'd been brought down here. He glanced at

Bearsh across the table, but if the Geroon's comlink had made any  such  noise

he wasn't reacting to it.

"Yes," Uliar agreed. "Plenty of weapons and defenses."

"You already have most of that list," Formbi reminded him. "According  to

Guardian Pressor, the uppermost Dreadnaught has been made capable of flight."

"Capable of flight, yes," Tarkosa said. "Capable of what we need, no."

"What do you need, then?" Formbi asked. "What exactly do  you  want  with

this new ship?"

"To fulfill our mission, of course," Tarkosa said. "Fifty years  ago,  we

were commissioned to travel through the Unknown Regions to  the  edge  of  the

galaxy and beyond in a search for new life and new worlds."

He glared at Formbi from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "The Chiss denied us

that opportunity. We will therefore make it for ourselves."

Jinzler threw a startled look at Formbi. The Aristocra's face was settled

in diplomatic neutral, but Jinzler could see a hint of surprise in his glowing

eyes. "That's a  rather  ambitious  project,  Director,"  he  said  carefully,

turning back to Uliar. "Especially for a group as small as yours."

"And what if your people don't wish to go?" Formbi added.

"The people will come," Keely said, his eyes still focused on the  table.

"If we lead them, they will follow. All of them."

"Of course," Jinzler  said,  a  shiver  running  up  his  back.  Was  the

councilor going senile? Or had the long exile driven  him  completely  insane?

"We will, of course, need to consult with our  governments,"  he  said  aloud,

deciding the best approach right now would be to  stall  and  hope  he  didn't

improvise himself into a corner. "We'll need to  discuss  how  to  locate  and

deliver a ship that will suit your needs."

"Good," Uliar said, leaning back in his seat. "Go ahead. We'll wait."

"It's not quite that simple," Formbi put in. "First of all?"

"Of course, of course." Uliar lifted  a  hand  in  an  imperious  gesture

toward the young man standing beside the Chiss. "Peacekeeper  Oliet?  You  may

turn off the jamming."

The Peacekeeper reached for the antique comlink in his  belt;  hesitated.

"I'm sorry, Director, but I don't think I  should  do  that  without  Guardian

Pressor's permission."

Uliar's face darkened.  "Then  get  it,"  he  said,  his  voice  rumbling

ominously.

To Jinzler's left, the door again slid  open,  and  with  perfect  timing

Pressor stepped inside. "There you are," Uliar said, his tone making the words

an accusation. "Release the jamming. Ambassador Jinzler needs to  contact  his

government."

"It's not the jamming that's the problem,"  Formbi  said  before  Pressor

could reply. "The fact is  that  communication  with  the  outside  galaxy  is

impossible from inside the Redoubt. If Ambassador Jinzler and I are to consult

our governments, we'll need to leave Outbound Flight."

Uliar's eyes narrowed. "Will you, now," he said, his voice  almost  silky

smooth. "How very convenient. Perhaps you won't find it so necessary if I tell

you that one of you will be required to remain while?"

He broke off as, with a squeak of boots on decking, the Peacekeeper who'd

taken Pressor aside earlier appeared from the corridor and came to a  halt  at

Pressor's side. He grabbed the Guardian's arm and began murmuring urgently  to

him. "Guardian?" Uliar demanded. "Guardian!"

"Your pardon, Director; Councilors," Pressor said, most of his  attention

on the man still whispering to him. "A small matter that  needs  to  be  dealt

with. I'll be back in a moment."

He flashed a hand signal to the two Peacekeepers standing guard over  the

Chiss and Geroons. Then he and the messenger hurried from the room,  the  door

wheezing shut behind them.

Jinzler looked across the room at the guard beside the Geroons. The young

man's face was suddenly tight and nervous, and his hand was now resting on the

butt of his blaster. Whatever was going on, it was apparently far more serious

than Pressor was admitting.

And it seemed to Jinzler that there were only two places trouble could be

coming from right now. The Jedi, or the Imperials.

Swallowing, he turned back to  Uliar.  "Well,"  he  said,  searching  for

something to say. "As long as we have a few minutes, Director,  why  don't  we

get some details. I'd like to hear exactly what kind of  ship  you're  looking

for."

CHAPTER 17

Mara was on her  knees,  studying  the  scattered  bones  and  trying  to

visualize what the owner of the charric might have looked like, when she  felt

the faint and distant sensation.

She paused, closing her eyes as she stretched out to the Force. Bits  and

pieces flowed into focus?fear,  surprise,  anger,  violence?then  flowed  away

again into the general roiling fog. She worked harder at it,  trying  to  pull

back from the details to get a bigger picture.

The larger view refused to come, and a moment later the sensation  itself

faded into the darkness and dust and ancient bones. But that moment  had  been

enough.

Somewhere nearby, someone had died. Violently.

She opened her eyes and looked at Luke. His eyes were still  closed,  his

mouth tight as he, too, chased after the last wisps of the vision. She waited,

fingering her lightsaber and fighting for patience, until he too had lost  the

contact. "How many?" she asked.

"Several," he said, climbing hastily to his feet. "No  injuries,  either,

just deaths. Quick ones, too, as if the victims were ambushed."

"You think it's real, then?" Mara asked as they headed  back  across  the

bridge and into the monitor anteroom. "I mean, it couldn't have been something

from the past, could it?"

"You mean like an echo of what happened to Outbound  Flight  fifty  years

ago?" Luke shook his head. "No. One of us might  possibly  pick  up  something

like that, but not both of us at the same time. No,  this  was  real,  and  it

happened just now."

They had to do some climbing through the rubble  at  the  bottom  of  the

turbolift shaft in order to reach their car, but they'd  made  sure  to  leave

adequate hand-and footholds, and within a few minutes  they  were  once  again

inside. "Were you able to tell where it happened?" Mara asked as the car began

moving sluggishly upward.

"No," Luke said. "Someplace above us, but it all went by too  quickly  to

pin it down any better than that. You?"

Mara shook her head. "All I could tell was that the  deaths  didn't  seem

human, somehow."

"Really," Luke said, looking at her  thoughtfully.  "Interesting.  I  had

something of that same feeling, but I couldn't decide whether  that  part  was

real or just the fact that there are so many Chiss and Geroons around."

"Or maybe it was a little of both," Mara said.  "If  someone  decided  to

start shooting at Jinzler or the Five-Oh-First, they wouldn't be likely to let

Formbi and Bearsh just walk away."

The car lumbered to a halt in the storage core.  "Where  exactly  are  we

headed?" Mara asked as they hurried through the silent storage rooms.

"We'll try the turbolift Fel and the stormtroopers used to go to  D-Six,"

Luke said over his shoulder. "We should be able to reach either  D-Six  or  D-

Five with that one."

"Yes, that part I'd already figured out," Mara said. "I was asking  which

of the two Dreadnaughts you think we should start with."

"I don't know," Luke said as  they  reached  the  turbolift  lobby  where

they'd taken their leave of the Imperials. "Fel went  to  D-Six;  Jinzler  and

Formbi are probably on D-Five. Pick one."

The turbolift door slid halfway open and stopped. "Let's make it D-Five,"

Mara decided as they squeezed inside. "Even with three Chiss  warriors  along,

the civilians are likely to be harder pressed if things have gotten messy."

"Sounds good," Luke said. Using the Force to  pull  the  doors  at  least

partially closed, he tapped the key for D-5.

The car didn't move.

"Uh-oh," he said, trying the key again. Still nothing.

"Terrific," Mara growled, pulling out her comlink. A quick on-off  showed

that the jamming was still in place. "Well, so much for  the  easy  approach,"

she said. "Looks like our choices are to climb the shaft or head aft and  hope

the turbolifts back there are still working."

"Or to continue around to the turbolift Pressor had us trapped in,"  Luke

reminded her. "Actually, given that we've already cut  some  of  the  repulsor

controls in that pylon, it might be the easier one to climb."

"Probably safer, too," Mara pointed out, pushing the doors open again.

"Right," Luke agreed as they squeezed back out into the  turbolift  lobby

and took off at a run toward the next turbolift lobby over.  "It  would  be  a

little tricky to play Hilltop Emperor if the repulsor beams came back on."

Mara stiffened. Suddenly, unbidden, a horrible revelation had come like a

thundering of blaster bolts chewing their way into  her  stomach.  The  Geroon

ship?Bearsh's farewell to the rest of his people as the Chaf Envoy prepared to

head into the Redoubt?the vague and nameless puzzle that had bothered  her  so

tantalizingly at the time?

And the image of a Geroon child triumphantly waving a red headband.

"What is it?" Luke asked, his own step faltering at the abrupt  spike  he

felt in her. "Mara?"

"Blast it," she bit out, sprinting past him as  she  doubled  her  speed.

"Come on?no time to waste. Blast them all."

"What??"

But she had left Luke and his bewildered question behind her. So  simple;

so embarrassingly simple.

And yet Mara  Jade  Skywalker,  former  Emperor's  Hand,  had  missed  it

completely. Musing on the Empire that had been, and her former  place  in  it,

she had missed it completely.

She was nearly to their target turbolift, and over her panting breath she

could hear Luke's footsteps as he caught up to her. Steady, his thought  came,

flowing calmness over her as he tried to soothe some of her agitation.

But even Jedi calm couldn't help her now. People had already died because

of her carelessness. Unless they hurried, others would suffer the same fate.

Maybe even all of them.

* * *

The turbolift lobby was almost completely dark when  Pressor  and  Trilli

arrived. "This is crazy," Pressor declared, looking around in disbelief.  Even

some of the emergency permlights were out, which should  have  been  well-nigh

impossible. "What could have caused all this?"

"You got me," Trilli said. "The power's all right at the  generators?that

was the first thing the techs checked. It's just getting lost somewhere  along

the way."

"So, what, we've got a short in the wiring?"

"It'd take a lot more than just  one,"  Trilli  pointed  out.  "And  that

wouldn't explain the permlights, anyway."

"Yes," Pressor conceded. "Have we got a tech crew on the way?"

"One's already here," Trilli told him. "They're a deck up,  checking  out

the turbolifts. Apparently, that's where the outages started."

Pressor scratched his cheek.  "The  turbolifts  that  the  two  Jedi  and

Imperials were able to get past?"

"I thought about that, too," Trilli said. "But the power  was  just  fine

earlier after they got out."

"Maybe it's some sort of delayed reaction," Pressor suggested. "Something

they set up to cover their tracks."

"I don't know," Trilli said doubtfully. "Seems kind of a waste of effort.

Especially for Jedi."

Across the lobby, the faint sound of a ventilator fan went silent. "There

goes another one," Pressor said, peering in that  direction.  "You  know  what

this reminds me of? That infestation of conduit worms we had a few years after

the landing."

"That's impossible," Trilli insisted. "We exterminated them thirty  years

ago."

"Unless we've just imported a new batch," Pressor said, jerking his  head

back down the corridor.

Trilli muttered something under his breath.  "Uliar's  not  going  to  be

happy about this at all."

"No kidding." Pressor started to reach for his  comlink,  remembered  the

jamming in time and headed instead toward one of the wall-mounted comms. "We'd

better get a couple more tech teams down here,"  he  said.  "If  it's  conduit

worms, we want them gone, and fast."

"Right," Trilli said. "You want me to wait here while you go  tell  Uliar

the good news?"

Pressor made a face. "Let's both wait," he said.  "There's  no  point  in

starting rumors until we know for sure what we've got."

"Besides which, you don't want to spring this on Uliar alone?"

Pressor keyed the wall comm for the tech section. "Something like that."

* * *

The center portside corridor on D-6 was as snarled with rusted debris  as

anything Fel had seen up on D-4. The center starboard corridor,  in  contrast,

was almost perfectly clear.

"They've definitely been using this one," Watchman commented as the group

made their cautious way aft. "Not very much traffic, but it's steady."

"How do you figure that?" Fel asked.

"From the pattern of dust on the deck," Drask told him. "There are places

where occasional footsteps have lifted or moved it. No more than twenty people

come this way each day. Possibly fewer."

"Possibly as few as ten,"  Watchman  agreed.  "The  two  guards  we  left

stunned back there, running three shifts a day, plus a few more  would  pretty

well cover it."

"Commander?" Grappler, in the lead, called back over his  shoulder.  "I'm

picking up voices ahead."

"Extend formation," Watchman ordered. "Not too far?make sure to  stay  in

sight."

"I see a light," Grappler announced. "Looks like it's coming from one  of

the crew bunkrooms."

"Watch for  trouble,"  Fel  warned.  "They  may  have  had  time  to  get

reinforcements in position."

Apparently, they hadn't. A minute later, the group had arrived.

At a prison.

Fel hadn't been particularly impressed by Luke's  claim  that  there  had

been an old prison down in the supply core, and  Drask's  description  of  the

setup hadn't done anything to modify that skepticism. But about this place  he

had no doubts at all. The door to the old crew quarters  had  had  a  pair  of

narrow slits cut into it, one at eye level for  observation,  the  other  just

above the floor and wide enough to pass a tray of food through.  Supplementing

the door's original lock was a heavy add-on with the kind of twin access ports

that implied two separate codes were necessary to open it.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called tentatively from behind the door. "Perry?

Is that you?"

Fel stepped to the door and pressed his  face  to  the  upper  slit.  The

bunkroom had been divided into at least three  sections,  two  of  which  were

currently closed off by light, hand-movable panels. The  center  section,  the

one visible from the observation slit, had been set up as a  recreation  area,

with chairs, a couple of small tables, games, and toys. Seated in two  of  the

chairs were a pair of women, one  in  her  twenties,  the  other  much  older,

watching as four children with ages ranging between  six  and  ten  years  old

played or talked. The younger woman was leaning toward the door, squinting  to

try to see Fel through the narrow slit.

Abruptly,  she  stiffened.  "You're  not  Perry,"  she  said,  her  voice

quavering a little. "Who are you?"

"I'm Commander Chak Fel of  the  Empire  of  the  Hand,"  Fel  identified

himself as the children all paused in their activities and turned to see  what

was going on. "Don't worry, we aren't going to hurt you."

"What do you want?" the older woman asked.

"We're here to help," Fel assured her,  frowning  as  he  looked  around.

These certainly didn't look like hardened criminals who deserved  to  be  kept

behind a double-coded lock and supplied through a zoo-style feeding  slot.  In

many ways the room  reminded  him  of  the  nursery  they'd  passed  down  the

corridor, in fact, or perhaps a special classroom of some sort. "Who  are  you

people?"

"We're the remnant of the Republic mission called Outbound  Flight,"  the

older woman said.

"Yes, we know that part," Fel said. "I mean you and  the  children.  What

are you doing in there?"

"Why, we're the dangerous  ones,  of  course,"  the  younger  woman  said

bitterly. "Didn't you know?" She waved a hand to encompass the  children.  "Or

rather, they are. That's why they're in Quarantine. We're just  here  to  take

care of them, poor dears."

"The dangerous ones, huh?" Fel asked, eyeing the children. As far  as  he

could tell, they looked like any other kids he'd ever known. "What exactly did

they do?"

"They didn't do anything," the older woman said quietly. Apparently she'd

been at this long enough for her bitterness to decay  into  resignation.  "All

they were was a little bit different from everyone else. That's all.  Director

Uliar's imagination and hatred did all the rest."

"And what exactly does his imagination and hatred tell him?"  Fel  asked.

"What does he think they are?"

"Why, pure evil, of course," the younger woman said. "Or at least, that's

what he's afraid they'll grow up to be."

Fel looked at the kids again. "Pure evil?" he asked.

"Yes," the older woman added, her forehead creasing as if  it  should  be

obvious. "You know.

"Jedi."

CHAPTER 18

Fel just stared at her, his brain refusing  to  form  words.  Pure  evil?

Jedi? "Who told you Jedi were evil?" he demanded. "Some of them may have their

moments, but..."

He trailed off. Both women were looking at him as if he'd just told  them

that red was green. "Don't you know anything?" the younger woman  said.  "They

destroyed us. They betrayed and destroyed us."

"Did you actually see  this  happen?"  Fel  persisted.  "Or  is  it  just

something you heard from??"

"Commander," Drask said.

Fel turned away from the observation slit. "What?" he snapped.

"For the moment, this is irrelevant," the general said quietly.  "We  can

learn more about their history when the  Aristocra  and  ambassador  are  once

again safely under our protection."

Fel felt his jaw  tighten  in  frustration.  But  the  Chiss  was  right.

"Understood," he said reluctantly. "So we just leave them here?"

"Would you prefer we take them with us?" Drask countered.

"No, of course not," Fel conceded reluctantly.  "I  just?of  course  not.

Back to the turbolift?"

"Yes," Drask said, his eyes flashing with quiet anger toward  the  locked

room. "We have seen what we came here to see."

Fel nodded. He hated to just leave these people here, prisoners  of  some

insane half-remembered myth or personal vendetta.  But  Drask  was  right.  It

could be dealt with later. "All right, stormtroopers, form up.  We're  heading

back to the forward turbolifts."

He started to turn, and, as he did,  something  about  Grappler's  stance

caught his attention. "Grappler?" he asked.

Reluctantly, he thought, the  Eickarie  came  back  to  attention.  "Your

pardon, Commander," he said, his voice sounding even more alien than usual. "I

was... remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"My people." Grappler gestured fractionally toward  the  Quarantine  door

with his BlasTech. "The Warlord took away many such innocents who were  of  no

genuine threat and put them in places like this. Most were  never  heard  from

again."

"I understand," Fel said, leveling his gaze at the white faceplate.  "But

the best thing we can do right now is find Formbi and Jinzler  and  make  sure

they know about this. Rule One is that diplomats always  get  first  crack  at

this sort of problem."

"And if they are unable or unwilling to do anything?"

Fel looked back at the locked door. "Rule Two is that soldiers get second

crack," he said darkly. "Move out."

* * *

Outbound Flight's designers had clearly never considered the  possibility

that anyone would ever wish to travel through the connecting turbolift  pylons

without an actual turbolift car or at least a maintenance  repulsorlift  pack.

As a result, they had kept the tube interior smooth, without any of the access

ladders Luke had assumed would be there. There were  also  no  other  built-in

handholds, and all the wiring was buried behind protective metal panels.

Fortunately, Jedi had their own resources.

"How's it going?" Luke grunted as he hauled himself another arm's  length

up the thick power cable.

"I'm doing fine," Mara countered from above him. "Question  is,  how  are

you holding up?"

"I'm fine, too," Luke assured her, taking a moment  to  look  up  at  the

woman sitting on his shoulders. It would have looked  utterly  ridiculous,  he

knew, had there been anyone around to see them: a  man  hauling  himself  hand

over hand up a set of power cables while a  grown  woman  sat  high  atop  his

shoulders like a small child watching a Victory Day parade.

But silly looking or not, it was working, and faster even than  Luke  had

anticipated. With the metal access panels long since frozen shut  by  age  and

rust, there was no  way  to  reach  the  cables  beneath  them  except  via  a

lightsaber wielded by a steady hand. Any other approach they could  have  used

would have required each of them to cut away a section of paneling, haul him -

or herself up to that level via the newly exposed cables, and  then  pause  to

cut away the next section. This way, Mara was able to concentrate on the  task

of precision cutting while Luke could give his full  attention  to  the  climb

itself.

Or at least he could do so as long as his arms held out.  Stretching  out

to the Force, letting its strength flow into his muscles, he  kept  going.  It

was just as well, he reflected, that they hadn't had to get out of the  rigged

turbolift car this way. Drask would never have made it.

"Watch it," Mara warned. "We're hitting the edge of another eddy."

"Right," Luke said, making sure to get an extra-firm grip with each  pull

upward. With the storage core and each of the  Dreadnaughts  running  its  own

gravity direction, the tube had been designed to align incoming cars with  the

proper "up" before they arrived at their  various  destinations.  The  gravity

eddy fields required for such an operation weren't too difficult to get  past?

he and Mara had already forded two of them?but getting caught unprepared could

be trouble.

"I wish these things weren't tied into the ships' environmental  system,"

he muttered as he felt the eddy current tugging at his body,  trying  to  turn

him around. Mara had abandoned her lightsaber work for the moment in favor  of

steadying herself with a grip on Luke's collar. "Without gravity in the pylon,

we could have just floated up to D-Five."

"It would have taken us half a day just to find all the redundancies  and

shut them down," Mara pointed out, waving her free hand cautiously above  her.

"Okay, there's the upper edge of the eddy."

Luke eased them past the interface and they continued on their  way.  "So

when are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he asked.

Even over the humming of her lightsaber he heard  Mara's  sigh.  "It  was

that scene on the Chaf Envoy's observation deck," she said.  "Just  before  we

headed into the Redoubt, when Bearsh and the Geroons were saying  good-bye  to

their ship."

"I remember," Luke said. "You said  at  the  time  something  about  that

wasn't right."

"I just wish  I'd  caught  it  sooner,"  Mara  said,  an  edge  of  self-

recrimination in her voice. "I should have caught it  earlier.  Remember  when

the Geroon ship first arrived, and on the comm display behind  Bearsh  we  saw

some children playing Hilltop Emperor?"

"Yes," Luke said, replaying the scene in his mind. "It looked  all  right

to me."

"Oh, it looked just fine," Mara bit out. "Problem is, a  couple  of  days

later, when the Geroons were saying their farewells, the same scene was  going

on in the background."

Luke frowned. "What do you mean, the same scene? More children playing on

the structure?"

"I mean the same children playing on the structure," she said. "Doing the

same things, in exactly the same way."

Luke tightened his grip on the cables. "The whole thing was a recording?"

"You got it," Mara said bitterly. "There  are  no  children  aboard  that

ship, Luke. Bearsh was lying through his teeth. Both sets of teeth."

"And I missed it completely," Luke said, feeling like a fool.  "I  wasn't

even paying attention."

"Why should you have been?" Mara pointed out. "There wasn't any reason to

suspect them of anything."

"I still should  have  been  more  alert,"  Luke  said,  refusing  to  be

mollified. "Especially after everything that was  going  on  aboard  the  Chaf

Envoy. So what exactly does it mean?"

"It means the Geroons are frauds," Mara said.  "It  means  that  ship  of

theirs isn't a refugee ship at all. Aside from that, I have no idea."

"Bearsh said the ship was mostly composed of  small  rooms,"  Luke  said,

trying to think it through. "That kind of structure is something  our  sensors

might be able to check out, so we can assume he was telling  the  truth  about

that. What sort of ship would be composed of mostly small rooms?"

"A prison ship, maybe?" Mara suggested.  "Or  maybe  a  cargo  ship  like

Outbound Flight's storage core? That's basically a series of small rooms."

"I wish we knew what size rooms they are," Luke said. "You ever ask Drask

if he took any sensor readings of their ship?"

"No, but you'd think he would have said something if it didn't check out,

" Mara said.

"Maybe he did, only not to us," Luke said, visualizing the Geroon ship in

his mind. Big and spherical, with a regular pattern of dark spots covering the

hull. Viewports, he'd tentatively identified them at the time.  Or  vents,  or

decoration?

He drew in a sharp breath. "Or ejection ports," he said aloud.

"What?"

"Ejection ports," he repeated. "Those dark spots on  the  hull  are  just

like the ones we saw on that firepoint asteroid on our way into the Redoubt."

"Ejection ports for fighters," Mara bit out. "The thing's a carrier."

"And we left it sitting right next to the  Brask  Oto  Command  Station,"

Luke reminded her grimly.

"Terrific," Mara grunted. "So much for the Geroons being peace loving."

From behind  Luke's  head,  barely  audible  over  the  sound  of  Mara's

lightsaber, came a soft chirp. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?"

"Another of those comlink chirps," he told  her.  "The  kind  Drask  said

sounded like someone  communicating  over  the  jamming.  It  came  from  your

comlink."

"I missed it," she said, the tone of her lightsaber changing slightly  as

she sliced away more of the metal. "The Geroons, you think?"

"I don't think anyone else has lied to us as consistently as they  have,"

Luke said grimly.

"Not even Formbi?"

"Not even Jinzler," he said. "And I'm getting a very  bad  feeling  about

this. How much farther?"

Her weight shifted slightly  on  his  shoulders  as  she  peered  upward.

"Fifteen minutes at this rate," she said. "Maybe more."

Luke set his teeth, stretching out to the Force for strength. "Let's make

it less."

* * *

"No." With a contemptuous flick of  his  wrist,  Tarkosa  sent  Jinzler's

datapad sliding back across the tabletop toward him. "Completely unacceptable,

all of them."

"What's  wrong  with  the  Rendili  Battle  Horn-class?"  Jinzler  asked,

struggling to remain calm. This whole thing was starting  to  get  ridiculous.

"It's got the size you want, it's got the speed?"

"It's a freighter," Tarkosa said flatly.

"It's a bulk cruiser, not a freighter," Jinzler corrected.  "It's  armed,

it's armored, it's got the range, it's got the capacity?"

"It's unacceptable," Uliar cut in. "Show us something else."

Jinzler reached over and snagged the datapad, swallowing the retort he so

very much wanted to say. Uliar and the two  councilors  had  shot  down  every

single suggestion he'd made, and he was becoming extremely irritated with  the

whole bunch of them. "Fine," he said, keying for Mon Cal ship  designs.  Maybe

there would be something here that the  crotchety  old  Survivors  could  live

with.

Of course, there would then be the whole question  of  persuading  either

the Chiss to buy such a ship or the New Republic to donate it  to  the  cause.

But that would be a crisis for another day.

From his comlink came another chirp. "What is that noise you people  keep

making on our comlinks?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Uliar asked.

"That little chirping sound," Jinzler said. "Do all  your  comlinks  have

frequency bleed-through or something?"

"I repeat, what are you talking about?" Uliar  countered.  "You're  doing

that, not us."

Jinzler frowned. "What are you talking about? We're not?"

"Ah, yes," Bearsh murmured, standing up. "As was the beginning, so is the

end."

Jinzler shifted his frown to the Geroon. "What?"

"As was the beginning, so is the end," Bearsh repeated. Ducking his  head

forward, he slid the limp wolvkil body off his shoulders and let it thump onto

the table in front of him. Against the wall behind him, his three  compatriots

had also taken off their wolvkils, laying them on the floor, and  Jinzler  had

the sudden irrational thought that they were about to present the dead animals

to Uliar as a gift to try to get him to  cooperate.  "Once,  victims,"  Bearsh

went on. "Now, victors." Reaching to the wolvkil's  neck,  he  broke  off  its

decorative blue-and-gold collar.

And with a sudden, brief shudder, the wolvkil came to life.

Someone gasped as the animal scrambled to its feet; one of the Survivors,

Jinzler thought dimly as the wolvkil shook itself like a wet karfler. Or maybe

it had been Jinzler himself. For the moment, his brain  was  too  frozen  with

shock to process anything but the impossibility that was now  staring  him  in

the eye along its long, tooth-filled muzzle. At the far wall, he  was  vaguely

aware that the other three wolvkils had similarly and inexplicably revived.

For a stretched-out  second  no  one  moved.  Bearsh  murmured  something

reverent sounding in that melodious, two-toned language of  theirs;  from  the

Survivors' end of the table came another  soft  gasp.  "No,"  he  heard  Uliar

breathe. "It can't?"

The four wolvkils leapt.

Instinctively, Jinzler shoved himself back from the table as the  nearest

animal jumped toward him, fully expecting a terrible stab of pain as its  jaws

closed around his neck. But the furry missile shot past without  even  grazing

him with its outstretched claws. The momentum of Jinzler's push sent his chair

tipping over backward, and as his shoulder and head slammed against the deck a

brief burst of stars blurred his  vision.  Through  the  sound  of  the  blood

roaring  in  his  ears  he  heard  screams  and  shouts  and  the  sputter  of

blasterfire. There was a ululating roar, another scream; and suddenly he found

himself being hauled to his feet.

It was Tarkosa, his eyes wild, his age-lined face etched  with  fear  and

rage. "Get back, you fool," he snarled, giving  Jinzler's  arm  a  single  tug

toward the back of the room  and  then  letting  go  and  backing  up  hastily

himself. Blinking once to clear his eyes, Jinzler looked behind him.

The calm scene of a few seconds before  had  dissolved  into  chaos.  The

three Chiss warriors were bent over or on  their  knees,  wrestling  with  the

snarling wolvkils, clearly fighting for their lives. The Peacekeeper  who  had

been standing guard over them was already down, lying motionless in a widening

pool of blood, his blaster lying on the deck beside his  limp  hand.  Even  as

Jinzler stared in horror one of the Chiss managed to  twist  his  charric  far

enough around in the grip of his attacker's jaws and fire point-blank into its

torso. But the wolvkil shrugged off the shot without even a snarl,  its  teeth

and claws continuing to tear at the warrior's arm and chest. Across  the  room

by the other side wall, the remaining Peacekeeper had been  knocked  prone  by

the three Geroons whom he had been guarding. Two of them were pinning down his

gun hand as the third sat on his chest, rhythmically beating his head  against

the deck.

From behind Jinzler came a sizzling hiss, and a streak of blue fire  shot

past his shoulder to impact squarely in the center of the third Geroon's back.

The Geroon screamed something vicious sounding  and  rolled  forward  off  the

Peacekeeper's chest. A second shot struck his shoulder,  blackening  his  robe

and eliciting another scream?

And once again Jinzler ducked reflexively away as  one  of  the  wolvkils

abandoned the injured Chiss he'd been attacking and leapt past  him.  He  spun

around?

To see the wolvkil slam into Formbi,  its  snarling  jaws  snapping  shut

around the Aristocra's gun arm.

The impact staggered Formbi backward, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Ignoring the blood suddenly flowing onto his sleeve, he twisted his arm around

and tossed the charric to his free hand. Pressing the muzzle to the  wolvkil's

head, he fired.

That one at least wrenched a howl from the  animal.  But  if  the  injury

affected either its strength or resolve, it didn't show. Formbi fired a second

time; and then the wolvkil seemed to realize it was no longer  holding  on  to

the proper arm. With one last tearing bite, it let  go  and  reached  out  for

Formbi's other arm.

It never had a chance to connect. Even as its jaws opened, Feesa appeared

out of nowhere, a streak of yellow-clad blue that slammed into  the  wolvkil's

side, tearing it off Formbi and sprawling both of them onto the deck.

The wolvkil howled in fury, twisting like a snake as it tried to buck her

away. Feesa was faster, throwing her arms around its  sides  and  burying  her

face in the fur of its back. The creature howled again, twisting its head back

and forth as it tried to reach her. But Feesa held on, shouting in  the  Chiss

language as Formbi fired round after round of blue  fire  into  the  wolvkil's

body.

And with that, the paralysis holding Jinzler rooted to the floor abruptly

snapped.

Bearsh was standing by himself in a little bubble of calmness, his  hands

on his hips as he coolly surveyed the carnage going on around him. "Call  them

off," Jinzler snapped, a sudden fury blazing inside him as  he  strode  toward

the Geroon. "You hear me? Call them off."

"I hear you,  human,"  Bearsh  said.  The  nervous,  self-effacing  voice

Jinzler had become accustomed to aboard ship had suddenly changed to something

harsh and arrogant. "You are as big a fool as they are. Stay back, or die  now

in agony instead of later in cold and darkness."

"You're the one who's going to die," Jinzler bit out, feeling  his  hands

curling into fists. Bearsh might be younger,  but  Jinzler  was  a  good  head

taller and at least fifteen kilos heavier, and the Geroon  wouldn't  have  the

element of surprise they'd had  against  the  young  Peacekeeper  getting  his

brains beaten in. He would hammer the Geroon until he called off  the  attack.

Would hammer him all the way to death, if that was what it took.

Perhaps Bearsh saw that in his eyes  as  he  approached.  His  expression

changed, and with a speed Jinzler wouldn't have expected he lifted  his  hands

from his hips and grabbed for the end of  his  left  sleeve.  Jinzler  tensed,

lengthening his stride, trying to beat the Geroon to whatever  weapon  he  was

reaching for.

Bearsh's hand reached the sleeve; but instead of  drawing  a  weapon,  he

merely ripped the outer layer of cloth away. Jinzler had just enough  time  to

see that the arm was covered with what appeared to be lumpy packing  material,

half black and yellow, half translucent?

And abruptly the arm exploded into a hundred angrily buzzing insects.

He was barely able to wrench himself to a halt in time. For a  second  or

two the insects swarmed aimlessly before coalescing into a  spherical  pattern

swirling around Bearsh. "Careful, human," the Geroon warned softly.  "Be  very

careful. I don't know what schostri stings would do to a  human,  but  they're

quickly fatal to most other lifeforms we've used them against."

His mouths curved in a sardonic double smile. "Of course, if you wish  to

serve as a test case, come ahead."

Casually, he turned his back on Jinzler, crossing toward the Geroon  whom

Formbi had shot and the two uninjured ones still beating on  the  Peacekeeper.

The swarm moved with him, as if genetically programmed  to  recognize  him  as

their hive or queen.

Jinzler took a cautious step forward, keeping a wary eye on the  insects.

Another  few  steps,  and  Bearsh  would  be  within  reach  of  the   injured

Peacekeeper's dropped blaster. If he got to the  weapon  first,  any  hope  of

stopping them and the wolvkils would be gone.

But the Geroon had apparently forgotten there was  another  spare  weapon

lying loose on the deck, the one dropped by the other Peacekeeper. Or maybe he

simply didn't think it was relevant, since the only ones close enough to reach

it were already fighting for their lives against the wolvkils.

