Outbound Flight Page 17

  "A sort of shakedown cruise, yes," Pakmillu said. "We must confirm that our equipment is functioning properly before we go beyond reach of repair facilities."

  He stepped to a nearby navigational console and touched a key, and a holo of the galaxy appeared overhead. "From here we go to Lonnaw in Droma sector," he said, pointing. "After that, we'll cut through the edge of Glythe sector to Argai in Haldeen sector. Then we'll travel through Kokash and Mondress sectors, with a final stop possible in Albanin sector if it seems necessary."

  "That's a lot of stops," Obi-Wan said.

  "Most will just be flybys," Pakmillu assured him. "We won't actually stop unless there are problems."

  "What happens then?" Anakin asked.

  "If all goes well, three weeks from now we'll formally enter Unknown Space," Pakmillu said. "At a point approximately two hundred thirty light-years from the edge of Wild Space we'll stop for a final navigational calibration"—his mouth tendrils wiggled as he shut down the holo—"and we'll then begin our journey in earnest. Through the Unknown Regions, and to the next galaxy."

  Anakin whistled softly. "How long before you'll get back?"

  "Several years at least," Pakmillu told him. "But the storage core has supplies enough for ten years, and we expect to be able to supplement its stores of foodstuffs and water along the way. In addition, our numbers may well diminish if we find hospitable worlds to colonize."

  "You're not just going to leave people behind in the Un­known Regions, are you?" Anakin asked, frowning.

  "If we do, it will be with enough food and equipment to get settled," Pakmillu assured him. "We would also leave one of the Dreadnaughts behind for defense and transport. As you can see from Outbound Flight's design, it will be relatively easy to detach a single ship from the rest of the complex."

  Anakin shook his head. "Still sounds dangerous."

  "We are well prepared," Pakmillu reminded him. "And of course, we have eighteen Jedi aboard. It will be safe."

  "Or at least as safe as one can be anywhere in these times," Obi-Wan murmured.

  "And it will be a glorious adventure, as well," Pakmillu con­tinued, eyeing Anakin. "A pity you will not be joining us."

  "There are still a lot of things I want to do here," Anakin said, an unexpected flicker of emotion coloring his voice and sense. He looked sideways at Obi-Wan, and the emotion van­ished beneath a more proper Jedi composure. "Besides, I can't leave my master until my training is complete."

  "With six Jedi Masters aboard you would have several choices of a teacher," Pakmillu pointed out.

  "That's not really how it works," Obi-Wan told him. It amazed him sometimes how people who had no idea whatsoever of the inner workings of Jedi methodology nevertheless had equally few qualms about expressing that ignorance. "You said Master C'baoth will be arriving soon?"

  "He is in fact here," C'baoth's voice boomed from across the room.

  Obi-Wan turned. There, just entering the room, were C'baoth and Lorana Jinzler. "This is a surprise, Master Kenobi," C'baoth continued as he strode casually through the bustle of ac­tivity. No one actually had to move to let him pass, Obi-Wan no­ticed, but there were quite a few near misses. Fortunately, most of the techs were too preoccupied to even notice his passage. Lo­rana picked her way through the crowd more carefully, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought you'd be on your way back to Sulorine by now."

  "I was relieved of that assignment," Obi-Wan said. "There's something I need to discuss with you, Master C'baoth."

  C'baoth nodded. "Certainly. Go ahead."

  Obi-Wan braced himself. Between C'baoth and Anakin, this was likely to be unpleasant. "Anakin and I would like to join the expedition."

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anakin turn to him in as­tonishment. "We would?" the boy asked.

  "We would," Obi-Wan said firmly. "At least to the edge of the galaxy."

  C'baoth's lip quirked. "So Master Yoda finally concedes that I might indeed find Vergere?"

  "Who's Vergere?" Lorana asked.

  "A missing Jedi," C'baoth said, his eyes still on Obi-Wan's face. "Master Kenobi tried once to find her and failed."

  "There was nothing in the voyage mandate about a search and rescue mission," Pakmillu said, his voice suddenly wary.

  "That's because it's Jedi business, Captain, and none of your concern," C'baoth told him. "Don't worry, it won't interfere with our schedule." He lifted. his eyebrows toward Obi-Wan. "I hope you didn't ask to come along in the hope of assuaging any feelings of guilt."

