Outbound Flight Page 2

  Connor nets, like ion cannons, were designed to disable and hold rather than destroy, and Qennto and Maris had most of the systems back online by the time their keeper finally made its move. "Qennto, he's shifting position," Car'das called into the comm, watching as the gray ship drifted leisurely past the canopy and settled into a new spot with his stern above and in front of the Bargain Hunter's bow. "Looks like he's setting up for us to follow him."

  "On our way," Qennto called back. "Run the drive up to quarter power."

  The gray ship was starting to pull away when he and Maris returned. "Here we go," Qennto muttered, dropping into his seat and easing them forward. "Any idea where we're going?"

  "The rest of the group's still over by the Hutt ship," Car'das said, squeezing carefully past Maris as he headed back to his own station. "Maybe he's taking us there."

  "Yeah, looks like it," Qennto agreed as he fed more power to the drive. "So far, they're not shooting. That's usually a good sign."

  There were indeed three alien vessels hovering around the remains of Progga's ship when they arrived. Two were duplicates of their fighter-sized escort, while the third was considerably larger. "Not that much bigger than a Republic cruiser, though," Car'das pointed out. "Pretty small, considering what it just did."

  "Looks like they're opening a docking bay for us," Maris said.

  Car'das measured the opening port cover with his eyes. "Not much room in there."

  "Our bow will fit," Qennto assured him. "We can use the forward service tube to get out."

  "We're going to go into their ship?" Maris asked, her voice shaking slightly.

  "Unless they want to use the tube to come in here instead," Qennto told her. "The guys with the guns get to make those de­cisions." He lifted a warning finger. "The key is for us to keep control of the situation while they're doing it."

  He half turned toward Car'das. "That means I do all the talk­ing. Unless they ask you something directly, in which case you give them exactly as much answer as they have question. No more. Got it?"

  Car'das swallowed. "Got it."

  Their escort led them to the larger ship's side, and two minutes later Qennto had the Bargain Hunter's bow snugged securely inside the docking collar. A boarding tunnel began ex­tending itself toward the service hatch as Qennto shifted the sys­tems to standby, and by the time the three of them had made it down the ladder the exit sensors indicated the tunnel was in place and pressurized. "Here we go," Qennto muttered, drawing him­self up to his full height and keying the release. "Remember, let me do the talking."

  Two of the crew were waiting outside the hatch as it slid open: blue-skinned humanoids with glowing red eyes and blue-black hair, dressed in identical black uniforms sporting green shoulder patches. Each of them had a small but nasty-looking handgun belted at his waist. "Hello," Qennto greeted them as he took a step into the tunnel. "I'm Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter"

  The aliens didn't answer, but merely moved to either side and gestured down the tunnel. "This way?" Qennto asked, pointing with one hand as he took Maris's arm with the other. "Sure."

  He and Maris headed down the tunnel, the ribbed material of the floor bouncing like a swinging bridge with each step. Car'das followed close behind them, studying the aliens out of the corner of his eye as he passed between them. Aside from the unusual skin color and those glowing eyes, they were remarkably human looking. Some offshoot of humanity's ancient expansion into the galaxy? Or were they their own people, with the resem­blance purely coincidental?

  Two more aliens were waiting just inside the ship proper, dressed and armed the same way as the first pair except that their shoulder patches were yellow and blue instead of green. They turned in military precision as the three humans arrived and led the way down a smoothly curved corridor made of a pearl-like material with a soft, muted sheen. Car'das ran his fingertips gen­tly along the wall as they walked, trying to decide whether it was metal, ceramic, or some kind of composite.

  Five meters down the corridor their guides came to a halt outside an open doorway and planted themselves on either side. "In there, huh?" Qennto asked. "Sure." He squared his shoul­ders the way Car'das had often seen him do just before a negoti­ating session. Then, still holding Maris's arm, he headed inside. Taking one last look at the corridor walls, Car'das followed.