Everyone except Dean Jinzler.

He eased his way toward the gun, striving to be as invisible as possible.

Even if he shot Bearsh,  he  knew,  the  swarm  of  insects  might  well  take

vengeance on him. But it would be worth it to watch  Bearsh's  smile  turn  to

pain and then to death.

Still no one seemed to have noticed him. Another few steps...

"Ambassador!" Formbi called.

Jinzler twisted his head back around. Uliar and the  two  councilors  had

flipped the long conference table onto its side and were  dragging  it  toward

one of the room's back corners. Formbi and Feesa were with them, the Aristocra

staggering slightly as blood continued to  pour  from  his  mangled  arm.  The

wolvkil he had been fighting lay still on the deck, its fur  almost  uniformly

black from multiple charric burns. Rosemari and Evlyn were already back in the

corner, Rosemari's arms visibly trembling as she clutched her  daughter  close

to her. "Ambassador!" Formbi called again. "Come. Quickly."

"Shh!" Jinzler hissed at him. Didn't they see what he was trying to do?

"Yes, Ambassador, go," Bearsh agreed.

Jinzler turned back. Bearsh was standing beside the now motionless second

Peacekeeper, the boy's blaster pointed casually in  Jinzler's  direction.  "Or

would you prefer to die now in agony?"

Jinzler hesitated. But if the Geroons wanted them  all  dead,  there  was

nothing and no one left to stop them anyway.  Clenching  his  hands  one  last

time, this time into fists of impotent rage and defeat, he backed away.

"Bring chairs," Uliar called. "Quickly."

With his full attention still on the blaster in  Bearsh's  hand,  Jinzler

groped blindly for some of the fallen chairs and came up with two of them. All

the Chiss warriors were lying broken and bloody on  the  deck  now,  he  noted

distantly, their own battles over. The wolvkils  who  had  killed  them  stood

panting, watching Jinzler with unblinking eyes as  they  licked  their  bloody

muzzles and paws.

The Survivors had the table in position by the time he  arrived,  set  on

its edge across the back corner to form a low barrier. What they  wanted  with

the chairs was quickly evident as Uliar and Tarkosa stacked them like sections

of a roof over the top of the triangle-shaped gap they'd  created  behind  the

table, using the back walls and  the  sculpture  pedestals  for  support.  The

Geroons had gathered together  now  as  well,  watching  in  silence  as  they

completed their task. "Now get inside," Bearsh instructed as the last  roofing

chair was set in place. "Quickly."

Silently, the prisoners complied, crawling through a gap  that  had  been

left between one end of the table and the bulkhead. Uliar, the  last  one  in,

pulled a final chair into the gap behind him.

And there they were, Jinzler thought bitterly. Caged animals, in  a  cage

of their own construction.

There was the sound of footsteps, and Bearsh's face appeared through  the

latticework of chairs above them. "There,  now,  you  see?"  the  Geroon  said

sardonically. He had his left arm stretched out to the side, and the  swarming

insects were beginning to settle back into their places  there.  "Even  humans

are capable of following orders."

No one replied. "All right, you've got us," Jinzler said,  deciding  that

someone should find out what was going on. "What do you want?"

Bearsh's mouths twisted crookedly. "I want you all dead, of  course,"  he

said. "The only question remaining is the method."

He gestured behind him, to where the other Geroons were  slathering  some

kind of salve on the one Formbi had shot. "Purpsh, for  instance,  would  very

much like to gun you all down right here so that he can  enjoy  your  screams.

Especially yours, Aristocra Formbi. But I've decided to let you choose exactly

how you will die."

"You won't get away with this," Uliar said. The words were  defiant,  but

to Jinzler his voice merely sounded old.

"Oh, I think we will," Bearsh said calmly as he rewrapped his sleeve over

the now quiescent insects. "Your  precious  Jedi  and  Imperial  stormtroopers

should all be dead by now?our sabotage of the turbolift cars they were trapped

in will have taken care of that problem. Who else is there to stop us?"

"We will," Uliar growled. "We've been ready for trouble for fifty  years.

You don't think we can take you?"

"I doubt it," Bearsh said. "At any rate, we're not likely  to  find  out.

With your communications jamming still in place, you won't be able  to  summon

your pitiful little colony to the attack. By the time they wake up  to  what's

happened, we'll be long gone." He smiled. "And you will be well on the road to

a dark and icy death."

He reached down and shook his robe. There was  a  soft  clatter  as  some

small objects fell to the deck. "A small present for the survivors of Outbound

Flight," he said. "We have used some already on the turbolifts;  these  should

take care of this particular area."

Frowning, Jinzler turned his head sideways, pressing  his  cheek  against

the chair above him to try to see over the edge of the table. There were  half

a dozen threadlike objects  on  the  deck,  he  saw,  spreading  out  as  they

skittered their way toward the walls.

He caught his breath. "Line creepers."

"Very good, Ambassador," Bearsh said approvingly. "After all, I  promised

that you would die in cold and darkness, didn't I?"

"What are line creepers?" Uliar asked.

"They're like conduit worms,"  Jinzler  told  him,  feeling  his  stomach

tightening. "Only worse. Bearsh slipped a few into the  control  lines  aboard

the Chaf Envoy and nearly shut it down." He lifted  his  eyebrows.  "That  was

you, wasn't it?"

"We'll be traveling through your vessel for a while longer,  distributing

the rest of our little  pets  for  maximum  effect,"  Bearsh  said  to  Uliar,

ignoring the question. "After that, we'll leave you to your doom."

"There's no need to destroy these people or their home,  Bearsh,"  Formbi

said. His voice was deadly calm, with only a hint of  the  agony  he  must  be

feeling from his torn arm. "If you want the Chaf Envoy, take it."

Bearsh snorted. "You underestimate us, Aristocra. We have bigger game  in

mind than a simple Chiss diplomatic vessel."

He waved toward the wolvkils. "And speaking of game, we'll be leaving our

pets behind to make sure you stay here quietly until we are finished. I  trust

you noticed how difficult they are to kill. If not, or if some of  you  decide

you'd prefer a quicker death than the one we'll be leaving  you,  I'm  certain

they'll enjoy the exercise."

"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 were 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.

"Nice move," Mara complimented him, shielding her eyes  from  the  light.

This time, she recognized the voice. "Guardian Pressor, I presume?"

"Put down the lightsaber," Pressor ordered. "Then move away?"

He broke off with a gasp of pain, his glow rod  twisting  wildly  in  his

grip and coming to rest pointed at the ceiling. Mara  blinked  away  the  last

remnants of the sparkles in her eyes in time to see his blaster wrench  itself

out of his hand and go flying toward the turbolift. "Sorry," Luke  apologized,

pulling himself the rest of the way out of the shaft and catching  the  weapon

in his outstretched hand. "But I don't think we've  got  time  for  a  debate.

Something's gone wrong up here."

"Obviously," Pressor growled, rubbing his wrist. "What did you do to  the

power?"

"It wasn't us," Mara said. "All we did was ungimmick the car you left  us

in?"

She broke off as a beep came from her belt.  "The  jamming  seems  to  be

stopped, too," she added, pulling out her comlink and touching the switch.

"?ara?Commander Fel," Jinzler's voice came urgently. "Emergency!"

"We're here," Mara said, throwing  a  sharp  look  at  Luke.  There  were

panicky voices and the sounds of serious commotion in the background. "Report.

"

"We're in the council meeting chamber," Jinzler said, clearly fighting to

keep his voice steady. "Bearsh has us trapped by those wolvkils of theirs?"

"Wait a minute," Luke said into his  own  comlink.  "The  wolvkils?  What

wolvkils?"

"The ones they've been wearing everywhere,"  Jinzler  ground  out.  "They

weren't dead, just in  some  kind  of  suspended  animation?very  slick,  very

advanced. And they're not Geroons, either. They're Vagaari."

Pressor hissed something under his breath. "Vagaari?"

There was a muffled crash from the background. "What's  happening?"  Luke

asked.

"The wolvkils are trying to get to us," Jinzler  said.  "We've  got  them

blocked, but I don't know how much longer we can keep them out."

Mara looked at Pressor. "Which way?"

"There," Pressor said, pointing back toward the  lighted  area  Mara  had

spotted earlier.

"Show us," Luke told Pressor, handing him  back  his  blaster.  "Jinzler?

We're on our way."

"Watch out for Bearsh and the others," Jinzler warned  as  they  followed

Pressor down the corridor. "They left all the wolvkils in here  with  us,  but

they've  got  some  nasty-looking  stinging  insects  they  use  for  personal

protection. They might have other weapons, too."

"Got it," Luke said. "Any idea where they were heading?"

"They just said they'd be wandering around," Jinzler said. "It seems they

also brought a supply of line creepers."

"Terrific," Luke muttered, glancing  into  a  darkened  doorway  as  they

passed. "Fel? You there?"

"Right here, Luke," Fel's voice came promptly. "We caught the gist.  What

do you want us to do?"

"We're on D-Five," Luke said. "Where are you?"

"D-Six, about midway back along the starboard corridor,"  Fel  told  him.

"You want us to head back to the turbolifts and join you up there?"

"The forward group isn't working," Luke  told  him.  "From  the  way  the

lights and power have gone out, I'd say Bearsh has been here already with  his

line creepers. Guardian, are the aft turbolifts operational?"

"They should be," Pressor said. "I've got everything locked down  between

Four and Five, but from Six up to here they should still work."

"You copy that?" Luke called.

"Copy," Fel confirmed. "General Drask's calling the Chaf  Envoy  for  the

rest of his warriors. If we hurry, maybe we can catch Bearsh and  his  friends

in a pincer."

"Except that Pressor's locked down all the turbolifts from D-Four,"  Mara

interjected. "That was what you said, wasn't it?"

"It was," Pressor confirmed, punching keys on his own comlink. "Maybe I'd

better confirm that was actually done. Trilli?"

Someone answered in a voice too quiet for Mara to hear.  Pressor  lowered

his own voice, half turning away and speaking rapidly as he brought the person

on the other end up to date.

Luke caught Mara's eye. "What do you think?" he asked.

"We don't have time to be creative," Mara said. "Not with Jinzler and the

others under attack. Straight in is about all we've got to work with."

"Agreed," Luke said. "Unless we want to layer the attack, with us leading

the charge and the Five-Oh-First, the Chiss, and Pressor's Peacekeepers coming

in backup waves."

"We may not have any choice on the  layering  part,"  Mara  pointed  out.

They'd reached a section of  the  ship  where  most  of  the  permlights  were

functioning, she noted, as well as the majority of  the  regular  lights.  The

line creepers must not have gotten a stranglehold on this area yet. "The Chiss

in particular are going to have to gear up from stage zero. Who knows how long

that'll take?"

"Let's find out," Luke said, lifting the comlink to his lips again. "Fel,

did you hear the question?"

"Yes, but it appears to be a moot point," Fel said grimly.  "Drask  can't

make contact with the ship. No answer, on any channel, from anyone."

Mara looked at Luke, her heart  suddenly  tight  in  her  chest.  He  was

staring back at her, a haunted expression on his face. The  flurry  of  deaths

they'd both sensed while they were down on D-l...

"Luke?"

"Yes, we heard," Luke said. "Better get your team up here on the  double.

There's a good chance they may already have taken out the Chaf Envoy."

"Understood," Fel said grimly. "We're on our way."

Luke clicked off the comlink. "Guardian?"

"Looks like you can scratch most of our help, too," Pressor  said  darkly

as he jammed his comlink back onto his  belt.  "Six  of  my  Peacekeepers  are

missing."

"Six out of how many?" Mara asked.

Pressor snorted gently. "Eleven,  including  me.  We  weren't  exactly  a

serious fighting force to begin with." He waved his blaster.  "But  they  were

here the whole time, either in the turbolift or with my people. When could any

of them have slipped away, either back to your ship or to hit my men?"

"The key is that they weren't all here," Luke told him. "We had to  leave

one of them behind."

"Because of injuries sustained in a mysterious sneak attack," Mara  added

sourly. "What do you think, Luke? They shot Estosh themselves?"

"It's starting to look that way," Luke agreed, pausing  to  look  down  a

cross-corridor before passing it by. "But at least they don't have the element

of surprise anymore."

"They apparently had it long enough," Pressor said bitterly.

"Don't worry, we'll get them," Mara said. "What did you tell your people?

"

"I told the ones who are left to hold position, observe, and stand  ready

to  defend  those  around  them  if  attacked,"  Pressor  said,  his  jaw  set

belligerently. "Two of them were in that room with your people,  and  I'm  not

going to risk the others on some bantha-brained attack until I have  a  better

idea what we're up against."

If he was expecting an argument, he was  disappointed.  "I  agree,"  Luke

said. "Actually, right now we need their eyes and ears around  the  ship  more

than we need the extra firepower."

"Absolutely," Mara agreed. "After all, how much trouble can four or  five

Vagaari make?"

She would remember that rhetorical question for a  long  time  afterward.

With Pressor in the lead, they rounded a jog in the corridor and ran  straight

into the Vagaari.

But not four Vagaari. Not even five Vagaari.

There were eight of them, Bearsh and  seven  others,  striding  down  the

corridor toward them about ten meters away. Bearsh was still  dressed  in  his

usual robe and tunic, minus his wolvkil, but the others  were  outfitted  like

soldiers, with helmets and full combat armor, armed with an  eclectic  mix  of

Chiss charrics and Old Republic blasters and carbines.  Two  wolvkils  prowled

ahead of them like advance scouts, while five more wove in and  out  of  their

formation like a fighter escort.

The two groups spotted each other at the  same  moment.  "Halt!"  Pressor

ordered, snapping his blaster up to point at Bearsh.

The Vagaari halted, all  right,  in  exactly  the  way  Mara  would  have

expected trained soldiers to. The four in front dropped instantly to one knee,

giving the ones behind them a clear shot as all seven raised their weapons  in

silent warning. The wolvkils  halted  more  reluctantly,  their  eyes  glaring

balefully at the humans, their tails swishing restlessly.

"Easy," Luke murmured, reaching out  a  hand  to  gently  push  Pressor's

blaster out of line. At the same time, he subtly eased a shoulder in front  of

the other where he would be in a position to  protect  him  if  and  when  the

Vagaari decided to start shooting. His lightsaber was ready in his hand,  Mara

noted, but as yet unignited. "Hello, Bearsh," he called to the Vagaari. "I see

you've brought some friends."

"Ah?the Jedi," Bearsh said. If he was at  all  worried  by  their  sudden

appearance, it didn't show in his face. "So you survived the turbolift,  after

all. I'm very sorry for you."

"Why?" Mara asked, a part of her mind studying the Vagaari  soldiers  and

trying to work through the unexpected numbers.  Only  five  Vagaari  had  been

invited aboard the Chaf Envoy; that much she was sure of.  So  where  had  the

rest been hidden?

"Because it would have meant a quicker and less painful death  for  you,"

Bearsh said. "Now it will involve much more suffering."

"Why does anyone have to die?" Mara asked reasonably. "Why don't you tell

us what you want? Maybe we can work something out."

Bearsh's eyes flashed. "You fool," he bit out. "You think the Vagaari can

be bought off like trinket dealers in the marketplace?"

"Well, you came on this mission for some reason," Mara pointed out. "What

was it?"

Bearsh snorted. "The avenging of fifty years of Vagaari humiliation,"  he

said. "The achieving of fifty years of Vagaari  desire.  Does  that  tell  you

anything?"

"More than you'd think," Mara assured him. It did nothing of the sort, of

course, at least not yet. But one of the first rules she'd been  taught  about

interrogation technique was that every bit of information that could be coaxed

out of an unwary or talkative subject was  a  piece  that  might  later  prove

important to the overall puzzle. "And have you achieved those noble goals?"

Bearsh's  twin  mouths  curved  in  a  bitter  smile.  "Beyond  our  most

optimistic hopes," he said. "The human remnant  we  leave  behind  will  spend

their last hours cursing themselves for how they have unwittingly served us."

"Sounds intriguing," Mara said encouragingly. "How about letting us in on

the secret? We're all going to die soon anyway, right?"

Bearsh's  eyes  shifted  to  Luke.  "Is  this  Jedi  heroism?"  he  asked

contemptuously. "To let your female speak while you cower in silence?"

Luke stirred. "I'm hardly cowering," he said mildly. "I let Mara  do  the

talking because she's better at this sort of thing than I am. Comes  of  being

trained to interrogate prisoners."

The Vagaari's smile turned smug. "You have it upside down, Jedi," he said

softly. "And we have wasted enough time with you. Now, die."

He murmured something, and abruptly the two wolvkils in  the  lead  leapt

forward. Mara caught a flicker in Luke's sense as he prepared for combat? "No,

" she told him, brushing his chest with her fingertips as she took a long step

to put herself between him and Pressor and the charging animals. "You did  all

the climbing. This one's mine."

Before he could argue the point  she  took  another  long  step  forward,

stretching out to the Force as she gauged the distance and timing.  Ears  laid

back, salivating jaws wide open, the wolvkils' paws hit  the  deck  one  final

time and leapt straight for her throat?

With a quick sidestep, Mara ignited her lightsaber and cut both  of  them

in half.

She turned to the Vagaari as the remains of  the  animals  hit  the  deck

behind her with sickening multiple thuds. "Now,"  she  said  conversationally,

holding her lightsaber in ready position. "What was that about someone dying?"

Bearsh's eyes were wide, his face rigid with shock. The  smug  smile  had

vanished completely. His mouths worked a moment, and with a sort of  strangled

gasp he spat something in his own language.

In answer, seven alien weapons opened fire.

Mara was ready. Her lightsaber flashed as she  opened  her  mind  to  the

Force, letting it guide her hands, slashing the brilliant  blue  blade  across

the mixture of red and blue bolts. Her sharp focus on the threat in  front  of

her gave her a sort of tunnel vision, but though  she  couldn't  see  him  she

could sense that Luke was at her side with his own lightsaber  deflecting  the

bolts into bulkheads and deck and ceiling.  Dimly,  she  sensed  someone  else

firing nearby, and noticed one of the Vagaari stagger in his armor, his weapon

twisted to fire uselessly into the ceiling. Pressor, she realized in a distant

sort of way, firing through the defensive barrier she and Luke had set  up  in

front of him. There was another shout of alien language, ringed by a sense  of

rage and desperation?

The remaining wolvkils leapt forward, apparently oblivious to the blaster

bolts scorching the air around them as they charged toward the defenders. Mara

took a step forward as Luke took one backward, her lightsaber never missing  a

beat of their defense as Luke closed down his weapon and dropped to  one  knee

behind her. She might be better than he was at detailed lightsaber  work,  but

even after a long climb he was far and away the best she'd ever seen  at  this

kind of focused accuracy with  the  Force.  If  the  Vagaari  weren't  already

sufficiently impressed, she thought as she continued to deflect  their  shots,

this ought to do it. The wolvkils reached their jumping-off spot  and  started

to leap straight at her?

They  squealed  like  small  lap  dokriks,  coming  to  an   abrupt   and

simultaneous halt as Luke stretched out with the Force to momentarily scramble

their nervous systems. As they stood stunned, he sent a second,  more  precise

mental jolt into their systems, his mind searching out and focusing  on  their

sleep centers.

With a group sigh, the animals' legs  collapsed  beneath  them  and  they

dropped unconscious to the deck.

Luke got back to his feet. "Well?" he challenged.

Farmboy?the word ran affectionately through Mara's mind. She herself  had

been trained in ruthlessness, taught never  to  risk  herself  for  those  who

threatened her and who, by definition, had therefore forfeited their right  to

live.

But Luke didn't see things that way. Even as  the  years  had  grown  and

matured and hardened him, the inner core of idealism and  mercy  he'd  brought

with him out of that moisture farm on  Tatooine  had  never  faltered.  Others

might sneer at that, she knew, or use his farming background as an insult.

But for her, the title was an acknowledgment of his moral high ground,  a

large part of what she loved and admired most about her husband.  And  at  the

end of the day, she  slept  better  for  knowing  that  even  their  deadliest

opponents had been given every chance they could possibly hope to receive.

But in this case, the chance was wasted. Bearsh's only  response  was  to

scream another order. His soldiers' only response was to intensify their  rate

of fire.

And as the shots began to come perilously close to her  face,  Mara  knew

that this particular battle had come to an end.

That end came in the form of a lightsaber whipping through the air beside

her, deftly slipping between the frenetic slicing movements of her own weapon.

It flashed down the corridor, spinning like a  blazing  crop  harvester  disk,

slicing through the Vagaari weapons and armor and bodies.

Two seconds later, it was over.

Mara straightened from her combat stance, breathing hard as  she  studied

the fallen soldiers, stretching out with the Force for signs of any  surprises

still lurking nearby. But Luke had done what  was  necessary  with  his  usual

efficiency.

It was only then that she saw that Bearsh wasn't among the fallen.

"Where did he go?" she demanded, taking another look.

"Who?" Luke asked, looking up from the wolvkil he had knelt to examine.

"Bearsh," Mara  said.  "He's  gone."  She  turned  to  look  at  Pressor.

"Guardian?"

Pressor didn't answer. He was staring at the crumpled Vagaari bodies, his

jaw hanging open in disbelief. "Pressor?" Mara tried again.

With an effort, he raised his eyes to her. "What?"

"Bearsh," Mara repeated, trying to stifle  her  impatience.  After  fifty

years without Jedi, these people  had  apparently  forgotten  what  they  were

capable of.

"Right," Pressor said, visibly pulling himself together. "He, uh, he took

off right after"?he shot Luke a furtive glance?"after you put the  animals  to

sleep. Or whatever you did to them. The rest cranked up their  rate  of  fire,

and he took off back down the corridor."

"We'd better get after him," Mara said grimly. "Luke?"

"Go ahead," he told her, moving to the next wolvkil. "I want to make sure

they won't wake up until we're ready to deal with them. Go on?I'll catch up."

"Okay," Mara said, starting down the corridor. "Come on, Pressor?you have

to show me where this meeting room is," she added, pulling out her comlink and

flicking it on. "Fel, stay on your toes," she called. "It looks like we've got

more Vagaari to deal with than we were expecting."

There was no answer. "Fel?" she tried again.

Still nothing.  "I  would  say,"  Pressor  said  quietly,  "that  they've

probably already figured that out."

CHAPTER 20

The aft sections of D-6  weren't  as  well  maintained  as  the  corridor

between the nursery and the Jedi Quarantine had been. But  the  aft  turbolift

tubes weren't very far, the area was passable enough, and the 501st  was  what

the training manuals would  have  called  "inspired."  They  made  it  to  the

turbolift lobby without further incident, and in probably record time.

Fel had keyed the call button, and they  were  waiting  for  the  car  to

arrive, when they got their first hint of imminent trouble.

"It doesn't sound right, Commander," Grappler insisted, the side  of  his

helmet pressed against the turbolift door. "It sounds... it just sounds wrong.

"

"Wrong how?" Fel demanded impatiently. He was all for caution, but at the

same time he didn't want to start jumping at moss creakings, either. Not  with

Formbi and the others in danger up there. "Does it sound old,  rusty,  cranky?

what?"

"It's too heavy," Watchman decided suddenly, his helmet  pressed  to  the

door alongside Grappler's. "There's too much weight there for an empty car."

Fel shot a glance at Drask. "Could it be a problem with the  repulsorlift

generators?"

"No," Watchman said. "There's some of that, too, but not enough. The  car

is definitely loaded."

"And we must assume it is loaded with enemies," Drask said.  "I  suggest,

Commander, that we take cover."

Fel grimaced. To run and hide felt cowardly somehow, especially since  he

still wasn't convinced there was anything but an empty turbolift  car  on  the

way. Still, it wouldn't do Jinzler and Formbi any good if he and the 501st got

themselves slaughtered like amateurs. And since it was Drask who had suggested

it and not he himself, he wouldn't have to put up with any  of  the  general's

criticism later.  "Defensive  positions,"  he  ordered.  Glancing  around,  he

located a likely doorway a few meters back down the corridor and headed to it.

The room appeared to be a small duty galley for the  engine  crews,  with

dust and broken serving crockery everywhere. Settling himself into a  position

half straddling the doorway where  he  could  see  without  exposing  more  of

himself than necessary, he braced his blaster hand against the  door  controls

and waited. The turbolift's  hum  changed  subtly  as  the  car  settled  into

position...

And with a brilliant flash of white, the door exploded outward.

Reflexively, Fel ducked back as shrapnel and pieces  of  burning  plastic

clattered down the corridor. Apparently, Watchman and Grappler had been right.

The sound of the explosion faded away, and he swung his eye and  blaster  back

around the jamb.

Two armored figures charged out through the ragged  opening,  firing  red

blaster bolts in a scatter pattern as they came.

Fel inhaled sharply. After Jinzler's warning he  had  naturally  expected

the intruders to be some of  Bearsh's  disguised  Vagaari  cronies.  But  he'd

expected the short robe-and-dead-animal-clothed beings they'd gotten  used  to

seeing aboard the Chaf Envoy, not a fully equipped war party. Another pair  of

Vagaari charged out  on  the  heels  of  the  first  two,  four  snarling  and

definitely not dead wolvkils emerging with them.

So far, the Imperials hadn't returned fire. It was,  Fel  decided,  about

time to change that. Wincing back slightly as one of the random shots  sizzled

off the bulkhead near him, he filled his lungs. "Halt!" he bellowed.

He hadn't expected any response  except  possibly  better-directed  enemy

fire, and he wasn't disappointed. All four  enemy  helmets  swung  toward  the

sound of his voice, all four weapons still spitting fire as they tracked  him.

Coolly, centering his muzzle on the nearest Vagaari's chest, Fel squeezed  the

firing stud.

The alien staggered back as the blaster bolt blew a  cloud  of  dust  and

partially vaporized armor from his chestplate. A fraction of  a  second  later

Fel had to dodge back around the  door  controls  again  as  a  hail  of  fire

scorched the air where he'd been standing. He ducked down lower and swung  his

arm around the corner to fire a couple of blind shots in their direction.  Out

in the corridor, the sounds of the Vagaari weapons  had  been  joined  by  the

BlasTechs' distinctive nasal stutter, and a different  sound  he  assumed  was

Drask's charric. Still firing, he eased an eye cautiously around  the  doorway

to refine his aim?

Just in time to see one of the wolvkils leaping directly for him.

He dodged backward into the galley. The  wolvkil's  charge  overshot  the

doorway, and Fel got a clean shot into the animal's flank as it passed.

But the wolvkil merely hit the deck and skidded  to  a  stop,  its  claws

scrabbling for purchase. Without any sign that it had just taken  what  should

have been a killing shot, it turned back toward him. With a  roar,  it  opened

its jaws and leapt.

Fel backed  up,  firing  another  pair  of  ineffective  shots  into  the

wolvkil's head and shoulders, then dodged to his right, trying  to  avoid  the

animal's charge. But the wolvkil wasn't going to  be  taken  in  by  the  same

maneuver twice. It hit the ground  and  instantly  made  a  right-angle  turn.

Before Fel could do more than fire one last time, it was on him.

More by luck than by skill he managed to deflect the clawed forelegs from

his face as he dropped his blaster and thrust his arms forward in a  desperate

attempt to grab the wolvkil's neck before  its  teeth  could  reach  him.  The

animal twisted its head to the side in midair, its jaws clamping  hard  around

Fel's right forearm.

Fel gasped as a stab of pain shocked through him. The  animal's  momentum

shoved him backward, knocking him off  his  balance  and  toppling  them  both

toward the deck. His flailing left hand caught a handful of neck fur;  tugging

hard as he twisted the rest of his body, he managed to  turn  the  animal  far

enough that they hit the deck side by side instead of with the wolvkil landing

on top of him.

Another thud of pain shot through Fel's side  from  the  impact,  a  jolt

punctuated by several sharper, more localized jabs from  the  bits  of  broken

servingware beneath them. Again, the wolvkil didn't even seem to notice.

Fel tightened his grip on the animal's fur, trying desperately to come up

with a plan. His knees and feet were too hemmed in by the wolvkil's  body  for

him to try kicking it, even if he'd had some idea where its  vulnerable  areas

were. His right arm was trapped and useless, and his left hand was effectively

immobilized by the need to keep holding on to the wolvkil's neck.

But the animal's eyes were within reach. Maybe.

Fel stared at the dark eyes, trying to push back the agony long enough to

think. Letting go of the wolvkil's neck  would  be  dangerous,  possibly  even

fatal. But it seemed to be the only chance he had. If he didn't  do  something

fast, he could lose his right arm entirely, and with only one functioning  arm

the end would come  very  quickly.  Bracing  himself,  mentally  crossing  his

fingers, he let go with his left hand and grabbed for the wolvkil's eyes.

That had apparently been precisely the move the animal had  been  waiting

for. With a triumphant growl, it instantly let loose of Fel's right arm;  with

its head and neck free, it arched its back, its bloody jaws aiming straight at

Fel's throat. Fel had just enough time to jerk back, knowing that he'd gambled

and lost?

As a white armored hand abruptly appeared in front of the darting jaws.

The wolvkil snarled as it clamped down on rigid plastoid-alloy  composite

instead of a soft human neck. The snarl quickly turned into a startled yip  as

it was hauled straight off the deck by its jaws and the scruff  of  its  neck.

"Ready?" the stormtrooper called, holding the wiggling animal at arm's length.

"Ready," another voice called back. With a grunt, the first  stormtrooper

heaved the animal over his head toward the far corner of the room. There was a

sputter of multiple blasterfire, and then silence.

"Nice job," Fel said, breathing hard as he started to get shakily to  his

feet. The stormtrooper still standing over him?Shadow, he was able to identify

him now?grabbed his uninjured arm and helped him  the  rest  of  the  way  up.

"Perfect timing and everything. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sir," Shadow said. "How bad is it?"

"I'll live," Fel assured him, studying his arm. It  looked  terrible,  he

had to admit, but it didn't feel too bad. Though that could be the  effect  of

the adrenaline still filling his bloodstream. It would  probably  hurt  a  lot

more in a minute or two. "What happened out there?"

"We got them all," Cloud said, stepping to his side with  a  bandage  and

synthflesh tube from his medpac.  "Seems  their  armor  wasn't  designed  with

BlasTechs in mind."

"What about General Drask?" Fel  asked,  trying  to  look  past  the  two

stormtroopers to the door.

"I am unhurt," Drask said, moving into view around  Cloud.  "I  am  sorry

your rescue was delayed."

"As long as it got here eventually," Fel said,  wincing  as  Shadow  tore

back his sleeve. "I shot it a couple of times, but it didn't seem  to  do  any

good. Look, Cloud, just stop the bleeding and kill the  pain,  all  right?  As

long as I can use it, everything else can wait until later. So where  are  the

vital spots on these things, anyway?"

"I'm not sure there are any vital spots," Watchman said as Cloud put away

the synthflesh tube and concentrated on the bandage. "They  look  like  normal

animals, but their internal structure seems to be highly  decentralized,  with

their nervous systems and vital organs distributed  throughout  their  bodies.

You have to basically turn the whole animal into chopped meat to stop it."

"I'll remember that," Fel said, eyeing the handful of fresh scorch  marks

on Watchman's armor. "Anyone hurt?"

"A few nicks," Watchman said, displaying a section of  his  left  forearm

where a tiny hole had been punched completely through. "They can wait until we

get back to the ship."

Fel looked at Drask. "Assuming there's still a ship to go back to."

"There will be,"  Drask  assured  him  darkly.  "There  are  still  Chiss

warriors aboard the vessel. It, and they, will be waiting when we return."

"I hope you're right," Fel said. "Okay, that's good enough," he added  as

Cloud finished the first layer of bandage and started in on a second. "Is that

turbolift car still operational, or did that little entrance of  theirs  wreck

it?"

"It looked all right," Watchman said. "Grappler's doing a  more  complete

check on it now."

"Oh, and the Jedi tried to reach us during the battle," Shadow added.

Fel hadn't even heard the call signal from his comlink.  "What  did  they

want?"

"They were warning us there were more  Vagaari  than  we  might  expect,"

Watchman said.

"I think we got the message," Fel  said,  starting  for  the  door.  "Did

anyone answer them?"

"I don't believe so," Watchman said. "I think we were all too busy at the

time."

"Understandable," Fel said, retrieving his blaster from  the  deck  where

he'd dropped it. "We'll check in with them on the way up."

Grappler  was  waiting  by  the  shattered  turbolift  door,  his  helmet

swiveling back and forth as he kept watch along the various corridors for  any

other surprises the Vagaari might decide to throw at them. "The  turbolift  is

operational," he confirmed.

"Good," Fel said, leading the way inside. "Let's go."

"What then is the plan?" Drask  asked  as  the  car  began  its  slightly

tentative rise toward D-5.

Fel braced himself. This went against everything he'd  been  taught,  and

was going to be embarrassing besides. But he'd already concluded  it  was  the

only way. "The plan, General Drask," he said quietly, "is that I'm  requesting

you to take command of the Five-Oh-First for the duration of this battle."

It was, he reflected, possibly the most surprised he'd  ever  seen  Drask

get. "You are asking... command?"

"As you yourself pointed out, you're a ground officer," Fel reminded  him

evenly. "I'm a flight officer. This is your area of expertise, not mine."

"Yet they are your command," Drask said. "Do you so easily surrender them

to another?"

