Outbound Flight Page 16

  "You need not fear their presence," Thrawn assured him. "Nothing said will be repeated outside this room."

  "That's not the point," Mitth'ras'safis said. "We have Chiss business to discuss, which is none of their concern."

  "Perhaps not now," Thrawn said. "But in the future, who knows?"

  Mitth'ras'safis eyes narrowed. "Meaning . . . ?"

  Thrawn shook his head. "You're gifted in many ways, my brother," he said. "But you have yet to develop the farsighted­ness you will need to survive the intrigues and conflicts of politi­cal life." He gestured toward Car'das and Maris. "We have been granted a rare opportunity: the chance to meet and interact with members of a vast but hitherto unknown political entity, people with insights and thoughts different from our own."

  "Is that why you insist on bringing them along even when giving an admiral an official tour?" Mitth'ras'safis asked, eyeing Car'das doubtfully. "You think their thoughts will be of value?"

  "All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not," Thrawn said. "But equally important are the social and intellectual bonds we are building between us. Some­day, our Ascendancy and their Republic will make contact, and the friends and potential allies we create now may well define what direction that contact will take."

  He looked at Car'das and Maris in turn. "I imagine both of them have already come to that same conclusion, though of course from their own point of view."

  Car'das looked at Maris. Her slightly twisted lip was all the answer he needed. "Yes, actually, we have," he admitted.

  "You see?" Thrawn said. "Already we understand each other, at least to a small extent."

  "Maybe," Mitth'ras'safis said doubtfully.

  "But you came here with specific business to discuss," Thrawn reminded him. "May my guests call you Thrass, by the way?"

  "Absolutely not," Mitth'ras'safis said stiffly. He looked at Maris, and his expression softened a little. "Though I understand you saved my brother's life," he added reluctantly.

  "I was glad I could help, Syndic Mitthrassafis," Maris said in Cheunh.

  Mitth'ras'safis snorted and looked at Thrawn, and the hint of a wry smile finally touched his lips. "They really aren't very good at it, are they?"

  "You could try Minnisiat," Thrawn offered. "They speak that better than they do Cheunh. Or you could use Sy Bisti, which I believe you also know."

  "Yes," Mitth'ras'safis said, switching to an oddly accented Sy Bisti. "If that would be easier."

  "Actually, we'd prefer you stick with Cheunh, if you don't mind," Car'das said in that language. "We could use the prac­tice."

  "That you could," Mitth'ras'safis said. He hesitated, then in­clined his head. "And since you were both instrumental in saving my brother's life . . . I suppose it would be all right for you to call me Thrass."

  Maris bowed her head. "Thank you. We're honored by your acceptance."

  "I just don't want to keep hearing my name mispronounced." Thrass turned back to Thrawn. "Now," he said, his tone harden­ing again. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

  "The job for which I was commissioned," Thrawn replied. "I'm protecting the Ascendancy from its enemies."

  "Its enemies," Thrass said, leaning on the word. "Not poten­tial enemies. Do you hear the difference?"

  "Yes," Thrawn said. "And no."

  Thrass lifted a hand, let it slap against his thigh. "Let me be honest, Thrawn," he said. "The Eighth Ruling Family is not happy with you."

  "They sent you all the way here to tell me that?"

  "This isn't a joking matter," Thrass bit out. "That pirate treasure ship was bad enough. But this last escapade was far and away over all the lines. And right under an admiral's nose, too."

  "The Vagaari aren't pirates, Thrass," Thrawn said, his voice low and earnest. "They're a completely nomadic species—hundreds of thousands of them, perhaps millions. And sooner or later, they will reach the Ascendancy's borders."

  "Fine," Thrass said. "When they do, we'll destroy them."

  "But why wait until then?" Thrawn pressed. "Why leave our backs turned while millions of other beings are forced to suffer?"

  "The philosophical answer is that we don't force anyone to suffer," Thrass countered. "The practical answer is that we can't defend the entire galaxy."

  "I'm not asking to defend the entire galaxy."

  "Really? And where would you have us stop?" Thrass ges­tured toward the wall. "Ten light-years beyond our borders? A hundred? A thousand?"

