Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Is that good or bad?” Maris asked.

Thrawn shrugged. “That depends on who the visitors are.”

Three minutes later they came around a final curveand the tunnel opened up into a large cavern. At the far side, the rock face was alive with the glinting lights of ranging markers and viewports, with eight ships nestled up against various docking stations. Five were the Chiss fighters Car’das had already seen in action, two were small transport-style shuttles, and the eighth was a cruiser about the size of the Springhawk.

Unlike the smoothly contoured military ships, though, this one was all planes and corners and sharply defined angles. “Ah,”

Thrawn said. “Our guests are from the Fifth Ruling Family.”

“How can you tell?” Maris asked.

“By the design and markings of the spacecraft,”

Thrawn said. “I can also tell that the visitor is of direct but peripheral family lineage.”

“So is that good or bad?” Car’das asked.

“Mostly neutral,” Thrawn said. “The Fifth Family has interests in this region, so this is most likely a routine survey.

Certainly someone of higher rank, and from the First or Eighth Families, would have come to deliver a reprimand.”

Car’das frowned sideways at Maris. A reprimand?

“You’ll all be my guests at the welcoming ceremony, of course,” Thrawn continued as the Springhawk made its way toward an empty docking station. “You may find it interesting.”

Interesting, in Car’das’s opinion, was far too mild a word.

To begin with, there was the welcoming chamber itself.

At first it appeared to be nothing more than an empty, unadorned gray room just off the docking station. But at a touch of a hidden button all that changed. Colorful panels folded out from the walls, reversing and settling themselves flat again. A

handful of draperies descended from hidden panels in the ceiling, along with wavy stalactite-like formations that reminded Car’das of frozen pieces of aurora borealis skyfire. The floor tiles didn’t flip or reconfigure, but intricate patterns of colored lights appeared through a transparent outer surface, some of themremaining stationary or slowly pulsing while others ran sequences that gave the illusion of flowing rivers. Every color of the spectrum was represented, but yellow was definitely favored.

It was an impressive display, and the Chiss who stepped through the portal a minute later was no less impressive.

He strode in flanked by a pair of young Chiss wearing dark yellow uniforms and belted handguns, his own outfit consisting of an elaborately layered gray robe with a yellow collar and generous yellow highlights. Though not much older than Thrawn, there was an air about him of nobility and pride, the bearing of someone born to rule. The movements of his escort were crisp and polished, and Car’das had the impression that they and the four black-clad warriors Thrawn had brought along were having a subtle contest as to which group could look the most professional.

Thrawn’s greeting and the visitor’s response were in Cheunh, of course, and once again Car’das was only able to catch occasional words. But the tone and flow of the speeches, along with the equally formalized gestures and movements, had a sense of ancient ritual that he found fascinating.

It was an attitude, unfortunately, that his fellow travelers didn’t seem to share. Maris, with her philosophical disdain for the Republic’s structured corruption, clearly had little patience with official ritual of any sort, and watched the proceedings with a sort of polite detachment. Qennto, for his part, merely looked bored.

The ceremony ended, the two yellow-clad Chiss moved back to flank the doorway to the ship, and with a gesture Thrawn led his visitor to where the three humans waited. “May I present Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family,” he said, switching from Cheunh to Sy Bisti. “These are K’rell’n traders, visitors from a far world.”

Chaf’orm’bintrano said something, his tone rather sharp. “In Sy Bisti, Aristocra, if you please,” Thrawn said. “They do not understand Cheunh.”

Chaf’orm’bintrano snorted, again in Cheunh, and thecorners of Thrawn’s mouth tightened briefly. “Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano is not interested in communicating with you at present,” he translated. “One of my warriors will show you to your quarters.” His eyes flicked to Car’das. “My apologies.”

“No apologies needed, Commander,” Car’das assured him, feeling a tightness in his throat as he gave Chaf’orm’bintrano an abbreviated bow. “None at all.”

The rooms Thrawn had ordered for them were built along the same lines as their quarters aboard the Springhawk, though somewhat larger. There were also two sleeping rooms this time instead of one, with a common refresher station set between them. Qennto and Maris were shown to one of the rooms, while Car’das was taken to the other. Exploring his new quarters, Car’das discovered to his mild surprise that his clothing and personal effects had already been brought from his cabin on the Bargain Hunter and arranged neatly in the various storage drawers. Apparently, Thrawn was planning an extended stay for them.

He paced the floor for a while, trying not to think about Chaf’orm’bintrano and his unconcealed disapproval of their presence in Chiss territory. An hour later a silent warrior arrived at his door with a meal on a tray. Car’das briefly considered checking on Qennto and Maris, decided they could come find him if they wanted his company, and ate his meal alone.

Afterward, he sat down at the computer station and tried the procedure Thrawn had taught them aboard the Springhawk for accessing the Cheunh vocabulary lists. The procedure worked on this computer, too, and he settled down to study.

It was five hours later, and he was dozing at the computer station, when another Chiss finally came to fetch him.

He was taken to a darkened room that was a close double of the Springhawk‘s Forward Visual Triangulation Site.

In this case the wide viewport looked out into the docking cavern outside, and Car’das could see the distant glow of drive enginesas a vessel made its way toward the exit tunnel. “Good evening, Car’das,” Thrawn said from one of the seats to the side of the room. “I trust you had a productive day.”

“Reasonably productive, yes,” Car’das said, going over and sitting down beside him. “I worked ahead a little on my language lessons.”

“Yes, I know,” Thrawn said. “I wanted to apologize to you for Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano’s lack of courtesy.”

“I’m sorry he took a dislike to us,” Car’das said, trying to be diplomatic. “I enjoyed the welcoming ceremony, and was looking forward to seeing more of how the Chiss do things.”

“It was nothing personal,” Thrawn assured him.

“Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano considers your presence here a threat to the Ascendancy.”

“May I ask why?”

Thrawn shrugged fractionally. “To some people, the unknown always represents a threat.”

“Sometimes they’re right,” Car’das conceded. “On the other hand, you Chiss seem quite capable of taking care of yourselves in a fight.”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “There are times when I wonder.

Tell me, do you understand the concept of neutralizing a potential enemy before that enemy can launch an attack against you?“

“You mean like a preemptive strike?” Car’das asked.

“Certainly.”

“It’s widespread among your people, then?”

“I’m not sure widespread is the right word,” Car’das hedged. “I know there are people who consider it immoral.”

“Do you?”

Car’das grimaced. He was twenty-three years old, and he worked for a smuggler who liked to tweak Hutts. What did he know about the universe? “I think that if you’re going to do something like that, you need to make very sure they’re a genuine threat,” he said slowly. “I mean, you need to have evidence that they were actually planning to attack you.”