Star Wars - Outbound Flight Page 4

  “Perhaps that’s the committee’s point,” Palpatine suggested quietly. “The political situation has changed considerably since You and the Council first proposed this project.”

  “Which is what makes Outbound Flight all the more important,” C’baoth said. “We need to find out what dangers or threats might be lurking out in the Unknown Regions, or poised to invade us from another galaxy.”

  “Dangers?” Palpatine echoed, lifting his eyebrows. “I was under the impression that Outbound Flight’s purpose was to search for new life and potential Force-users outside our borders. Certainly that was the rationale given in the original proposal.”

  “There’s no reason it can’t do both,” C’baoth said stubbornly. “For that matter, I would think adding a security angle to the mission would make it more acceptable to the Senate, not less.”

  Palpatine shook his head, his gray-white hair glinting in the light from the window behind him. Lorana could remember when that hair had been mostly brown, with only touches of gray at the temples. Now, after five years of carrying the Republic’s weight on his shoulders, the brown had all but vanished. “I’m sorry, Master C’baoth,” the Chancellor said. “If you can persuade the Senate to override Appropriations’ cuts, I’ll be more than happy to support you. But at the moment, there’s nothing more I can do.”

  “Unless,” Doriana put in, “Master C’baoth is able to do something about the Barlok situation.”

  “There’s nothing more I can do,” Palpatine repeated, throwing a cautioning look at his assistant. “At any rate, the Council’s hardly going to send him out to Marcol sector when there are so many pressing matters to be attended to here.”

  “Not so fast,” C’baoth rumbled. “What exactly is this problem?”

  “It’s hardly even worth mentioning,” Palpatine said reluctantly. “A small dispute between the Corporate Alliance and one of Barlok’s regional governments over some mining rights. Those Brolfi who left as you came in were just presenting their case and asking for assistance in negotiating a settlement.”

  “And you didn’t immediately think of me?” C’baoth said drily. “I think I’ve been insulted.”

  “Please, Master C’baoth,” Palpatine said with a smile. “I have far too many enemies on Coruscant already. I don’t wish to add you to their number.”

  “Then make a bargain with me,” C’baoth offered. “If I can resolve this dispute for you, will you instruct Appropriations to restore Outbound Flight’s full funding?”

  Lorana stirred uncomfortably in her seat. This was, it seemed to her, perilously close to the sort of under-the-desk speeder swapping that was steadily corroding the whole concept of justice in the Republic’s government. But she didn’t dare suggest that to C’baoth, certainly not in the presence of Palpatine and his aide.

  “I can’t make any promises,” Palpatine cautioned. “Certainly not where the Senate is concerned. But I believe in Outbound Flight, Master C’baoth, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your dream is realized.”

  For a long moment C’baoth didn’t reply, and again Lorana felt the tension between the two men. Then, abruptly, the Jedi Master gave a short nod. “Very well, Chancellor Palpatine,” he said, rising to his feet. “We’ll be on our way to Barlok before the end of the day.”

  He leveled a finger at Palpatine. “Just make certain that when I come back I have my funding. And my colonists.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Palpatine said, giving the other a small smile. “Good day, Master C’baoth; Padawan Jinzler.”

  Lorana waited until they had passed through the outer office and were striding down the wide corridor before speaking. “What did you mean we’d be off to Barlok tonight?” she asked. “Doesn’t the Council have to approve any such trips?”

  “Don’t worry about the Council,” C’baoth said brusquely. “Back there, on our way into Palpatine’s office, you broke stride for those two Brolfi.”

  Lorana felt her throat tighten. “I didn’t want to just run them down.”

  “You wouldn’t have,” he countered. “I’d already measured the gap between them. Neither would have needed to move aside for us.”

  “Yet they did move,” Lorana pointed out.