  "I agree we can't protect the entire galaxy," Thrawn said. "But it's foolhardy to always permit our enemies to choose the time and place of battle."

  Thrass sighed. "Thrawn, you can't continue to push the lines this way," he said. "Peaceful watchfulness is the Chiss way, and the Nine Ruling Families won't stand by forever while you ig­nore basic military doctrine. More to the point, the Eighth Fam­ily has made it clear that they'll release you before they permit your actions to damage their standing."

  "We were both born as commoners," Thrawn reminded him. "I can live that way again if I have to." His lips tightened briefly. "But I'll do what I can to assure that the Eighth Family doesn't release or rematch you on my account."

  "I'm not worried about my own position," Thrass said stiffly.

  "I'm trying to keep my brother from throwing away a fine and honorable career for nothing."

  Thrawn's eyes took on a distant look. "If I do throw it away," he said quietly, "I guarantee that it won't be for nothing."

  For a long moment the two brothers gazed at each other in silence. Then Thrass sighed. "I don't understand you, Thrawn," he said. "I'm not sure I ever have."

  "Then just trust me," Thrawn suggested.

  Thrass shook his head. "I can trust you only as far as the Nine Ruling Families do," he said. "And that trust is strained to the breaking point. This latest incident . . ." He shook his head again.

  "Do you have to tell them?" Maris spoke up.

  "With four warriors dead?" Thrass countered, turning his glowing eyes on her. "How do I keep that a secret?"

  "It was a reconnaissance mission that got out of hand," Maris said. "Commander Thrawn didn't go there with any inten­tion of fighting."

  "Any mission to that region would have been pushing the lines," Thrass told her heavily. "Still, I can try to frame it in those terms." He looked back at Thrawn. "But it may be that nothing I say will make any difference. Action was taken, and deaths en­sued. That may be all the Ruling Families will care about."

  "I know you'll do what you can," Thrawn said

  "But is what I can do the same as what I should do?" Thrass asked. "It would seem that protecting you from the conse­quences of self-destructive decisions merely gives you freedom to make more of them. Is that really the best way to serve my brother and my family?"

  "I know what my answer would be," Thrawn said. "But you must find the answer for yourself."

  "Perhaps someday," Thrass said. "In the meantime, I have a report to prepare." He gave Thrawn a resigned look. "And a brother to protect."

  "You must do what you feel right," Thrawn said. "But you don't know these Vagaari. I do. And I will defeat them, no mat­ter what the cost."

  Thrass shook his head and went back to the door. There he stopped, his hand over the control "Has it ever occurred to you," he said, not turning around, "that attacks like yours might actually provoke beings like the Vagaari to move against us? That if we simply left them alone, they might never become any threat to the Ascendancy at all?"

  "No, I've never had any such thoughts," Thrawn replied evenly.

  Thrass sighed. "I didn't think so. Good night, Thrawn." Tapping the control to open the door, he left the room.

  12

  There," C'baoth said, pointing through the viewport as their transport came around the curve of Yaga Minor. "You see it?"

  "Yes," Lorana said as she gazed at the massive object hang­ing in low orbit over the planet. Six of the brand-new Dread­naught warships, a
rranged in a hexagon pattern around a central storage core, the whole thing tied together by a series of massive turbolift pylons. "It's quite impressive."

  "It's more than just impressive," C'baoth said gravely. "Therein lies the future of the galaxy."

  Lorana stole a furtive glance at him. For the past three weeks, ever since her official elevation from Padawan to full Jedi Knight, C'baoth had been showing a marked change in attitude. He spoke with her more often and at greater length, asking her opinion on politics and other matters, opening up to her as if to a full equal.

  It was gratifying, even flattering. But at the same time, it stirred some uncomfortable feelings. Just as he'd expected so much of her as his Padawan, it seemed that he now expected her to suddenly have all the wisdom, experience, and power of a sea­soned, experienced Jedi.

  This trip to Yaga Minor was just one more example. Out of the clear and cloudless sky he'd invited her to come along with him to observe the final stages of preparation. It would have been more fitting, in her opinion, for him to invite Master Yoda or one of the other Council members to see him off on his his­toric journey.

