Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Wait.”

Doriana paused, his hand hovering over the control.

Sidious’s lips had tightened, and Doriana had the sense that the Sith Lord was running through the same logic chain he himself had just been working out.

And apparently had come to the same conclusion. “No, you continue with the plan,” he said, his voice calm again. “I will remove Skywalker from Outbound Flight.”

“Yes, my lord,” Doriana said, wilting a little with relief.

He didn’t have the foggiest idea how Sidious was going to pull that one off, especially with C’baoth and five other Jedi Masters on hand to oppose him. But that was the Sith Lord’s problem.

Doriana was off the hook, and that was the important thing. “I’ll contact you again when the mission has been accomplished.”

“Do that, Doriana,” Sidious said. His eyes, as always,were hidden by his hood; just the same, Doriana could almost see them burning a hole through the long light-years separating the two men before the image flickered and vanished.

For a few seconds Doriana remained where he was, taking deep breaths as he worked out the tension still quivering through his body. Once again, the game had nearly proved fatal.

Once again, he had made it through unscathed.

One of these times, perhaps, he wouldn’t.

But that future was a long way away. Right now he had a fleet to find, and an ambush to prepare.

And eighteen Jedi to kill.

Shutting down the holoprojector, he went back to the pilot’s chair and plugged Kav’s data card into the reader slot.

Time to find out exactly where they were going.

The pylon turbolift car door opened into yet another spacious lobby area. “Okay,” Anakin said, leaning out for a look.

“And this one is”—he threw a not quite surreptitious look at the marking on the side—“Dreadnaught-Four?”

“Correct,” C’baoth said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pressing him forward out of the car. “We’re now at the farthest side of Outbound Flight from the command ship, Dreadnaught- One.”

“Rather like Tatooine in that respect,” Obi-Wan added drily.

“Right,” Anakin said. “Only cooler and less sandy.”

“‘Tatooine?” C’baoth asked.

“A small planet where Anakin grew up,” Obi-Wan explained. “The locals like to say that it’s the farthest point from the center of the universe, like Dreadnaught-Four’s the farthestfrom Dreadnaught-One’s command areas.”

C’baoth nodded. “Ah.”

Dreadnaught-Four’s architecture and equipment, Obi-Wan noted, were identical to those of the other ships they’d visited on C’baoth’s tour. Not really surprising, considering how the expedition had been put together. Also as in the other Dreadnaughts, the people passing through the corridors around them all seemed to be moving with a brisk, business-like step, their expressions cheerful, confident, and determined.

Small wonder. Against steep odds their grand adventure had finally begun, and the warm glow of that accomplishment was still with them.

“Jedi Master Justyn Ma’Ning is in charge of this particular Dreadnaught,” C’baoth said as they headed aft. “I believe you spoke with him at the First Night dinner.”

“Yes, we chatted for a few minutes,” Obi-Wan said. “I thought Commander Omano was in charge of Dreadnaught-Four.”

“I meant that Master Ma’Ning oversees Jedi operations and activities,” C’baoth said. “He should be back in Conference Room Five with his two Jedi Knights and a select group of families. Let’s go see how they’re doing.”

“What were these families selected for?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The highest honor possible,” C’baoth said. “Over the next few days, one of each family’s children will be starting Jedi training.”

Obi-Wan stared at him. “Jedi training?”

“Indeed,” C’baoth confirmed. “You see, along with their basic technical skills, prospective colonists were also screened for the presence of Force-sensitive children. Those families with the most promise were given preferential status,though of course we kept that a secret up until now. We have eleven candidates in all, including the three here in Dreadnaught-Four.”

“How old are these children?” Obi-Wan asked.

“They range in age from four to ten,” C’baoth said. He cocked an eyebrow at Anakin. “Which is, I believe, the same age Master Skywalker was when you took him as your Padawan.”

“It is,” Obi-Wan confirmed, feeling his lip twist. For centuries standard Temple policy had been to accept only infants into Jedi training, and C’baoth knew it. Unfortunately, Anakin was a glaring exception to that rule, an exception C’baoth clearly intended to use as his justification for this. “What about their parents?”

“What about them?”

“They’ve all given their permission for this training?”

“They will,” C’baoth assured him. “As I said, giving a child to the Jedi is the highest honor possible.”

“So you haven’t actually asked them yet?”

“Of course not,” C’baoth said, an edge of puzzlement creeping into his tone. “What parent wouldn’t be proud to have a Jedi son or daughter?”

Obi-Wan braced himself. “But if for some reason they don’t see it that way—”

“Later,” C’baoth interrupted, gesturing to a door to their right. “We’re here.”

The conference room was one of many midsize meeting areas scattered around a typical Dreadnaught. At the far end, standing beside a podium, was Jedi Master Ma’Ning, listening intently to a question from a woman in the front row. Flanking him, dressed in Jedi robes, were a pair of Duros.

And seated in the rows of chairs in front of them, nearly packing the available space, were perhaps forty men, women, and children. Far more than the three families C’baoth had implied would be here.

C’baoth was clearly surprised, too. “What in the… ?” he rumbled under his breath, his eyes flashing as he looked around.

“Maybe they brought their friends?” Anakin suggested hesitantly.

“Friends were not invited,” C’baoth growled. He started to move forward, then seemed to think better of it.

Instead, he gave an impatient gesture to his right. Turning that direction, Obi-Wan saw Lorana Jinzler detach herself from the back wall where she’d been standing and walk over to them.

She nodded in greeting as she reached them. “Master C’baoth,” she said quietly. “Master Ma’Ning said you might drop in on us.”

“And it’s fortunate that I did,” C’baoth said. His voice was low, but Obi-Wan could see a few of the people in the back row starting to look around to see what was going on. “What are all these people doing here?”

“Master Ma’Ning invited all the secondaries and their families, as well,” Lorana told him.

“Secondaries?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Those with a small amount of latent Force sensitivity, too small for them to ever become Jedi,” C’baoth said, glowering across the room at Ma’Ning. “What about you, Jedi Jinzler?

Why aren’t you attending to your duties on Dreadnaught-One?”

“Master Ma’Ning asked me to come,” she said, her voice a little strained.

C’baoth rumbled deep in his throat. “I see,” he said darkly.

They waited in silence as Ma’Ning answered the question he’d been asked—something about ration redistribution for those whose children would be undergoing the training—and called for more questions. There were none, and with a final word of thanks he called the meeting to a close.

And as the audience began to gather themselves together, C’baoth strode down the aisle toward the front.

Obi-Wan followed, Anakin and Lorana at his sides. As near as Obi-Wan could tell from the snatches of conversation he could hear, most of the people did indeed seem pleased or even excited by the fact that they had future Jedi in their families.