  “Because they wished to do so, out of respect,” he said. “Understand this, my young Padawan. Someday you will be a Jedi, with all the power and responsibility that it entails. Never forget that we are the ones who hold this Republic together—not Palpatine, not the Senate, not the bureaucracy. Certainly not the small-minded people who can’t make it through the day without running to Coruscant for help. They must learn to trust us—and before there can be trust, there must be respect. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that we want them to respect us,” Lorana said hesitantly. “But must they fear us as well?”

  “Respect and fear are merely two sides of the same coin,” C’baoth said. “Law-obeying citizens hold the coin one way; those who wallow in lawlessness hold it the other.” He lifted a finger. “But with neither group can you appear weak or indecisive. Ever.”

  He lowered the raised finger, tapping it against the lightsaber tucked into her belt. “There are times when you’ll wish your identity to remain unknown, and at those times you’ll hide your lightsaber and all traces of who and what you are. But when you travel openly as a Jedi, you must behave as a Jedi. Always. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master C’baoth,” Lorana said, only half truthfully. Certainly she understood the words, but some of the attitude was still incomprehensible to her.

  For a moment C’baoth continued to stare at her, as if sensing her partial duplicity. But to her relief, he turned away without demanding any more. “Very well, then,” he said. “I’ll go to the Temple and speak with the Council. You call the spaceport and arrange transport for us to the Barlok system. Once you’ve done that, go and pack.”

  “For how long?”

  “For a simple mineral-rights dispute?” C’baoth scoffed. “Travel time both ways plus three standard days. I’ll have this sorted out in no time.”

  “Yes, Master,” Lorana murmured.

  “And then,” C’baoth continued, half to himself, “we’ll see to Master Yoda and his shortsighted fears.” Picking up his pace, he strode off down the corridor.

  Lorana slowed to a halt, watching as the messengers and bureaucrats walking along on their own business moved hastily out of the way for the tall, white-haired Jedi Master. C’baoth, for his part, never even slowed, as if he simply expected others to make room for him.

  When you travel as a Jedi, you must behave as a Jedi.

  She sighed. It didn’t seem right to her, this firm belief in the inherent superiority of Jedi over all others.

  Still, C’baoth had studied long and hard through many years, delving deeply into the mysteries and subtleties of the Force as he grew in power. Lorana, in contrast, was a young Padawan learner, barely started on her own path. She was hardly in a position to challenge him on any of these things.

  In any event, her Master had given an order, and it was her task to obey him. Stepping to the side of the corridor, out of the way of the bustling pedestrians, she pulled out her comlink.

  She was about to key for the Jedi Temple’s transportation service when, across the corridor, an all-too-familiar face caught her attention.

  She froze, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes and mind and Jedi senses stretching out through the crowd of people between them. She’d seen this man many times before in the past few years, generally in the public areas of the Senate chamber but occasionally other places as well. He was young, probably a year or two younger than her, of medium height and build with short-cropped dark hair and a strangely bitter set to his mouth. She’d never gotten close enough to see what color his eyes were, but she assumed they were dark as well.

  And every time she’d seen him, she’d had the distinct sense that he was watching her.

  He was doing so now, studying her
out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to work with a wiring panel he’d opened. She’d often seen him at wiring panels or fiddling with droid modules, but whether he actually knew his way around circuit boxes or whether he just used them as a pretext to hang around, she’d never figured out.

  At the beginning, she’d assumed it was all coincidence. Even now, she had no actual proof it was anything else. All she had was the fact that, as her Jedi skills had grown, she’d been able to stretch out even through crowded corridors like this one to sense his mind.

  And as she did so now, she found the same simmering resentment that she’d always felt before. Resentment, and frustration, and anger.

  Directed at her.

  Someone she’d harmed or slighted in a past so distant she couldn’t even recall the incident? But she’d been in the Jedi Temple since she was an infant. One of the non-Jedi employees at the Temple, then? But surely her instructors would have taken action if they’d sensed any threat from him.