"Not easily at all," Fel  admitted.  "But  it  would  be  the  height  of

arrogance and pride to risk their lives, not  to  mention  the  lives  of  our

companions, by insisting on amateur leadership when a professional is standing

by. Don't you agree?"

For a moment Drask just gazed at him,  his  glowing  red  eyes  narrowed.

Then, to Fel's surprise, the general actually smiled. The first genuine smile,

to the best of Fel's recollection, that any of the Chiss had given any of  the

Imperials since their arrival  aboard  the  Chaf  Envoy.  "Well  and  artfully

spoken, Commander Fel," Drask said. "I hereby accept command of this unit."

He lifted a finger. "But," he added, "whereas I know ground  combat,  you

are far more versed in the design and layout of the particular battleground we

find ourselves in. It will therefore be a joint command."

Fel inclined his head. In practice, he knew, joint commands were  usually

a disaster, spawning conflicting orders, dueling egos, and general chaos.  But

in this case, he also knew that none of those problems was going to arise.  He

would be content to feed Drask tactical data and let the  general  direct  the

action.

Drask obviously knew that, too. Which  meant  that  the  offer  of  joint

command had been made solely as a face-saving  gesture  for  Fel  himself,  to

protect his position and his status among his men.

There were some aspects of the Chiss warrior philosophy that still  drove

Fel crazy. But clearly, there were other aspects he could learn to live  with.

"Very well, General," he said. "I accept."

"Good." Drask's eyes glittered as he lifted his  charric.  "Then  let  us

show the Vagaari what it means to wage war on the  Chiss  Ascendancy  and  the

Empire of the Hand."

Fel smiled, looking at his stormtroopers. "Yes," he said softly. "Let's."

* * *

They attacked Mara together,  all  three  wolvkils  charging  across  the

council meeting room like furry proton torpedoes. They leapt  to  the  attack,

their primary target clearly the hands holding the strange blue-bladed weapon.

Dodging coolly to the side, she cut them down with three quick slashes.

Across the room, Jinzler and the others  in  the  makeshift  refuge  were

already pushing aside the chairs that had made up the roof.  "Hurry,  please,"

Feesa pleaded, pushing away one of the chairs and then bending  back  down  to

take Formbi's arm. "Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano is badly hurt."

Mara closed down her lightsaber and hurried over, throwing a  quick  look

at the three Chiss warriors and two young men sprawled on  the  floor  as  she

passed them. Pressor was already kneeling beside one of the men,  but  it  was

clear to her that all five of them were beyond help.

They had pushed over the table and Feesa was helping a shaky  and  blood-

soaked Formbi out when Mara arrived. "Everyone  else  all  right?"  she  said,

glancing around for other signs of injury as she refastened her lightsaber  to

her belt.

"No one else is hurt," Feesa confirmed, apparently ignoring the  line  of

blood across her own shoulder. "Please, help him."

"Just relax," Mara soothed her, taking a moment to study  the  three  old

men who had left the refuge and gathered together against the back wall, as if

trying to stay as far away from her  as  they  could.  Probably  some  of  the

original survivors of the Outbound Flight's destruction, she decided.

"Luke? Mara?"

She lifted Formbi's arm with one hand for a closer look as she pulled out

her comlink with the other. "Right here, Fel. You all right?"

"We had a brief tussle with some of the Vagaari and  their  furry  little

pets," Fel said. "Watch out for those wolvkils?they're extremely hard to kill.

"

"Not if you have a lightsaber," Mara told him.

"I'll make a note to start issuing them to the troops," Fel  said  dryly.

"Anyway, we're clear, and heading to D-Five in one of the aft turbolifts.  Any

new instructions?"

"For the moment, just take out any Vagaari you run into," Mara told  him.

"We still don't know how many there are, though, so make sure  you  don't  get

trapped in an attrition zone. And if you run into any colonists, try  to  move

them somewhere safe."

"Copy. We're on our way."

"We'll be pushing our way back toward you soon," Mara said. "Luke?"

"Right here," his voice came back. "I've put all the wolvkils  to  sleep,

and I'm on my way. What's your situation?"

"Under control," Mara told him. "You might as well not  even  stop  here.

Keep going and see if you can drive the Vagaari back toward the Five-Oh-First.

I'll finish here and catch up with you."

"Right."

Mara returned her comlink to its pouch and gently let Formbi's arm  down.

"It's bad, all right," she agreed. "I think you're going to need more than our

medpacs can handle. Pressor?"

Pressor looked up from his examination of the  other  young  Peacekeeper,

his eyes smoldering. "What?"

"Aristocra Formbi needs medical attention," she told  him,  wondering  at

his sudden change in attitude. "Where are your facilities?"

"You mean our medical facilities?" Pressor growled. "For the wounded?"

Mara frowned; and then, belatedly, she got it. Pressor,  kneeling  beside

one of his dead Peacekeepers...  "I'm  sorry  about  your  friend,"  she  said

gently. "But there's nothing we can do for him now."

"So we should instead give our supplies to help an  alien?"  one  of  the

older men by the wall demanded bitterly. "The very alien who  was  responsible

for bringing these murderers aboard our ship?"

Mara turned to face him. "Look," she said, fighting to keep her voice and

temper under control. "I  understand  your  anger.  But  there's  a  time  for

analysis and blame setting, and this isn't it. You've lost two men?"

"Six," Pressor corrected harshly.

"You've lost six men," Mara snapped, resisting the temptation  to  remind

him that none of them would have died at all if Pressor hadn't locked her  and

Luke away in that turbolift car. "That's  the  way  warfare  goes.  They  were

armed, and they at least had a fighting chance."

She nodded back at the door. "That's more than you can say for  the  rest

of the people out there. Unless we move, and move fast, they're all  going  to

die. Is that what you want?"

"So go help them, Jedi," the old man bit out. "Who's stopping you?"

Mara shook her head. "We're not  going  to  do  this  piecemeal,  running

around at cross-purposes and getting in each other's way," she  said.  "We  do

this together, or we don't do it at all. Our part is to fight. Pressor's  part

is to tell us where the enemy is, and to assist us."

She leveled a finger at the three of them. "Your part is to  stay  behind

the battle line, treat the wounded, and protect our  civilians  until  we  get

back. If that's unacceptable, we can leave right now."

"So nothing has changed," one of the other old men murmured.

"Apparently not," the spokesman agreed, his voice  edged  in  bitterness.

"Very well, Jedi. We'll heal your wounded. As you command."  He  drew  himself

up. "But when this is over, you will leave us. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Mara said, turning her back on him in disgust.  "All  right,

Feesa, you and the Aristocra can go with them. You, too, Ambassador."

"A moment, if I may?" Jinzler asked, stepping up to her. "I'd like to ask

you a favor," he added, lowering his voice.

Mara stared at him in disbelief. A favor? "Jinzler, we  don't  have  time

for this."

"It's a very small favor," he assured her. "I want you to take Evlyn with

you."

Mara frowned past his  shoulder  at  the  woman  and  the  girl  huddling

together uncertainly behind Feesa and Formbi. "You must be joking."

"Not at all," Jinzler insisted. "She has rudimentary Force abilities. And

you've already seen how Director Uliar and  the  other  Survivors  feel  about

Jedi. I think she'll be safer with you than with them."

"She'll be safer in a war zone?" Mara countered pointedly.

Jinzler's eyes were steady on her. "Please?"

Mara shook her head in exasperation. But even in her annoyance, she could

sense that Jinzler was deadly serious.

And now that she was focusing her attention on the woman  and  girl,  she

could feel the gnawing fear within them, as well.  A  fear  that  seemed  more

personal than just the fact that there were armed Vagaari running loose aboard

their ship. "Fine," she said with a sigh. "But she stays way behind  me  where

it'll be at least halfway safe."

"Thank you," Jinzler said, beckoning to the girl. "Evlyn? Come on."

Mara shook her head again as the girl hurried toward her. How to  make  a

difficult situation even harder, in one easy lesson. She just hoped  it  would

be worth it.

"Mara?"

She turned to see Pressor coming toward her. "Yes?" she asked in  a  tone

designed to warn him away from any further arguments.

But to her mild surprise, he hadn't come to argue. "Here?you  might  need

these," he muttered, thrusting a pair of comlinks toward her. "Like you  said,

we have to work together here. These will connect you directly to  me  and  to

the other Peacekeepers."

"And there's a channel that cuts through jamming,  too,"  Jinzler  added.

"Just in case Bearsh finds those controls and turns it on again."

"It's here," Pressor said, pointing out the setting.

"Thanks," Mara said, stuffing the comlinks into her belt.

"Be careful." Pressor glanced at his niece, then  over  at  the  old  men

glaring at them from across the room. "And," he  added,  lowering  his  voice,

"may the Force be with you."

* * *

There were three armored Vagaari standing guard in  the  turbolift  lobby

when Fel, Drask, and the 501st arrived. They weren't standing guard for long.

"Power levels seem fine," Watchman said,  glancing  around.  "Their  line

creepers must not have gotten this far aft yet."

"This will be the last place they will spread  them,"  Drask  said.  "The

Jedi said that the forward  turbolifts  have  already  been  compromised.  The

Vagaari must make certain these remain operational  if  they  hope  to  escape

again to the surface."

"Makes sense," Fel agreed, visualizing the ship's layout in his mind. "To

be specific, they need the turbolift that  connects  to  the  starboard  side.

That's the only one left that'll get them to D-Four."

"Which means they will have committed a large number  of  troops  to  its

defense," Drask said thoughtfully. "What do you think, Commander?  Would  that

be a good place for an ambush?"

"Maybe," Fel said doubtfully. "Of course, it's also the most likely place

for them to be expecting an attack."

"I did not say an attack," Drask said, his eyes  glittering  maliciously.

"I said an ambush. The aft turbolift cluster consists of  six  cars,  does  it

not, operated singly or in groups?"

"Should be the same setup as the forward ones, yes," Fel said, nodding.

"And the starboard tube connects with D-Four,  D-Five,  and  the  storage

core?"

Fel smiled tightly as he finally understood.  "Yes,  sir,  it  does,"  he

said. "How do you want to proceed?"

Drask looked at the stormtroopers. "We will assign two to each mission, I

think," he said. "Normally I would prefer three or more for the  ambush  unit,

but the Five-Oh-First has shown itself capable of handling unusual odds."

"And if we don't have at least two of them here with us, the Vagaari  may

notice and get suspicious," Fel agreed. "Watchman and Shadow,  how  would  you

like to take a walk?"

"Ready  and  willing,  sir,"  Watchman  said.  "Once  we've  reached  the

turbolift pylon, what exactly do you want us to do?"

"You will take up position at the point where the tube from  the  storage

core connects with the tube running between D-Four  and  D-Five,"  Drask  told

him. "We will attempt to drive the Vagaari back into the cars.  As  they  lift

toward D-Four, we will alert you, and you will destroy them  in  transit.  Can

that be done?"

"I think so," Watchman said. "It should be easy enough to lock  down  one

of the cars just below the intersection point and climb the rest  of  the  way

into position."

"And as long as you have that one car tucked away  out  of  the  line  of

fire, you can shoot up any of the others that you need to,"  Fel  added.  "But

make sure that one car stays tucked away, or we won't be able to get  back  to

the surface ourselves."

"And watch out for the same kind of trap Pressor had set in  the  forward

cars," Grappler warned. "They are likely to have wired this group, as well."

"No problem," Watchman assured him. "Now that we know how  it  works,  we

should be able to get up onto the roof of the car and either bypass or reroute

the wiring."

"Good," Fel said. "Everyone clear on their job?"

There were four nods. "Then carry out your orders," Drask said. "Maintain

comm silence unless absolutely necessary?the enemy may be able to locate  your

transmissions and thereby anticipate your  movements.  May  warriors'  fortune

smile on your efforts."

Stiffening briefly to attention, Watchman  and  Shadow  returned  to  the

turbolift car. "Now," Fel said as the car's creakings faded into the distance.

"What are your plans for the rest of us?"

"First, we borrow these."  Stooping,  Drask  relieved  one  of  the  dead

Vagaari of his blaster carbine and helmet. "The armor, unfortunately,  is  too

small for us. Still, the weapons may be enough. Choose a weapon for  yourself,

Commander, and let us plot out our best approach to the enemy."

* * *

Cautiously, Luke eased an eye around the jog in the corridor  just  ahead

of him. Somewhere nearby he could sense a pair of vaguely hostile alien minds.

..

There was a flicker of warning from the Force, and he ducked back just as

a pair of red bolts blew pieces of the corner past his face.

"Okay," he murmured aloud to himself.  So  they  were  closer  than  he'd

realized, and more than just vaguely hostile. That was handy to know.

"Anyone ever tell you that talking out loud when you're alone  is  a  bad

sign?" Mara murmured from behind him.

"When the Force is your  ally,  you're  never  truly  alone,"  Luke  said

gravely, turning around and blinking in mild surprise as he  caught  sight  of

the girl trailing silently behind his wife. "We have company?"

"So it would seem." Mara gestured to the girl. "You remember Evlyn, don't

you?"

"Quite well," Luke said. "Hello, Evlyn."

"Hello," the girl said, a bit timidly. "I'm sorry about... earlier."

"That's  all  right."  Luke  looked  at  Mara,   lifting   his   eyebrows

questioningly.

"It's a long story," she said, "and I only have half of  it  myself.  The

short version is that Jinzler thinks she'll be safer with us  right  now  than

with her own people."

"All right," Luke said, setting his curiosity  aside  in  favor  of  more

pressing business. "Did you get the message from Fel?"

"The one about us pushing the Vagaari back toward  the  turbolifts?"  She

nodded. "Pressor's also heard from one of his people back  there.  It  appears

that as long as the Colonists stay  out  of  their  way,  the  Vagaari  aren't

bothering to shoot them."

"Rather have them die slowly, I guess," Luke said.

Mara nodded. "And to that end, they're also  apparently  scattering  line

creepers by the bucketful." She hesitated. "We may not be able  to  save  this

place, Luke."

He'd already come to that conclusion. "We'll just have to do what we can,

" he said. "And the faster we finish off the Vagaari, the less  of  a  problem

we'll have. Are any of Pressor's people going to be in a position to help when

we start our push?"

"Not really," Mara  said.  "Four  of  them  are  inside  current  Vagaari

territory, but I doubt their antiquated blasters have enough  power  to  punch

through that armor. Oh, and it turns out that two of the missing  Peacekeepers

had only been stunned by the Five-Oh-First as they passed  through  D-Six  and

are up and functional again. That helped Pressor's mood a little."

"Happy allies are good to have," Luke said. "Let's keep him that  way  by

telling his  people  to  stay  put.  Outnumbered  and  undergunned  is  a  bad

combination."

"Already done," Mara confirmed. "Though one bright side is  that  they're

probably not as undergunned as they might have been. The fact that the Vagaari

are using charrics and old Republic blasters against us  implies  they  didn't

bring any real weapons of their own, but had to loot the  Chaf  Envoy  and  D-

Four's armory for what they needed."

"Makes sense," Luke said. "They couldn't risk the Chiss  picking  up  odd

power readings  when  they  went  through  scanning  their  shuttle  for  line

creepers. And of course, that leaves them with the same  overage  Tibanna  gas

problem the Peacekeepers have."

"Right," Mara said. "Even so, the outnumbering remains." She  hefted  her

lightsaber. "So I guess it's up to us."

"And the Five-Oh-First." Luke paused, frowning as a distant sound  caught

his attention. "You hear that?"

"Sounds  like  blasterfire,"  Mara  said,  her   forehead   wrinkled   in

concentration. "And lots of it."

"Maybe they've decided some of the Colonists need to die right now  after

all," Luke said grimly.

"Or else one of Pressor's people decided to  be  a  hero,"  Mara  agreed.

"Either way, I think that's our cue."

"Right." Luke ignited his lightsaber. The two Vagaari were  still  there,

he knew, but it was unlikely they would be expecting  a  straight-out  charge.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

* * *

"Again," Drask ordered.

Fel nodded and fired again, sending  a  short  burst  from  his  borrowed

carbine into the corridor wall a few meters in front of him, listening to  the

slightly wheezy and very distinctive sound of the ancient weapon. "Anything?"

"They sound agitated," the general said, holding his appropriated Vagaari

helmet up to his ear. "Ah?there is an order."

Fel frowned. "How can you possibly know that?" he asked. "You don't  even

speak their language."

"There is a tone of command that is the same  in  all  languages,"  Drask

said. "Now we need only wait and see if it is the command we are hoping for."

"They're coming," Grappler murmured, cocking his head toward  the  corner

he and Cloud were waiting beside.

"Stand ready." Drask gestured to Fel. "Fire again."

Fel did so, trying to watch both ends of the corridor  at  once.  Between

bursts he could hear rapid footsteps approaching...

Suddenly, with a clatter of armor, they were there: five armored Vagaari,

charging to what they thought was their comrades' aid. They got off a  single,

startled volley before the two stormtroopers cut them down.

"Good," Drask said, surveying their handiwork  with  satisfaction.  "That

diminishes the enemy somewhat. Where do you recommend we go next?"

"There's a series of emergency battery rooms back  that  way,"  Fel  said

dubiously. "You aren't really intending to try this same trick twice, are you?

"

"Not at all," Drask assured him. "It is time to take the  battle  to  the

enemy. The other stormtroopers should be in position by now; let us see if  we

can drive the Vagaari into reach of their weapons."

"Ah," Fel said. "In that case, we probably want the fluid systems service

corridor instead of  the  battery  rooms.  There  are  two  access  panels  in

particular we might find useful: one opening into one of  the  cross-corridors

on this side of the starboard turbolift lobby, the other door opening into the

lobby itself."

"How likely are the Vagaari to have set up pickets  at  the  entrance  to

this corridor?"

"Not very," Fel said. "It's narrow and probably not well marked."

"And it offers an avenue of retreat?"

"It has doors to both the main engine  room  and  the  secondary  command

complex," Fel told him. "We could hold off a small army from either place."

"Excellent," Drask said. "Take us there."

Cautiously, keeping an eye out for stray Vagaari, Fel led the way through

a series of small utility rooms. They reached  the  entrance  to  the  service

corridor, only to find it jammed shut.

"What I don't understand is where they're all  coming  from,"  Fel  said,

stroking his bandaged right arm restlessly as he watched  Grappler  and  Cloud

work on the door. "That ship of theirs couldn't have followed us  here,  could

it?"

"It could not, and did not," Drask told him. "But surely now that we know

about their suspended animation technology the answer is obvious."

"But if they didn't?oh." Fel broke  off,  embarrassed.  It  was  obvious.

"Those three sealed rooms aboard their shuttle, the  ones  they  claimed  were

open to vacuum."

"Yes," Drask confirmed. "Though undoubtedly a small portion of  each  was

indeed open to space."

"Right?the part by the door sensor and access port," Fel  said,  nodding.

"Otherwise, a secondary test by your people would have shown that the readings

were fake."

"They would have had a secret way to reseal the rooms, of course,"  Drask

said. "That was why they pretended Estosh had been attacked, to  give  him  an

excuse to stay behind."

"Only it wasn't just pretending?they really did shoot him," Fel  reminded

him. "These people are seriously out for revenge."

"Perhaps," Drask murmured. "Or perhaps they are  motivated  by  something

more practical."

There was  a  hollow  popping  sound  from  the  door.  "Got  it,"  Cloud

announced.

"Good," Drask said. "Proceed."

Cloud led the way, followed by Grappler, Drask, and Fel. The corridor was

narrower than it had looked on the blueprints, Fel realized with a  twinge  of

apprehension, with barely enough room for the  stormtroopers  to  get  through

without scraping their shoulders on the piping and access manifolds lining the

walls. Far too narrow for any of them to pass any of the others.

Which meant that if they had to retreat, it would be Fel and his  injured

gun arm who would be running point.

But at least the Vagaari did seem to have  missed  this  particular  back

door. There were no sentries or other signs of enemy presence in the corridor.

In fact, from all appearances, the place might not have been visited in years,

and several times Fel had to fight back a reaction to the drifting dust  being

kicked up by their passage. It would be a shame to put this much  effort  into

sneaking up on the enemy only to announce their presence with a coughing fit.

They made it to their target panel without incident. Drask  motioned  the

stormtroopers to take up side-to-side positions in front of it,  BlasTechs  at

the ready. Then, reaching around past them, he punched the release.

This door,  fortunately,  opened  without  any  difficulty  at  all.  The

stormtroopers were ready, opening fire the instant the sliding panel was clear

of their muzzles. "Can you see  anything?"  Fel  shouted  to  Drask  over  the

BlasTechs' stuttering screams.

"Vagaari," Drask shouted back succinctly. Return  fire  was  starting  to

come now, and Fel winced as burst after burst slammed into  his  men,  leaving

blackened marks on the clean white armor. The targets were clearly  plentiful?

Fel could see both stormtroopers rhythmically swinging their weapons back  and

forth?but at the same time the return fire seemed to be increasing rather than

decreasing. However many troops Bearsh had brought along, it was  starting  to

look like a large percentage of them were right here.

And even the legendary 501st had a limit to what it could handle.

It took only a few more seconds for Drask to come to the same conclusion.

Again reaching past the stormtroopers, he punched the control. The  door  slid

shut, the metal ringing with the impact of belated Vagaari fire. "We have done

what we can to encourage their retreat," he said, nudging Fel back toward  the

direction they'd come from. "It is time to make our own."

"Right." Fel turned around?

And froze. Moving stealthily through the passage toward them was  a  line

of Vagaari warriors.

Apparently, the enemy hadn't missed this bet after all.

CHAPTER 21

Gathering his feet beneath him, Luke ducked out of the doorway he'd  been

hiding in and sprinted ahead and down the corridor toward  the  next  room  in

line. As he ran, a  hail  of  blaster  bolts  scorched  the  air  around  him,

scattering from his lightsaber blade.  He  made  it  to  the  doorway  without

getting hit and ducked inside the room.

It was another bunkroom, he saw, this one having been  converted  into  a

game area. In the back corner four young couples sat huddled together  on  the

floor, their fear radiating toward him like a set  of  permlights.  "It's  all

right," he assured them. "Don't worry, you're safe now."

None of them replied. With a sigh, he leaned back out into  the  corridor

for another cautious look. He had hoped this  strange  aversion  to  Jedi  was

confined to the original group of Outbound Flight survivors. But whatever  the

reason for their hatred, they'd clearly done a good job of passing  it  on  to

successive generations.

Unfortunately, if Jinzler was to be believed, it also meant this was  yet

another place where it might not be safe to leave Evlyn alone. It was starting

to look like they were going to have to drag her  all  the  way  back  to  the

turbolifts.

Behind him, Mara signaled that they were ready.  Raising  his  lightsaber

again, he stepped back into the corridor.

Again, the Vagaari opened fire. But this time, the shots were coming from

a set of doorways farther down the corridor. He and Mara might not  be  taking

down many of the enemy with this maneuver, Luke reflected as he  took  a  step

toward them, but they were definitely pushing them back.

There was the sound of running feet behind him, and Mara and Evlyn ducked

into the room he'd just left. "Clear!" Mara called.

Stepping back again, Luke joined them. "Everyone still okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Mara said. Evlyn looked a little  winded,  but  seemed  all  right

otherwise. "By the way, did you notice the  Vagaari  have  their  own  jamming

system up and running?"

"No, I hadn't," Luke said, frowning. "When did this happen?"

"Sometime in the past few minutes, I think," Mara said. "I tried to  call

Fel while you were clearing this last section and could get only static."

"Terrific," Luke muttered.

"Not as terrific as they think,"  Mara  said,  pulling  one  of  the  Old

Republic comlinks out of her belt and handing it to him. "We can still keep in

touch with Pressor and the Peacekeepers with these."

"That's something, anyway," Luke agreed, sliding  the  comlink  onto  his

belt beside his own. "What do you suppose they're up to?"

"I don't know," Mara said. "It might not be anything more  sinister  than

Bearsh deciding he was tired of coordinated attacks."

"Then again, it might," Luke pointed out grimly. "And Fel and  the  Five-

Oh-First are back there all alone."

He caught the flicker of concern from his wife. Apparently,  she'd  grown

fond of the Imperials. "We'd better pick up our pace a little," she said.

"Right," Luke said, stepping back to the doorway. "Here goes..."

* * *

The Vagaari in the front of the line jerked back as a blaster bolt  found

a gap in his armor; he toppled over backward, his weapon blazing madly away as

he fell. One of the shots sizzled past Fel's head as he crouched down  in  the

corridor, and he winced away as he slammed a fresh Tibanna gas cartridge  into

his blaster. One more Vagaari down; a whole line of the aliens standing  ready

to take his place. "Report!" he shouted  as  he  took  another  waddling  step

backward, trying to keep his head clear of his allies' fire.

"We're... still good, sir," Grappler called. But all  the  confidence  in

the galaxy couldn't hide the fact  that  the  stormtrooper  was  hurting,  and

hurting badly. Too many enemies, too much  blasterfire,  and  even  the  tough

composite that made up stormtrooper armor was starting to  disintegrate  under

the assault. Cloud had stopped replying  entirely  to  questions  and  orders,

though he was still on his feet, still firing,  and  still  retreating  in  an

orderly fashion. Grappler, Fel suspected, wasn't in much better shape.

Fel and Drask were still largely unscathed, crouched down as they were in

order to give the stormtroopers a clear field of fire. But that couldn't last,

either, and unarmored as they were, a single well-placed shot could easily put

either of them out of action.

It would have been nice if they  could  have  used  their  grenades.  The

stormtroopers had a complete set of them,  along  with  gas-powered  launchers

built into their BlasTechs to speed them on their way. The problem was that an

explosion among pipes filled with  coolant  and  other  working  fluids  would

probably kill the attackers, the defenders,  and  half  of  Outbound  Flight's

remaining populace. The blasters were risky enough in here.

And on top of all that, the  Vagaari  had  finally  begun  jamming  their

comlinks. The only mystery was why they hadn't gotten around to it earlier.

So here they were, trapped in a narrow corridor with enemies on all sides

and no way to call for assistance.

And as Fel opened fire on the next Vagaari in line, it  occurred  to  him

that he was probably going to die.

It was an odd sensation,  that.  The  possibility  of  death  was  always

present in combat, of course, and there had been many times  when  he'd  gazed

out his clawcraft's canopy at the enemy ships rising to meet him and  wondered

if this would be the time. But in space combat there was always  a  chance  of

survival, even if your ship was blown completely out from under you.

Here, there would be no such chance. If the Vagaari blasters  found  him,

he would be dead.

Dead.

"Where is this second access door?" Drask shouted into his ear.

Fel glanced around, getting his bearings. "Another two or three  meters,"

he said. "Same side of the corridor as the last one."

"Understood."

Fel resumed firing, wondering at the Chiss's composure. The exit into the

engine room that Fel had so confidently told him about was all the way at  the

other end of the corridor, too far away for them to reasonably expect to  make

before the Vagaari numerical superiority finally took them down.

But the access door into the turbolift lobby itself was only a few meters

along the corridor. And so that was where Drask had ordered them to go.

The lobby would be full of Vagaari, of course. But  anyplace  they  could

reach would likely have that same problem. At least in the  lobby  they  would

have a little more room to maneuver.

And maybe the Jedi would come in time. Maybe.

* * *

The medic straightened up, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Ambassador,  but

that's all I can do."

Jinzler nodded silently, gazing down at the treatment table.  Formbi  was

lying still, his eyes closed, his breathing  labored.  The  medic  had  mostly

gotten the bleeding stopped, though Jinzler could see traces still seeping out

through the bandages. But the Chiss had already lost a lot of blood, and there

was no way to replace it.

At least not now. Not until they could get back to the Chaf Envoy and its

medical supplies, or else find a Chiss crewer with the same blood type.

Assuming any of the crewers aboard the Chaf Envoy were still alive.

"What about bacta?" he asked, looking up at the medic  again.  "Is  there

any available?"

The medic looked at him in astonishment. "You must be joking," she  said.

"Most of the bacta we had was lost or corrupted in the battle  and  aftermath.

We used up what was left probably twenty years ago."

"The ambassador isn't joking," a dark voice came from the  corner.  "He's

most serious."

Jinzler turned around. Councilor Keely was sitting there, holding a salve

bandage to his elbow where he'd somehow scraped it raw during  the  battle  in

the meeting room. "Ambassador Jinzler is a friend of  all,"  Keely  continued,

staring at the deck. "Didn't you know? He's a friend to Blue  Ones,  to  Jedi,

even to murdering Vagaari. Yes, Ambassador Jinzler likes everyone."

He lifted a baleful glare to Jinzler. "This Blue One is the  real  reason

your Jedi friends are so anxious to get  to  the  turbolifts,  isn't  it?"  he

demanded, nodding at the table. "So that you can get him to  his  ship  to  be

patched up. Once that happens, you'll all just fly away and leave us  here  to

die."

"That's not true," Jinzler said,  keeping  his  voice  steady.  He'd  had

doubts about Keely's mental stability even before the  Vagaari  had  unleashed

their wolvkils on him and the rest of the Council. Now he was even  less  sure

about it. "There are also people aboard the Chiss ship who can get rid of  the

line creepers the Vagaari are leaving behind. The  faster  we  get  them  down

here, the sooner we can restore your ship to full power."

Keely snorted. "Oh, yes. It sounds so reasonable." Abruptly, he stood up.

"But then, your entire profession is based  around  your  ability  to  lie  to

people, isn't it?"

"Sit down, Keely."

Jinzler looked over at the room's waiting area, where Uliar  and  Tarkosa

had been talking together in low tones. The conversation had ceased, and  both

men were gazing at Keely, their  expressions  unreadable.  "Sit  down,"  Uliar

repeated. "Better yet, go back to your rooms."

"But he's a liar, Chas," Keely insisted. "By definition, that means  he's

been lying to us."

"Very possibly," Uliar agreed coldly. "But you will still sit down."

For a moment the two men locked gazes. Then, with  a  noisy  huff,  Keely

dropped back into his chair. "Liar," he muttered, turning his gaze back to the

deck.

The medic looked back at Jinzler, and he thought he could detect  a  hint

of fresh strain in her face. "I'm going to run a sample  of  his  blood,"  she

told him. "It might be possible to synthesize  at  least  some  of  the  basic

plasma for him. It wouldn't be whole  blood,  but  it  would  be  better  than

nothing."

"It would certainly help," Jinzler acknowledged. "Thank you."

The medic gave him a flicker of a smile and walked away. Feesa moved into

the spot by the table where the woman had been standing, her face etched  with

worry as she gazed down at Formbi.  "He'll  make  it,"  Jinzler  assured  her,

knowing even as he said it that it was probably a lie. Maybe Keely  was  right

about him. "He's strong, and they've got the bleeding stopped. He'll make it."

"I know," Feesa said, and Jinzler could hear in her voice that  she  knew

she was speaking a lie, too. "It's just..."

"He's a relative of  yours,  isn't  he?"  Jinzler  asked,  searching  for

something less painful to talk about. "You know, I don't think  I  ever  heard

how Chiss families are set  up.  Especially  those  who  make  up  the  Ruling

Families."

She looked at him blankly. "The Nine Ruling Families are like  any  other

families," she said. "Blood and merit create siblings and cousins and  ranking

distants. Some are released, others are rematched, others are born  to  trial.

The same as any other family."

She lowered her eyes to Formbi again. "This wasn't  supposed  to  happen.

None of this was supposed to happen."

On the table, Formbi's eyes fluttered partway open. "Feesa," he murmured.

"No more."

"What do you mean?" Jinzler said, frowning. "No more what?"

Feesa turned her face away.  "Nothing,"  she  said,  her  voice  suddenly

sounding oddly muffled.

The back of Jinzler's neck began to tingle. "Feesa?" he prompted. "Feesa,

what's going on?"

"Peace, Ambassador," Formbi murmured. "I will tell  you...  everything...

later. But not... now." His head turned slightly to the side.

Toward where Keely was still staring at the deck, muttering to himself.

Jinzler felt his breath catch in his throat, a part of that  conversation

behind their wolvkil barrier flashing suddenly to mind. You  genuinely  didn't

know who they were? Uliar had asked. Of course not, Jinzler had replied, angry

and frightened and indignant. You think we would have let them aboard Outbound

Flight if we had? Some of you might have, Uliar had  countered.  Possibly  the

heirs of those who tried to destroy Outbound Flight in the first place.

And then, suddenly, Feesa had broken in and changed the subject.

You really didn't know who they were? You really  didn't  know  who  they

were? "Yes, Aristocra," he said quietly, feeling cold all over. "Later will do

fine."

* * *

"There!" Drask's voice shouted in Fel's ear. "There!"

Fel glanced to his right in mild surprise. Preoccupied with  defense,  he

hadn't even noticed that they'd reached the access door.  He  fired  two  more

quick shots down the service corridor, then risked another sideways glance  to

locate the release control. There  it  was,  half  a  meter  above  his  head.

"Grappler!" he shouted. "Stun grenade!"

"Shak," the stormtrooper muttered back, his voice strained.

The Eickarie word for ready, Fel recalled uneasily. Apparently,  Grappler

was too far gone to even be able to translate into Basic. Fel could only  hope

he was alert enough to remember to arm the stun grenade before  he  threw  it.

"Ready?" He lunged up and slapped the release "?go!"

