Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

Uliar stared at him. “You’re kidding,” he said. “Did someone on Coruscant have spoiled shellfish for lunch and start hearing voices?”

Tarkosa shook his head. “Rumor has it that it’s all Jedi Master C’baoth’s doing. He came roaring back from some negotiation session two days ago with enough momentum to crush-roll this whole thing straight through committee.” He lifted a finger. “And it looks like we’re going to get some more Jedi, too.”

“How many?”

“Don’t know,” Tarkosa said. “As many as C’baoth wants, apparently.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Uliar murmured, a faint wisp of hope tugging at him. Rumors around here were as cheap as hardware problems, and he certainly wasn’t ready to take any of this at face value. But if the Jedi had genuinely signed on to the project, maybe things would finally start to turn around. After all, a solar wind drove all wisp-sails, and everyone knew that Jedi always got the best of everything. “So when is this all supposed to happen?”

“Any day now,” Tarkosa assured him. He grinned lopsidedly. “Hey, have a little faith. Come on—let’s go get Keely, and hit the tapcaf for dinner.”

“You go ahead,” Uliar told him, turning back to the pantry and pulling out a packaged ship’s ration. “I’ll save my celebrating until the Jedi are actually here.”

“Six of them?” Obi-Wan repeated disbelievingly.

“Including C’baoth himself, yes,” Windu confirmed, his back rigid as he stared out the Council Chamber window at the evening Coruscant skyline. “And eleven Jedi Knights have signed on to go along, as well.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. Six Jedi Masters, plus eleven Jedi Knights, was not an insignificant number in these increasingly dark days. “I thought you and Master Yoda told him he could have no more than two other Jedi.”

“That was before Barlok,” Windu said ruefully, turning to face him. “After Barlok… well, let’s just say that not even the Council is completely immune to pressure.”

“Yes, I heard some of it,” Obi-Wan said, nodding. “He was pushing his arguments to anyone who would listen.”

“And he can be highly persuasive when he wants to be,” Windu said. “I just wasn’t expecting so many to get caught up in his excitement.”

Obi-Wan felt a frown crease his forehead. Jedi Master Mace Windu, as closely attuned with the Force as any Jedi in the Republic… and yet he hadn’t foreseen something this dramatic?

“Couldn’t you refuse them permission?”

“Of course we could,” Windu said. “But I’m afraid that at the moment that would just cause more dissension. We can’t afford that, not in these times of turmoil. And to be honest, there are good arguments to have a strong Jedi presence aboard Outbound Flight.” He paused, studying Obi-Wan’s face. “Tell me, did the investigators on Barlok ever locate or identify the human whom the Brolf conspirators claimed had helped with their missile attack?”

“Not as of when Anakin and I left,” Obi-Wan said. “I haven’t heard anything since then, either. Why?”

“It just bothers me somehow,” Windu said. “We have a human help to launch a missile, which is then stopped in thenick of time by another human. Coincidence?”

Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows creeping up his forehead.

“Are you suggesting C’baoth might have set the whole thing up himself?”

“No, of course not,” Windu said. But he didn’t sound entirely certain. “Only a Jedi who’d turned to the dark side would be capable of such cold-blooded manipulation. I can’t believe he’d do that, not even for something he believes in this strongly.”

“On the other hand, we suspect there may be a Sith out there somewhere,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “Maybe… no. No, I can’t believe it, either.”

“Still, we can’t afford to take chances,” Windu said.

“That’s why I asked you here tonight. I want you and Anakin to find C’baoth and ask to go along with him. Not all the way to the next galaxy,” he hastened to add as Obi-Wan felt his jaw drop.

“Just through the Unknown Regions part of the exploration.”

“That could take months,” Obi-Wan protested. “I have work to do on Sulorine.”

“Sometimes a Jedi’s most important duty is to stand and wait,” Windu countered mildly. “I presume you’ve mentioned that to Anakin on occasion?”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Not more than twice a day,” he conceded. “Did you have any suggestions on how to convince C’baoth to turn around when we reach the edge of the galaxy and take us back?”

“That would be an interesting conversation to sit in on,” Windu said drily. “But no, my thought was to put a Delta-Twelve Skysprite aboard one of the Dreadnaughts for you.

It’s a bigger, two-seat version of the Delta-Seven Aethersprite you’ve been training on, only with the weapons packs stripped off. Kuat Systems is hoping to put them on the civilian market sometime in the next few months.”

“No internal hyperdrive, I take it?”

Windu shook his head. “It uses the same TransGalMeg hyperdrive ring as the Aethersprite.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said doubtfully, running the numbers in his head. “We’re talking an awful lot of distance for something that size. Especially with two people aboard.”

“It would be tight, but doable,” Windu assured him.

“Especially since both you and Anakin can use Jedi hibernation to stretch out the supplies of air and food.”

Obi-Wan spread his hands. “If that’s what the Council wishes, Anakin and I stand ready to obey. If C’baoth will have us, that is.”

“Just find a way aboard,” Windu said, his eyes darkening. “However you have to do it.”

What is your profession?“ Thrawn asked in Cheunh.

“I am a merchant trader,” Car’das said carefully in the same language, forcing the odd sounds through unwilling tongue and lips.

Thrawn lifted his eyebrows politely. “You are a fishing boat?” he asked, switching to Basic.

Car’das looked at Maris. “That’s what you said,” she confirmed, an amused smile on her face.

He lifted his hand slightly, let it fall back into his lap. “I am a merchant trader,” he said, giving up and switching over to the Minnisiat trade language.

“Ah,” Thrawn said in the same language. “You’re a merchant trader?”

“Yes.” Car’das shook his head. “I really said I was a fishing boat?”

“Pohskapforian; Pohskapforian,” Thrawn pronounced.

“Can you hear the difference?”

Car’das nodded. He could hear the difference between the aspirated and unaspirated p sounds in the second syllable, all right. He just couldn’t make the difference with his own mouth.

“And I practiced that all evening, too,” he grumbled.

“I warned you Cheunh would most likely be beyond your physical capabilities,” Thrawn reminded him. “Still, your increase in comprehension level has been quite amazing, especially after only five weeks. And your progress with Minnisiat over the same period has been nothing less than remarkable. I’m impressed.” His glowing eyes shifted to Maris.

“With both of you,” he added.

“Thank you, Commander,” Car’das said. “To have impressed you is high praise indeed.”

“Now you flatter me,” Thrawn warned with a smile. “Is that the correct word? Flatter?”

“The word is correct,” Car’das confirmed. Whatever progress he and Maris might have made with their studies, Thrawn’s own work on Basic had far surpassed them, a feat rendered all the more remarkable given how much less time he’d had to devote to language studies. “But I would argue with the usage,” he added. “Flattery implies exaggeration or even falsehood. My statement was the truth.”