  "I didn't ask to come at all," Obi-Wan said. "I simply do as the Council directs me."

  "As do we all," C'baoth said, an edge of irony in his voice as he shifted his eyes to Anakin. "What about you, young Sky-walker? You seem unhappy with this change in your plans."

  Obi-Wan held his breath. There were several reasons he hadn't told Anakin in advance about Windu's mandate, not the least of them being the fact that the boy still obviously held C'baoth in high esteem. If he'd told Anakin they were coming to Yaga Minor to keep an eye on the man, he would have pressed for further explanation. It wouldn't have done to disillusion him with Windu's concerns about C'baoth's possible involvement with the Barlok incident.

  Fortunately, it was quickly evident that the decision to keep the boy in the dark had been the right one. "I'm not unhappy at all, Master C'baoth," Anakin said with a clear voice and sense of complete honesty. "I was just surprised. Master Obi-Wan hadn't told me about it."

  "But you do want to come see the Unknown Regions with me?"

  Anakin hesitated. "I don't want to leave the Republic for­ever," he said. "But I was impressed by how you handled things on Barlok, ending the deadlock and all. I think I'd learn a lot just by watching you in your daily activities."

  C'baoth smiled wryly at Obi-Wan. "One thing at least you've given the lad, Master Kenobi: a smooth tongue."

  "I would hope I've given him more than that," Obi-Wan said evenly. "Still, he's right about how much he could learn from you." He nodded to Lorana. "As I'm sure Padawan Jinzler would agree."

  "Indeed," C'baoth said. "And it's Jedi Jinzler now. She was elevated to Jedi Knighthood three weeks ago."

  "Really," Obi-Wan said, carefully hiding his surprise. From the way she'd been talking on Barlok, he would have guessed that event to be years in the future. "My apologies, Jedi Jinzler, and my congratulations. Do I take it you'll also be traveling aboard Outbound Flight with Master C'baoth?"

  "Of course she will," C'baoth said before Lorana could an­swer. "She's one of the chosen, one of the few among even the Jedi whom I trust completely."

  "You don't trust even Jedi?" Anakin asked, sounding sur­prised.

  "I said I trust her completely," C'baoth told him gravely. "Certainly there are others I trust. But only to a degree."

  "Oh," Anakin said, clearly taken aback.

  "Fortunately, you and your instructor are among that some­what larger group," C'baoth said, a small smile touching his lips. "Very well, Master Kenobi. You and your Padawan may ac­company me to the edge of the galaxy, provided you make your own arrangements for returning to the Republic."

  "Thank you," Obi-Wan said. "The Delta-Twelve Skysprite we'll be using for our return is on the surface, ready to be brought up and loaded aboard."

  "Good," C'baoth said. "You'll stay here aboard Dreadnaught-One. Captain, you'll arrange quarters for them."

  "Yes, Master C'baoth," Pakmillu rumbled. "I'll have the quartermaster—"

  "You will arrange quarters for them," C'baoth repeated, a subtle but unmistakable emphasis on the first word. "These are Jedi. They will be treated accordingly."

  Pakmillu's mouth tendrils twitched. "Yes, Master C'baoth." He stepped to one of the consoles and tapped at the keys with his flippered hands. "And Jedi Jinzler?"

  "I've already reserved her quarters near my own," C'baoth told him. "Deck Three, Suite A-Four."

  "Very well," Pakmillu said, peering at the display. "Master Kenobi, you and Master Skyw
alker will have Suite A-Eight on Deck Five. I trust that will be acceptable."

  "It will," C'baoth said before Obi-Wan could answer. "You may now assign someone to escort them to their quarters."

  From behind them came a sudden crinkling sound of tear­ing metal. Obi-Wan spun around to see that a large sheet of secondary conductive grid had come loose from the wall and was hanging precariously over a bank of control consoles. He stretched out with the Force‑

  C'baoth got there first, catching the sheet in a Force grip even as it came the rest of the way loose. "Jedi Jinzler: assist them," he ordered.

  "Yes, Master C'baoth," Lorana said, hurrying off

  "Captain Pakmillu, you were going to find an escort for our new passengers?" C'baoth continued in a conversational tone, even as he continued to hold the grid floating in midair.