The door creaked slightly as it began to slide open. Fel  got  a  glimpse

through the opening of armored Vagaari turning their weapons toward the noise;

and then Grappler lobbed the grenade through the opening. Fel hit the  release

again,  reversing  the  door's  direction.  There  were   sounds   of   sudden

consternation outside as the panel slid closed?

And then the whole service corridor bulkhead seemed to bow inward  toward

them as the grenade went off.

"Now!" Fel shouted, hitting the release again as he switched his  blaster

to rapid fire and emptied it  into  the  Vagaari  at  the  other  end  of  the

corridor. The door slid open again, all  the  way  this  time,  and  he  dived

sideways through it.

He landed on the deck of the turbolift lobby between two  groggy  Vagaari

who lay  twitching  where  the  force  of  the  concussion  had  thrown  them.

Scrambling to his feet, ignoring the  protest  of  cramping  leg  muscles,  he

turned and helped pull Drask through the opening. "What was that?"  the  Chiss

asked, taking a stumbling step over the nearest Vagaari.

"Concussion grenade," Fel said,  looking  around  as  he  slid  his  last

Tibanna cartridge into his blaster. "Knocks everyone  flat  for  a  couple  of

minutes."

"And then allows them to awaken?" Drask demanded  as  Grappler  staggered

through the opening.  Fel  grabbed  the  stormtrooper's  arm  to  steady  him,

grimacing at the dozens of pits and scorch marks discoloring his armor.  "What

sort of weapon is that for a warrior?"

"The sort a warrior uses when he doesn't know whether or  not  the  enemy

has hostages," Fel snapped. Cloud seemed to be having trouble with  the  door;

reaching in, Fel grabbed his arm and pulled him bodily through. "Come  on,  we

need to get out of here."

But it was too late. Even as he turned Cloud toward the  turbolift  doors

and the corridor leading out of the lobby, he saw that  the  Vagaari  in  that

direction were starting to stagger  to  their  feet,  their  weapons  tracking

unsteadily toward the intruders. At the speed Cloud and Grappler were probably

capable of, the enemy would be back to full strength long  before  they  could

run that gauntlet. The same went for the corridor leading aft and  the  cross-

corridor leading portside.

Which basically left only the option of standing here and taking  out  as

many Vagaari as they could before they were killed.

"Listen!" Drask murmured urgently. "I hear a turbolift car approaching."

Fel grimaced as he caught the telltale sound, too.  Approaching  full  of

enemies, no doubt, but he didn't have anything better to offer. If they  could

clear the car before those inside knew what was happening, they would at least

have bought themselves a little cover.

In fact, if the Vagaari in the lobby  stayed  groggy  long  enough,  they

might even have a chance of using the car to get away. "Go,"  he  told  Drask,

giving a tug on Cloud's arm to get him moving.

They  picked  their  way  through  the  maze  of  stunned  Vagaari,   the

stormtroopers stumbling drunkenly, Fel doing his best to help and  hurry  them

along. Drask, unencumbered with injured comrades, made the  trip  considerably

faster and was standing ready at the door when it slid open. He  swung  around

the edge to lean into the car, his charric spitting blue fire as he laid  down

a killing pattern.

The pattern broke off almost  before  it  started.  "Empty,"  he  called,

swinging back around again to cover the Vagaari still getting to their feet. A

shot blistered past his head; shifting his aim, he fired once to  silence  the

gunner. "Hurry!"

The Chiss had shot three more Vagaari, and the room was starting to  fill

with blaster bolts by the time Fel and the stormtroopers stumbled through  the

open door. "We're in," Fel shouted as he guided his charges to the rear of the

car. The enemy fire was still highly random, but the Vagaari would be  getting

both their balance and their aim back any minute. "Hit the control?there."

"Storage core?" Drask asked, still firing as he ducked inside.

"Yes," Fel said. Whatever reinforcements Bearsh had would undoubtedly  be

up on D-4, and Fel had no interest in taking them on just now. "Come  on,  hit

it."

Drask did so.

Nothing happened.

Drask hit it again, and again,  then  tried  the  switch  to  D-4.  Still

nothing. "What's wrong?" Fel demanded, hurrying to his side.

"It does not function," Drask snarled. "The Vagaari have locked it down."

A burst of enemy fire splattered off the edge of the door. "Come on," Fel

said, grabbing Drask's arm and dragging him to the back of the  car.  So  that

was it. The enemy had anticipated their final move, and they were now well and

truly trapped. Fel had failed his men, failed Admiral Parck, failed  Aristocra

Formbi and the rest of the Chiss.

But if the Vagaari expected them to die quietly, they were in for a  rude

shock. Cloud  and  Grappler  had  sunk  to  the  floor,  semiconscious,  their

BlasTechs hanging loosely  from  their  hands.  Fel  grabbed  Cloud's  weapon,

checked the power indicator, and  swung  it  around  to  point  at  the  door.

Outside, he could see the Vagaari starting to move purposefully around,  fully

in control now and probably setting up their pattern for a rush  on  the  car.

Leveling the BlasTech toward the opening, Fel braced himself...

And with a sudden shattering of metal and plastic, the front part of  the

car's ceiling exploded inward.

Instinctively, Fel twisted his head away, squeezing his eyes shut against

the flying debris. The roar of the blast faded and he  turned  back,  blinking

open his eyes.

At the front of the car, barely visible through the roiling dust, stood a

pair of Imperial stormtroopers.

Watchman and Shadow had arrived.

There were, Fel had estimated, about  thirty  Vagaari  in  the  turbolift

lobby. They never had a  chance.  The  two  stormtroopers  stood  shoulder  to

shoulder in the doorway,  fresh  and  uninjured,  taking  the  enemy's  attack

unflinchingly as they systematically raked the lobby with blasterfire.

Fel sank down onto the floor beside  Cloud  and  Grappler,  the  BlasTech

falling loose in his hands as he listened to the firefight, the combat tension

finally beginning to drain out of him.

And as it did, he slowly became aware of pain digging into his body  from

a dozen different places on arms, legs, and torso. Apparently,  he  wasn't  as

uninjured as he'd thought.

By the time the battle was over, he needed Drask's help to even stand up.

* * *

The two Vagaari fired another burst, their blaster bolts scattering  from

Luke's  lightsaber  blade.  He  pressed  forward  grimly,  letting  the  Force

manipulate his defense, shortening the gap between him and the  attackers.  In

the distance, the sounds of multiple blaster-fire from a  minute  earlier  had

gone ominously quiet. Wrapped in the tunnel vision of combat, he couldn't tell

what the outcome had been, but it was beginning to look as if he and Mara were

already too late to be of any help there.

The Vagaari intensified their fire. Setting his teeth,  he  struggled  to

keep up with the attack?

And suddenly, the screaming of their weapons was joined by blasterfire of

a more modern pitch and rhythm. For a handful of seconds the two sounds played

a deadly duet, and then all weapons fell abruptly silent.

"Luke? Mara?"

Luke let his lightsaber slow to a  halt  in  ready  position,  his  lungs

heaving as he relaxed his tight focus and began opening up his mind again. The

voice and the sense accompanying it had been very familiar...

"We're here, Fel," Mara called out as she and Evlyn came up  behind  him.

"Come on, Luke, they're hurt."

Luke blinked sweat out of his eyes as he closed down his  lightsaber  and

joined the other two hurrying down the corridor. He could sense the pain  now:

waves of it, sweeping toward him.

The two groups met around the next jog in the corridor, beside the bodies

of the three Vagaari Luke had been slowly pushing back.  "These  the  last  of

them?" one of the stormtroopers asked, gesturing at them with his BlasTech.

"As far as I know, yes," Luke  said,  eyeing  him  and  the  others  with

concern and a bit of awe. All four stormtroopers had been  through  the  wars,

all right, with blaster burns scattered and clustered all across  their  once-

sleek armor. On two of them, the white color of their  breastplates  had  been

almost completely obliterated, with at least a dozen spots on each  where  the

armor had been burned clean through. It was hard to  believe  they  were  even

alive, let alone more or less on their feet. Fel didn't look to be in terrific

shape, either, and though he seemed to be walking on his own  Luke  could  see

that Drask was standing ready to offer him a helping hand. "I see you've  been

busy," he said. The words sounded rather bland, but somehow seemed to fit  the

casual dignity and bravery he could sense from all  six  of  the  group.  "I'm

sorry we weren't able to get to you faster."

"We managed," Fel said, his  voice  rigid  with  the  strain  of  someone

fighting back pain and determined not to show it. "Afraid we left  a  mess  by

the turbolifts that someone's going to have to clean up."

"Don't worry about it," Luke assured him. "What about Bearsh? Did you see

him?"

"I didn't, no," Fel said, glancing around at  the  others.  There  was  a

general murmur of agreement. "He must have made it to D-Four  before  we  were

able to deal with their rear guard."

"Rear guard?" Mara asked. "You saying there are still  more  of  them  up

there?"

"Definitely," one of the stormtroopers said. "We could hear them  working

in the turbolift pylon while we were bringing the car in."

"I don't suppose you got a head count," Luke said.

The stormtrooper shook his head. "We were too busy getting the car moving

and laying out the flash paste to give them much attention."

"I have done a rough calculation, however," Drask said. "From the size of

the three inaccessible rooms aboard the  Vagaari  vessel,  I  estimate  Bearsh

could have brought as many as three hundred troops with him."

Luke whistled. "Three hundred? They must  have  been  stacked  like  data

cards in there."

"With their hibernation technology, that  would  be  entirely  possible,"

Drask agreed.

"What were they doing in the pylon?" Evlyn asked.

They all looked at her. "What?" Fel asked.

"You said they were working in the turbolift pylon,"  the  girl  reminded

them. "You said you didn't count them, but didn't you at  least  look  to  see

what they were doing?"

The two slightly-less-injured stormtroopers looked at  each  other.  "Not

really," one of them confessed. "We  could  see  the  lights,  and  they  were

definitely working on the tube and not on any of the cars. But that was all we

got."

"We had more pressing things to think  about  at  the  time,"  the  other

stormtrooper added.

"Well, let's think about it now," Luke said. "What could Bearsh be up to?

"

"Maybe there's a quick way to find out," Mara said, stooping  beside  one

of the Vagaari bodies and pulling off his helmet. "Let's ask him."

She glanced over the  controls,  then  keyed  on  the  built-in  comlink.

"Hello, Bearsh," she called toward  the  voice  pickup.  "This  is  Mara  Jade

Skywalker. How's it going up there?"

There was a long pause. "Bearsh?" she called again.  "Come  on,  Vagaari,

look alive."

"I'm sorry, but General Bearsh is unavailable  at  this  time,"  a  voice

replied, sounding distant and oddly  hollow  as  it  came  from  the  helmet's

headphones. "So you still live, Jedi?"

Luke grimaced. General Bearsh, no  less.  "That's  right,  Estosh,"  Mara

said. "We still live, you're up and around again?it's just a glorious day  for

us all."

"Not for all, Jedi," Estosh said, an edge of malicious  pleasure  in  his

voice. "But for the Vagaari, this is  indeed  a  day  of  satisfaction.  Where

precisely are you?"

"We're standing around on a Vagaari-free  Dreadnaught,"  Mara  told  him.

"You want something more precise?"

"No need," Estosh said. "I see you now, there in the corridor beside  the

Number Two Turbolaser Coolant Room."

Luke glanced at the marker beside the  nearest  door  in  mild  surprise.

Apparently, the Vagaari had very precise locators  built  into  their  troops'

helmets. "What do you mean, Vagaari-free?" Estosh went on.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Mara said. "Your rear guard's dead. All of them."

"Really," Estosh said. "Interesting. You Jedi are more effective warriors

than we realized. Our mistake."

"A mistake others paid for," Mara pointed  out.  "But  I  suppose  that's

typical. I don't suppose you're brave enough to come down here and take any of

the risks yourself?"

Estosh chuckled melodiously. "Thank you for your invitation, but no.  The

Supreme Commander never takes the same risks as the common soldiers. I have my

duty, and they have theirs."

"Supreme Commander, you say," Mara  said.  "I'm  impressed.  Speaking  of

duty, you surely didn't sacrifice forty-odd troops just to kill off  a  couple

of hundred humans and a few Chiss, did you?"

"Of course not," Estosh said. "Tell me, is Master  Skywalker  there  with

you?"

Luke hesitated, sensing the trap lying beneath the question.  Estosh  was

willing to talk, but only if he knew he didn't have a Jedi running  loose  and

unaccounted for.

On the other hand, if Luke confirmed  he  was  here  listening,  his  own

freedom of movement would be severely limited, at least for the length of  the

conversation. With Fel and the stormtroopers largely  out  of  commission,  it

would be a bad idea to let the Vagaari pin both him and Mara down to this  one

particular spot.

Mara, he could sense, had come to the same conclusion. Fortunately, she'd

also come up with the answer. Smiling wickedly at Luke,  she  pulled  out  the

comlink Pressor had given her and lifted her eyebrows.

He nodded understanding, taking a rapid couple  of  steps  aft  down  the

corridor as he pulled the matching device from his own belt. Clicking hers on,

Mara held it near the helmet's  voice  pickup  and  nodded.  "Yes,  I'm  here,

Estosh," Luke said into his comlink. "What do you want?"

"Nothing in particular," Estosh said offhandedly, his voice  coming  more

faintly now from the comlink as Luke continued down the  corridor  toward  the

aft turbolift lobby. It was time, he decided, to see what exactly was going on

up there. "I merely didn't want to have to repeat all of this for  you  later.

You're right, we did indeed come here for revenge. But certainly not  for  the

few ragged handfuls of humans who will soon be dying alongside  you.  No,  our

revenge will be against the entire Chiss race."

The colonists, Luke saw, were beginning to emerge now  from  the  various

nooks and crannies they'd been hiding in. Most of them  shied  back  again  at

their first sight of him. "Nice to have goals in life," Mara commented. "But I

find it hard to believe there's anything aboard Outbound Flight  that's  going

to help you take down the Chiss Ascendancy. Or are the Vagaari in the habit of

using high-flying words that don't really mean anything?"

"Mock me all you wish, Jedi," Estosh snarled. "But I am up here, and  you

are down there."

Luke had reached the turbolift lobby now. There was a single car  waiting

there behind the piles of Vagaari bodies, a car  with  an  oddly  shaped  hole

blown in the front part of the roof. He stepped inside and turned back  toward

the control panel.

It was only then that he saw that Evlyn had followed him.

He blinked at her in surprise, cutting off his  comlink's  voice  pickup.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I want to help," she said. "What can I do?"

His first instinct was to tell her to get back to  Mara  where  she'd  be

safe. The only way he was going to be able to find out what the  Vagaari  were

up to would be to go up to D-4 and take a look for himself. If they'd  left  a

reception committee watching that approach, it could get messy.

But there was something about the expression on the girl's face that  was

stirring old memories...

"And up there is about as far as  you're  going  to  get,"  Mara's  voice

scoffed over the comlink, the tone carefully designed to draw Estosh out still

further. "Or had you forgotten we're in the middle of the Chiss Redoubt?"

"I want to go with you," Evlyn said. "Please?"

Luke smiled as the memory clicked. I want to go with you. He could  still

remember his eagerness and frustration as he'd said those same  words  to  Ben

Kenobi, way back on the first Death Star. But Ben had refused him, going alone

to shut down the tractor beam that was preventing the Millennium  Falcon  from

escaping.

And thereby going to his death.

Would things have been different if he'd allowed Luke  to  go  along?  Of

course they would. Leia might never have  been  found  and  rescued,  for  one

thing. Han certainly wouldn't have gone out on a limb for her  back  then,  at

least not alone.

Still, there had been many times over the years when he'd lain  awake  in

the dark hours of the night, visualizing how he and Ben  together  might  have

been able to defeat or at least neutralize Vader, then go on to free Leia from

her cell, then take R2-D2 and the precious Death Star data to Yavin 4.

"Ah, so there are things even the great Jedi don't know," Estosh  scoffed

back. "Perhaps it was merely your basic combat skills I underestimated."

There was really no question as to what the logical,  practical  decision

should be. Evlyn would be at risk up  there,  as  well  as  being  a  possibly

crucial distraction for Luke himself.

And yet, despite all the logic, his instincts were whispering  the  exact

opposite.

Trust your instincts, Luke...

"Get ready to stop the  turbolift,"  he  told  her.  Bending  his  knees,

stretching to the Force for strength, he jumped through the ragged opening  up

onto the car's roof. The reason for the odd shape of the hole became clear the

instant he saw the multicolored wires crisscrossing the roof. Like the forward

turbolifts, this one had been wired as a trap. The stormtroopers who had  made

the hole had rearranged and extended some of  the  lines,  then  shaped  their

explosive ribbon to avoid damaging the rest of them. "And if I tell you to get

out of here, you immediately take the car back  down  and  get  Mara  and  the

Imperials, without question or argument. Understood?"

Evlyn nodded. Stretching to the Force again, Luke  reached  down  through

the opening and keyed the switch.

The car began to lumber its way toward D-4, "downward"  from  where  Luke

was currently sitting. Pulling out his glow rod, he adjusted it to tight  beam

and waited.

"That's a little unfair, Estosh," Fel's  voice  came  from  the  comlink.

"Even Jedi can't be expected to know everything. That's why they  have  allies

like us. You see,  we  know  all  about  the  recorder  you  tapped  into  the

navigational repeater lines."

Luke frowned at the comlink. A recorder in the navigational  lines,  that

Fel and the 501st had known about?

And that they hadn't mentioned to anyone else?

"Ah, so that's what the diversion with the line creepers was all  about,"

Mara said. Even at this distance,  Luke  could  sense  her  own  surprise  and

annoyance that Fel  hadn't  let  them  in  on  the  secret.  But  nothing  but

interested professionalism was coming out in her voice. "You knew you might be

leaving this party early, so you made sure you'd have a recording of the route

back to the Brask Oto Command Station. And your little chat  with  Jinzler  in

the forward observation lounge was because he happened to be too close to  the

action?"

"Yes," Estosh said, sounding grudgingly impressed that she'd caught on so

quickly. "If he'd left  at  the  wrong  moment,  he  would  have  seen  Purpsh

installing the device. Master Skywalker, are you still there?"

Luke clicked the comlink voice pickup back on. "Still here,  Estosh,"  he

assured the other. "But even that recording isn't going to get you all the way

out of the Redoubt, you know. We were half an hour into the flight before  you

got it tied in."

"That last part will be easy enough," Estosh said  offhandedly.  "Leaving

the edge of a star cluster is not nearly as difficult as navigating one's  way

inside."

The turbolift car had hit  the  main  gravity  eddy  field  now  and  was

rotating around in the darkness. A moment later it finished its turn,  leaving

Luke with a clear line of sight all the way  to  the  curve  where  the  pylon

entered the underside of D-4.

He frowned. Even though he couldn't see the far end of the tube, he ought

to be able to hear the sounds of any activity going on around the  curve.  But

all was silence. Whatever the Vagaari had been  doing,  they  were  apparently

finished.

That was probably a bad sign. Flicking on his  glow  rod,  he  shined  it

upward.

And caught his breath. There, packed around the tube  a  few  meters  out

from the curve, he could see a solid ring of flat gray boxes.

Boxes like the ones he and Mara  had  run  into  on  their  initial  trip

through D-4. Boxes Mara had identified as being full of explosives.

The Vagaari had mined the pylon.

CHAPTER 22

Luke gazed upward, feeling his throat tighten. There was  undoubtedly  an

orderly and systematic method for detaching Dreadnaught-4  from  the  rest  of

Outbound Flight. Clearly, the Vagaari weren't interested in finding  out  what

that procedure was.

The car was approaching the ring now. "One thing that puzzles me, Estosh,

" Luke said into his comlink, holding his free hand horizontally over the hole

in the ceiling where Evlyn could see it. "You couldn't have known any  of  the

Dreadnaughts would even be in one piece when we set  off  on  this  trip,  let

alone ready to fly. And you certainly didn't need all  these  troops  just  to

track the Chaf Envoy's path into the Redoubt." The car reached the explosives,

and he jabbed at the air with his finger. Evlyn was ready, and the car settled

tentatively to a midair halt.

"That's right," Mara said. Luke could sense her concern as she picked  up

on his sudden tension, but again all of it was carefully filtered out  of  her

voice. "So what was the original plan? Just out of curiosity, of course."

"You humans are strange creatures,"  Estosh  said,  his  melodious  voice

starting to pick up an edge of suspicion. "Here you are, about to die, and yet

instead of struggling to postpone your fate, you sit  quietly  and  ask  about

things that cannot possibly help you."

Slowly, Luke ran the light from his glow rod along  the  explosives.  The

detonator wiring seemed straightforward enough, the kind of  arrangement  he'd

seen demolitions techs use during the Rebellion. In theory, he should be  able

to simply pull it out of all the packages within reach.

The problem was that the detonator box itself was a quarter  of  the  way

around the tube from him.

There is no emotion; there is peace. Taking a careful breath, Luke  tried

to think. He could, of course, easily use the Force to maneuver his lightsaber

over to the box and cut it away from the boxes of explosives. But the  Vagaari

might have wired it with a  collapsing  release  to  prevent  any  last-minute

tampering. If it was rigged that way, cutting it free would instantly  trigger

a detonation.

In addition, there was  something  else  pressed  up  against  the  metal

beneath the boxes,  something  he  could  see  but  couldn't  get  to  without

disassembling everything on top of it. Unknowns were always to  be  considered

dangerous, especially in explosives work.

"The thing is, you see, we Jedi don't die nearly as easily as  you  might

like," Mara told Estosh calmly. "There's a good chance  we'll  be  seeing  you

again, and the more we know about you, the easier it'll be for us to peel your

epaulets back for good when we do."

Still, Luke decided, unknowns or not, if he could get over to the box  he

stood a good chance of figuring out how to disarm it. The problem was that the

turbolift pylon was perfectly smooth, with no protrusions anywhere nearby that

would hold his weight. The cluster of buried cables he and Mara had  used  for

their climb up the forward pylon weren't situated close  enough  to  the  box,

either. He probably could have rigged up something out of  liquid  cable,  but

he'd used up most of his supply when he and Mara had sealed off the  edges  of

that first turbolift car.

But if his particular car was too far away, one of the other cars in  the

cluster should be positioned to pass right next to it. All he and Evlyn had to

do was continue up to D-4, where the Vagaari had presumably locked the rest of

the cars, transfer to the correct  one,  and  ride  it  back  down  again.  He

wouldn't even have to expose them to enemy fire by going into  the  lobby;  he

could use his lightsaber to cut through the  sides  of  the  cars  until  they

reached the one they needed.

He looked down into the car and gestured upward. Evlyn nodded and touched

the switch, and the car began to rise again. They lifted past the  explosives,

around the curve?

"How very confident of  you,"  Estosh  said,  his  voice  suddenly  silky

smooth. "My only regret is that I  will  not  actually  witness  your  deaths.

Farewell, Jedi." There was a click from Luke's comlink as  the  Vagaari  broke

the connection?

And suddenly, below  him,  the  turbolift  pylon  erupted  in  an  eerie,

flickering greenish-blue light and the sound of metallic hissing.

"Luke!" Mara called over the comlink. "What's going on?"

"I think they're about to blow the pylons," Luke said  grimly,  gesturing

Evlyn to stop the car. The other five cars of the  cluster  were  visible  now

directly above him, along with the gap the car they were riding would normally

slip into. "You know any type of detonator that hisses  and  gives  off  blue-

green light?"

"Sounds like a scorch stick,"  Mara  said.  "It's  an  acid-based,  high-

temperature paste used  to  burn  a  score  mark  in  something  to  help  the

explosives crack it more cleanly."

"How long until it burns around a pylon this size?"

"Half a minute," Mara said. "Maybe a little more. If you're anywhere near

it, get out now."

Luke listened to his heart thudding in  his  throat  as  he  weighed  his

options. If he could just  get  to  the  detonator  before  the  scorch  stick

finished its burn...

But no. Not in half a minute. Certainly not with Evlyn along to slow  him

down.

He shouldn't have brought her with him. For the  first  time  in  a  long

time, his instincts had played him false.

But this wasn't the time for questions  or  recriminations.  "Right,"  he

said, jabbing downward. "We're on our way."

Evlyn didn't need to be told twice. She  hit  the  switch,  and  the  car

headed down again. On sudden impulse, Luke snatched his  lightsaber  from  his

belt and ignited it. If the Vagaari were going to  get  away,  at  least  they

weren't going to get away clean. Using the Force to hold down the  switch,  he

hurled the weapon upward toward the gap in the cluster of  cars.  It  hit  the

upper part of the turbolift lobby, and he had just  enough  time  to  see  the

wobbling blade carve out a large hole in the metal before  the  curve  in  the

tube blocked it from his sight. The car dropped past the ring of explosives?

And with a jolt, he saw that Mara had overestimated how  much  time  they

would have. The scorched section already extended  over  more  than  half  the

circle, with the flickering fire seeming to pick up speed as it worked its way

around toward the detonator.

They had maybe five more seconds before it finished.

"On the floor," Luke shouted to Evlyn, jumping in through the hole in the

roof. The car wouldn't be nearly enough protection from  the  explosive  power

about to be unleashed, he knew, but it was all they had. "Come on, get on  the

floor," he repeated.

But to his surprise, Evlyn ignored him, remaining by the control panel as

she punched keys on a command stick she'd plugged into the  droid  socket.  He

reached out a hand for her, wondering if she didn't  understand  or  if  she'd

simply frozen in fear.

But even as his hand closed on her arm, he caught the sense of  desperate

determination in the girl. As he started to pull her  down,  she  touched  one

last key on the command stick?

And Luke found the two of them abruptly floating in midair as  the  floor

dropped out from under them. The car hit the main gravity eddy and  began  its

turn, blocking his view of the explosives and the fiery blue-green glow.

An instant later, the pylon blew up.

The car floor seemed to leap up at him, slamming hard into his  face  and

body, the impact knocking most of the air out  of  his  lungs.  He  was  still

holding Evlyn's arm; reflexively, he pulled her close beside him as the  shock

wave from the explosion washed over them.

He was still holding her that way, ears ringing from the shock wave, when

the car's side wall disintegrated.

He gasped as the pieces slammed into  him,  some  of  them  hitting  like

clubs, others digging into his back and  arms  and  legs  like  knife  blades.

Beside him he heard Evlyn cry out and let the Force flow into her,  trying  to

suppress some of her pain. The rain of shrapnel stopped, the  buffeting  faded

away, and Luke risked a look upward through what was left of the ceiling.  The

lower curve in the pylon was visible above them,  with  the  safety  of  D-5's

turbolift lobby just beyond  it.  Shakily  but  steadily,  the  car  continued

upward.

It was then he suddenly noticed that he couldn't breathe.

He expanded his chest, trying to fill his lungs. But  there  was  nothing

there. With the car shredded and the far end of the tube blown  open,  he  and

Evlyn had only the planetoid's thin atmosphere available to them.

Steady, Luke told himself sternly, forcing himself to relax.  His  body's

cells contained enough oxygen for at least another half minute, he  knew,  and

Jedi techniques could stretch it to triple that time. He shifted his  hand  to

the back of Evlyn's neck, trying to let his own trust in the Force  ease  into

her and slow her breathing. A few seconds later,  the  car  settled  into  its

place in the turbolift lobby.

The door remained closed.

Luke set his teeth, glaring up at it. But of course it wouldn't  open  on

its own, not with a near vacuum on one side. It would have to  be  pried  past

its safety interlocks. Stretching out to the Force, he got a grip on the panel

and pulled.

The door quivered once, but remained closed.

Luke tried again, trying to gather more strength. But between the effects

of the concussive blast, the pain from the shrapnel  still  throbbing  through

his body, and the oxygen deprivation, he couldn't focus the necessary power.

His vision was starting to go hazy. Another few seconds and he would sink

into unconsciousness. He stretched out one final time?

And with a thud that shook the whole car, the  door  slammed  open.  Luke

opened his eyes, squinting through the rush of air  blowing  suddenly  in  his

face.

Mara, her eyes blazing with  fear,  concern,  and,  yes,  anger  at  him,

grabbed his arms and pulled him through the door.  Pressor  was  right  beside

her, lifting his niece through to safety.

The door slammed shut as Mara released her grip on it. "Hi,  sweetheart,"

Luke said, managing a smile. "I'm home."

She shook her head. "Skywalker?"

"I know," Luke said. Still smiling, he let the darkness take him.

* * *

The medical bay recovery room door slid open, and  Mara  stepped  inside.

"How are they?" Jinzler asked, looking up from his chair by the side wall.  "I

heard one of the medics say they were in pretty bad shape."

"It looked worse than it really was," Mara assured  him.  Jinzler's  face

looked calm enough, she noted, but his hands  in  his  lap  were  opening  and

closing restlessly. "Most of Evlyn's injuries were superficial and should heal

pretty quickly," she went on. "Luke had some deeper cuts, but they  caught  it

all before he lost too much blood. He's gone into a Jedi healing trance  while

they finish patching him up."

Fel grunted. "Must be a nice thing to be able to do."

"It can be handy," Mara agreed, looking around the room. They  were,  she

decided, about as sorry a lot as she'd seen in a long time. Formbi  was  lying

on one of the recovery tables, his eyes only occasionally fluttering open, his

breathing deep and slow. Beside him on opposite sides of the table  sat  Drask

and Feesa, the former looking drained above his own  collection  of  bandages,

the  latter  merely  looking  exhausted  and   apprehensive.   Fel   and   the

stormtroopers had gathered together in a back corner beside  stacks  of  their

mangled armor and were working their way through their own list  of  injuries.

The alien stormtrooper, Su-mil, she  noted  with  interest,  had  pale  orange

blood.

"So," Mara went on, raising her voice a little. "As long as  we  seem  to

have some time on our hands, why don't we all have a nice long talk together?"

She looked at Fel. "You can start, Commander. Did I hear you say earlier  that

you caught the Vagaari wiring a recorder into the  Chaf  Envoy's  navigational

lines?"

"We didn't actually catch them in the act," Fel said. "Su-mil  found  the

recorder after it had already been planted."

"I stand corrected," Mara said.  "So  why  didn't  you  say  anything  to

anyone?"

"To be perfectly honest, because we didn't know whom it was safe to tell,

" Fel said evenly. "We didn't know whether Bearsh had put it there, or General

Drask, or Aristocra Formbi, Ambassador Jinzler?" He looked  Mara  straight  in

the eye. "?or you."

"I see," Mara said, accepting his gaze and sending it  straight  back  at

him. "All right, then, let's try this one. You told us once  that  you  didn't

know why Parck had sent you on this mission. You lied. Then you  changed  your

story and said you'd been sent to protect us. I think you lied that time, too.

You want to take one more stab at it?"

Fel's lip twitched. "Admiral Parck told us the  mission  would  be  going

into great danger. We were sent to give added protection to Aristocra  Formbi.

And that was all we were told," he added firmly. "We  didn't  even  know  what

direction the danger was going to be coming from." He grimaced. "If we had,  I

guarantee Bearsh and his friends would be locked up in binders right now."

"Yes," Mara murmured, stretching out with the Force. It did  indeed  seem

to be the truth this time. Or at least, the truth as Fel knew it, which  might

not be the same thing. "I suppose this clears up the mystery of  your  missing

operational manual, too."

Fel nodded. "Apparently the Vagaari wanted to know everything they  could

about Outbound Flight before we arrived."

"Right," Mara agreed. "All of which brings up an  even  more  interesting

point."

She turned to face the three Chiss.  "As  I  think  about  it,  Aristocra

Formbi, you asked for an amazing amount of muscle to  accompany  you  on  this

trip. First you called Parck and asked for Luke and me, only the  message  got

waylaid. Then, when it looked like we weren't going to show,  you  called  him

back and got him to send a unit of the best stormtroopers he had available."

"And it was indeed fortunate all of you were here," Drask  said,  nodding

his head gravely. "We owe you our lives."

"Yes, you do," Mara agreed. "But here's the question. How exactly did you

know you were going to need all this help?"

"I do not understand what you are asking," Drask said evenly.  But  there

was a new tightness at the corners of his eyes.  "You  were  invited  to  take

possession of Outbound Flight. That is all."

Mara shook her head. "Sorry, General, but  that  won't  fly.  After  that

incident with the line creepers, the Aristocra gave us specific orders not  to

use our lightsabers aboard the ship.  Even  when  we  couldn't  get  into  the

Dreadnaught's docking bay, neither of you asked us to just cut it open,  which

we could have done in a fraction of the time it  took  the  techs  with  their

torches."

"Yes," Jinzler put in, sounding suddenly thoughtful. "I remember thinking

about that myself at the time, wondering if it was some form  of  stiff-necked

Chiss pride."

"That was what I thought, too," Mara said, smiling tightly. "In  fact,  I

thought it right up to the minute Bearsh told me to die and casually sent  his

wolvkils charging at me... and I cut them in half."

Jinzler  inhaled  sharply.  "Your  lightsaber,"   he   said   in   sudden

understanding. "He'd never seen a lightsaber."

"That's right, he hadn't," Mara agreed. "Because Formbi  made  very  sure

they never saw us in action. That, plus our Jedi  abilities  in  general?which

they also never really saw?gave us an edge  they  were  completely  unprepared

for."

She looked back at the three Chiss. "So again: how did you know we'd need

that edge?"

"I do not appreciate the tone of your words," Drask  said  stiffly.  "You

may not make such unsupported accusations against a senior member of the Fifth

Ruling Family."