  The man looked in her direction. Then, deliberately, he turned his back on her and gave his full attention to his wiring panel. Lorana watched him work, fighting against her own flurry of discomfiting emotions. Should she go over and try to find out what he had against her? Or should she go first to the Senate records and see if she could track down his identity, holding off on any confrontations until she had more information?

  Or should she let it go entirely, and assume that the meetings were a coincidence and that his anger was merely directed at Jedi in general?

  She was still trying to make a decision when he closed the panel, collected his tool kit, and stalked away. He glanced back once as he reached the corner, then disappeared around it.

  There is no emotion; there is peace. Lorana had been taught that dictum from her earliest days in the Temple, and she’d tried her best to incorporate it into her life. But as long as the question of that man remained unresolved, she knew somehow that she could never have complete peace.

  She also knew that now was not the time. Taking a deep breath, lifting her comlink again, she keyed for the spaceport.

  The door closed behind the two Jedi, and for a moment Kinman Doriana gazed at the spot where they’d exited, a sour taste in his mouth. As a general rule, nearly all Jedi struck him as pompous and arrogant and obscenely sure of themselves. But even with that head start Jorus C’baoth was in a class by himself.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?” Palpatine asked mildly.

  Setting his expression carefully back to neutral, Doriana shifted his attention back to the Chancellor. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. And he meant it. Whatever his personal feelings, it was bad policy to let emotions of any sort rise to the surface. Especially where Jedi were concerned. “I just think that with all the other problems facing the Republic, a massive exploration and colonization project should be relegated to the bottom third of the priority list. And for Master C’baoth to insist that you personally do something about it—”

  “Patience, Kinman,” Palpatine interrupted soothingly. “You must learn to permit people their passions. Outbound Flight is Master C’baoth’s.”

  He looked across the office toward the door. “Besides, even if they find nothing of real value out there, it may be that just the news of their expedition will spark the imaginations of people across the Republic.”

  “If they ever do actually announce it,” Doriana said. “The last I heard, the Jedi Council still had the whole project wrapped in secrecy.”

  Palpatine shrugged. “I’m sure they have their reasons.”

  “Perhaps.” Doriana hesitated. “But I’d like to apologize to you, sir, for speaking out of turn during the meeting.”

  “Don’t concern yourself about it,” Palpatine assured him. “Actually, it was an inspired suggestion. Master C’baoth is quite good at the sort of mediation the Barlok situation so sorely needs. I should have thought of it myself.”

  He snorted under his breath. “And to be perfectly honest, I’ll be just as happy to have him off Coruscant for a couple of weeks. It’ll give me a chance to consider how I’m going to persuade the Appropriations Committee to restore Outbound Flight’s funding.”

  “As well as find a way to persuade the Council to give Master C’baoth all the Jedi he wants?”

  “That one I can do nothing about,” Palpatine said. “If C’baoth wants more Jedi, he’s the one who’ll have to persuade Yoda and Windu.”

  “Yes, sir,” Doriana murmured. “Well… maybe he’ll succeed so well at Barlok that they’ll have no choice but to give in.”

  “Or else they’ll give in simply to get him off their backs,” Palpatine said drily. “He’s as persistent with them as he is with me. At any rate, that part is in C’baoth’s hands now. Speaking of matters in hand, when are you leaving for your own trip?”

  “Tonight,” Doriana said. “I have a ship reserved, and all the necessary files and documents are prepared and packed. I just need to stop by my apartment after work to pack my personal items and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Excellent,” Palpatine said. “Then you might as well go now. There’s nothing more I need from you for the rest of the day.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Doriana said. “I’ll keep you informed on what happens at the various meetings.”

  “Yes, do that.” Palpatine raised his eyebrows. “And be sure you deliver those data cards to Governor Caulfmar personally.”

  “Yes, I read the reports,” Doriana said, nodding. “Actually, if the timing works out I may take an extra day to poke around and see if I can identify‘ the traitor in his inner circle. With your permission, of course.”

  “Granted,” Palpatine said. “But be careful. There are rumors of growing dissatisfaction in that sector.”