  The room was small and simple, its furnishings consisting of a table and half a dozen chairs. A conference room, Car'das ten­tatively identified it, or possibly a duty crew meal room. Another of the blue-skinned aliens was seated on the far side of the table, his glowing eyes steady on his visitors. He wore the same black as their escorts, but with a larger burgundy patch on his shoulder and a pair of elaborately tooled silver bars on his collar. An offi­cer? "Hello," Qennto said cheerfully, coming to a stop at the edge of the table. "I'm Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter: I don't suppose you happen to speak Basic?"

  The alien didn't reply, but Car'das thought he saw his eye­brow twitch slightly. "Maybe we should try one of the Outer Rim trade languages," he offered.

  "Thanks for that brilliant suggestion," Qennto said with a touch of sarcasm. "Greetings to you, noble sir," he continued, switching to Sy Bisti. "We're travelers and traders from a far world, who mean no harm to you or your people."

  Again, there was no response. "You could try Taarja," Maris said.

  "I don't know Taarja very well," Qennto said, still in Sy Bisti. "How about you?" he added, turning to look at the two guards who had followed them into the room. "Do any of you under­stand Sy Bisti? How about Taarja? Meese Caulf?"

  "Sy Bisti will do," the alien behind the table said calmly in that language.

  Qennto turned back, blinking in surprise. "Did you just say—?"

  "I said Sy Bisti will do," the alien repeated. "Please; be seated."

  "Ah . . . thank you," Qennto said, pulling out chairs for him­self and Maris and nodding to Car'das to do likewise. The chair backs were contoured a bit oddly for humans, Car'das noticed as he sat down, but not uncomfortably so.

  "I'm Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Ascen­dance," the alien continued. "This is the Springhawk, Picket Force Two command vessel of the Expansionary Defense Fleet."

  Expansionary Fleet. Car'das felt a shiver run up his back. Did the name imply this Chiss Ascendancy was in the process of ex­panding outward?

  He hoped not. The last thing the Republic needed right now was a threat from outside its borders. Supreme Chancellor Palpa­tine was doing his best, but there was a lot of resistance to change in the old business-as-usual attitudes and casual corrup­tion of the Coruscant government. Even now, five years after its little misadventure on Naboo, the Trade Federation had vet to be punished for its blatant aggression, despite Palpatine's best ef­forts to bring it to judgment. Resentment and frustration sim­mered throughout the galaxy, with rumors of new reform or secession movements surfacing every other week.

  Qennto loved it, of course. Government bureaucracies with their dozens of fees, service charges, and flat-out prohibitions were an ideal operating environment for small-scale smuggling operations like his. And Car'das had to admit that during his time aboard the Bargain Hunter, their activities had earned a very respectable profit.

  What Qennto perhaps failed to understand was that while a little governmental instability could be useful, too much would be as bad for smugglers as it would be for anyone else.

  A full-scale war, needless to say, would be as bad as it got. For everyone.

  "And you are . . . ?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked, shifting his glowing red eyes to Car'das.

  Car'das opened his mouth— "I'm Dubrak Qennto, Com­mander," Qennto pill in before he could speak. "Captain of the—"

  "And you are . . . ?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo repeated, his eyes still on Car'das, a slight but noticeable emphasis on the pro­noun.

  Car'das looked sideways at Qennto, got a microscopic nod. "I'm Jorj Car'das," he said. "Crewer on the freighter Bargain Hunter:"
r />   "And these?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked, gesturing to the others.

  Again, Car'das looked at Qennto. The other's expression had gone rather sour, but he nevertheless gave his junior crewer an­other small nod. "This is my captain, Dubrak Qennto," Car'das told the commander. "And his—" Girlfriend? Copilot? Partner? "—his second in command, Maris Ferasi."

  Mitth'raw'nuruodo nodded to each in turn, then turned back to Car'das. "Why are you here?"

  "We're Corellian traders, from one of the systems in the Galactic Republic," Car'das said.

  "K'rell'n," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said, as if trying out the word. "Traders, you say? Not explorers or scouts?"

  "No, not at all," Car'das assured him. "We hire out our ship to take cargo between star systems."

  "And the other vessel?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked.