"Feesa," Jinzler murmured suddenly.

Mara looked at him. "What?"

"Feesa," Jinzler repeated, nodding as if an odd puzzle piece had suddenly

fallen into place. "In the turbolift, right after Pressor sprang his trap, she

was frightened far more than seemed reasonable. It was  because  we  were  all

alone in there with Bearsh and another Vagaari, wasn't it?"

Feesa didn't answer. "I see," Mara said, eyeing Formbi closely. "So I was

wrong. It wasn't the Aristocra running this scam at all. It was Feesa."

The Aristocra's closed eyelids twitched. "And since she's  obviously  too

young to be a senior member of a Ruling Family or anything  else,"  Mara  went

on, "I guess it's perfectly all right for me to make such accusations against?

"

"Enough," Formbi said quietly.

"Please, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano," Feesa said, an edge of urgency  in

her voice. "It's all right. I'm not afraid to admit my part in this."

"Your loyalty honors me, second niece," Formbi  said,  reaching  over  to

touch her hand. "But it was my plan, and my decision. I cannot  and  will  not

allow others to take the responsibility for my actions."

He turned his head slightly. "Jedi Skywalker: approach where  I  may  see

you, and ask what you will."

Mara stepped up beside Feesa. "You knew they were Vagaari,  didn't  you?"

she said, determined not to let his drawn face or the oozing blood on his  arm

influence her. "You knew it right from the start."

Formbi nodded. "Yes."

"But you told me you'd never seen one before," Jinzler objected.

"That was true," Formbi acknowledged. "But  I  had  received  a  detailed

description from one who had seen them." He smiled at Jinzler. "You, of all of

us, should understand."

Mara stared at Formbi as it suddenly hit her. "You mean... Car'das?"

Again, the Aristocra nodded. "He and I spoke briefly when he brought  the

ambassador to the Chaf Envoy" he said. "When the Vagaari then appeared, I knew

it was indeed them."

"Car'das gets around more than I'd realized," Mara commented. "Is he also

the one who clued the Vagaari in on this in the first place?"

"No," Formbi said. "When I sent the message to Admiral  Parck  requesting

Master Skywalker's presence, I made sure  the  transmission  had  enough  edge

leakage to be intercepted in the regions where we suspected the  Vagaari  were

gathering their strength."

"And even knowing who they were, you let them aboard your ship?"  Jinzler

demanded, sounding more surprised than angry.

Formbi closed  his  eyes  again.  "The  Vagaari  are  a  violent  people,

Ambassador," he said wearily. "They have killed many,  enslaved  many  others,

and driven all who know them to terror and despair. Worse,  they  may  already

have made alliances with powers even more dangerous than they are.  If  Bearsh

succeeds in escaping with even a partial route into the  Redoubt,  I  have  no

doubt that knowledge will be used against us to terrible advantage."

"So the Vagaari need to be slapped down hard," Mara said,  frowning.  "So

what's the problem?"

Formbi smiled wanly.  "The  problem  is  Chiss  military  doctrine,  Jedi

Skywalker," he said. "Specifically, the decree that no  potential  adversaries

may be attacked until and unless they first act against Chiss interests within

Chiss space."

Mara stared at him. "You wanted them to make a  move  against  you,"  she

said, not quite sure she believed it. "You invited them  aboard  one  of  your

ships and into your most critical military base, hoping they'd pull this exact

stunt."

Drask snorted. "This exact stunt? That had better not be the case."

"Of course I didn't expect what actually occurred," Formbi  assured  him.

"My expectation was that the five Vagaari we permitted aboard would attempt to

take control of the Chaf Envoy at some point after we reached Outbound Flight.

That would have been sufficient provocation for us to act."

"Especially when you add in the slaughter of a few unarmed crewers?"  Fel

put in.

"Loss of life was neither necessary nor expected," Formbi insisted,  some

heat seeping through the fatigue into his voice. "My ship had  been  specially

prepared for this mission. All crewers had been  provided  with  hidden  areas

near their duty stations where they could protect themselves  from  attack  as

they watched for the Vagaari to betray themselves. With a squad of warriors in

the Dreadnaught docking bay, I also expected there  to  be  ample  warning  if

Bearsh and the others attempted to return to the vessel. We expected to merely

catch them in the act  of  attempted  theft  or  sabotage,  which  would  have

satisfied the rules of engagement."

He closed his eyes. "I did not expect such a massive attack to come  from

the other direction," he said, the heat fading  away.  "The  warriors  whom  I

stationed in the Dreadnaught are certainly dead. So perhaps  are  all  who  we

left aboard. Their blood now lies on my hands."

"It's hardly your fault that you didn't know about the Vagaari  suspended

animation trick," Jinzler pointed out. "Car'das must have missed that one."

"He merely met them," Formbi said. "He  wasn't  given  a  tour  of  their

technical facilities."

"He'll have to do better next time," Mara said. "What about  the  others?

Feesa and General Drask and your other aides?"

"Feesa knew the entire plan," Formbi said. "That was why I  insisted  she

come along, so that if anything happened to me she could direct the operation.

No one else knew more than you yourself were told."

He smiled slightly. "Though I believe General Drask was  able  to  deduce

much of the truth."

"Much, but not all," Drask rumbled. "It would have been better if you had

taken me into your full confidence."

"If I had, you would have been as guilty as I of manipulating  events  to

bring about this end." Formbi shook his head.  "No.  On  my  hands,  and  mine

alone, must this rest."

"You can sort all that out when you get home," Mara said. "Can we  assume

the rules of engagement have been satisfied?"

"They have been more than satisfied, Jedi Skywalker," Drask said  darkly.

"We have been attacked without justification or mercy.  A  state  of  war  now

exists between the Chiss Ascendancy and the Vagaari."

"Good," Mara said. "I'd hate to  have  to  go  through  this  again  just

because we'd missed something in the fine print. In that  case,  there's  just

one little loose end left. That falling cable that nearly knocked Luke  across

the room when we first came aboard the Chaf Envoy. I trust you're not going to

try to blame that one on the Vagaari?"

Drask cleared his throat self-consciously. "I am afraid I am to blame for

that   incident,   Jedi   Skywalker,"   he    confessed.    "When    Aristocra

Chaf'orm'bintrano asked Admiral Parck who of the New  Republic  would  be  the

best warriors to have at hand against possible trouble, he recommended you and

Master Skywalker."

"He seemed to have firsthand knowledge of your  fighting  skill,"  Formbi

murmured.

"Yes," Drask said. "However, I did not entirely trust his tales  of  Jedi

abilities."

"So you arranged a demonstration," Mara said.  "Did  we  meet  with  your

approval?"

"Let us simply say that you did not disappoint." Drask  smiled  slightly.

"The demonstration arranged today  by  the  Vagaari  gave  you  a  far  better

opportunity to prove yourselves."

"Yes," Mara murmured. "I should hope so."

Behind her, the door slid open and Evlyn and Rosemari stepped in, Pressor

close behind them. "There you are," Mara said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," the girl said, looking around at the others as the  door

slid shut again. Possibly comparing bandage counts, Mara thought with a  brief

flicker of amusement.  "Is  Luke  all  right?"  she  asked.  "I  mean,  Master

Skywalker? He saved my life, pulling me down and protecting me when the  pylon

exploded."

"He's fine," Mara assured her as her mother steered her  to  one  of  the

other recovery tables. "And as far as saving lives goes, I think  the  two  of

you come out pretty even on that scoring."

"What do you mean?" Rosemari asked, an odd  edge  to  her  voice.  "Evlyn

didn't do anything."

"She  most  certainly  did,"  Mara  insisted.  "Evlyn  reactivated   that

turbolift trap at exactly the right moment to shoot the car down the tube  and

into the eddy rotation just before the explosives  detonated.  If  she  hadn't

done that, it would have been the fractured ceiling that took the brunt of the

explosion instead of the wall, and a lot more  high-speed  debris  would  have

gotten through. That kind of prescient timing can only come from the Force."

"But you won't tell them, will you?" Rosemari pleaded. "Please?"

"They don't like Jedi here,  Mara,"  Fel  said  quietly.  "I  don't  know

exactly why, but they don't."

"We don't just not like them, Commander," Pressor said  grimly.  "If  the

council sticks the Jedi label on someone, they get immediately  sent  over  to

Three."

"You mean D-Three?" Jinzler asked. "The Number Three Dreadnaught?"

"That's the one," Pressor said. "The pylons between it and  the  rest  of

Outbound Flight were destroyed or  collapsed  during  the  attack  and  crash,

leaving it isolated from everything else. So Uliar and the other Survivors set

it up as a place where anyone with Jedi traits could be safely banished."

"I thought that was what the Quarantine on D-Six was for," Fel said.

Pressor shook his head. "Quarantine is for people they suspect  of  using

the Force," he said. "Three is where they get sent once they're pretty sure."

"Pretty sure, you say?" Su-mil asked softly, his  alien  expression  very

still. In some ways, Mara reflected, he looked even more dangerous without his

armor. "And how certain exactly is that?"

Pressor looked away from him. "They're completely sure,"  he  said.  "The

Managing Council is. I can't speak for the rest of us."

He looked at Mara. "And it's not a death sentence, really," he added with

an odd combination of earnestness and embarrassment. "The place has  been  set

up with plenty of food and power. A person could live there for a lifetime  in

reasonable comfort."

"But in complete isolation," Su-mil  said  darkly.  "You  sentence  these

people to a life of loneliness."

Pressor sighed. "We've only done it twice," he said.  "At  least,  up  to

now."

"They're not going to send her there, Jorad," Rosemari said. "They can't.

"

She looked suddenly at Mara. "You can take her with you, can't you?"  she

asked. "You can take her when you leave."

"The plan was to take all of you with us," Mara told her. "Unfortunately,

unless we can get out of here and back to the Chaf Envoy, neither  option  has

much of a future."

"I spoke to the techs a few minutes ago,"  Pressor  said.  "Most  of  the

blast doors stopped working years ago, and most of the ones that did work have

now been locked open by those cursed conduit worms. Unless we can get a few of

them working again, we're not going to be able to  get  either  the  turbolift

doors or any of the outer hatchways open without losing all our air."

He looked at Drask. "I take it there's still no word from your own ship?"

The general shook his head. "No," he said. "And I no longer believe  they

will be coming."

"You think they're all dead?" Pressor asked.

Drask closed his eyes. "Including crew members, there  were  thirty-seven

warriors aboard the Chaf Envoy," he said. "The Vagaari may have had as many as

three hundred." He opened his eyes into slender cracks of glowing  red.  "They

would not have been prepared for such a devastating assault."

Mara felt her stomach tighten. The sudden multiple deaths  she  and  Luke

had sensed aboard D-l could have been all the Chiss, or a sizable fraction  of

them, or just the squad of warriors Drask had left in  the  D-4  docking  bay.

There hadn't been any way to tell at the time, and there still wasn't.

Though if there were surviving Chiss, it might not make  any  difference.

Even if the Vagaari hadn't bothered to hunt down  and  kill  everyone  aboard,

they would certainly have made a point of wrecking the ship on their way  out.

"So in other words, we should assume we're on our own,"  she  concluded.  "All

right. Pressor, you said D-Three  was  isolated  from  the  rest  of  Outbound

Flight. That means you must have vac suits to get back and forth. Any of  them

still in working condition?"

"A couple dozen of them are," he said. "But as I told you, we  can't  get

the hatches open."

"We don't have to," Mara told him. "All you need to do is build  a  small

caisson around one of the turbolift doors with me in it. I can cut through the

hull, climb up the pylon, and make my way cross-country to the Chaf Envoy."

"And how do you get back in?" Drask asked.

"I'll figure that out later," Mara told him. "What do you think?"

Above them, the lights flickered. "Terrific," Pressor muttered,  glancing

up. "They must be getting to the generator."

"What, we're running on generator power already?" Mara asked.

"We are in this part of the ship," Pressor said. "They've already  gotten

into the main power conduits."

"Wait a minute," Jinzler said, frowning. "You have  portable  generators?

How many?"

"Probably ten that still work," Pressor said. The lights flickered again?

"Better make that nine."

"I never even thought to ask,"  Jinzler  said,  sounding  disgusted  with

himself. "Get them together as quickly as you can?all of them?and set them out

along the corridors."

"Connected to what?" Pressor asked, sounding confused.

"Connected  to  anything  you  want,"  Jinzler  said.  "Lights,  heaters?

anything. Just crank them up to  full  power  and  then  shut  down  the  main

reactors."

"It will not work," Drask declared. "Even if the  generators  succeed  in

drawing the line creepers out, there are too many of them. They  will  quickly

overload and destroy the generators' wiring, then return to the larger sources

of power."

"That's right," Jinzler said, smiling tightly. "If the worms actually get

to them."

He turned back to Pressor. "But they won't, because around each generator

you're going to create a moat of salt water. The worms will  crawl  in,  short

out their organic capacitors, and die."

"You're kidding," Pressor said. "I've never even heard of that."

Jinzler shrugged. "It's a trick we came up with when I was bumming around

Hadar sector after the Clone Wars. It's fairly disgusting, but it works."

"I'll get the techs on it right away,"  Pressor  said,  pulling  out  his

comlink. "You've certainly had a varied career, Ambassador."

Jinzler's answer, if he made one, was lost as a sudden surge  of  distant

emotion yanked at Mara's attention. "Something's wrong," she said, pulling her

lightsaber from her belt and heading for the door. Pressor got there ahead  of

her, slapping the release and ducking through.

It was then that they heard the shouting in the distance ahead.

"Come on," Pressor growled, drawing his blaster as he and  Mara  sprinted

down the corridor.

They rounded a turn and nearly collided with a dozen techs and  civilians

running in the other direction. "They're  back!"  one  of  the  techs  gasped,

jabbing a finger behind him as he dodged around Pressor.  "In  the  turbolift.

They're trying to break in."

Pressor  swore  under  his  breath,  thumbing  on   his   comlink.   "All

Peacekeepers to the forward starboard pylon," he  ordered.  "The  Vagaari  are

back."

"This doesn't make sense," Mara objected, trying to stretch  out  to  the

Force as she ran. But the flavor of the alien minds was too faint to sort  out

against the clamor of civilian panic throbbing in the  air  around  her.  "Why

would they have come back?"

"Maybe they decided they wanted to watch us die after all," Pressor  said

grimly. "If so, they're going to pay heavily for the privilege."

One of the other Peacekeepers was  waiting  in  the  darkness  when  they

arrived at the turbolift lobby, the beam from his glow rod twitching back  and

forth as he fidgeted with apprehension. "They're coming through,"  he  hissed,

turning the beam on one of the doors. "I can hear them working on it. What  do

we do?"

Pressor never had a chance to answer. Almost before the words were out of

the other's mouth, the door suddenly  gave  a  violent  creak  and  cracked  a

centimeter open. Three pry bars were in place before it could close again; and

with another series of creaks the  door  was  forced  open.  Pressor  and  the

Peacekeeper leveled their blasters at the opening, and  suddenly  two  combat-

armored figures leapt out of the gloom, their own glow rods swinging back  and

forth. Behind the lights,  Mara  could  see  hand  weapons  tracking  as  they

searched for targets?

"No," she snapped, reaching out  to  the  Force  and  twisting  all  four

muzzles to point into opposite corners of the  lobby.  "Don't  shoot.  They're

friends."

She stepped into the middle of the standoff as  a  third  armored  figure

emerged into the room. "Welcome to Outbound Flight, Captain Brast'alshi'barku,

" she said, bowing slightly to the newcomer. "I thought you'd never get here."

CHAPTER 23

"We  never  even  heard  the  Vagaari  leave,"   Captain   Talshib   said

disgustedly, his red eyes blazing even more brilliantly in the dim glow of the

recovery room permlights. "We were sitting like fools in  concealment  in  the

command center, waiting for them to make their move. But  they  simply  exited

their own vessel, scattering line creepers along the way, and left. Apparently

they had already decided to take the Old Republic vessel and had  no  time  to

waste with us."

"Yes, Bearsh would have informed Estosh of the new plan  by  that  time,"

Drask agreed. "They had had the foresight to  appropriate  a  set  of  special

operations communicators before traveling to Outbound Flight and were able  to

send pulse messages through the humans' jamming."

"I wish I had  known,"  Talshib  rumbled.  "We  could  have  deployed  to

intercept them."

"It's just as well you didn't," Mara commented from  the  other  side  of

Formbi's recovery table. "You saw what happened to the squad we  left  in  the

Dreadnaught's docking bay. They never even had a chance."

"Perhaps," Talshib said reluctantly. Warriors' pride, Jinzler thought  as

he leaned against the wall by the open doorway  watching  the  discussion.  Or

perhaps just pride in  general.  Talshib  would  probably  have  preferred  an

overwhelming enemy attack, even if it  had  meant  dying  in  combat,  to  the

situation he currently found himself in.

Mara must have sensed that, too. "No perhaps about it, Captain," she said

firmly. "If you hadn't been around to rig that sealant tent across the  broken

pylon, we'd still be trying to figure out how we were  going  to  get  out  of

here."

Talshib snorted. "Thus permitting you to  travel  freely  from  one  dead

vessel to another."

"Neither of them will be  dead  for  long,"  Drask  put  in  firmly.  "If

Ambassador Jinzler's technique works, both vessels should be functional within

a matter of days."

Talshib snorted again. That was probably a  good  deal  of  his  attitude

problem, Jinzler had already decided. The Vagaari line creepers had wiped  out

the Chaf Envoy's communications with the landing party and otherwise  crippled

the ship before the crew, lurking in their hidey-holes, had even realized they

were under attack.

And then, as if that weren't embarrassment enough, it was human ingenuity

that was going to clear out his ship for him. That had to really gall him, and

Jinzler was a little surprised that Drask had gone out of his way  to  mention

where the plan had come from.

Unless Drask had done it on purpose,  a  not-so-subtle  reminder  to  his

subordinate that even the Chiss could learn from other  species  on  occasion.

Certainly the general's politely unfriendly attitude toward humans  seemed  to

have warmed perceptively over the past few hours. Jinzler  could  only  wonder

what had happened to cause that change.

"Here comes another one," Evlyn stage-whispered from a few paces down the

corridor. "No; two of them. No; it's a whole crowd."

Jinzler moved away from the wall and the discussion and  crossed  to  her

side. In the much brighter light blazing away from a rack above  the  portable

generator, he could see a group of  perhaps  twenty  line  creepers  wriggling

their way across the deck toward the enticing aroma of electric current.

"Careful," he warned as Evlyn started toward them. "If you get too  close

your own bioelectrical energy might distract them."

"Okay," she said, backing up again. Together they watched as the fragile-

looking creatures climbed briskly up over the lip of the wide, flat basin  the

generator's stubby legs were resting in. One by one,  they  dropped  into  the

salt water, twitched a few times, and went still. "That's  really  cool,"  she

commented.

"Effective, too," Jinzler agreed absently, most of  his  attention  still

back on the snatches of conversation he was  able  to  hear  of  Formbi's  war

council. Drask and Talshib were  discussing  their  options  now,  with  Mara,

Formbi, and Fel occasionally putting in a comment or suggestion.  Luke,  still

in his Jedi trance, was across the corridor in the operating room where they'd

finished patching him up.

Unfortunately,  none  of  the  options  being   batted   around   sounded

particularly hopeful, at least not from where he was standing. Borrowing extra

generators from Outbound Flight might speed  up  the  decontamination  process

aboard the Chaf Envoy, but even so  the  best  possible  projected  completion

point was at least three days away. Unless the Vagaari had mechanical  trouble

along the way, the stolen Dreadnaught would have far too much of a head  start

for the Chaf Envoy to catch up with it before it reached the Brask Oto Command

Station and escaped from the cluster.

"You'll be leaving soon, won't you?"

Jinzler shifted his full attention back to Evlyn. "We all will," he  told

her. "You, your mother?all of us."

"I mean as soon as the Blue?I mean the Chiss ship is fixed, you and  Mara

and Luke will be leaving."

"But  we'll  be  back,"  Jinzler  promised.  "Or  at  least,  some  Chiss

transports will be. They'll take you anywhere you want to go."

She shook her head. "It won't make any difference," she said quietly. "No

matter where we go, Uliar will find some kind of Three to put me in."

"They're not going to do that," Jinzler insisted. "Surely they learned  a

lesson from this whole thing. If it wasn't for you, a good  many  more  people

might have died."

"That won't make any difference," she said  again.  "Not  to  them."  She

sighed. "I wish you'd never come here. If you hadn't..." She trailed off.

"If we hadn't, what?" Jinzler prompted. "You would have gone on living  a

lie?"

"I could have pretended," she said. "Lots of people pretend." She  looked

squarely up into his eyes. "Even you do."

An edge of guilt dug up under Jinzler's rib cage. "That's different,"  he

said. "If I hadn't told them I was an ambassador, the Chiss might not have let

me come along."

"But you're  here  now,"  she  reminded  him.  "You  could  have  stopped

pretending a long time ago."

"Yes, well, we're not talking about me,  young  lady,"  he  reminded  her

firmly. "We're talking about you. And the point is, you shouldn't  be  ashamed

of what you can do."

"Maybe not." Pressor's voice came from behind  them.  "But  that  doesn't

mean she should announce it from the command deck,  either."  Jinzler  turned.

Pressor and Rosemari were coming down the corridor toward them, Pressor with a

pile of sacks across one forearm. "I brought you a  new  collection  bag,"  he

said, peeling  one  off  the  stack  and  handing  it  to  Evlyn.  "These  are

plasticized, so they won't get as soggy."

"Thanks," she said, taking it and handing him her partially full  one  in

return.

"I really think you ought to go join the rest of the people down on  Six,

Evlyn," Rosemari said, eyeing her daughter's bandages. "Don't you think  you'd

be more comfortable there?"

"Would you be?" Evlyn said pointedly.

The corners of Rosemari's mouth tightened. "I suppose not," she conceded.

"Director Uliar's probably been talking to people already."

"I'm sure he has," Pressor said. "But I've been thinking, and  there  may

still be a way to backtrack on this."

"What do you mean?" Rosemari asked.

"Well,  think  about  it,"  Pressor  said.  "Besides  the  stuff  in  the

turbolift, which no one else saw, the only  thing  Evlyn  did  was  pull  that

comlink across the meeting room deck. We  could  easily  churn  the  water  by

saying it was actually Ambassador Jinzler who did that."

"Except that I'm not a Jedi," Jinzler pointed out.

"Maybe you lied about that," Pressor countered. "Or maybe you didn't even

know yourself that you had the power."

"And you are the brother of a known Jedi," Rosemari  added  thoughtfully.

"That has to count for something. Maybe your pep  talk  in  the  meeting  room

actually stimulated your powers, not Evlyn's."

"Are you suggesting I lie for your daughter?" Jinzler asked.

Rosemari held his gaze without flinching. "Why not?" she  said.  "It  was

you and your people who got her into this mess."

"It's not a mess," Jinzler insisted. "It's an opportunity."

Beside him, Evlyn  stirred.  "Ambassador  Jinzler  says  I  shouldn't  be

ashamed of who I am."

"Ambassador Jinzler doesn't have to live  among  these  people,"  Pressor

retorted, glaring at Jinzler.

"I do for the moment," Jinzler pointed out ruefully. "A moment that could

stretch out considerably, I might add. We won't know until the  line  creepers

have all been cleaned out whether or not they caused any permanent damage.  We

could conceivably find out that the Chaf Envoy will never fly again."

"That could be a problem, all right," Pressor grunted. "I  don't  suppose

it occurred to you to bring a spare hypercapable vehicle with you?"

"We  brought  three,  actually,"  Jinzler  said  with  a  grimace.   "The

commander's glider, the transport the Imperials came in, and Luke  and  Mara's

ship. The Vagaari hit all three on their way out. Talshib says they even  took

the time to sabotage their own shuttle, and it wasn't even hypercapable."

Pressor shook his head. "They're thorough, you have to give them that. So

how long until the rest of the Chiss come hunting for you?"

"That's just it," Jinzler said. "Formbi was playing this so close to  the

table that I'm not sure the rest of the Chiss even know we're out here.  There

are some aboard the command station we passed on our way into the cluster,  of

course, but the Vagaari might well be planning to destroy that  on  their  way

out. If they succeed, it might be months before anyone  comes  back  out  this

way."

"That would solve the problem, wouldn't it?" Evlyn murmured.

They all looked at her. "What?" Pressor asked.

"That would solve the problem," Evlyn repeated.  "Because  if  you  stay,

they'd have to put Luke and Mara in Three if  they  put  me  there.  And  they

couldn't do that, could they?"

"I doubt it seriously,"  Jinzler  agreed  hesitantly.  That  hadn't  even

occurred to him.

"And then they could teach me how to be a real  Jedi,"  Evlyn  continued,

looking up at her mother. "Then we wouldn't have to be  afraid  anymore  about

what they might do to me, because they couldn't."

Rosemari reached up to stroke  her  daughter's  hair,  an  oddly  pinched

expression on her face. "Evlyn..."

"That's what you want, isn't it?"  Evlyn  pressed.  She  turned  back  to

Jinzler. "It's what you want, too, isn't it?"

"Certainly, I want you to develop your gift," Jinzler agreed. "But  we're

the only ones who know about the Vagaari and what they've found out about  the

Redoubt. If we get stuck here, it may mean the deaths of many more Chiss."

"Is that important?" Evlyn said, a  strange  edge  of  challenge  in  her

voice.

"Of course it's important," Rosemari said. Her voice seemed  sad,  almost

resigned, yet at the same time had a sense  of  peace  to  it.  "Ambassador...

there may be another hypercapable transport available. We have a  Delta-Twelve

Skysprite sitting in one of the docking bays over on Three."

Pressor turned to his sister, his jaw dropping  in  astonishment.  "We've

got a what?"

"A Delta-Twelve Skysprite," she repeated. "It's a two-passenger  sublight

transport with a connecting hyperdrive ring. Dad showed it to me once when  we

were working over there together."

"I didn't know there was anything  like  that  aboard  Outbound  Flight,"

Pressor said.

"Not many people do," Rosemari said. "And I don't think anyone knows  why

it was even aboard. Dad certainly didn't."

She looked at Jinzler. "The problem is that the Managing Council made Dad

disassemble the hyperdrive. They knew they'd never be able to find a  way  out

of the cluster, and they didn't want one of their exiled Jedi to figure it out

and get away."

Jinzler took a careful breath. A hypercapable ship... "You say  the  ring

was disassembled, not destroyed? Are all the parts still there?"

"I'm sure Dad didn't break anything," Rosemari said. "He was  being  very

careful. And when he was done, he put everything into a storage locker. If you

could get it to work, someone might at least be able to go for help."

"So you'd just let us go?"  Jinzler  asked,  eyeing  her  closely.  "Even

though keeping us here might help your daughter?"

"Against your will?" Rosemari asked quietly. "And  at  the  cost  of  all

those Chiss lives?" She shook her head. "Not for me. Not even for my daughter.

Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy."

She looked down at her daughter, a bittersweet smile on  her  lips.  "You

see?" she said. "I even know the Code."

Evlyn wrapped her arms around her mother. "I  knew  you'd  do  the  right

thing," she murmured.

Jinzler took a deep breath. "Mara?" he called.

Three seconds later Mara appeared at the recovery room  doorway,  Captain

Talshib right behind her. "What is it?"  she  demanded,  glancing  around  for

trouble.

"Rosemari says there's a Delta-Twelve tucked away over  in  D-Three,"  he

told her. "You ever hear of that particular model?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Mara said, frowning in concentration.  "Remind

me."

"It was from Kuat Systems," he told her. "They  manufactured  the  entire

Delta  line,  including  the  Delta-Seven  Aethersprite  the  Jedi   used   as

starfighters during the early days of the Clone Wars. None of the  Deltas  had

an internal hyperdrive, but TransGalMeg Industries made a hyperdrive ring  for

it to dock into. The Twelve was basically a larger, two-person version of  the

Seven that had its weapons stripped off for the civilian market."

"I'll take your word for it," Mara said. "So what's the question?"

"The question is whether you or Luke could fly it," Jinzler said.

"But the hyperdrive doesn't work," Pressor reminded him.

"I'll fix the hyperdrive," Jinzler said tartly. "Can you fly it?"

"Don't worry," she assured him grimly. "If you can fix it, we can fly it.

"

"You can fix it?" Evlyn asked, her voice sounding awed.

Jinzler looked at her. She was gazing up at him, her eyes as awed as  her

voice. A girl who had the power of the  Jedi...  and  yet  she  was  awed  and

impressed that he could fix a hyperdrive.

Suddenly he was staring at his sister again, all those years ago.

"Pretty exotic training for an ambassador," Pressor murmured.

Jinzler turned to face him; and as he did so, he felt himself drawing  up

to his full height. "I'm not an ambassador,  Guardian,"  he  said,  his  voice

ringing clearly down the corridor with a pride and  self-respect  he'd  never,

ever felt before. "I'm an electronics technician."

He looked down at Evlyn and smiled. "Like my father before me."

* * *

As if from deep inside a well, a familiar  voice  called  their  standard

code phrase. "I love you."

Luke blinked his eyes  open,  fighting  the  equally  standard  surge  of

disorientation. It was dark in the operating room, with only a  dim  permlight

glowing off to one side, but he had no trouble recognizing  the  face  leaning

over him. "Hi, Mara," he said, working moisture  into  his  mouth.  "How's  it

going?"

"Better than I would have thought when you went  under,"  she  told  him.

"First things first. How do you feel?"

Experimentally, Luke took a deep breath. "Mostly  healed,  I  think,"  he

told her. "Muscles and skin seem fine." He wiggled his shoulders. "Except  for

my left shoulder blade."

"You took a big piece of shrapnel there," Mara said, rolling him half  up

onto his right side and probing the half-healed injury  with  her  fingertips.

"That one'll take a little more work."

"We seem to have time," Luke pointed out, glancing  around  the  darkened

room. Apparently, Bearsh's line creepers had gotten a solid grip  on  Outbound

Flight's electrical systems. "Your turn."

"The Vagaari didn't bother to kill any of the Chiss when  they  left  the

Chaf Envoy except the squad we'd left in the Dreadnaught  docking  bay,"  Mara

said. "That ambush is apparently what we felt while we were poking  around  D-

One. They did dump a whole bunch of line creepers, though, which  have  pretty

well incapacitated everything over there." She made  a  face.  "Including  the

Sabre, of course."

"Of course," Luke agreed,  eyeing  her  face  and  wincing  for  Estosh's

chances if Mara ever caught up with him again. Messing with  his  wife's  ship

was not a healthy thing to do. "So we're basically stuck here?"

"Not as stuck as Bearsh was hoping," Mara  said.  "Jinzler  taught  us  a

little trick to draw the line creepers out of  the  conduits  and  kill  them.

Another three or four days and we should have all the ships cleaned out."

She smiled tightly. "Even more interesting is that Outbound Flight had  a

small starship tucked away. A Delta-Twelve Skysprite."

"Never heard of it," Luke said. "Is it functional?"

"They're running the final diagnostics on it now," Mara said.  "Jinzler's

stopped being an ambassador, by the way,  and  gone  back  to  being  a  lowly

hyperdrive tech."

"Sounds like a more useful profession at the moment,"  Luke  said.  "What

about the others? Did everyone make it out of the battle all right?"

"Yes, though no one's going to be  doing  any  strenuous  dancing  for  a

while," Mara assured him. "The Five-Oh-First took the  most  damage,  but  Fel

says they should be fine. The big question right now is whether you feel up to

a little trip."

Luke had already figured out where the  conversation  was  heading.  "You

mean to try to whistle up an alert on the Vagaari before they get out of Chiss

space?"

"Preferably before they even get out of the Redoubt," Mara  said.  "Don't

forget they've got a whole bunch of disguised fighters  waiting  for  them  at

that command station."

"Right." Luke had forgotten that, actually. "You figure  they'll  try  to

destroy the station on their way out?"

"I would, if I were trying to sneak out  with  a  stolen  warship,"  Mara

said. "But right now they've only got a six-hour head  start  on  us.  They're

also flying a Dreadnaught, which weren't exactly known for  their  speed  even

under the best of circumstances. And we know the course they're on. If we  can

get out of here in the next hour or two, there's a good  chance  we  can  beat

them to the station."

"Yes," Luke murmured.

Mara cocked her head slightly. "You don't sound convinced."

"Just thinking," he said. "What about food and air? I  seem  to  remember

Deltas not having a lot of range."

"It has enough," Mara assured him. "Anyway, we only have to make  it  out

of the cluster."

"Right," Luke said, still considering. "How about recognition signals?  I

presume that the Chiss on Brask Oto aren't just going to take our word for any

of this."

"Hardly," Mara agreed. "Formbi's already given me a recorded  message  to

transmit to them, with Drask and Captain Talshib cosigning on it. Drask's also

given me his private emergency prefix signal, or rather  the  one  that'll  be

current on the day we reach Brask Oto: two-space-one-space-two."

"Sounds reasonable," Luke grunted,  easing  himself  up  into  a  sitting

position. "Do we have time to eat before we take off?"

"They've packed us a lunch," Mara said. "We need to get going as soon  as

Jinzler gives the okay."

"Then that time is here," Jinzler said,  stepping  through  the  doorway.

"The Skysprite checks out just?"