  "That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said. "I studied Dread­naught deck plans on the trip here. We can find our own way."

  C'baoth frowned slightly, and for a second Obi-Wan thought he was going to insist on an escort anyway, as befit proper Jedi treatment. But then the wrinkles smoothed and he nodded. "Very well," he said. "Captain Pakmillu is hosting a First Night dinner in the senior officers' wardroom at seven. My fellow Jedi Masters will be there. You'll attend, as well."

  "We'll be honored," Obi-Wan said.

  "And you'll need to stop by the Dreadnaught-One medcen­ter," Pakmillu added. "The Supreme Chancellor's representative has instructed that all personnel be given a complete examina­tion, including the taking of analysis-grade blood and tissue samples for shipment to Coruscant. Apparently, there's some concern about hive viruses or potential epidemics."

  "We'll get ourselves checked out," Obi-Wan promised. "Until tonight, then."

  He nudged Anakin, and together they made their way across the room. "Master C'baoth certainly seems to know what he wants, doesn't he?" he commented.

  "Nothing wrong with that," Anakin said firmly. "If Master Yoda or Master Windu talked that way to the Chancellor and Senate once in a while, maybe more things would get done."

  "Yes," Obi-Wan murmured. "Maybe."

  The grid was heavy, and flexible enough to be difficult to get a grip on. Fortunately, that wasn't a problem for a Jedi. Stretching out with the Force, Lorana lifted it back into posi­tion, holding it in place while the techs hurriedly worked at its fastenings.

  "Thanks," the overseer puffed when it was finally secured. "Those things are a real mean, they're a real pain when they get loose like that."

  "No problem," Lorana assured him. "I was glad I could help."

  "Me, too," he grunted. "Did I hear someone say your name was Jinzler?"

  "Yes," she confirmed. "Why?"

  " 'Cause we've got a Jinzler on our work team," he said, fumbling out a comlink and punching in a code. "Guy named Dean. Relative of yours?"

  "I don't know," Lorana said. "I was only ten months old when I entered the Jedi Temple. I don't know anything about my family."

  "What, they never came to see you?"

  "Families aren't allowed to visit," Lorana told him.

  "Oh," the other said, sounding surprised. A tone sounded, and he lifted the comlink to his lips. "Jinzler? Brooks. Where are you? . . . Okay, find a stopping place and hop on over to the messroom . . . 'Cause I want to see you, that's why."

  He keyed off and returned the comlink to his belt. "This way, Jedi Jinzler," he said, gesturing toward one of the ComOps Cen­ter's starboard doors.

  "But I already said I don't know him," Lorana protested as she followed.

  "Yeah, but maybe he'll know you," Brooks said. They stepped through the door into the corridor and he turned toward the nearest turbolift. "Worth checking out anyway, isn't it?"

  Lorana felt her throat tighten. "I suppose."

  They took the turbolift three levels down from the command deck and along a narrow corridor to a large table-filled room with a full-length serving counter stretching across one end. A dozen humans and aliens were scattered in twos and threes around the various tables, conversing in low tones over multi­colored liquids, while three serving droids busied themselves be­hind the counter. "There he is," Brooks said, pointing at a table along the back wall. A lone, dark-haired man sat there, his back to the rest of the room, cradling a steaming mug between his hands. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

  He set off across the room, exchanging nods and greetings with some of the others as he passed. Lorana followed, her quiet misgivings growing steadily stronger . . . and as they got within three meters of the man he half turned, and she got her first look at his profile.

  It was the man she'd seen so many times back on Coruscant.

  She stopped short, her whole body going taut. Brooks didn't notice, but continued the rest of the way to the table. "Hey, Jinz­ler," he said, gesturing toward her. "Want to introduce you to someone."

  The young man turned the rest of the way around in his chair. "No need," he said, his voice steady but edged with an un­pleasant mixture of tension and bitterness. "Jedi Lorana Jinzler, I presume."

  With an effort, Lorana found her voice. "Yes," she said. The word came out calmer than she had expected it to. "Dean Jinz­ler, I presume."

  "You two know each other?" Brooks asked, frowning back and forth between them.

  "Hardly," Jinzler said. "She's only my sister."

