Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Indeed,” C’baoth said. “And it’s Jedi Jinzler now. She was elevated to Jedi Knighthood three weeks ago.”

“Really,” Obi-Wan said, carefully hiding his surprise.

From the way she’d been talking on Barlok, he would have guessed that event to be years in the future. “My apologies, Jedi Jinzler, and my congratulations. Do I take it you’ll also be traveling aboard Outbound Flight with Master C’baoth?”

“Of course she will,” C’baoth said before Lorana could answer. “She’s one of the chosen, one of the few among even the Jedi whom I trust completely.”

“You don’t trust even Jedi?” Anakin asked, sounding surprised.

“I said I trust her completely,” C’baoth told him gravely. “Certainly there are others I trust. But only to a degree.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, clearly taken aback.

“Fortunately, you and your instructor are among that somewhat larger group,” C’baoth said, a small smile touching his lips. “Very well, Master Kenobi. You and your Padawan may accompany me to the edge of the galaxy, provided you make your own arrangements for returning to the Republic.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “The Delta-Twelve Skysprite we’ll be using for our return is on the surface, ready to be brought up and loaded aboard.”

“Good,” C’baoth said. “You’ll stay here aboard Dreadnaught-One. Captain, you’ll arrange quarters for them.”

“Yes, Master C’baoth,” Pakmillu rumbled. “I’ll have the quartermaster—”

“You will arrange quarters for them,” C’baoth repeated, a subtle but unmistakable emphasis on the first word.

“These are Jedi. They will be treated accordingly.”

Pakmillu’s mouth tendrils twitched. “Yes, Master C’baoth.” He stepped to one of the consoles and tapped at the keys with his flippered hands. “And Jedi Jinzler?”

“I’ve already reserved her quarters near my own,”

C’baoth told him. “Deck Three, Suite A-Four.”

“Very well,” Pakmillu said, peering at the display.

“Master Kenobi, you and Master Skywalker will have Suite A-Eight on Deck Five. I trust that will be acceptable.”

“It will,” C’baoth said before Obi-Wan could answer.

“You may now assign someone to escort them to their quarters.”

From behind them came a sudden crinkling sound of tearing metal. Obi-Wan spun around to see that a large sheet of secondary conductive grid had come loose from the wall and was hanging precariously over a bank of control consoles. He stretched out with the Force C’baoth got there first, catching the sheet in a Force grip even as it came the rest of the way loose. “Jedi Jinzler: assist them,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master C’baoth,” Lorana said, hurrying off.

“Captain Pakmillu, you were going to find an escort for our new passengers?” C’baoth continued in a conversational tone, even as he continued to hold the grid floating in midair.

“That won’t be necessary,” Obi-Wan said. “I studied Dreadnaught deck plans on the trip here. We can find our own way.”

C’baoth frowned slightly, and for a second Obi-Wan thought he was going to insist on an escort anyway, as befit proper Jedi treatment. But then the wrinkles smoothed and he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Captain Pakmillu is hosting a First Night dinner in the senior officers’ wardroom at seven. My fellow Jedi Masters will be there. You’ll attend, as well.”

“We’ll be honored,” Obi-Wan said.

“And you’ll need to stop by the Dreadnaught-One medcenter,” Pakmillu added. “The Supreme Chancellor’s representative has instructed that all personnel be given a complete examination, including the taking of analysis-grade blood and tissue samples for shipment to Coruscant. Apparently, there’s some concern about hive viruses or potential epidemics.”

“We’ll get ourselves checked out,” Obi-Wan promised.

“Until tonight, then.”

He nudged Anakin, and together they made their way across the room. “Master C’baoth certainly seems to know what he wants, doesn’t he?” he commented.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Anakin said firmly. “If Master Yoda or Master Windu talked that way to the Chancellor and Senate once in a while, maybe more things would get done.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Maybe.”

The grid was heavy, and flexible enough to be difficult to get a grip on. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem for a Jedi.

Stretching out with the Force, Lorana lifted it back into position, holding it in place while the techs hurriedly worked at its fastenings.

“Thanks,” the overseer puffed when it was finally secured. “Those things are a real mean, they’re a real pain when they get loose like that.”

“No problem,” Lorana assured him. “I was glad I could help.”

“Me, too,” he grunted. “Did I hear someone say your name was Jinzler?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause we’ve got a Jinzler on our work team,” he said, fumbling out a comlink and punching in a code. “Guy named Dean. Relative of yours?”

“I don’t know,” Lorana said. “I was only ten months old when I entered the Jedi Temple. I don’t know anything about my family.”

“What, they never came to see you?”

“Families aren’t allowed to visit,” Lorana told him.

“Oh,” the other said, sounding surprised. A tone sounded, and he lifted the comlink to his lips. “Jinzler? Brooks.

Where are you?… Okay, find a stopping place and hop on over to the messroom… ‘Cause I want to see you, that’s why.”

He keyed off and returned the comlink to his belt.

“This way, Jedi Jinzler,” he said, gesturing toward one of the ComOps Center’s starboard doors.

“But I already said I don’t know him,” Lorana protested as she followed.

“Yeah, but maybe he’ll know you,” Brooks said. They stepped through the door into the corridor and he turned toward the nearest turbolift. “Worth checking out anyway, isn’t it?”

Lorana felt her throat tighten. “I suppose.”

They took the turbolift three levels down from the command deck and along a narrow corridor to a large table-filled room with a full-length serving counter stretching across one end. A dozen humans and aliens were scattered in twos and threes around the various tables, conversing in low tones over multicolored liquids, while three serving droids busied themselves behind the counter. “There he is,” Brooks said, pointing at a table along the back wall. A lone, dark-haired man sat there, his back to the rest of the room, cradling a steaming mug between his hands. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

He set off across the room, exchanging nods and greetings with some of the others as he passed. Lorana followed, her quiet misgivings growing steadily stronger… and as they got within three meters of the man he half turned, and she got her first look at his profile.

It was the man she’d seen so many times back on Coruscant.

She stopped short, her whole body going taut. Brooks didn’t notice, but continued the rest of the way to the table.

“Hey, Jinzler,” he said, gesturing toward her. “Want to introduce you to someone.”

The young man turned the rest of the way around in his chair. “No need,” he said, his voice steady but edged with an unpleasant mixture of tension and bitterness. “Jedi Lorana Jinzler, I presume.”

With an effort, Lorana found her voice. “Yes,” she said.

The word came out calmer than she had expected it to. “Dean Jinzler, I presume.”

“You two know each other?” Brooks asked, frowning back and forth between them.

“Hardly,” Jinzler said. “She’s only my sister.”

“Your—?” Brooks stared at him, then at Lorana. “But I thought—”