He broke off. "What is it?" Luke asked, frowning at the sudden  surge  of

emotion in Jinzler's face and sense.

"That lightsaber," Jinzler said, his voice suddenly stiff. "May I see it?

"

"Sure," Luke said, pulling the relic from his belt. "We found it down  on

D-One, in what was left of the bridge."

"We think it might have been Jorus C'baoth's," Mara added.

"No," Jinzler said quietly as he carefully turned the old weapon over  in

his hands. "It was Lorana's."

Luke felt his heart tighten. "I'm sorry" was all he  could  think  of  to

say.

Jinzler shrugged, a fractional lifting of  his  shoulders.  "I  knew  she

hadn't  made  it,"  he  said.  "All  this  hatred  and  prejudice  would  have

disappeared years ago if they'd had a true Jedi living and  working  in  their

midst. Do you know how she died?"

Luke shook his head. "The bridge was pretty well wrecked, and  of  course

any evidence that might have been there is half a century old.  There  was  no

way for us to tell whether she died in the crash or before." He hesitated. "We

did find some alien bones in the same area, though. They may  or  may  not  be

connected with her."

"They probably were," Jinzler murmured. "She would have  died  trying  to

protect her people."

"I'm sorry," Luke said again. "Would you like to have it?"

For a moment Jinzler continued to gaze at the lightsaber, and Luke  could

sense the struggle going on within him. Something that had been his  sister's;

possibly his last link to that part of his own life...

He took a deep breath. "Yes, I would," he said, handing it back to  Luke.

"But not now. You might need it; and  I  rather  like  the  idea  of  Lorana's

lightsaber being used against those who helped destroy her. You can  bring  it

back to me when this is all over."

"I will," Luke promised, taking the weapon back with a new reverence.

"And you'd better get going," Jinzler added. "The ship's still over in D-

Three, so you'll need vac suits to get to it. I'll take you to where Pressor's

got a pair laid out for you."

* * *

Luke had expected to see most of their companions on the  way  out,  with

the opportunity for both a proper farewell and  also  a  quick  assessment  of

their individual injuries.

It didn't work out that way. Fel and the  stormtroopers  had  been  moved

down to D-6 with most of the rest of the colony,  where  they  would  be  more

comfortable while they recovered from their battle wounds.  Drask  and  Formbi

had been similarly transferred back to the Chaf  Envoy  for  more  specialized

treatment than the Outbound Flight medics could provide, with Feesa as  always

staying at the Aristocra's side. Director Uliar and the rest  of  the  council

had rather pointedly retired to D-6 as well, leaving behind  an  unspoken  but

distinct impression that they wouldn't be returning to D-5 until it  was  free

again from the taint of the Jedi and their influence.

Which meant that aside from a couple of silent techs and a pair of  Chiss

warriors guarding the turbolifts, the only ones there to  see  them  off  were

Jinzler, Pressor, Rosemari, and Evlyn. Only Evlyn seemed to have  anything  to

say, and she seemed too shy or troubled to say very much of it.

Under other circumstances, Luke would probably have taken the time to try

to draw the girl out a little. Mara, he knew, would definitely have  done  so.

But with the  Vagaari  already  hours  ahead  of  them,  personal  and  social

considerations would have to wait.

Ten minutes after arriving at the turbolift lobby they were suited up and

ready to go. One of the Chiss guided them up the broken turbolift tube to  the

sealant tent and field air lock that the Chaf Envoy's crew had installed, then

escorted them over the rough terrain of the planetoid's surface to the docking

bay where the Delta-12 was waiting.

Thirty minutes later, after a quick test of the  control  systems  and  a

final diagnostic check, Luke eased the Skysprite out of the  docking  bay  and

turned its nose upward.

"You ever ride in anything like this?" he asked as they drove toward  the

brilliant starscape.

"No," Mara said, unsealing one of the self-heating food  packets  Jinzler

and the Outbound Flight techs had put aboard for them. "According to  Jinzler,

Kuat sold the Delta line around forty years ago to Sienar  Systems.  They  got

most of the starfighter contracts under Palpatine, and they either  built  the

hyperdrive into the hull or left it out completely."

"Like with the old TIE fighters," Luke said, his stomach growling  as  he

sniffed at the aromas rising from the packet. Karkan ribenes with  tomo-spice;

one of his favorite meals. Mara must have had a hand in the menu arrangements.

"I never thought the TIE design made much sense."

Mara shrugged as  she  laid  out  the  tray  of  ribenes,  set  a  golden

plaitfruit beside it, and pulled out two bottles of flavored water. "They were

cheap to make, and Palpatine didn't mind spending pilots. Lunch is served. Dig

in."

Luke set at the meal with enthusiasm, tearing the ribenes  off  the  slab

and devouring them right down to the  bone,  alternating  with  bites  of  the

plaitfruit. It had been a long time since he'd eaten, and healing trances were

always hard on energy reserves. Mara took a couple of the smaller ribenes, but

from the way she nibbled at them it was clear  she  must  have  already  eaten

aboard Outbound Flight and was simply being companionable.

Midway through the meal the control board pinged  with  the  announcement

that the Skysprite had reached the edge of the planetoid's gravity well.  Mara

keyed in the hyperdrive, and with a flash of starlines they were off.

They chatted about  inconsequential  things  as  they  ate,  mostly  just

enjoying the chance to spend a  few  minutes  of  tranquility  together.  Luke

finished off the ribenes and plaitfruit, and Mara produced a pair of  choclime

twists for dessert. "So," she commented as Luke bit into his.  "When  are  you

going to tell me about that deep revelation back in the recovery room?"

"Nothing deep or surprising," he told her, savoring the sweet  tang.  "It

was just a random thought."

"Such as?" she asked, taking a bite of her twist.

"Such as, why should we settle for just warning the Brask  Oto  station?"

he said. "Dreadnaughts might not have been known  for  speed,  but  they  were

known for toughness, and I doubt Thrawn  took  out  all  the  weapons  in  his

attack. Even if the station is alerted, it's going to have a hard time  taking

both a Dreadnaught and a Vagaari battle carrier."

"Agreed," Mara said. "So option two is?"

He smiled at her. "We intercept the Dreadnaught en route, get aboard, and

take it back ourselves."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Just the two of us?"

Luke shrugged. "They won't be expecting it, that's for sure."

"No, it sounds too crazy even for us," Mara agreed dryly. "Any particular

ideas on how we would get  aboard  without  them  noticing  and  massing  fire

against us?"

"Already taken care of," Luke assured her. "Back when Evlyn  and  I  were

retreating down the pylon, I threw  my  lightsaber  into  one  of  the  D-Four

turbolift doors, opening it to space.  Assuming  the  local  blast  doors  are

working, that should have isolated the whole lobby area from the rest  of  the

ship. We maneuver this thing into what's left of the pylon, go inside,  reseal

the hole I cut, repressurize, and we're in."

"Great," Mara said. "Then all we have to do is cut our  way  through  two

hundred Vagaari soldiers and take over the ship."

"Something like that," Luke agreed. "You game?"

Mara shrugged. "Sure, why not? I didn't have anything  else  planned  for

after lunch."

"Good," Luke said, wiping his fingers  and  mouth  with  his  napkin  and

dropping it into the empty ribene container. "Then all we have to do  is  plot

out our intercept point, maybe use some Jedi navigation technique to make up a

little more time, and we'll be in."

"Right," Mara said, slipping the last half of  her  choclime  twist  back

into its wrapper and resealing it. "Except that I'll be doing all  that.  Your

job right now is to finish healing."

Luke grimaced. But she was right. "Fine," he said with a theatrical  sigh

as he adjusted his chair to horizontal position. "You always get all  the  fun

stuff."

"I know," Mara said sweetly. "And I appreciate you indulging me that way.

Now, go to sleep."

"Okay." Luke took a deep breath and stretched out  to  the  Force.  "Just

don't forget to wake me when we get there."

"You'll be the first to know," she promised. "Pleasant dreams."

His last view before the darkness of the healing trance folded  over  him

was of her red-gold hair  shimmering  in  the  light  as  she  bent  over  the

navigation console.

CHAPTER 24

"I love you."

Luke jerked slightly as he came out of his healing trance. "Are we there?

" he asked, working moisture into his mouth.

"We're there," she  confirmed.  "More  importantly,  so  is  our  wayward

Dreadnaught. It came into the system about fifteen minutes ago and is  angling

around the star to get into position for the next jump. It should be  crossing

our bow in about half an hour."

Luke peered out the canopy at the asteroid Mara had settled the Skysprite

beside. "Nice location," he complimented her. "How'd you manage  to  sneak  in

without them spotting you?"

"Actually, we were a little ahead of them," Mara told him. "They  weren't

anywhere in sight, so I gambled that they hadn't picked  up  an  hour  or  two

somewhere along the way and settled in to wait."

"Good," Luke said, stretching again and  bringing  his  seat  back  to  a

sitting position. "Where exactly are we?"

"Well, that's the bad news," Mara admitted. "We're only another  hour  or

two outside the Brask Oto Command Station.  If  we  let  them  get  back  into

hyperspace, we're going to be pushing it to take back the ship in time."

"Okay, so it'll be a challenge," Luke said, offhandedly. "I think we  can

handle it."

Mara frowned suspiciously at him. "You're not going all super-Jedi on me,

are you?"

Luke gave her an innocent look. "Me?"

"Skywalker?" she said warningly.

He grinned once, then sobered. "No, of course not," he  assured  her.  "I

just don't think they're going to put up that much resistance, that's all.  We

pretty well proved aboard Outbound Flight that we can take them."

"We proved it to the ones who didn't survive," Mara pointed out. "I'm not

convinced Bearsh and Estosh will have gotten the message.  You're  not  really

expecting them to just surrender, are you?"

"No, not really," Luke said regretfully. "But I don't think their  troops

will just stand there and get themselves slaughtered, either. If we  can  push

them back to the bridge, I'm going to offer Estosh a deal: we'll let  him  and

his people leave the Dreadnaught, get back into their carrier,  and  leave  in

peace."

"Under Chiss escort, of course," Mara said. "And if he doesn't go for it?

"

Luke grimaced. "Then we'll just have to take them out."

"Sounds reasonable," Mara said. "Come on; you've got just enough time for

a quick snack before we have to get ready."

They were in their vac suits and back at their chosen control boards when

the Dreadnaught appeared around the side of the asteroid. It was, Luke  noted,

nearly five minutes ahead of Mara's estimate. Estosh  was  apparently  pushing

the ancient ship for all it was worth.

"Okay," he muttered, watching the huge mass  of  metal  lumber  past  and

trying to gauge the best moment to swing out of their partial concealment. The

massive sublight engines blazed into view?

He threw power to the Skysprite's drive,  blasting  them  away  from  the

asteroid on a vector paralleling the Dreadnaught's course. Keeping them  clear

of the larger ship's ion emissions, he swung them around  the  starboard  side

and underneath. The stumps of the four broken  turbolift  pylons  looked  like

sections of a model maker's mounting stand in the light from the distant star.

"Anything?" he asked as he swung toward the aft-portside tube.

"No course twitching; nothing tracking us," Mara  reported.  "Of  course,

the aft sensors are the ones the Colonists would probably have skipped if they

hadn't felt like fixing everything."

"Or they may just have skipped the  point-defense  weaponry  back  here,"

Luke reminded her, easing up to the shattered end of the pylon  for  a  closer

look. It didn't look like there was going to be enough room for  him  to  lift

the Skysprite straight upward, canopy-first,  as  he  would  into  a  standard

docking bay.

But if he rotated the ship ninety  degrees,  standing  it  on  its  drive

nozzles and taking it in nose-first...

"I hope," Mara said, "that  you're  not  thinking  what  I  think  you're

thinking."

"I am," Luke said. "Hang on."

He gave the engines a burst of power, pushing the  small  craft  ahead  a

dozen meters along the Dreadnaught's underside. Then, shutting down  the  main

drive, he shifted power to the forward-ventral maneuvering jets, pitching  the

Skysprite's nose upward. The pylon stump slid past, and  he  fired  one  final

burst from the main drive, running them straight upward into the tube.

To the accompaniment of a horrendous screech of torn metal.

Luke fought back a wince as he activated the forward landing claw, firing

it past the turbolift cars to a more solid connection with the wall. "Was that

the hyperdrive ring?" he asked as he took in the  cable  slack,  winching  the

Skysprite another couple of meters into the pylon.

"Let's just say we'd better not need a quick  exit,"  Mara  said.  "Aside

from that, it was a classy maneuver."

"Thanks," Luke said, shutting the Skysprite's systems back to standby and

making sure his vac suit was sealed. "At least we don't have to wonder whether

or not they heard us coming. Grab the sealant kit and let's go."

The Skysprite's canopy was, fortunately, reasonably flat, and  they  were

able to get it open in the cramped space without having to cut their way  out.

Working his way up the landing claw cable, Luke maneuvered between the  parked

turbolift cars to that last-second gash he'd carved with his thrown lightsaber

and squeezed through it.

The damage turned out to be even more impressive than he'd expected.  The

lightsaber handle had apparently bumped the top of the door a  fraction  of  a

second before the blade had closed down, swinging it up and  nicking  a  small

hole in the lobby ceiling.

"Nice," Mara said, nodding to the latter as she handed Luke  the  sealant

kit through the opening and then eased her own way through it.  "You  cut  off

not only the turbolift lobby, but a section of the next deck up, too. Anything

up there they would have particularly missed?"

"Just the next turbolift  lobby  up,"  Luke  said,  looking  around.  His

lightsaber was lying over in a corner beside four dead Vagaari who had been in

the wrong place when the Dreadnaught broke free and the  lobby  depressurized.

The blast doors that had reacted to the emergency were about five meters  away

down each of the three corridors leading away from the lobby. "I think one  of

the aft electronics supply rooms is just down the corridor  from  it,  though,

and a droid maintenance facility is off in the  other  direction,"  he  added,

starting across the lobby. "Depending on which blast doors reacted  up  there,

either or both of those might have been locked away from them, too."

Mara grunted. "It would have been a lot  simpler  if  none  of  them  had

worked," she pointed out, taking the sealant kit back from him and opening it.

"Then the whole ship would have depressurized, and they'd all have died  right

then and there."

"Which they obviously didn't, since the ship is still under power,"  Luke

pointed out, retrieving his lightsaber and taking a quick look  at  the  alien

bodies.

"I didn't say I believed it," Mara said. "I just said it would have  been

simpler. Anyone we know?"

"Nope," Luke said, experimentally igniting  the  lightsaber.  The  green-

white blade flashed to existence with gratifying strength.  "Good,"  he  said,

closing it down again and hooking it onto his belt next to  Lorana's.  "I  was

afraid the activator might have stuck on and drained all the power.  You  need

any help?"

"No, I've got it," Mara said, unfolding the patch to the proper size  and

starting to seal its edges around the gash. "You just stand there and be ready

for trouble. They may try to pull something cute even before we get the  lobby

repressurized."

"Right." Moving to the blast door blocking the corridor leading  forward,

he stretched out to the Force. There were alien minds in  that  direction,  he

could tell, and a high degree of maliciousness. But  that  was  all  he  could

read. Holding his lightsaber ready, he waited.

No attack had come by the time Mara finished laying  out  the  patch  and

checking its integrity. "Ready?" Luke asked as she packed the kit away.

"Ready," Mara confirmed. "You sure you don't want to  use  the  emergency

oxygen tanks to repressurize? It would let us get out of these suits before we

have to do any serious fighting."

Luke looked over at the red-rimmed emergency cabinet fastened to the side

wall with its collection of oxygen tanks,  sealant  kits,  and  medpacs.  "I'd

rather leave that in reserve," he told her. "Depending on how much of a  fight

the Vagaari put up, we may wind up needing extra oxygen somewhere  else  along

the line."

"Okay." Igniting her own lightsaber, she took up a ready stance a  couple

of meters in front of the blast doors. "Remember, just nick it. Enough to  let

the air in but not enough to trigger anything they might  have  on  the  other

side."

"Right." Standing as far off to the side as he could, feeling awkward  in

the confines of his vac suit, Luke jabbed the end  of  the  green-white  blade

through one corner of the thick door.

There was a sudden hissing noise, and a stream of air began  to  blow  in

through the opening, its edges swirling white as  water  vapor  condensed  and

froze in the vacuum. He glanced at the atmosphere  tester  on  his  vac  suit,

wondering if the Vagaari might have tried poisoning the air on this deck.  But

there was nothing. A minute later the whistling faded away  as  the  pressures

equalized.

"Anything?" Mara asked.

Luke checked the tester again. "Looks clear," he said.

"Good." Laying her lightsaber on the deck, Mara  popped  her  helmet  and

started stripping off the vac suit. "I hate trying to move  in  these  things.

Watch for company, will you?"

A minute later she was finished. A minute after that, both vac suits were

off and piled neatly back  near  the  turbolift  doors.  "Here  we  go,"  Luke

commented as Mara took up a stance a couple of  meters  back  from  the  blast

door, her lightsaber humming in front of her. "Let's see what the Vagaari have

come up with."

Reaching out with the Force, he keyed the control. Ponderously, the blast

doors began to slide back into the walls.

And from a dozen standing and kneeling Vagaari five meters  back  came  a

withering hail of blasterfire.

Luke was ready, keying the doors instantly closed again as Mara scattered

away the shots that had made it in. "Well, that answers  that  question,"  she

commented.

"Partially, anyway," Luke corrected. "Did you happen to notice the little

flat boxes lying along the sides of the walls?"

She shook her head. "Observation was your job," she reminded him. "My job

was staying alive."

"Right," Luke said. "Anyway, they were just like the  little  gray  boxes

they used to mine the turbolift, except that these were white."

"White?" Mara frowned, then nodded. "Of course?repainted to blend in with

the corridor walls. How many were there?"

"I didn't get an actual count," Luke said,  studying  the  image  in  his

memory. "But they were spaced a meter or two apart and ran all the way down to

where the corridor jogs to the right."

"Cute," Mara said. "So the next time  we  open  the  blast  doors,  we'll

probably see the Vagaari in full  retreat.  We'll  chase  them,  watching  for

blaster shots, and whoever's handling the detonators will have his  choice  of

when to blow us to bits."

"Something like that," Luke said, looking  at  the  ceiling  above  them.

"What do you think? We go up?"

"They'll probably have something ready up there,  too,"  Mara  said,  her

voice and sense suddenly thoughtful. "After all, they've seen what lightsabers

can do."

"You have an idea?" Luke prompted.

She favored him with an evil smile. "What they haven't seen is this," she

said. Letting go of her lightsaber, she levitated it in front of her.

"Okay," Luke said. "So?"

Mara's reply was a twitch of her head back toward  the  turbolift  lobby.

Frowning, Luke followed. She stepped to the Vagaari bodies in the corner  and,

stretching out to the Force, levitated  one  of  them  upright.  Focusing  her

control, she moved its arms and legs, keeping it a couple of centimeters above

the floor, making it stride rather shakily across the lobby as if it was still

alive.

Or, rather, as if he and Mara had  put  on  their  enemies'  armor  as  a

disguise.

She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. "Doesn't look all that realistic,"

he pointed out doubtfully, levitating one of the other bodies for himself  and

sending it across the deck. His didn't look any more alive than hers did. "But

if we keep them moving, the Vagaari may not notice."

"I think it's worth a try, anyway," Mara said.

"Definitely," he agreed. "Let's do it."

Moving their puppets to the blast doors, they settled them into  standing

position. "Quickly, now," Mara said, crouching down beside the wall where  her

presence wouldn't be immediately obvious. "We  don't  want  anyone  getting  a

clear look."

Luke nodded. Stretching out to the Force, he keyed open the doors.

Mara's prediction had hit it exactly. The Vagaari  who  had  been  firing

from just outside the doors were already halfway  down  the  corridor,  firing

wildly behind them in full retreat. Mara sent her puppet charging after  them,

its arms and legs pumping madly. Luke's was right behind  it.  The  apparently

terrified retreating Vagaari disappeared around the distant corner?

And with an earsplitting blast, the entire corridor exploded in  a  burst

of fire and smoke.

Luke winced, feeling his puppet twist around as it was buffeted violently

by the blast before sprawling out of his  control  onto  the  deck.  His  ears

ringing, he caught Mara's eye and nodded. She nodded back, and  together  they

sprinted ahead through the smoke and heat.

They met the returning Vagaari just  around  the  corner  as  the  aliens

headed back to check the results of their handiwork. The battle was over  very

quickly.

"Twelve down," Luke commented as he looked down the corridor. There  were

no signs of trouble or activity, at least not up to  the  next  jog  some  ten

meters ahead. "Plus the four from the turbolift lobby makes sixteen."

"Which might actually be a significant number if we knew how  many  there

were to begin with." Mara nudged one of the bodies with her  boot.  "Recognize

anyone?"

Luke frowned at the alien face. "Is that Bearsh?"

"Sure looks like him," she said. "These guys are a lot more impressive in

combat armor than in those silly robes, aren't they?"

"Most species are," Luke said. "Looks like he was leading this particular

charge personally. That's a good sign."

"How so?"

"Estosh called him a general," he reminded her. "If he's sending generals

to handle field operations, it  might  imply  he  hasn't  got  all  that  many

warriors left."

"Good point," Mara agreed. "Between the dent we made  in  his  troops  on

Outbound Flight  and  the  people  he  absolutely  has  to  have  crewing  the

Dreadnaught's duty stations, he may very well be hurting for bodies  to  throw

at us right now."

"Right,"  Luke  said.  "Either  that,  or   Bearsh   was   simply   being

overconfident."

"You are so very helpful sometimes," Mara said, shaking her head in  mock

annoyance. "I'm surprised you didn't go into  politics.  Come  on,  let's  get

moving before they come up with something else."

They reached the corridor jog Luke had noted without further incident and

paused there, looking carefully around the bend. Still no  signs  of  enemies,

but twenty meters ahead another set of blast  doors  had  been  closed  across

their path. "Looks clear," he murmured.

"There are three sets of doors leading off each  side  of  the  corridor,

though," Mara pointed out. "Perfect place to  hide  while  you're  waiting  to

pounce."

Luke closed his eyes, stretching  out  his  senses.  He  could  feel  the

malevolent, brooding presence of Vagaari all over the  Dreadnaught,  scattered

through his mind like vaguely defined bubbles of heat in a cold room. But none

seemed to be very close. "I'm not picking up anyone in there," he said.

"Neither am I," Mara confirmed reluctantly. "I still don't like it."

"Then let's get through it quickly." Throwing a last look  at  the  empty

corridor behind them, he rounded the corner and headed forward.

He was just passing the middle set of doors when the left-hand door ahead

of him slid open, and five growling wolvkils padded into the corridor.

He braked to a halt, lifting his lightsaber warningly toward the animals.

From behind Mara came the sound of another door opening, and he  glanced  back

as four more of the predators filed in from one of the aft  set  of  doors  to

block their retreat.

"Well, this is cute," Mara murmured. "You see what the stylish wolvkil is

wearing this season?"

Luke hadn't; but now his jaw tightened as he  spotted  the  fragmentation

grenade slung under each wolvkil's belly. "I was wondering what  they  thought

this was going to  accomplish,"  he  commented,  adjusting  his  grip  on  his

lightsaber as he tried to think. So far the wolvkils didn't seem  inclined  to

attack, but were contenting themselves with growling from a distance. But that

could change at any moment.

Mara had come to the same conclusion. "Let's try a  strategic  withdrawal

while we think this out," she suggested, easing up to Luke's right and tapping

the release on the door  beside  him.  It  slid  open,  and  Luke  sensed  her

concentration as she gave the interior a quick check. "Clear," she said. "Come

on."

Together, they eased into the room, lightsabers ready. The wolvkils  made

no move to follow. Mara touched the inner door control,  and  the  panel  slid

shut. In the glow from his lightsaber Luke found the light pad, flicked it on,

and closed down his weapon.

They were in what appeared to be one of the many  pumping  stations  that

were by necessity scattered around any ship this size. Sets of conduits snaked

along the walls and high ceiling, most of them running into one or  the  other

of two huge and silently chugging rectangular boxes with rounded  corners  set

against the bulkhead across from the door.  "Cozy,"  Luke  commented,  looking

around. There were no other exits from the room, but  of  course  that  didn't

mean anything to a Jedi  with  a  lightsaber.  "Let's  see  if  we  can  carve

ourselves a back door," he suggested. Stepping to the forward wall, he ignited

his lightsaber?

"Wait," Mara said.

Luke paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "What?" he asked.

She was gazing at  the  wall  in  front  of  him,  her  sense  tight  and

suspicious. "Luke, what's the usual procedure for sealing a hull breach?"

He frowned. "You send some repair droids to the vicinity, close the blast

doors behind them, pump out the air to equalize pressures, then open the inner

doors to give them access to the leak."

"Right," Mara said, nodding. "The Vagaari have had four days to seal  the

gash you cut in the turbolift lobby. We know  there  are  housekeeping  droids

still working, and we know there were enough repair droids rolling  around  at

one time to fix all the damage Thrawn did to the hull.  And  anyway,  even  if

none of them works anymore, Estosh surely brought a pressure suit or two along

they could have used to go in themselves and fix it."

"But they didn't," Luke said thoughtfully. "Why not?"

"Because if we'd come up the pylon and found your gash all  sewn  up,  we

might have decided to come aboard  somewhere  else,"  Mara  concluded  grimly.

"This way, they could  reasonably  predict  where  we'd  come  in,  and  could

concentrate on making this one corridor as much of a death trap as they could.

"

She nodded toward the wall in front of him. "So why should this  part  of

it be any different?"

"Good question," Luke agreed, closing down his  lightsaber  and  stepping

aside. "In that case, you'd better do this."

It took three delicate strokes for her to tease a  scratch  all  the  way

through the bulkhead. And it was indeed a very good  thing  he'd  let  her  go

first.

"Terrific," she said darkly, sniffing at the liquid  trickling  down  the

wall. "Secondary reactant fuel, which  most  certainly  wouldn't  normally  be

stored next to a pump room. Estosh is kindly offering us  the  opportunity  of

immolating ourselves."

"How generous of him," Luke said, looking up at the ceiling. "I wonder if

they've ever seen how high a Jedi can jump."

"I don't think so," she said. "But it wouldn't take a Jedi to climb  that

maze of pipes fastened to the  wall.  If  they  were  being  thorough,  they'd

certainly have booby-trapped the ceiling, too."

"Right," he conceded. "What about down? Any idea what's below us?"

"Usually it would be substructure,  environmental  equipment,  and  other

bulk stuff," Mara said.  "Not  a  place  you  want  to  go  randomly  swinging

lightsabers."

"So we can't go down, up, or  sideways,  and  outside  the  door  there's

nothing but wolvkils and  fragmentation  grenades,"  Luke  concluded,  looking

around for inspiration.

"And we've got a reactant fuel  leak  going,"  Mara  reminded  him.  "Any

ideas?"

Luke's gaze paused on the two humming pumps. Each of them was nearly  two

meters tall and a meter wide, with a casing built of heavy metal and  a  front

access cover shaped  like  a  rectangular,  flat-bottomed  bowl  with  rounded

corners and edges. "Actually, yes," he told her, popping the release on one of

the covers and swinging it open. The cover was as strongly built as  the  rest

of the casing, with a ten-centimeter lip all the  way  around  the  perimeter.

"Let's get these doors off."

Igniting his lightsaber, he sliced off the hinges, catching the cover  in

a Force grip as it started to fall ponderously toward him. "I hope you're  not

planning to use these things as shields," Mara warned as  she  cut  the  other

cover free. "There are an awful lot of grenades out there."

"No, I've got something else in mind,"  Luke  assured  her,  leaning  the

cover up against the wall by the door and closing down his  lightsaber.  "Time

to go for the high ground." Getting a grip on two of the pipes fastened to the

wall, he started to climb.

Mara followed silently, clearly puzzled  but  willing  to  give  him  the

benefit of the doubt. Midway through their climb,  he  could  sense  when  she

suddenly caught on. "Okay," he said when they were about two  meters  off  the

deck. Looking down over his shoulder, he stretched out to the Force and lifted

the two covers to hover in the air just beneath him and Mara, their bowl sides

up. "You ready?" he said.

Her answer was the snap-hiss of her  lightsaber.  Reaching  over  to  the

dripping bulkhead, she slashed the blade through it.

With a sudden gurgle, the trickle  became  a  flood,  the  aromatic  fuel

flowing down the wall and running across the floor. "Watch your timing,"  Luke

warned as the sloshing pool began to fill the small room. "Remember, the  lips

on these things are only about ten centimeters high."

"I know," Mara assured him. She had her lightsaber closed down  and  back

on her belt now, with her sleeve gun drawn. "Get ready... now."

Abruptly, the door slid open at her  Force  command,  the  pool  of  fuel

flowing out into the corridor. There was a surprised  yelp  from  one  of  the

wolvkils?

And Mara fired a single shot from her blaster into the liquid.

It ignited with a tremendous roar, the flames shooting nearly a meter off

the deck. Even with the hovering covers protecting them,  Luke  found  himself

wincing at the rush of heat that washed over and past him.  The  yelp  outside

had become a howl of pain and fear, and he could hear startled Vagaari  voices

mixed in with those of the wolvkils. The height of the  flames  diminished  as

the blazing liquid continued to flow out into the corridor, settling  down  to

perhaps thirty centimeters.

It was time to go. "Take the right one," he called to Mara over the noise

of the flames, pointing to the hovering cover nearest her. He  felt  her  take

its weight. Then, focusing all his attention on the other one,  he  maneuvered

it into the center of the doorway and settled it down onto the  deck.  Bracing

himself, he jumped.

He hit the cover dead center, dropping into a crouch as  he  landed.  The

flames crackled all around him, flowing nearly to the  level  of  the  cover's

lip, giving him the sudden feeling of being in a boat floating on a  river  of

fire. Recovering his balance, he straightened up and looked around.

The entire corridor was filled with fire and smoke and  the  screams  and

howls of the injured. Through the shimmering heat haze to his  left  he  could

see flame-sheathed Vagaari writhing in agony as they staggered  around  trying

to find a way out of the rolling river of fire. To his right, the blast  doors

reflected back the light of the flames, making metallic pinging noises as  the

sudden heat created uneven expansion in the metal.

Surprisingly, he saw only a couple of wolvkil bodies lying burning in the

inferno. Apparently, the animals' speed was as good for escape as it  was  for

attack.

Turning back to the room, he again stretched out to the Force, taking the

second cover from Mara's grip. Sliding it over his head  through  the  blocked

doorway, he maneuvered it along the corridor and set it  down  in  the  flames

just in front of the blast doors. "Okay," he called to Mara. "Let's go."

Bending his knees, he leapt over the fire to land in the center  of  this

second metal boat. He glanced back to see Mara land safely in the  cover  he'd

just vacated, then turned and slapped the blast door release.

There were no Vagaari waiting on the other side, though if there had been

the flaming liquid now  streaming  out  along  the  floor  toward  them  would

probably have sent them running anyway. Luke made another jump to get past the

edge of the expanding fire and turned back around, ready in case  Mara  needed

assistance.

She didn't. Without having to pause to open the blast doors as  Luke  had

had to, she did the final part of the trip in two  quick  back-to-back  leaps,

landing on the deck beside him. Even before she was down,  he  stretched  back

out to the control and closed the blast doors again.

"Well, that was fun," she said, breathing hard after her trip through the

smoke. With its source of new fuel now blocked, the fire on this side  of  the

blast doors had settled into a small pool that was busily burning itself  out.

"Uliar's going to have a fit when he sees what we've done to his Dreadnaught."

"He can bill us," Luke said, looking around. "I vote we get out  of  this

corridor. The command deck's another four decks up anyway."

"Seconded and approved," Mara said. "I take it you'll want to  avoid  the

turbolifts?"

"Absolutely," Luke said, looking up at the  high  ceiling.  "But  as  you

pointed out, they haven't yet seen how high we can jump."

Igniting his lightsaber, he locked the switch on and hurled  it  spinning

into the ceiling, carving out a neat hole just wide enough to pass comfortably

through. "There we go," he said, catching the weapon and closing  it  down  as

Mara fielded the circle of deck metal as it tumbled toward them. "Let's go."

* * *

They made it to the command deck's level without further trouble.  Either

the Vagaari had been thrown into disarray by the  turning  of  their  firetrap

against them, or else Mara had been right about their defenses  being  focused

on that single corridor.

Still, there was a lot of distance yet to cover before they  reached  the

command deck, and a potentially large number of Vagaari  still  available  for

Estosh to throw at them. Senses alert, lightsabers held  at  the  ready,  they

started forward.

But for a while, Luke began to wonder if the aliens had indeed given  up.

As they'd already discovered on the lower decks, the damage  was  greatest  in

the Dreadnaught's midsection, where Thrawn's attack had methodically taken out

the  turbolaser  blisters  and  shield  projectors.  The  debris  and  twisted

bulkheads made for ideal ambush points, yet the Vagaari made no attempt to use

them. There were occasional stacks  or  lines  of  explosives,  but  laid  out

hurriedly and with no attempt at subtlety or camouflage, almost as  if  simply

dropped there by Vagaari trying desperately to get out  of  the  path  of  the

approaching Jedi. The two clusters that  couldn't  be  bypassed  were  quickly

disarmed.