  "Pirates of some sort," Qennto put in before Car'das could answer. "We were running from them when we had some trouble with our hyperdrive, which is how we ended up here."

  "Did you know these pirates?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked.

  "How could we possibly—?" Qennto began.

  "Yes, we've had trouble with them before," Car'das inter­rupted. There'd been something in Mitth'raw'nuruodo's voice as he asked that question . . . "I think they were gunning specifi­cally for us."

  "You must be carrying a valuable cargo."

  "It's nothing fancy," Qennto said, shooting a warning look at Car'das. "A shipment of furs and exotic luxury garments. We're most grateful to you for coming to our aid."

  Car'das felt his throat tighten. The bulk of their cargo was indeed luxury clothing, but sewn into the filigree collar of one of the furs was an assortment of smuggled firegems. If Mit­th'raw'nuruodo decided to search the shipment and found them, there was going to be a very unhappy Drixo the Hutt in the Bargain Hunter's future.

  "You're welcome," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. "I'd be curious to see what your people consider luxury garments. Perhaps you'll show me your cargo before you leave."

  "I'd be delighted," Qennto said. "Does that mean you're re­leasing us?"

  "Soon," Mitth'raw'nuruodo assured him. "First I need to examine your vessel and confirm that you're indeed the innocent travelers you claim."

  "Of course, of course," Qennto said easily. "We'll give you a complete tour anytime you want."

  "Thank you," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. "But that can wait until we reach my base. Until then, resting quarters have been prepared for you. Perhaps later you'll permit me to show you Chiss hospitality"

  "We would be both grateful and honored, Commander," Qennto said, inclining his head in a small bow. "I'd just like to mention, though, that we're on a very tight schedule, which our unexpected detour has made that much tighter. We'd appreciate it if you could send us on our way as quickly as possible."

  "Of course," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. "The base isn't far."

  "Is it in this system?" Qennto asked. He lifted a hand before the Chiss could answer. "Sorry, sorry—none of my business."

  "True," Mitth'raw'nuruodo agreed. "However, it will do no harm to tell you that it's in a different system entirely."

  "Ah," Qennto said. "May I ask when we'll be leaving to go there?"

  "We've already left," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said mildly. "We made the jump to hyperspace approximately four standard min­utes ago."

  Qennto frowned. "Really? I didn't hear or feel anything."

  "Perhaps our hyperdrive systems are superior to yours," Mit­th'raw'nuruodo said, standing up. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'll escort you to the resting area."

  He led the way another five meters down the corridor to an­other door, where he touched a striped panel on the wall. "I'll send word when I want you again," he said as the door slid open.

  "We'll look forward to further conversation," Qennto said, giving a truncated bow as he eased Maris behind him through the doorway. "Thank you, Commander."

  The two of them disappeared inside. Inclining his head to the commander, Car'das followed.

  The room was compactly furnished, containing a three-tier bunk bed against one wall and a fold-down table and bench seats on the other. Beside the bunk bed were three large drawers built into the wall, while to the right was a door leading into what seemed to be a compact refresher station.

  "What do you think he's going to do with us?" Maris mur­mured, looking around.

  "He'll let us go," Qennto assured her, glancing into the refresher station and then sitting down on the lowest cot, hunch­ing forward to keep from bumping his head on the one above it. "The real question is whether we'll be taking the firegems with us."

  Car'das cleared his throat. "Should we be talking about this?" he asked, looking significantly around the room.

  "Relax," Qennto growled. "They don't speak a word of Basic." His eyes narrowed. "And as long as we're on the subject of speaking, why the frizz did you tell him we knew Progga?"

  "There was something in his eves and voice just then," Car'das said. "Something that said he already knew all about it, and that we'd better not get caught lying to him."

  Qennto snorted. "That's ridiculous."

  "Maybe there were survivors from Progga's crew," Maris suggested.

  "Not a chance," Qennto said firmly. "You saw what the ship looked like. The thing'd been peeled open like a ration bar."

  "I don't know how he knew," Car'das insisted. "All I know is that he did know."

  "And you shouldn't lie to an honorable man anyway," Maris murmured.