  But instead he'd chosen her.

  "The crew and families are already aboard, stowing their gear and making final preparations," C'baoth continued. "So are most of the Jedi who'll be accompanying us, though two or three are still on their way. You'll want to meet them all before we leave, of course."

  "Of course," Lorana said automatically, feeling her muscles tense as a horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. "When you say we, Master C'baoth, who exactly—I mean—"

  "Don't flounder, Jedi Jinzler," C'baoth reproved her mildly. "A Jedi's words, like a Jedi's thoughts, must always be clear and confident. If you have a question, ask it."

  "Yes, Master C'baoth." Lorana braced herself. "When you say, we . . . are you expecting me to come with you on Outbound Flight?"

  "Of course," he said, frowning at her. "Why else do you think I recommended your elevation to Jedi Knighthood so soon?"

  A familiar tightness wrapped itself around Lorana's chest. "I thought it was because I was ready."

  "Obviously, you were," C'baoth said. "But you still have much to learn. Here, aboard Outbound Flight, I'll have the nec­essary time to teach you."

  "But I can't go," Lorana protested, her brain skittering around desperately for something to say. She didn't want to leave the Republic and the galaxy. Certainly not with so much work here to be done. "I haven't made any preparations, I haven't asked permission from the Jedi Council—"

  "The Council has granted me whatever I need," C'baoth cut in tartly. "As for preparations, what sort of preparations does a Jedi need?"

  Lorana clamped her teeth firmly together. How could he have made such a decision without even consulting her? "Master C'baoth, I appreciate your offer. But I'm not sure—"

  "It's not an offer, Jedi Jinzler," C'baoth interrupted. "You're a Jedi now. You go wherever the Council chooses to send you."

  "Anywhere in the Republic, yes," Lorana said. "But this is different."

  "Only different in your mind," C'baoth said firmly. "But you're young. You'll grow." He pointed at the approaching col­lection of ships. "Once you see what we've done and meet the other Jedi you'll be more enthusiastic about the destiny that awaits us."

  "What about this one?" Tarkosa asked, tapping his fingers on a rack of negative couplings. "Chas?"

  "Just a second, just a second," Uliar growled, scanning the racks already in place as he silently cursed the crowd of tech assis­tants the Supreme Chancellor's Office had sent from Coruscant to help with the loading. For the most part, they'd proven them­selves completely useless: dropping delicate components, sorting others into the wrong storage areas, and more often than not doubling up on one rack of spares while the proper set was left buried somewhere in the bowels of the storage core far beneath them. "It goes there," he told Tarkosa, pointing to a spot next to a rack of cooling-pump parts.

  "What in the worlds?" a deep voice said from behind him.

  Uliar turned to see a balding middle-age man in a plain tan robe standing in the doorway. "Who are you?" he demanded.

  "Jedi Master Justyn Ma'Ning," the other said, his forehead creasing as he surveyed the chaos in the room. "This equipment should have been stowed two days ago."

  "It was," Uliar said. "Very badly. We're trying to fix it."

  "Ah," Ma'Ning said, a wryly knowing look on his face. Ap­parently, he'd met the Coruscant tech assistants, too. "Better speed it up. Master C'baoth is arriving today, and he won't be happy if he sees things this way." With a nod, he turned and headed off down the corridor.

  "Like Jedi happiness is our problem," Uliar muttered under his breath at the empty doorway. He turned back to the storage racks; and as he did so, a repeater diagnostic display suddenly flickered on.

  "That got it?" a voice called, and a young man popped his head into view through an open floor access panel.

  "Hang on." Uliar stepped to the display and ran through its options list. "Looks perfect," he confirmed. Coruscant's tech as­sistants might be worthless, but the few actual techs who'd come with them were another story completely "Thanks."

  "No problem," the other said, setting his toolbox on the floor beside the panel and pulling himself out. "You still having trouble with the repeater in the aft reactor bay?"

  "Unless what you just did fixed that one, too," Tarkosa said.

  "Probably not," the young man said as he maneuvered the access panel back into place. "These things are hooked parallel, but I doubt the circuit extends that far. I'll try to get to it when I get back from D-One."