They made it through the midsection and continued  on  into  the  forward

operations and crew areas. Here the resistance was slightly better  organized:

teams of three to five Vagaari  would  lurk  in  doorways  or  curves  in  the

corridor, firing concerted volleys of blasterfire as Luke and Mara  came  into

view. But again, Jedi senses and reflexes were more than adequate to the task,

and it usually took only a few seconds of fire for the aliens to realize  that

their surprise had failed and to break off, scattering away into the  shadows.

From all appearances, it would seem Estosh was in the last stages of  helpless

desperation.

Mara didn't believe it, either. "He's up to something," she  muttered  as

they passed the site of the latest would-be ambush, stepping over  the  bodies

of the two Vagaari who had been unlucky enough to have their  shots  reflected

straight back at them.

"Of course he is," Luke said, glancing in both directions as they reached

yet another cross-corridor. No one lying in wait in this  one.  "The  question

is, what? What else could Outbound Flight's  organizers  have  brought  aboard

that he could use against us?"

"We'll find out soon  enough,"  Mara  said.  "Another  couple  of  cross-

corridors and we should be there."

They moved ahead  cautiously.  Three  minutes  later,  they  reached  the

command deck.

It was the same setup as they'd seen earlier on D-l, minus the  extensive

damage that the impact with the planetoid's gravel pit had created down there.

A wide cross-corridor ran across the width of the ship just aft of the command

deck, with an archway and sealed blast door set into the bulkhead directly  in

front of their portside corridor. Thirty meters to their right was  a  similar

entryway, this one set in front of the main starboard corridor. Beyond the two

blast doors would be the monitor anteroom with its long rows of consoles; from

the far side of the anteroom, a single archway and  even  heavier  blast  door

would lead onto the bridge proper.

"They're in there, all right," Luke said, stretching out toward the thick

bulkhead with his mind. "Quite a few  of  them.  I  get  the  feeling  they're

expecting us."

"They got that part right, anyway," Mara said. "How do you want  to  work

this?"

Luke looked  down  the  cross-corridor  toward  the  starboard  entryway,

considering their options. The fact that the Vagaari had sealed  the  anteroom

blast doors implied they weren't going to give up  their  territory  quite  so

easily. "We go straight  in,"  he  decided.  "Whatever  they've  got  planned,

they've either got a duplicate trap at each of the two doors, or else  they've

saved everything for the bridge proper. Either way?"

"Hold it," Mara cut him off, her head cocked. "You hear something?"

Luke frowned. A new sound had been added to the background  noises  of  a

capital ship in flight, a metallic rumbling coming from their right. He looked

again down the cross-corridor toward the other anteroom door?

And suddenly, a giant  wheel-like  machine  rolled  into  view  from  the

starboard corridor. It braked to a halt and began to open like a strange metal

flower.

"Oh, no," Mara breathed, tossing her lightsaber  to  her  left  hand  and

snatching out her sleeve gun.

But she was too late. Even as she fired, the machine finished  unfolding,

its curved head rearing up over its tripod legs, its jointed forearms settling

themselves into horizontal position, the hazy sphere of its  deflector  shield

flickering to life and spattering Mara's  shot  into  the  ceiling.  The  head

shifted slightly toward them, as if noticing the intruders for the first time,

the arms swiveling their  permanently  mounted  blasters  to  point  in  their

direction.

It was a droideka. But unlike the one they'd so recently  faced  in  Jerf

Huxley's cantina, this one appeared to be fully functional.

And it was hunting them.

CHAPTER 25

Mara still had her lightsaber in her left hand  as  the  droideka  opened

fire. She swung it around, trying to get it to guard position?

Just as the green blade  of  Luke's  lightsaber  cut  in  front  of  her,

deflecting the shots that had been aimed at her torso. "Come on!" he shouted.

She didn't need to be told twice. Moving as quickly as they  could  while

still defending against the sudden hail of fire, they  ducked  back  into  the

portside corridor they'd just left. "Well, that's just?"

"Later," Luke snapped. "I hear it folding up again."

Mara swore under her breath, jamming her sleeve  blaster  back  into  its

holster as she took off down the corridor. "Wait a  second,"  she  said  as  a

thought suddenly occurred to her. "Keep going," she  added,  ducking  into  an

open doorway to her right.

Luke broke stride. "What??"

"I'm playing a hunch," she hissed back. "Get going  before  it  sees  you

talking to an empty room."

She could tell he didn't understand and that he furthermore wasn't at all

happy about leaving her alone like this. But as she could sense his doubts, he

could also sense her confidence that it was a gamble worth taking. Giving  her

a quick nod, he resumed his sprint  away  from  the  command  deck.  Listening

closely, Mara heard the droideka's rumbling change pitch as it  made  a  tight

turn around the corner and rolled into the corridor behind  her  husband.  The

pitch changed again as it spotted Luke in the distance and headed in  pursuit.

Taking a couple of steps backward into the room, hopefully putting herself out

of range of the droideka's sensors, Mara pulled  out  her  blaster  again  and

leveled it at the doorway. She could very literally have only one shot...

Abruptly, a blur of shiny metal flashed  into  view.  Letting  the  Force

guide her hand, she fired.

The droideka was gone again almost before it registered  in  her  vision,

and from the direction it had disappeared came an abrupt cacophony of metal on

metal as it scrabbled to a sudden halt to deal with this unexpected menace  on

its flank. Mara jumped to her feet and charged for  the  doorway,  hoping  she

might get in a follow-up shot before it could recover its balance.

But the machine was too fast. By the time she emerged into the  corridor,

it had already started to wheel around  toward  her.  Aiming  for  the  sensor

cluster in its head, she fired.

Too late. The droideka again got its shield up in time,  ricocheting  the

shot away. It finished its unrolling and rose again, weapons  tracking  toward

her. Mara dropped her blaster, igniting her lightsaber and bringing it back up

in front of her. The droideka's blasters lifted slightly?

And suddenly the machine staggered as something big and dark came  flying

down the corridor and slammed into its shield from behind, sending  its  first

volley into the deck.  Mara  backed  away  down  the  corridor,  blocking  the

droideka's shots as it waddled awkwardly after her. A moment later, she'd made

it back to the cross-corridor  outside  the  command  deck.  A  second  object

slammed into the droideka, and she took advantage of the distraction to  dodge

to her left and run full-speed toward the starboard corridor. Hoping fervently

that the droideka didn't have a friend waiting  in  ambush,  she  rounded  the

corner.

No one was waiting,  droideka  or  Vagaari.  She'd  made  it  two  cross-

corridors back when Luke stepped out in front of her, palm upraised. "It's all

right," he said. "It's not following."

"You'd better be right," she said, breathing hard  as  she  slowed  to  a

halt. "Thanks for the assist. What were you throwing at it, anyway?"

"Whatever odds and ends were handy," he told  her,  glancing  around  and

pointing her to a nearby electronics repair room. "The first one was  a  power

converter, I think, and the second was a two-meter piece of structural bracing

girder that had been broken off and was lying around."

"Neither of which is exactly a lightweight," Mara pointed out  grimly  as

they stepped inside the room. "If hitting it that hard didn't do anything  but

spoil its aim for a couple of shots, we can forget about that as a way to take

it down."

"I think you're right," Luke agreed. "What about you? Any luck with  that

sucker shot?"

Mara shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I hit the sensor head, but I  don't  know

what kind of damage I did. Probably not very  much?it  sure  didn't  have  any

trouble lining up its blasters on me afterward."

"So they can't keep their shields up while they're rolling?"

"Right," Mara said. "About all they can do with their shields up is  that

little waddle thing. Problem is, in wheel form they're just  too  fast  for  a

good killing shot."

"Certainly not from a blaster that small," Luke said.  "Maybe  we  should

see if we can find something with a little more power and try it again."

"Maybe," Mara said doubtfully. "But then  you're  going  to  run  into  a

different limitation. With blasters, the more power it's got, the  bigger  and

heavier it is. Even with the Force I had enough trouble  hitting  it  with  my

sleeve gun. It would be that much harder to move even a carbine fast enough to

keep up with a droideka's speed and maneuverability."

"How about if it wasn't moving?" Luke asked.  "Could  that  same  carbine

punch through the shield?"

Mara shook her head. "I've never seen the specs, but from what I've heard

it sounds like it would take something a lot bigger than that to do the trick.

"

"So we're back to hitting it when it's  on  the  move,"  Luke  concluded.

"Maybe you should have tried that ambush trick with your lightsaber instead of

your blaster."

"Wouldn't have worked," Mara said. "I would have had to  stand  right  at

the doorway to reach it, and it would have picked me up  long  before  it  got

within range."

"How about now that its sensors are damaged?"

"I'd hate to try it," Mara said hesitantly. "There are several  different

types of sensors grouped there?composite radiation, vibration, and I think one

or two more. It can aim and fire using any combination of them."

"Terrific," Luke said, starting to sound a little frustrated.  "We  can't

use blasters, and we can't use lightsabers. So how did the Jedi  of  that  era

deal with them?"

Mara felt her lips tighten. "Mostly, they ran away," she said.  "I  can't

remember a single story of a Jedi taking out a shielded one on his own."

Luke seemed taken aback. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Mara leaned her head back out of the room to peer down  the

corridor. "You did say it had stopped, right?"

Luke nodded. "I heard it unroll. From the direction  of  the  sound,  I'd

guess it's sitting midway between the two command deck doors."

"Like a big metal vornskr on guard duty."

"Exactly," Luke said, starting to sound back on track  again.  "At  least

now we know what else Outbound Flight's organizers packed aboard. Where in the

worlds did they get a droideka, anyway? I thought only  the  Trade  Federation

had them back then."

"They did, but you forget that the Trade Federation  had  been  allegedly

rehabilitated after the Naboo incident," Mara  pointed  out.  "They  were  all

sweetness and light?well, they were all grudging cooperation, anyway?until the

Separatists dropped the hammer at Geonosis and the Clone Wars  began.  Someone

probably persuaded them to donate a few to Outbound Flight with an eye  toward

sentry use on any new colonies they might set up." She gestured. "Fortunately,

it looks like the Vagaari only have one of them working."

"One is plenty for me," Luke assured her dryly. "I'm surprised  they  got

even that far."

"I'm not," Mara said sourly. "Or at least, I  shouldn't  have  been.  The

more I think about it, the more I think droid technology was what Estosh  came

here looking for in the first place."

"What makes you say that?" Luke asked, frowning.

"It was right after that first cleaner droid appeared on D-Four  and  you

slipped away to scout out our path," Mara said, feeling yet another twinge  of

professional embarrassment. Like  the  fake  Geroon  refugee  ship,  this  was

something she should have instantly caught on to. "We  got  to  talking  about

droids in general, and one of the Vagaari asked specifically about  droidekas.

There's no place  he  could  have  picked  up  that  term  except  from  Fel's

operational manual."

"Okay," Luke said slowly. "But we already know they're the ones who stole

it."

"Right," Mara said. "But there were four densely  packed  data  cards  in

that set. What are the odds they would have stumbled across a  list  of  droid

designations unless they were specifically looking for them?"

"Even less than the odds  they'd  find  the  maintenance  and  activation

procedures," Luke said, nodding. "So this whole fuss is over nothing but a few

droids?"

"They're only a few droids to us because we're so  used  to  having  them

around," Mara pointed out. "Remember what Fel said about the Chiss not  having

droid technology? If the Chiss don't, probably no  one  else  out  here  does,

either. If the Vagaari can learn how to build and field a droid army,  they're

going to have a huge advantage, especially among the less  developed  cultures

who seem to be their preferred prey."

"I guess you're right," Luke said. "So the original plan was probably  to

kill everyone aboard the Chaf Envoy, spread out  through  Outbound  Flight  to

collect all the droids they could find, then sneak back  through  the  Redoubt

before we were gone long enough to have raised any alarms."

"That's my guess," Mara said. "It was just pure luck they got  a  working

Dreadnaught as a bonus."

Luke grimaced. "Some bonus.  The  chief  Vagaari's  going  to  be  really

pleased to have this show up on his doorstep."

"Not if we can help it," Mara declared. "Come on, you're the Jedi Master.

Think of something."

"Maybe we don't actually have to destroy it," Luke said. "All  we  really

want to do is to get onto the command deck and take control of the ship."

"And, what, we just persuade the droideka to turn its head for a minute?"

Luke smiled tightly. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I think we  can  do

exactly that."

* * *

Carefully, Luke eased his way to  the  end  of  the  starboard  corridor.

Directly in front of him was the archway and  access  door  into  the  command

deck, while somewhere out of sight to  his  left  the  droideka  was  standing

guard.

He stretched out his mind to Mara, sensed that she  was  in  mirror-image

position thirty meters away in the portside corridor.  The  droideka  was  now

directly between them... and the way its arms were hinged, it could only  fire

in one direction at a time. Bracing himself, he  ignited  his  lightsaber  and

stepped out into the cross-corridor.

The droideka was, as he'd surmised earlier, standing with its back to the

command deck wall midway between the two access doors. Its shield popped on as

its sensors detected Luke's movement, its guns swiveling as it tracked  toward

him. "Yes, it's me," Luke called, lifting his lightsaber to guard position  as

he took another two steps toward the machine. "Come on; have at it."

The droideka obliged with  a  burst  of  blasterfire.  Luke's  lightsaber

flashed back and forth, deflecting the shots as he slowly  reversed  direction

back the way he'd come. He made it back to  the  corner  and  ducked  back  to

safety. Closing down his lightsaber, he turned aft and  started  running  down

the corridor, listening between the thudding of his footsteps for  the  sounds

of the droideka giving chase.

The sounds didn't come. Frowning, he slowed to  a  halt,  listening  more

closely. Still no pursuit. Reversing  direction  again,  he  returned  to  the

corner and eased an eye around it.

The droideka's response was another round of blasterfire  that  gouged  a

fresh set of pits in the metal walls. But in that single  brief  glimpse  Luke

had seen that the droideka hadn't budged from the spot where he'd left it.

Retreating a few paces down the corridor, he pulled out his  comlink  and

thumbed it on. "Mara?"

"It doesn't seem to want to come  out  and  play,  does  it?"  her  voice

answered.

"No, it's apparently happy right where it is," Luke said.  "You  want  to

give it a try?"

"Not worth the effort," Mara said. "It's already seen that there are  two

of us, and it's smart enough not to get suckered into chasing one of  us  when

the other one's unaccounted for. I was afraid we were going to run  into  that

problem."

"It was still worth a try," Luke said. "On to  Plan  Two,  I  guess.  You

ready?"

"Ready," she answered. "Watch yourself."

"Right." Luke shut off the comlink and returned it to his belt.  Stepping

back to the corner, he lifted his lightsaber, braced himself?

And spun 180 degrees around a fraction of a second before  the  burst  of

blasterfire erupted toward him from far down the corridor. Another Vagaari hit

squad had launched its assault, apparently hoping to sneak up on him while  he

was concentrating on the droideka.

Like the previous attacks, this one was over quickly.  Luke  could  sense

the pain that indicated one of the deflected bolts had returned to its source,

then sensed the distance  change  as  the  aliens  retreated,  dragging  their

wounded comrade with them.

He took a deep breath. With the combat tunnel  vision  fading,  he  could

sense Mara's sudden anxiety. He sent her a  quick  mental  assurance,  plus  a

wordless warning to  watch  her  own  back.  Stepping  to  the  corner  again,

lightsaber held ready, he charged suddenly toward the archway in front of him.

The droideka must have expected a repeat of Luke's earlier, more cautious

appearance. Its first spatter of fire  passed  harmlessly  behind  him  as  he

sprinted across the cross-corridor and skidded to  a  halt  in  front  of  the

anteroom door. The droideka's second volley found the range, and Luke set  his

teeth firmly together as he swung his lightsaber  across  the  multiple  shots

coming at him. He didn't dare split away  enough  of  his  attention  to  look

behind his attacker; but if Mara was on schedule,  she  was  even  now  moving

stealthily from her corridor to the portside anteroom door...

Abruptly, the fire coming at Luke  broke  off  as  the  droideka  pivoted

around. Luke had just enough time to see Mara in the  distance,  stabbing  her

lightsaber into the edge of the blast door, as the droideka opened fire.

He felt his breath catch in his throat. But Mara had been expecting  that

move, and had her lightsaber back up in time to defend herself.

And now, with the droideka's attack pointed in the  other  direction,  it

was Luke's turn. Lifting his lightsaber to point horizontally, keeping a  wary

eye on the droideka, he jabbed the blade into the blast door beside him.

Again, the droideka reacted,  swiveling  back  around  toward  him.  Luke

brought his lightsaber up, dropping into combat focus again as  the  quadruple

blasters began laying down their withering rain of fire. Behind the  droideka,

he knew, Mara would have returned to her own assault on the command  deck.  If

the droideka continued to play this game, eventually both of them  would  make

it through.

The droideka had apparently figured that out, too. Firing one last volley

at Luke, it dropped its shield, folded back into wheel shape, and charged down

the cross-corridor toward Mara. Luke set off in pursuit?

And barely got his lightsaber back up in time as the droideka's  blasters

fired a twin burst at him.

He managed to block the  shots,  his  stride  faltering  with  the  sheer

unexpectedness of it. He hadn't realized it  was  possible  for  droidekas  to

shoot while in wheel shape. The machine fired a rolling burst  at  Mara,  then

another at Luke as the positioning of its blasters came back to the right spot

in its rotation. It fired another shot at Mara?

Luke inhaled sharply, breaking into an  all-out  run  as  the  droideka's

strategy suddenly became clear. It was going to roll right up to Mara,  moving

so close that even Jedi reflexes wouldn't be fast enough to handle the  shots.

Run, he thought desperately toward her. Get away. Now.

Mara didn't move. She'd figured out the droideka's plan,  too,  he  could

sense; but instead of trying to get away, she was waiting for  it,  lightsaber

ready, preparing to meet the destroyer head-on. Luke breathed a curse that was

half anger  and  half  fear  and  leaned  into  his  sprint,  driving  himself

desperately toward his wife. The droideka was nearly on her now?

Then, even as it fired  one  final  time  from  the  wheel  position  and

screeched to a halt a bare two meters away,  Mara  finally  moved.  She  leapt

forward and to the side, moving out of its line of rolling  fire  and  lunging

toward it with her lightsaber.

Once again, the droideka's mechanical reflexes were too fast. It had  its

shield up even before it finished unrolling,  bouncing  her  lightsaber  blade

uselessly off the hazy surface. The droideka continued uncurling, its blasters

swinging up and out into full maneuverability again as Mara tried to bring her

lightsaber up in time. The blasters spat fire?

And with a final desperate lunge,  Luke  hurled  his  lightsaber  forward

directly in front of the blasters, blocking the shots. "Come on!" he shouted.

Mara needed no encouragement. She  jumped  past  the  droideka,  plucking

Luke's lightsaber out of midair as she passed it, and hit  the  deck  running.

Luke braked to a halt, snatching back his weapon from her  as  she  shot  past

him. A second later, they were sprinting together toward  the  safety  of  the

starboard corridor.

Only it might not be as safe as Luke had expected. Behind them, he  could

hear the sounds as the droideka once again folded up and set itself in motion.

Now that it had both of them in sight, it had apparently decided to go on  the

offensive.

They reached the starboard corridor and ducked around the  corner.  "It's

following us," Mara panted.

"I know," Luke panted  back.  "Keep  going.  We  may  have  to  try  that

lightsaber ambush after all."

Mara didn't reply. Maybe she was thinking about  pointing  out  that  the

droideka's sensors were obviously still functional enough to make that gesture

useless. More likely, she was conserving her air.

Again, he caught the sounds behind him  just  in  time.  "Watch  it,"  he

snapped, skidding to a halt and spinning around. The droideka  had  stopped  a

couple of meters into the corridor and was in the process  of  unfolding.  "In

there," Luke ordered, nodding to a cross-corridor cutting across their path  a

couple of meters behind them.

The droideka opened fire as they backed toward it, but at  this  distance

Jedi reflexes were more than adequate to handle  the  attack.  A  few  seconds

later, they were into the corridor and out of its sight.

For a moment they leaned side  by  side  against  the  cool  metal  wall,

panting hard. In the distance, Luke could hear the droideka starting  to  fold

up again, and risked a quick look around the corner. If it  thought  it  could

bottle them up...

But with the  enemy  temporarily  out  of  its  sight,  the  machine  had

apparently decided to go back to  guard  duty.  Luke  watched  it  finish  its

reconfiguration and roll almost leisurely back  around  the  corner  into  the

command deck corridor. "This isn't working," he commented.

"No kidding," Mara growled back. "Thanks for getting me out of  that,  by

the way. I thought I might have a chance to get in a killing thrust before its

shield went up."

"I guess it saw you coming," Luke said. "Did  you  know  it  could  shoot

while rolling that way?"

"No," Mara said. "Either that was a very well-kept secret, or  else  it's

something new that someone built into this particular model. It's not all that

effective?you saw it could only fire straight along its path, and only at  the

spot in its rotation when the blasters were turned to the right spot."

Luke grunted. "It was effective enough for me."

"No argument there." Mara shook her head. "We need a new approach,  Luke.

We keep playing this game, and eventually it's going to wear us down."

"Or a Vagaari sniper squad will get us  while  we're  being  distracted,"

Luke agreed. "Let's think it through. We know we can't get it with the  shield

up. That means we have to get it before then, either while it's still  rolling

or else right as it stops and starts to unfold."

"And as we just saw,  it  can  put  its  shield  up  before  it  finishes

unfolding if it senses an attacker nearby," Mara pointed out.

"Which means we can't let it see the attack coming," Luke agreed.  "Which

brings us back to some kind of ambush."

"Right," Mara agreed. "Problem: the only place around  here  to  hide  is

inside one of the rooms off the corridor."

"Which we already tried."

"Right," Mara said. "What we need is for it to follow us  someplace  more

promising. Maybe aft to the turbolaser blisters,  where  we've  got  all  that

wreckage to set up in."

Luke shook his head. "It's not going to let us do that,"  he  said.  "You

saw what it did just now. With both of us clearly in sight, it  still  stopped

two meters in from the command deck corridor, fired a  few  times,  then  went

back to guard duty."

"It did, didn't it?" Mara commented, her expression  changing  subtly  as

she stared at the wall across from them. "You think you  could  pick  out  the

exact spot where it stopped?"

Luke pulled up the memory. "Easily," he  said.  "Both  times  it  stopped

about two meters in, right in the center of the corridor where  it's  as  safe

from possible ambush as it can get. Of course, there's no guarantee  it'll  go

to the same spot the next time."

"Oh, I think there is," Mara said, smiling a sudden, private smile. "Even

if this is one of the models with  an  autonomous  brain,  the  Vagaari  can't

possibly have the skill  to  have  programmed  anything  fancy  into  it.  I'm

guessing it's been given its patrol parameters and is going to stick with them

down to the half centimeter."

"Okay," Luke said, eyeing her suspiciously. He knew  that  look,  and  it

generally meant trouble. "But there's still no cover anywhere  nearby  for  an

ambush."

"That's okay," she said. "For this one, we're not going  to  need  cover.

Here's the plan..."

* * *

Getting a firm grip on his lightsaber, Luke once again stepped  out  into

the command deck corridor.

The droideka's head swiveled toward him,  as  if  not  believing  he  was

actually going to try  this  again.  Luke  took  another  step;  the  droideka

responded by tracking its blasters toward him. "Get ready," Luke murmured.  He

took a third step, sensing Mara stepping into  the  corridor  directly  behind

him?

And suddenly all other sensations and awareness vanished as the  droideka

opened fire.

Luke's lightsaber flashed back and forth, deflecting  the  blasts  as  he

continued to sidle toward the starboard anteroom door. He  reached  it,  dimly

hearing the snap-hiss behind him as Mara ignited her own weapon.

The droideka reacted instantly. Even as Mara stabbed her lightsaber blade

into the blast door, it ceased fire, folded up, and began  rolling  full-speed

toward them. Luke watched its approach, trying to judge the timing?  "Go!"  he

snapped at Mara. He deflected a burst of rolling fire as he  heard  her  close

down her weapon and take off back to the relative safety of the  corridor.  He

held position another half second, then broke out of combat stance and charged

after her.

The droideka kept coming. Luke heard the subtle changes in  pitch  as  it

altered direction to continue the chase, and put some  extra  speed  into  his

running. If he hadn't been right about the  droideka's  positioning  the  last

time, or if the machine wasn't as precisely programmed  as  Mara  was  hoping,

this wasn't going to work.

The sound of the rolling wheel abruptly halted.  "There  it  goes!"  Mara

called, braking to a halt in front of him.

Luke stopped and spun around, lightsaber ignited and ready. The  droideka

was standing in the center of the corridor, exactly where it had been the last

two times it had chased them in this direction, its hazy deflector  shield  up

as it finished the process of unfolding into attack position.

And beneath it, lying on the deck beside one of  its  tripod  feet  where

Mara had carefully placed it before they'd launched their  little  feint,  was

their secret weapon.

Lorana Jinzler's old lightsaber.

Lying inside the droideka's deflector shield.

Luke lifted his lightsaber; but in  salute,  not  defense.  Even  as  the

droideka's blasters settled into firing position, he felt Mara stretch out  to

the Force, twitching Lorana's lightsaber off the deck and rotating it to point

upward toward the large bronzium-armor bulb at  the  base  of  the  droideka's

abdomen. With an asthmatic snap-hiss the green blade blazed to  life,  slicing

into the droideka's heavy alloy body?

Luke had just a fraction of a second of premonition. "Down!" he  snapped,

grabbing Mara in a Force grip and pulling her down onto the  deck  beside  him

with their backs to the doomed machine.

And with a thundering explosion, the droideka disintegrated.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as the blast washed over him like  a

desert sandstorm, the heat singeing the  back  of  his  neck,  the  concussion

lifting him up off the deck and slamming him back down again, the tiny bits of

shattered metal whipping across his back  and  legs  and  arms  like  maddened

stingflies. A wave of acrid smoke  followed  behind  the  blast,  curling  his

nostrils. A second  later  cooler  air  flowed  across  him  in  the  opposite

direction toward the partial vacuum, causing a brief moment of turbulence.

And then, everything was once again still. Cautiously, he opened his eyes

and looked back over his shoulder.

The droideka was gone. So was Lorana's lightsaber, he noted with a twinge

of guilt.

So was most of the portside blast door.

"Come on," he said to Mara, dragging himself upright. He  felt  a  little

woozy, but otherwise he seemed all right. "Let's  get  in  there  before  they

recover."

"What?" Mara asked vaguely, rubbing at her cheek as she  got  shakily  to

her feet and turned around. "Oh. That could be useful."

"Right." Luke looked around for his lightsaber, which had  somehow  ended

up another three meters down the corridor, and stretched out to the  Force  to

call it to his hand. "I take it that bulb thing with all  the  bronzium  armor

was the droideka's mini-reactor?"

"You got it," Mara said, stooping and retrieving her own  lightsaber.  "I

was just trying to shut it down. I didn't mean to  shut  it  down  quite  that

violently."

"You must have hit one of the power  regulators,"  Luke  said,  taking  a

couple of deep breaths as he looked her over. Her clothing was badly scorched,

but aside from a few minor cuts and burns she seemed uninjured. She still  had

some of the same blast-induced fogginess he himself was fighting, but  it  was

rapidly fading away. "Come on?we have to get in there," he repeated.

"Right," Mara said, her voice firmer this time. Taking a deep breath, she

started forward. "Let's do it."

The left side of the blast door had been collapsed inward, crumpling  the

thick metal and leaving a gap big  enough  for  two  people  to  step  through

together. He and Mara did just that, lightsabers ready in front of them.

There was, as it turned out, no need for caution. Outside, the concussion

shock wave from the exploding droideka had had a long, wide corridor to spread

out into as it dissipated its energy. Here,  however,  it  had  had  only  the

relatively confined space of the monitor anteroom to bounce  around  in.  From

the looks of the twenty or so Vagaari sprawled over their  consoles  or  lying

twitching on the deck, the wave must have done some fairly serious bouncing.

"They'll keep," Luke decided, looking  across  the  rows  of  chairs  and

monitor consoles toward the archway and blast door leading  into  the  bridge.

"Let's see if we can get inside before Estosh realizes we're here."

"Go ahead," Mara said, nodding to the left where one of the consoles  had

suddenly started beeping. "I want to see what's coming through over there."

Luke nodded, threading his way through the rows of  consoles  toward  the

door. He was nearly there when there was a hollow metallic clank, and  with  a

ponderous rumble the door began to slide open.

"Sss!" Luke hissed a warning to Mara as he jumped to a group of  consoles

a couple of meters to the right of the door. Closing down his  lightsaber,  he

dropped into concealment behind one of  the  cabinets  and  peered  cautiously

around the side.

Behind the opening door were a pair of nervous-looking  Vagaari  pointing

heavy blaster carbines out into the monitor anteroom. At their feet,  growling

deep in their throats, were a pair of wolvkils.

Luke held his breath, recognizing the  opportunity  that  had  just  been

handed to them.  Protected  by  thick  bulkheads  from  any  damage  from  the

exploding droideka, the Vagaari  in  the  bridge  had  nevertheless  certainly

noticed the blast. Estosh had apparently decided it  was  worth  the  risk  of

sending someone out to see what was going on.

Which meant the bridge now lay wide open to them, with only a  couple  of

soldiers and their pet wolvkils standing in their way.

The question was how best to take advantage of that.

One of the soldiers said something back over his shoulder. Another  voice

replied from inside the bridge. Reluctantly, Luke  thought,  the  two  Vagaari

stepped through the doorway and started across the  room  toward  the  wrecked

blast door, their weapons clutched tightly in their hands.

And as they did so, one of  the  wolvkils  turned  its  head  and  looked

straight at Luke.

Luke looked back, stretching out  to  the  Force.  Back  aboard  Outbound

Flight, he'd touched the nerve centers of a group of the predators,  searching

out the pathways that would let him put them harmlessly to sleep. Now, though,

he needed something subtler, something that would suppress their curiosity  or

their aggressive instincts without doing anything as obvious as dropping  them

like a couple of softdolls. Carefully, quickly, he traced  along  a  wolvkil's

nervous system...

And then, across the room, someone moaned.

The two Vagaari jerked in unison toward the noise, their weapons  jerking

with them. The moan came again, more gurgling this time.  One  of  the  aliens

murmured something to the wolvkils, and Luke was suddenly forgotten as the two

animals headed in that direction. The Vagaari followed,  weapons  held  ready.

Behind them, the door to the bridge reversed its direction and began to  slide

closed.

And with a tight smile, Luke rose from his concealment,  took  two  quick

steps behind the oblivious soldiers, and slipped through the closing door.

CHAPTER 26

The move was so smooth and quiet that for that first half second  no  one

in the bridge even seemed to notice him. Luke took that  moment  for  a  quick

assessment of the situation: ten Vagaari dressed in brown uniforms standing or

sitting  at  various  of  the  multitude  of  control   consoles,   the   huge

transparisteel viewport in front of them still  showing  the  mottled  sky  of

hyperspace, the big status board curving around the starboard bulkhead showing

three more minutes to breakout.

And then the Vagaari  who  had  been  working  the  blast  door  controls

suddenly focused on him and managed a strangled gasp.

The aliens at the consoles spun in their seats, goggling. Luke lifted his

lightsaber and ignited it; and abruptly,  every  one  of  them  hauled  out  a

blaster and opened fire.

Most of that first panicky volley went  wide.  Luke  easily  blocked  the

three shots that had been  accurately  aimed  and,  mindful  of  the  critical

equipment filling the room, took care to send  the  deflected  shots  directly

back to their sources. The next volley was  even  more  poorly  aimed  as  the

surviving Vagaari, suddenly recognizing the danger they were in, scrambled for

some semblance of cover. Luke took advantage of the unintended  lull  to  send

the Vagaari operating the blast door controls sprawling to the deck,  reaching

out to the Force to key the door open again. The  rest  of  the  Vagaari,  now

crouched beside consoles or behind chairs, opened  fire  again;  a  flurry  of

shots later, two more of them lay sprawled  on  the  deck.  Behind  him,  Luke

sensed Mara sprinting to the archway to assist?

"Amacrisier!"

Abruptly, the firing ceased. Luke held his stance, senses alert. "You are

remarkable warriors indeed, you Jedi," one of the  Vagaari  said  calmly  from

midway across the room as he holstered his weapon. "Had  I  not  witnessed  it

myself, I would not have believed it."

"Everyone  needs  a  little  amazement  in  their  lives,  Estosh,"  Luke

commented. "You look good in that uniform."

"I appear now as I truly am," Estosh countered, straightening up proudly.

"Not the pathetically eager drone I made myself to be."

"It was a nice performance," Mara commented as she slipped in through the

doorway to stand beside Luke. "I do think you overplayed it a little, though."

"No matter," Estosh said, starting to stroll casually across the  bridge.

"It fooled you all into thinking we were harmless. That was all that mattered.

"

"Actually, you didn't fool  everyone,"  Mara  corrected  him.  "Aristocra

Formbi was on to you right from the start."

Estosh stopped short. "You lie."

Mara shook her head. "No, but go ahead and believe whatever you want. So.

You've got your droids, and you've even got yourself a  Dreadnaught  to  carry

them in. What's the rest of the plan?"

Estosh's mouths twisted. "Again you choose to let your female  carry  out

your interrogation?" he sneered at Luke as he resumed his pacing.