  “There are rumors of that sort everywhere,” Doriana said. “I’ll be all right.”

  “I trust so,” Palpatine said. “But still be careful. And hurry back.”

  It was a twenty-minute air taxi ride to Doriana’s home in the Third Ring Apartment Towers northeast of the Senate complex. He split the time between datapad and comlink, checking on his travel plans and smoothing out the inevitable last-minute details. The taxi let him out on the 248th-floor landing pad, and he rode the turbolift ten stories down to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he went in, locking and privacy-sealing it behind him.

  He had told Palpatine that he still had to pack his bags. In actual fact, they were already packed and sitting in a neat row just inside the conversation room. Passing them by, he went to the desk in the corner and sat down. From behind the false back in the bottom right-hand drawer he took a holoprojector and plugged it into the computer. The access/security code was a simple matter of twelve letters and eighteen digits; punching them in, he picked up his datapad again and settled back to wait.

  As usual, the wait wasn’t very long. Barely three minutes after he sent the call, the hooded face of Darth Sidious shimmered into view above the holoprojector. “Report,” the other ordered in a gravelly voice.

  “Jedi Master C’baoth is on his way to Barlok, my lord,” Doriana said. “Depending on what kind of transport he was able to get, he should be there in three to six days.”

  “Excellent,” Sidious said. “You’ll have no trouble arriving ahead of him?”

  “None, my lord,” Doriana assured him. “My courier is faster than anything the Jedi can provide. He’ll also have to stop off at the Temple and persuade the Council to give him official permission, while I’m ready to go right now. And all the groundwork has been laid.”

  “Then he should arrive to a warm reception indeed,” Sidious said, his lips curving in a satisfied smile. “What about Chancellor Palpatine? You’re certain he won’t notice this little side trip?”

  “I’ve built the necessary slack into my schedule,” Doriana assured him. “I can spend up to three days on Barlok without filling behind. If it ends up taking longer, there are a couple of items on my agenda I should be able to resolve via Ho
loNet conference. I can do that from Barlok or anywhere else along the way, without having to actually travel to those systems.”

  “Again, excellent,” Sidious said. “I have many servants, Doriana, but few as clever and as subtle as you.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Doriana said, a warm glow flowing through him. Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, was not a man who was generous with his compliments.

  “It will be a distinct pleasure to get Jorus C’baoth out of our way,” Sidious went on. “All indeed goes according to my plan.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Doriana said. “I’ll report as soon as we’ve achieved our victory.”

  “Just make certain we have that victory,” Sidious said, the note of warning in his tone sending a chill through the lingering warmth of his earlier compliment. “Proceed with your work, my friend.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The image vanished. Shutting off the holoprojector, Doriana disconnected it from the computer and returned it to its hiding place. Then, pocketing his datapad, he retraced his steps to where his packed bags waited. Yes, the punishment for failing the Sith Lord would undoubtedly be severe. Nearly as severe, he had no doubt, as that which would descend upon him if Chancellor Palpatine ever learned that he had a traitor in his inner office.

  But if the price of failure was great, so were the rewards of success. Doriana’s apartment, his position, and his quiet but far-ranging authority were proof of that. It was, in his estimation, a gamble well worth taking.

  Besides which, he did so enjoy the game.

  Pulling out his comlink, he keyed for a taxi to take him to the spaceport. Then, gathering his bags together, he headed for the turbolift.

  The door to the Jedi Council Chamber slid open. “Come,” Jedi Master Mace Windu called.

  Squaring his shoulders, wondering what this was all about, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped inside.

  And stopped, feeling his forehead wrinkling in surprise. A person summoned to the Jedi Council Chamber naturally expected to find the entire Council waiting for him. But aside from Windu, standing over by the windows gazing out at the city, the room was deserted. “No, you haven’t misunderstood where you were supposed to go,” Windu said, half turning to give Obi-Wan a faint smile. “I need to talk to you.”