Timothy Zahn - Survivor's Quest

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."

"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?"