"She's  just  making  conversation,"  Luke  said,  feeling  his  forehead

creasing. Estosh wasn't just pacing aimlessly, he realized  suddenly.  He  was

heading somewhere specific.

"Speech is  for  drones  and  prey,"  Estosh  said  contemptuously.  "The

conversation of warriors is in their actions."

"We like to think we're pretty good at both," Luke said,  wondering  what

the other was up to. One of the Vagaari who'd been killed in that first volley

was sprawled across a console in  Estosh's  path;  the  helm,  he  tentatively

identified it. Could the dead Vagaari be carrying a special weapon Estosh  was

hoping to get hold of? Or was there an important course change  he  wanted  to

make?

Alternatively, there were two live Vagaari glaring silently at  the  Jedi

from twin consoles a little farther  along  the  same  projected  path.  Could

Estosh be hoping to drop down behind them, using them as living shields  while

he did something clever?

Either way, it was time to put a stop to it.  Luke  shifted  his  weight,

preparing to head off on an intercept path?

"Let him go," Mara murmured from beside him.

Frowning, Luke glanced at her. There was a gleam in those brilliant green

eyes, a microscopic smile creasing the corners of her mouth. She  flicked  her

eyes briefly toward his, and crinkled her nose significantly.

"True warriors do not care if they talk well," Estosh said scornfully.

Luke turned back to Estosh, running through his Jedi  sensory-enhancement

techniques. The Vagaari's meaningless tirade grew painfully loud in his  ears,

but Luke wasn't interested in sounds right now.  Inhaling  slowly,  he  sorted

though the drifting aromas of age and dust, human and Vagaari,  searching  for

whatever it was Mara had already spotted.

There it was; very  faint  and  distant.  He  inhaled  again,  trying  to

identify it...

And stiffened. It wasn't the distinctive  tang  of  explosives,  as  he'd

expected, but something far more virulent.

Poison.

Not just any poison, either. The acidity of the scent betrayed this as  a

corrosive poison, one designed to burn straight through the  protection  of  a

breath mask or atmosphere filter and then do the same to the  victims'  lungs.

It was a last-ditch weapon, lethal to defender and attacker alike,  used  only

when defeat was inevitable but allowing an opponent victory was unthinkable.

He sent a quick, furtive look around the room. There were Jedi techniques

for detoxifying poisons, techniques he had successfully used a number of times

in the past. Problem was, they generally didn't work against corrosive poisons

like this one. The acidic matrix meant that both  detoxification  and  healing

techniques had to be used simultaneously, something that was nearly impossible

for even an experienced Jedi to do without losing control of one or the  other

procedure.

And the poison could be  concealed  virtually  anywhere  on  the  bridge,

remote-triggered by any of the Vagaari.  With  the  traces  he  and  Mara  had

detected already filling the air, there was no way for them to track  it  down

to its source.

He looked questioningly at Mara. She nodded, that gleam still in her eye,

and for an instant their minds touched, possibilities  and  contingencies  and

plans swirling wordlessly between them.

"?who have no strength or cunning of their own," Estosh continued,  still

strolling along on his random-looking walk.

"Oh, I don't know," Mara said. "I'll grant you  have  a  fair  amount  of

brute strength, but your level of cunning is pretty pathetic. Aristocra Formbi

knew about you from the start; and Luke and  I  know  all  about  the  fighter

carrier you left at the Brask Oto Command Station."

"The point being that you're outgunned  and  outmaneuvered,"  Luke  said,

picking up on Mara's cue. If they tried to negotiate with  him,  he  would  be

less likely to suspect they were also on to this last-ditch effort of his.

And if he could actually be persuaded to surrender, so much  the  better.

"So you might as well give up now," Luke went on. "If you  do,  we'll  promise

you and your people safe passage outside Chiss territory."

"Your remaining people, that is," Mara added. "Take too much time arguing

the point, and that number's likely to shrink some more."

"Perhaps," Estosh said, coming to a casual stop  in  front  of  the  helm

console. "But perhaps none of us expect to leave this vessel alive anymore."

He leaned forward with his forearms resting on  the  front  edge  of  the

console, his hands  dangling  casually  a  couple  of  centimeters  above  the

controls. "Perhaps the future glory of the Vagaari Empire will be a sufficient

payment for our efforts."

"No," Luke said quietly. "You won't even get that."

"We shall see," Estosh said. He took a deep breath, straightening  up  to

his full height. As he did so, his fingers dipped  suddenly  to  the  controls

beneath them. There was a quiet beep; and a second later, the  hyperspace  sky

flowing past the viewport turned into starlines and then into stars.

In the distance, Luke could see the  lights  of  the  Brask  Oto  Command

Station directly  ahead.  The  station,  and  the  faint  glow  of  a  hundred

starfighter drives spiraling around it. Even as he felt his throat tighten, he

spotted the multiple flash of laserfire.

"The victory is ours," Estosh said calmly.  He  lifted  his  arms  toward

them. "And now," he added, "you will die."

He clenched his hands into fists; and from each of  his  sleeves  a  thin

spray of pale green mist shot outward.

"Go!" Mara snapped, jumping  sideways  toward  the  red-rimmed  emergency

cabinet fastened to the wall beside the blast door.

Luke took a deep breath, holding it as he charged  through  the  maze  of

control consoles toward Estosh. The two Vagaari nearest  their  commander,  he

noted, had already slumped over, twitching violently with the effects  of  the

poison. He angled to the side; Estosh responded by shifting his  arms  to  aim

the spray more directly toward Luke's face. Clearly, he too  was  holding  his

breath, hoping to live long enough to watch his enemies die.

With a suddenness that startled even Luke, Mara's lightsaber flashed past

overhead, spinning its way across the bridge. Reflexively, Estosh ducked,  his

head turning to follow the weapon's motion.

And as he looked away, Luke took a long step toward him, ducking  low  to

stay beneath the poison spray. With two quick slashes of  his  lightsaber,  he

sliced open Estosh's sleeves and the gas canisters strapped to his forearms.

With an explosive poof! the directional spray became  a  billowing  green

cloud as the entire contents of the canisters were dumped  at  once.  The  fog

enveloped Estosh's head, roiling outward as Luke took a  long  step  backward.

Estosh spun back toward him, his face nearly invisible behind the  cloud,  his

body starting to twitch and contort as the acid burned his skin and the poison

worked its way into his lungs despite his efforts to keep it out. For a moment

his eyes locked with Luke's?

And  then,  across  the  bridge,  Mara's  thrown   lightsaber   hit   the

transparisteel viewport, slicing it open.

In an instant the bridge became the center of  a  windstorm  as  the  air

streamed violently out into space. The expanding poison cloud swirling  around

Estosh was whipped away with the rest of the  atmosphere,  turning  into  thin

green tendrils as it was sucked toward the gap. Behind Luke, reacting  to  the

sudden loss of pressure, the bridge blast doors slammed shut.

The twisting vortex blew Estosh off his feet, dumping him to sprawl  onto

the deck. He turned around to face  Luke,  hands  scrabbling  desperately  and

uselessly across the metal, his face a mask of pain  and  hatred.  "Jedi!"  he

spat out hoarsely, his last breath a curse.

But Luke was already gone. Even as the windstorm erupted  around  him  he

began leaping over and around the control consoles, letting the  wind  at  his

back add to his speed as he raced across the bridge toward the hole  Mara  had

cut. Her lightsaber was bouncing precariously along  the  edge;  reaching  out

with the Force, he closed down the weapon and drew it back to him, jamming  it

into his belt alongside his. His lungs  were  starting  to  ache  as  the  air

pressure dropped nearly to zero, and he again stretched out to the  Force  for

strength. Reaching the viewport, he skidded to a halt  beside  the  crack  and

spun around.

Across the room, Mara had the emergency cabinet open, one hand poised  on

the oxygen lever, the other holding a patch kit. At Luke's nod she pulled down

on the lever and sent the kit spinning through the air into  his  outstretched

hand.

The gale, which had subsided to a faint whisper, began to pick  up  again

as the oxygen tanks across the room flooded more air into the  escaping  flow.

Luke counted out a few more seconds to make sure all of  the  poison  gas  had

been flushed out, then pulled open the patch and slapped it across the hole.

There was a sizzling sound, more felt than really heard in the  painfully

thin atmosphere. The swirling wind subsided, and  he  felt  the  air  pressure

returning to normal. He exhaled the rest of  the  air  he'd  been  holding  in

reserve and took a cautious breath. There was just  a  residual  hint  of  the

poison, drifting through the bridge like a bad memory, far too dilute to  pose

any danger.

He looked around the bridge. The Vagaari lay across their consoles or  in

contorted poses on the deck. All were dead.

He sighed. Jedi respect all life, in any form...

"Snap out of it, Luke," Mara called. "We've still got work to do."

Luke focused on her. She was leaning  over  the  helm  console,  the  one

Estosh had made such an effort to reach before he died, working feverishly  at

the controls. "Right," he said, coming toward her. "What did he do there?"

"Exactly what I thought he would," Mara told him, and he sensed her  grim

satisfaction as she straightened up. "Okay, I caught it in time."  She  nodded

at the viewport. "Now we just have to figure out what we're going to do  about

that."

Luke turned and looked. During the past few minutes, Estosh's final  helm

command had continued to drive them toward the Chiss command station.

And from their new vantage point he could see that the defenders were  in

desperate  straits.  The  Vagaari  fighters  swarming  around   it   were   as

maneuverable as X-wings,  but  with  considerably  more  firepower,  and  they

whipped around the base in a complex dancelike pattern that made  them  nearly

impossible to hit. So far the  base's  shields  were  holding,  but  from  the

methodical way the fighters were hammering at it he knew it wouldn't  be  long

before they'd battered the defenses down far enough to begin  causing  serious

damage. Off to one side, drifting along outside of the attack pattern, was the

Vagaari colony ship, looking like a strange spherical skeleton  now  that  its

brood of fighters had been launched.

"And that's after only a few minutes of combat,"  Mara  murmured.  "These

guys are good."

"The beeping console in the anteroom?" Luke asked.

She nodded. "It was the comm monitor, indicating a signal being sent  out

from the bridge," she confirmed. "It had to have been Estosh's attack  order."

She shook her head. "No wonder Formbi wanted an excuse to  launch  a  campaign

against these people."

"I don't think they'll need more of an excuse than they've already  got,"

Luke declared, crossing to one of the weapons stations. "Can this thing  still

fight?"

"What,  against  ships  that  small?"  Mara  countered.  "Not  a  chance.

Certainly not with just the two of us to run it. Besides, all we're likely  to

have are the anti-meteor laser cannon and maybe one  or  two  of  the  smaller

point-defense stuff. Thrawn demolished all the heavy weaponry fifty years ago.

"

Across the bridge, one of the consoles pinged, and a Vagaari voice  began

speaking faintly from its speakers. "They've spotted us," Mara said,  stepping

toward it. "You have anything you want to say to them?"

"Just a second," Luke said, an idea popping into the back  of  his  mind.

"No, don't answer. Find me a sensor station and tell me what's happening  with

the Vagaari carrier."

He sensed Mara's puzzlement, but she headed off across the bridge without

comment. Luke went the other direction, toward where the weapons consoles were

located. Maybe Thrawn's attack had missed something.

But no. All the turbolaser and ion cannon status boards showed red.  "Got

it," Mara called, and he looked over to see her leaning over another  console.

"The carrier's in pretty bad  shape,  actually.  Power  output  minimal;  life

support systems minimal; serious damage to its north and south poles."

"Probably where its own heavy weapons were," Luke said with satisfaction.

"I was hoping the Chiss had  gotten  in  some  good  shots  before  they  were

surrounded."

"Fine, but that still leaves the fighters," Mara  pointed  out.  "And  us

with no weapons."

"We won't need any," Luke assured her. "Get back to the helm?"

He broke off as a stutter of laserfire raked  suddenly  across  the  hull

just below and forward of the bridge. "What the??"

"Chiss fighters," Mara snapped, grabbing the console for balance  as  the

deck shook with another set of impacts. "At least twenty of  them,  coming  in

from behind."

Luke bit down hard on his lip. He'd had a perfect  plan;  only  now  here

came the Chiss threatening to ruin it.

And maybe to blow the Dreadnaught out from under  them  in  the  process.

"I'll transmit Formbi's message," Mara shouted  as  another  volley  stuttered

across the hull. "If they believe it?"

"No!" Luke cut her off, looking around him. It had to be on this side  of

the bridge somewhere. "No communications, to anyone. Get back to the helm  and

get us an evasive course toward the station."

"What? Luke?"

"Don't argue," Luke snapped, crossing  back  to  the  turbolaser  control

console and looking at the consoles near it. "If we say anything to the Chiss,

the Vagaari will know we can transmit."

"And that's a problem?"

"Yes, that's a problem." Beneath him, the deck started to  sway  slightly

as Mara keyed in the evasive maneuvers he'd called for. "We need to look  like

a ship that can't communicate,  where  Estosh  is  still  in  command?ah,"  he

interrupted himself. There it was, nestled between the ion cannon and  forward

deflector shield consoles: the anti-meteor laser cannon. "Keep us evasive," he

ordered, keying the activation switches.  The  board  shifted  to  green  with

gratifying speed. "Okay. What was Drask's emergency prefix code again?"

"Two-space-one-space-two," Mara told him. "And you've lost me completely.

"

"Just cross your fingers." The Chiss fighters were  swinging  around  for

another pass. Mentally crossing his own, Luke  aimed  the  laser  cannon  just

astern of the group and fired: pulse-pulse; pulse; pulse-pulse.

For a long moment nothing happened. The fighters completed their turn and

regrouped, heading back for another strafing run. Luke  fired  the  pattern  a

second time, again aiming just wide of the group. They kept coming; he fired a

third time?

And then they were on  him,  flashing  over  the  Dreadnaught's  surface,

pouring volleys of laserfire into the hull.

Only this time there were no thuds as sections of  hull  metal  vaporized

explosively away. No impacts; no shaking of the ship; no nothing.

"I'll be a roasted nerf," Mara breathed. "They've  cranked  their  lasers

down to minimal power. They figured out the message."

"And at the same time were smart enough not to give the game away to  the

Vagaari," Luke said, abandoning the laser console and heading off  across  the

bridge in a search pattern again. "I could learn to like  working  with  these

people."

"They're coming around for another pass," Mara  reported.  "You  want  to

keep it evasive?"

"Right," Luke confirmed. The console he was looking for... there.  "Where

are the Chiss fighters?" he called as he keyed for activation.

"Off our portside stern."

"Good," Luke said. "Bring our flank  around  to  portside,  as  if  we're

running interference for the Vagaari."

"Got it."

The view ahead turned as the huge ship began rotating sluggishly  to  the

left, and Luke shifted his attention to the attacking Vagaari. If they reacted

the way every other squadron he'd ever served with  would  react  under  these

circumstances...

He caught his breath. In twos and threes, the Vagaari were  beginning  to

break off their attack on the station. "Keep going," he ordered,  hearing  the

excitement in his voice. "Keep us between the Chiss and the Vagaari."

"The Chiss are firing again," Mara reported. "Again, just for show."

"Perfect," Luke said, his  full  attention  on  the  Vagaari.  They  were

definitely abandoning the station now, pulling away in an orderly fashion  and

forming up again as they headed away at full attack speed.

Moving straight for the Dreadnaught.

Mara  had  spotted  the  new  maneuver,  too.  "Uh...  Luke?"  she   said

hesitantly.

"Trust me," he said. Reaching down to his console, he keyed a switch.

And deep beneath them, he heard the faint sound of metal grinding against

metal as the forward starboard hangar deck doors slid reluctantly open.

Across the room, he heard Mara's huff. "You're not  serious,"  she  said.

"You really think they'll just?? No."

"Of course they  will,"  Luke  said.  "Remember,  their  own  carrier  is

wrecked. What else are they going to do?"

He looked up as she stepped to his side. "You have got  to  be  the  most

brazen con artist I've ever met," she said, shaking her head.

"Better even than Han?" Luke asked innocently. "Why, thank you."

"It wasn't necessarily meant as a compliment," Mara  said.  "That  was  a

pretty serious risk you took."

"Not really," Luke said. "Remember, I know how starfighter pilots  think.

The rule is, any friendly port in a battle." He smiled lopsidedly. "And as far

as they know, we're as friendly as they get."

Together they stood and watched until the last of  the  Vagaari  fighters

had come aboard. "There we go," Luke said, keying the massive docking bay door

closed again. "Now we can send that message of Formbi's off  to  the  station.

I'm sure they'll want to be aboard to help us give the Vagaari pilots the  bad

news."

* * *

Station Commander Prard'enc'iflar  was  a  tall  Chiss  with  a  generous

helping of white in his blue-black hair and a highly intimidating look in  his

glowing red eyes. He was also,  if  Mara  was  reading  the  name  and  facial

structures correctly, a relative of General Drask.

"We are grateful for your assistance in  this  matter,"  he  said  rather

stiffly, his eyes mostly following his own people as  they  moved  around  the

Dreadnaught's bridge  inspecting  the  equipment.  "It  is  evident  now  that

Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano's counsel was well thought."

"Though I daresay you didn't think so at the time?" Mara suggested.

The  glowing  red  eyes  flicked  briefly  to  her.  "Past  thoughts  are

irrelevant to the realities of the present," he said, looking away again. "You

have aided us in the protection of our people and  of  our  military  secrets.

That is high service from those who are not Chiss." He looked suddenly back at

them again. "The secrets are safe, are they not?"

"Almost certainly," Luke assured him. "We had a chance  to  look  at  the

communications log while you were coming aboard. Estosh  made  only  that  one

transmission, and that was a short-range signal to his carrier here  at  Brask

Oto."

"And he couldn't have sent  anything  earlier,"  Mara  added.  "Not  from

inside the Redoubt's natural interference."

"I see," Prard'enc'iflar murmured. "We will hope you are reading the data

correctly."

Mara caught Luke's eye, sensing his wry amusement. For all  his  official

gratitude, it was clear the commander privately wasn't all that  impressed  by

humans and their abilities. Much the way Drask  himself  had  been,  in  fact,

early on in the mission.

It was time to give that attitude a little nudge.

"So what happens now?" she asked. "I mean, as  far  as  the  Vagaari  are

concerned?"

"They have committed multiple acts of war against the Chiss  Ascendancy,"

he said flatly. "Even as we speak a strike force is being assembled, and scout

ships are being sent to search for the enemy's location."

"That'll take time," Mara pointed out. "There's a lot  of  territory  out

there for the Vagaari to hide in. By the time you find them,  there's  a  good

chance they'll realize Estosh's  team  is  overdue  and  fade  back  into  the

background hum."

"Have you an alternative to suggest?" Prard'enc'iflar  demanded.  "Or  do

the mind tricks Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano speaks of allow you  to  pull  the

location of the Vagaari base from dead minds?"

"Actually, we can't even do it with live minds," Mara said. "But we don't

have to."

She pointed to the helm console. "The location is right in there."

"So that's what he was doing at the helm,"  Luke  said,  and  Mara  could

sense his sudden understanding. "I thought he was just bringing the  ship  out

of hyperspace."

"No, he was going for something more long range," Mara said, studying the

confusion in Prard'enc'iflar's face. "You see, Commander, Estosh knew  it  was

over as soon as we reached the bridge. He had  a  last-ditch  weapon  that  he

thought would kill all of us, so he figured that at least we wouldn't win. But

even if he died in the process, he still  wanted  to  get  this  ship  to  his

people."

"So we let him key in an automatic course heading to  take  the  ship  to

wherever their rendezvous point was," Luke said.

"Which is probably also where most of their heavy warships are  waiting."

Mara gestured again to the helm console.  "Would  you  like  me  to  pull  the

coordinates for you?"

For a long moment Prard'enc'iflar just stood there gazing at  her.  Then,

with the twitch of a lip, he gave her  a  small  bow.  "Thank  you,"  he  said

softly. "I would like that very much."

CHAPTER 27

"So there was nothing left at all?" Jinzler asked, just to be sure.

Luke shook his head, his expression pained. "No," he said.  "We  searched

the debris pretty thoroughly afterward. We couldn't even find a piece  of  the

amethyst to bring back to you. I'm sorry. I know how much it meant to you."

"It's all right," Jinzler told him. And for a wonder, it really was. That

lightsaber had been the last thing that had belonged to his sister.  His  last

link to her life.

And yet, the loss wasn't hurting nearly as much as he would have expected

it to. Perhaps because he no longer needed objects to remember her by. Perhaps

because all those painful memories were finally beginning to heal themselves.

And to heal him.

"Actually, it's rather fitting," he added. "Lorana came  aboard  Outbound

Flight dedicating herself to protect and nurture the people  here.  It's  only

fitting that her lightsaber be sacrificed for them, just as she herself was."

Luke and Mara exchanged glances, and he could see the  caution  in  their

expressions. As far as they were concerned, there was still no way of  knowing

how Lorana had died, or what she had been doing at the time of her death.

But Jinzler didn't care. He knew she'd died  defending  Outbound  Flight.

That was all that mattered.

From somewhere down the corridor came a multiple thump of dropped  boxes,

and a strangled curse. "Moving day is such fun,  isn't  it?"  Mara  commented,

peering down the corridor in the direction of the noise.

"Especially when half the tenants are convinced they're  being  evicted,"

Jinzler agreed ruefully.

"Uliar and the Managing Council still don't want to leave?" Luke asked.

"The Chiss are practically having to  drag  them  out  by  their  heels,"

Jinzler said. "I know; it's crazy."

"Not that crazy," Mara  said,  her  eyes  thoughtful.  "Even  if  there's

nothing here for them anymore, it's still been their home for fifty years."

"It's all  about  familiarity,"  Luke  agreed  soberly.  "No  matter  how

unpleasant or dreary a place might have become, it's always hard  to  give  up

something you've become so used to."

Jinzler nodded, remembering back to his childhood. "Coruscant."

"Tatooine," Luke said.

"The Empire," Mara added quietly.

Luke  threw  her  an  odd  look,  but  turned  back  to  Jinzler  without

commenting. "Speaking of empires, I understand you're going to the  Empire  of

the Hand with them?"

"I'm going with Rosemari and Evlyn," he corrected. "Since they insist  on

staying with the rest of the Colonists, I guess that's where I'm going, too."

"I wish you'd talk to them," Luke said. "Nothing against  the  Empire  of

the Hand, but they don't have any way to give her proper Jedi training."

Jinzler lifted his hands, palms upward. "The Colonists don't want  to  go

to the New Republic," he reminded Luke. "It's got the  word  Republic  in  its

name, and it's got Jedi. End of argument."

"I understand," Luke said. "I  just  don't  like  letting  Evlyn  go  off

without a proper instructor, that's all. Keep working on them, will you?"

"For whatever good it'll do." Jinzler  smiled  lopsidedly.  "Actually,  I

suspect that Commander Fel's going  to  be  working  the  opposite  direction,

hoping that Evlyn's presence will induce you to come over to his side and  set

up an academy there."

"Did he say that?" Luke asked, frowning.

"Not in so many words," Jinzler said. "But he did ask me to tell you that

Admiral Parck's offer of a job is still open."

"Right," Luke said, throwing another sideways look at Mara. "Be  sure  to

thank him the next time you see him."

"That may be a while," Jinzler warned. "I understand he and the  Five-Oh-

First have already left with General Drask."

"Probably gone to join up with the Vagaari attack force," Luke said.

"Probably," Jinzler agreed. "Both Drask and Fel strike me as the sort  of

people who like to see things through to their conclusion."

"Rather like you?" Mara suggested.

"Hardly," Jinzler admitted, glancing around the ancient  metal  corridor.

"I may have come here to see the end of Outbound Flight, but  I  didn't  do  a

very good job of being there for  the  middle.  Or  the  beginning,  for  that

matter."

"I was referring to your decision to stick with Rosemari and Evlyn," Mara

said.

Jinzler blinked. "Oh. Well... maybe. I guess we'll see how I do."

"Anyway, keep in touch," Luke said, taking Mara's arm. "The Chaf  Envoy's

taking Formbi out of here in about an hour, and we need to  say  a  few  quick

good-byes before we take off."

"I'll try," Jinzler said dubiously. "I don't know how well  any  messages

would get through, though."

"They'll do fine," Luke assured him. "I know Parck has some contact  with

Bastion these days, and after this I think the Nine  Ruling  Families  may  be

willing to discuss diplomatic relations with Coruscant. We should get anything

you send."

"Provided some hotshot in a relay station doesn't intercept it along  the

way," Mara added.

Jinzler felt his face redden. "There's that,  of  course,"  he  conceded.

"Another good reason for me to sit out in the Empire of the Hand for a while."

"Don't worry, we'll square things with Karrde," Luke  assured  him.  "You

just take care of Rosemari and Evlyn."

"I will." Jinzler held out  his  hand.  "Good-bye.  And  thank  you.  For

everything."

* * *

The trip back through the Redoubt was,  thankfully,  uneventful.  By  the

time the Chaf Envoy emerged at the Brask Oto station,  the  news  was  waiting

that the Chiss strike force had successfully located and attacked the  Vagaari

warships gathered together for  their  anticipated  rendezvous  with  Estosh's

team. General Drask reported that the enemy had been  taken  by  surprise  and

destroyed.

Of course, Luke reminded himself privately, that was probably what Thrawn

had reported fifty years ago, too. Whether the Vagaari would still be a threat

somewhere down the line would remain to be seen.

He and Mara took their leave of their hosts, accepting one  final  thanks

from the still bedridden Formbi, and headed for home.

The Jade Sabre was cruising  through  hyperspace,  and  they  were  lying

together in bed in their stateroom, when Luke finally asked  the  question  he

knew his wife had been expecting for days. "So,"  he  said,  deciding  on  the

casual approach. "Have you made your decision yet?"

"Decision?" Mara asked, apparently deciding to play it coy.

"You know what decision," Luke growled, not really in the mood  for  coy.

"About whether you're going to take Parck up on his offer to join  the  Empire

of the Hand."

"That  would  certainly  be  something,  wouldn't  it?"  Mara   commented

thoughtfully. "All those people on Coruscant who never really liked or trusted

me would have a Harvest Day special with that one."

"I'm being serious," Luke said.

"Hey, relax," she soothed. "I'm joking. You know I'm staying with you."

"I know that." He braced himself. "What I meant was... if you really need

to be there, I'm willing to go with you."

"I know," she said quietly, reaching over and taking his hand.  "And  you

don't know how much it means to me that you are."

She hesitated. "I won't deny that the  idea  has  some  attraction,"  she

admitted. "Ever since this  whole  thing  started,  I've  been  fighting  some

strange survivor's guilt over the fact  that  I  lived  through  the  Empire's

destruction when so many other people didn't. I kept wondering if I  was  just

lucky, or whether there was some other reason behind that."

"Of course there was," Luke said.

He felt the subtle muscle movements as she smiled. "I meant  some  reason

besides completing your life and making you  happier  than  you  ever  thought

possible."

"Ah," he said dryly. "And what did you conclude?"

"I don't know," she conceded. "All I know is that I was  given  about  as

clear a choice as anyone could hope to have. On one side  was  the  chance  to

again serve an empire, this time an empire that  had  all  the  strengths  I'd

always admired but none of the evil. A chance to give back some of my time and

ability to the heirs of the  people  who'd  spent  so  much  time  and  energy

teaching me those skills in the first place."

"And on the other side,  you  have  the  New  Republic,"  Luke  murmured.

"Squabbling, political brushfires,  Bothan  back-blading,  and  an  occasional

diehard who still doesn't trust you."

"That was the choice, all right," Mara said. "But no matter how nice  and

ordered and comfortable the Empire of the Hand might look, I've  decided  that

my place right now is with the New Republic."

"You're sure?" Luke asked, one last time.

"I'm positive," she said. "Besides, how could I drag you away  from  your

sister and everything you fought so hard for?"

"It would have been tricky," he admitted. "But I could  have  adapted.  I

guess I'm just surprised that after all this time you would still even have to

make such a decision."

"I wondered about that myself," Mara agreed. "But I could feel the  Force

in this, right from the very beginning. Maybe it was that lingering survivor's

guilt that had to be dealt with. Or maybe the New  Republic  is  in  for  some

rough times and I needed to be clear in my own  mind  exactly  where  I  stood

before it happened. Good enough reasons for the Force to send us out here."

"Not to mention the fact that we were needed to keep Formbi and  everyone

else alive?"

"There's that, too," Mara agreed.  "I  always  like  it  when  I  get  to

accomplish three things  at  the  same  time.  It  makes  life  so  much  more

efficient."

"Yes," Luke murmured. "And I'd be the first to say that the New  Republic

is certainly where you're needed the most. So is that finally settled?"

"It's settled," she confirmed. "We're in for  the  duration,  dear."  She

squeezed his hand. "I'm just sorry your own quest didn't turn out so well."

He shrugged. "No, but it's not really over yet. I still think there  must

be useful records of the old Jedi somewhere aboard Outbound Flight. We're just

going to have to wait until we get hold of the entire thing and can go through

it console by console."

"Which could be a while," Mara warned. "It could take the Chiss years  to

dig it out of that rock pile, especially with the shape it's in."

"That's okay," Luke said. "We've lived this long without it. We can  wait

a few more years if necessary. Patience is a virtue."

"Never had much use for it myself," Mara said lightly.

"Yes, I've noticed." Luke paused. "You want to tell me  the  rest  of  it

now?"

"What rest of it?"

"The other thing that's had you walking around like a kid in  a  cemetery

at midnight," he said. "The thing you've been trying to bury where you hope  I

won't notice it."

He could sense her sudden discomfort. Clearly, she had indeed been hoping

he wouldn't notice. "It's nothing, really," she hedged. "Just a weird  thought

from my overly suspicious imagination that I can't quite get rid of."

"Origin and caveats noted," Luke said. "Quit stalling and let's have it."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Did it ever occur to you?I mean,  did  you

ever really think about it?just how sneaky and convoluted this whole scheme of

Formbi's was?"

"You forgot to add underhanded."

"Oh, absolutely underhanded," Mara agreed. "The idea of dangling Outbound

Flight and the Redoubt in front of the Vagaari precisely so  they  could  push

the Chiss just that little bit too far is about as devious  as  you  can  get.

Especially when you add the extra touch of bringing us aboard as the  ultimate

wild card for Formbi to play against them."

"Devious and a half," Luke agreed. "So?"

She took a deep breath. "So who do we know  who  specialized  in  exactly

that kind of convoluted plan?"

"I don't know," Luke said, his voice frowning. "Car'das, maybe? You  said

he used to work with Karrde, who's always been  pretty  good  at  the  devious

approach himself. And we already know he was the one  who  maneuvered  Jinzler

aboard."

"I suppose it could have been him," Mara said. "Though  from  what  Shada

said it sounded like he mostly keeps out of galactic affairs these days. I was

thinking more about someone with a proven record for  strategic  and  tactical

finesse."

Luke tensed as he suddenly saw where she was  going.  "No,"  he  insisted

reflexively. "It couldn't be. We destroyed that clone, remember?"

"We destroyed a clone," Mara corrected him. "But who's to say  he  didn't

have another one stashed away somewhere?"

"No," Luke said firmly. "It's impossible. If there was another  clone  of

Thrawn running around, we would have heard about it by now."

"Would we?" Mara countered.  "Remember,  according  to  Parck,  the  only

reason Thrawn came back to attack the New Republic in the first place  was  to

whip us into fighting shape for some danger looming out there at the  edge  of

the galaxy. Maybe he figures we're as ready as  we're  going  to  be  and  has

decided to concentrate on clearing out some of the  local  troublemakers  from

his own backyard."

"Or maybe the Vagaari were more than just locals," Luke said, feeling his

stomach tighten. This was making far more sense  than  he  cared  for.  "Maybe

they've already been in contact with the threat Parck  and  Fel  mentioned  to

you."

"Could be," Mara agreed. "Of course, that would just give the  Chiss  one

more reason to squash the Vagaari as quickly as possible. Not  only  would  it

eliminate part of the threat,  but  they  might  also  learn  something  about

possible new enemies when they sifted through the rubble."

Luke shook his head. "I wish you'd mentioned this  while  we  were  still

aboard the Chaf Envoy" he said. "We could have asked Formbi about it."

"That's exactly why I didn't mention it then," Mara told him. "Because we

probably would have asked, and frankly I don't want to know. If Thrawn's back,

I think we can assume he's more or less on our side."

She exhaled between her teeth. "If he's not back, I guess we'll all  just

have to make do on our own."

"Yes," Luke murmured. "But we'll do all right."

"I know." Mara rolled onto her side to press herself closer  against  her

husband, and Luke felt the warmth of her body and  spirit  flowing  into  his.

"Because whatever it is we wind up facing, we'll be facing it together."

He reached his arm around to stroke her cheek. Yes,  they  would  indeed.

Because whatever prohibitions and restrictions the Jedi Order had  imposed  on

its members during the Old Republic, he knew now in  the  core  of  his  being

that, somehow, those restrictions no longer applied  to  him  and  his  fellow

Jedi. This was the New Jedi Order, and he and Mara were walking together in as

perfect a harmony with each other and with the Force as he could ever  expect.

"The Force will be with you always, Mara," he murmured in  her  ear.  "And  so

will I."

"Yes," she murmured back. "Whatever the future brings."

They were still holding on to each other as they fell asleep.