  "Your—?" Brooks stared at him, then at Lorana. "But I thought—"

  "Thank you," Lorana said, catching his eye and nodding mi­croscopically toward the door.

  "Uh .. . yeah." Still staring at them in confusion, Brooks backed away between the tables, his hands groping behind him for obstacles. He reached the door and escaped from the room.

  "I suppose you're going to want to sit down," Jinzler said, an edge of challenge in his voice.

  Lorana turned her attention back to him. He was gazing up at her with the same bitterness she'd noted at their other near en­counters. His eyes, contrary to her expectations, weren't dark but were instead the same odd shade of gray as hers. "Yes," she said, circling to a chair at the far side of the table. Gathering her robes around her, she eased down into it.

  "I suppose I should congratulate you on passing the trials," Jinzler said. "You're a real Jedi now."

  "Thank you," Lorana said, searching his face. There was a family resemblance there, she could see. Strange that she'd never noticed it before. "You keep up on such things?"

  "My parents do." His mouth tightened. "Our parents do," he corrected himself.

  "Yes," she murmured. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about them. Or about you."

  "No, of course not," he said. "But I know everything about you. Everything, from your youngling training, to your appren­ticeship to Jorus C'baoth, to your first lightsaber, to your eleva­tion to Jedi Knighthood."

  "I'm impressed," Lorana said, trying a hesitant smile.

  "Don't be," he said, not returning the smile. "I only know because my parents had a friend who still worked inside the Tem­ple. They rammed your every accomplishment down my throat. They loved you, you know." He snorted gently. "No. Of course you don't. You never bothered to find out."

  He dropped his eyes from her face and took a sip from his mug. Lorana gazed at him, wincing at the anger and bitterness flowing toward her like the steam from his drink. What had she done to make him so angry? "We weren't allowed as Padawans to know anything about our families," she said into the silence. "Even now that I'm a Jedi, it's still frowned on."

  "Yeah," he said. "Sure."

  "And there are good reasons for it," she continued doggedly. "There are many worlds in the Republic where family con­nections and position are the most important parts of their cul­ture. A Jedi who knew which family she'd come from might find it impossible to deal impartially in any of her people's disputes."

  "Doesn't stop the family from finding you, though, does it?" he shot back. "Because mine sure did. Even after your precious Jedi got them fired, they still managed to keep tabs on you—"
>
  "Wait a minute," Lorana interrupted him. "What do you mean, they got them fired? Who got them fired?"

  "You Jedi have hearing problems?" he demanded. "I already told you: one of your high and mighty Jedi. Mom and Dad were civilian workers at the Temple, handling electronics maintenance and repair in the public areas. They were good at it, too. Only after you were taken, they got fired. Your Jedi didn't want them even in the same building with you, I guess."

  Lorana felt her stomach tighten. She wasn't familiar with this particular incident, though there had been others she'd heard of. But it was clear that it would do no good to give her brother the rationale behind the Temple's strict isolation policy. "Were they able to find other jobs?"

  "No, we all starved to death," he retorted. "Of course they found other jobs. Lower-paying jobs, of course, jobs where they had to scramble to get us packed and moved because no one had even bothered to tell them they couldn't stay on at the Tem­ple once you were there. But that's not the point."

  "Then what is the point?"

  For a long minute he just stared at her, his turmoil surging like the ocean's edge in a winter storm. "You Jedi think you're perfect," he said at last. "You think you know what's right for everyone and everything. Well, you're not, and you don't."

  Lorana felt her throat tighten. "What happened to you, Dean?" she asked gently.

  "Oh, so now it's Dean, is it?" he said scornfully. "Now you want to pretend you're my loving big sister? You think you can wave your hand or your precious lightsaber and make it all up to me?"

  "Make what up to you?" Lorana persisted. "Please. I want to know."

  "I thought you Jedi knew everything."

  Lorana sighed. "No, of course not."

  "Well, you'd never know that by listening to our parents," he bit out. "You were the perfect one, the one all the rest of us were measured against. Lorana would have done this, Lorana would have done that; Lorana would have said this, Lorana would never had said that. It was like living with a minor deity. And so com­pletely absurd—they couldn't possibly have the slightest idea what you might actually do or say in some situation. You could barely even walk when they sent you away."