  "Who, him? Honorable?" Qennto scoffed. "Don't you be­lieve it. Military men are all alike, and the smooth ones the worst of the lot."

  "I've known quite a few honorable soldiers," Maris said stiffly. "Besides, I've always had a good feel for people. I think this Mitth'raw—I think the commander can be trusted." She raised her eyebrows. "I don't think trying to con him would be a good idea, either."

  "It's only a bad idea if you get caught," Qennto said. "You get what you bargain for in this universe, Maris. Nothing more."

  "You don't have enough faith in people."

  "I got all the faith I need, kiddo," Qennto said calmly. "I just happen to know a little more about human nature than you do. Human and nonhuman nature."

  "I still think we need to play completely straight with him," Maris said.

  "Playing straight is the last thing you want to do. Ever. It gives the other guy all the advantages." Qennto nodded toward the closed door. "And this guy in particular sounds like the sort who'll ask questions until we die of old age if we let him."

  "Still, it wouldn't hurt if he kept us around for at least a lit­tle while," Car'das suggested. "Progga's people are going to be pretty mad when he doesn't come back."

  Qennto shook his head. "They'll never pin it on us."

  "Yes, but—"

  "Look, kid, let me do the thinking, okay?" Qennto cut in. Swiveling his legs up onto the bunk, he lay back with his arms folded behind his back. "Now everyone be quiet for a while. I've got to figure out how to play this."

  Maris caught Car'das's eye, gave a little shrug, then turned and climbed up onto the bunk above Qennto. Stretching out, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed meditatively at the underside of the bunk above her.

  Crossing to the other side of the room, Car'das folded down the table and one of the bench seats and sat down, wedging him­self more or less comfortably between the table and wall. Putting his elbow on the table and propping his head up on his hand, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

  He didn't realize he'd dozed off until a sudden buzz startled him awake. He jumped up as the door opened to reveal a single black-clad Chiss. "Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo's respects," the alien said, the Sy Bisti words coming out thickly accented. "He requests your presence in Forward Visual One."

  "Wonderful," Qennto said, swinging his legs onto the floor and standing up. His tone and expression were the false cheerful­ness Car'das had heard him use time and again in bargaining ses­sions.

  "Not you," the Chiss sa
id. He gestured to Car'das. "This one only."

  Qennto came to an abrupt halt. "What?"

  "A refreshment is being prepared," the Chiss said. "Until it is ready, this one only will come."

  "Now, wait a second," Qennto growled. "We stick together or—"

  "It's okay," Car'das interrupted hastily. The Chiss standing in the doorway hadn't moved, but Car'das had caught a subtle shift of light and shadow that indicated there were others wan­dering around out there. "I'll be fine."

  "Car'das—"

  "It's okay," Car'das repeated, stepping to the doorway. The Chiss moved back, and he walked out into the corridor.

  There were indeed more Chiss waiting by the door, two of them on either side. "Follow," the messenger said as the door closed.

  The group headed down the curved corridor, passing three cross-corridors and several other doorways along the way. Two of the doors were open, and Car'das couldn't resist a furtive glance inside each as he passed. All he could see, though, was unrecognizable equipment and more black-clad Chiss.

  He had expected Forward Visual to be a crowded, high-tech room. To his surprise, the door opened into something that looked like a compact version of a starliner's observation gallery. A long, curved couch sat in front of a convex floor-to-ceiling viewport currently showing a spectacular view of the glowing hyperspace sky as it flowed past the ship. The room's own lights were dimmed, making the display that much more impressive.

  "Welcome, Jorj Car'das."

  Car'das looked around. Mitth'raw'nuruodo was seated alone at the far end of the couch, silhouetted against the hyperspace sky. "Commander," he greeted the other, glancing a question at his guide. The other nodded, stepping back and closing the door on himself and the rest of the escort. Feeling more than a little uneasy, Car'das stepped around the near end of the couch and made his way across the curve.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo commented as Car'das arrived at his side. "Please; be seated."

  "Thank you," Car'das said, easing himself onto the couch a cautious meter away from the other. "May I ask why you sent for me?"