  "Why not do it now?" Uliar suggested. "D-One's all the way over on the far side of the hexagon. Why go all the way there and then have to come all the way back?"

  "Because D-One's also the command ship," the tech re­minded him. "Mon Gals might look like pushovers, but when Captain Pakmillu says he want something fixed, he means now."

  Tarkosa snorted. "What's he going to do, bust all of us to civilian?"

  "Don't know what he'd do to you," the tech said drily, "but I'd still like to have a job once you fly off into the wild black. It won't take long, I promise."

  "We'll hold you to that," Uliar said. "You sure we can't per­suade you to come along? You're light-years ahead of most of our regular techs."

  A muscle twitched in the other's cheek. "I doubt that, but thanks anyway," he said. "I'm not ready to leave civilization just yet."

  "You'd better hope civilization doesn't leave you," Tarkosa warned. "The way things are going on Coruscant, I wouldn't bet on it."

  "Maybe," the tech said, picking up his toolbox. "See you later."

  "Okay," Uliar said. "Thanks again."

  The other smiled and left the room. "Good man," Tarkosa commented. "You ever get his name?"

  Uliar shook his head. "Dean something, I think. Doesn't matter—it's not like we'll ever see him again after tomorrow.

  Okay, that rack of shock capacitors goes next to the negative cou­plings."

  "The entire system can be run from here," Captain Pakmillu said, waving a flippered hand around the vast Combined Op­erations Center. "That means that if there's an emergency or disaster on any of the ships, countermeasures can be instituted immediately without the need to physically send people to those sites."

  "Impressive," Obi-Wan said, looking around. Situated just aft of the cross-corridor behind the bridge/monitor room com­plex, the ComOps Center stretched probably thirty meters aft and filled the entire space between the Dreadnaught's two main bow corridors. It was currently a hive of activity, with dozens of humans and aliens bustling around and half the access panels and consoles open for last-minute checks or adjustment.

  "What's that thing?" Anakin asked, pointing to a low console two rows over from where they were standing. "It looks like a Podracer control and monitor system."

  "You have sharp eyes, young one," Pakmillu said, his own large eyes rolling toward the boy. "Yes
, it is. We use it to control our fleet of speeders and swoops."

  "You're joking," Obi-Wan said, frowning at the console. "You run swoops through these corridors?"

  "Outbound Flight is a huge place, Master Kenobi," Pakmillu reminded him. "While each Dreadnaught is linked by the pylon turbolifts to its neighbors and the core, there's still a great deal of travel involved where the turbolifts do not go. Speeders are vital for moving crewers back and forth in both emergency and non-emergency situations."

  "Yes, but swoops?" Obi-Wan persisted. "Wouldn't a more ex­tensive turbolift system have been safer and more efficient?"

  "Certainly," Pakmillu rumbled. "Unfortunately, it would also have been more expensive. The original Dreadnaughts did not include such a system, and the Senate did not wish to pay the costs of retrofitting."

  "These control systems really are pretty good, though," Anakin assured him. "Some of the Podracers on Tatooine use them when they're trying out a new course."

  "There aren't fifty thousand people wandering in and out of a Podracing course where they could be run over," Obi-Wan pointed out.

  "But there are plenty of animals on the courses," Anakin countered, a little too tartly. "You know, like dewbacks and ban­thas?"

  "Anakin—" Obi-Wan began warningly.

  "We have already tried the system, Master Kenobi," Pakmillu put in quickly. "As Padawan Skywalker said, it works quite well."

  "I'll take your word for it," Obi-Wan said, eyeing Anakin darkly. The boy had developed a bad habit of disrespect lately, es­pecially in public where he perhaps thought that his master would be reluctant to reprimand him. It was partly his age, Obi-Wan knew, but even so it was unacceptable.

  But Anakin also knew just how far he could push it. In re­sponse to Obi-Wan's reproving look, he dropped his gaze, his expression indicating at least outward contrition.

  And with that, this particular incident was apparently over. Making a mental note to have yet another talk with the boy the next time they were alone, Obi-Wan turned back to Pakmillu. "I understand you'll be making a short tour through Republic space before you enter the Unknown Regions."