Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“I’ll send word when I want you again,” he said as the door slid open.

“We’ll look forward to further conversation,” Qennto said, giving a truncated bow as he eased Maris behind him through the doorway. “Thank you, Commander.”

The two of them disappeared inside. Inclining his head to the commander, Car’das followed.

The room was compactly furnished, containing a three-tier bunk bed against one wall and a fold-down table and bench seats on the other. Beside the bunk bed were three large drawers built into the wall, while to the right was a door leading into what seemed to be a compact refresher station.

“What do you think he’s going to do with us?” Maris murmured, looking around.

“He’ll let us go,” Qennto assured her, glancing into the refresher station and then sitting down on the lowest cot, hunching forward to keep from bumping his head on the one above it. “The real question is whether we’ll be taking the firegems with us.”

Car’das cleared his throat. “Should we be talking about this?” he asked, looking significantly around the room.

“Relax,” Qennto growled. “They don’t speak a word of Basic.” His eyes narrowed. “And as long as we’re on the subject of speaking, why the frizz did you tell him we knew Progga?”

“There was something in his eves and voice just then,”

Car’das said. “Something that said he already knew all about it, and that we’d better not get caught lying to him.”

Qennto snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe there were survivors from Progga’s crew,”

Maris suggested.

“Not a chance,” Qennto said firmly. “You saw what the ship looked like. The thing’d been peeled open like a ration bar.”

“I don’t know how he knew,” Car’das insisted. “All I know is that he did know.”

“And you shouldn’t lie to an honorable man anyway,”

Maris murmured.

“Who, him? Honorable?” Qennto scoffed. “Don’t you believe it. Military men are all alike, and the smooth ones the worst of the lot.”

“I’ve known quite a few honorable soldiers,” Maris said stiffly. “Besides, I’ve always had a good feel for people. I think this Mitth’raw—I think the commander can be trusted.” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think trying to con him would be a good idea, either.”

“It’s only a bad idea if you get caught,” Qennto said.

“You get what you bargain for in this universe, Maris. Nothing more.”

“You don’t have enough faith in people.”

“I got all the faith I need, kiddo,” Qennto said calmly.

“I just happen to know a little more about human nature than you do. Human and nonhuman nature.”

“I still think we need to play completely straight with him,” Maris said.

“Playing straight is the last thing you want to do. Ever.

It gives the other guy all the advantages.” Qennto nodded toward the closed door. “And this guy in particular sounds like the sort who’ll ask questions until we die of old age if we let him.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt if he kept us around for at least a little while,” Car’das suggested. “Progga’s people are going to be pretty mad when he doesn’t come back.”

Qennto shook his head. “They’ll never pin it on us.”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, kid, let me do the thinking, okay?” Qennto cut in. Swiveling his legs up onto the bunk, he lay back with his arms folded behind his back. “Now everyone be quiet for a while. I’ve got to figure out how to play this.”

Maris caught Car’das’s eye, gave a little shrug, then turned and climbed up onto the bunk above Qennto. Stretching out, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed meditatively at the underside of the bunk above her.

Crossing to the other side of the room, Car’das folded down the table and one of the bench seats and sat down, wedging himself more or less comfortably between the table and wall. Putting his elbow on the table and propping his head up on his hand, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a sudden buzzstartled him awake. He jumped up as the door opened to reveal a single black-clad Chiss. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s respects,” the alien said, the Sy Bisti words coming out thickly accented. “He requests your presence in Forward Visual One.”

“Wonderful,” Qennto said, swinging his legs onto the floor and standing up. His tone and expression were the false cheerfulness Car’das had heard him use time and again in bargaining sessions.

“Not you,” the Chiss said. He gestured to Car’das. “This one only.”

Qennto came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“A refreshment is being prepared,” the Chiss said.

“Until it is ready, this one only will come.”

“Now, wait a second,” Qennto growled. “We stick together or—”

“It’s okay,” Car’das interrupted hastily. The Chiss standing in the doorway hadn’t moved, but Car’das had caught a subtle shift of light and shadow that indicated there were others wandering around out there. “I’ll be fine.”

“Car’das—”

“It’s okay,” Car’das repeated, stepping to the doorway.

The Chiss moved back, and he walked out into the corridor.

There were indeed more Chiss waiting by the door, two of them on either side. “Follow,” the messenger said as the door closed.

The group headed down the curved corridor, passing three cross-corridors and several other doorways along the way.

Two of the doors were open, and Car’das couldn’t resist a furtive glance inside each as he passed. All he could see, though, was unrecognizable equipment and more black-clad Chiss.

He had expected Forward Visual to be a crowded,high-tech room. To his surprise, the door opened into something that looked like a compact version of a starliner’s observation gallery. A long, curved couch sat in front of a convex floor-to-ceiling viewport currently showing a spectacular view of the glowing hyperspace sky as it flowed past the ship. The room’s own lights were dimmed, making the display that much more impressive.

“Welcome, Jorj Car’das.”

Car’das looked around. Mitth’raw’nuruodo was seated alone at the far end of the couch, silhouetted against the hyperspace sky. “Commander,” he greeted the other, glancing a question at his guide. The other nodded, stepping back and closing the door on himself and the rest of the escort. Feeling more than a little uneasy, Car’das stepped around the near end of the couch and made his way across the curve.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo commented as Car’das arrived at his side. “Please; be seated.”

“Thank you,” Car’das said, easing himself onto the couch a cautious meter away from the other. “May I ask why you sent for me?”

“To share this view, of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said drily. “And to answer a few questions.”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. So it was to be an interrogation. Down deep he’d known it would be, but had hoped against hope that Maris’s naively idealistic assessment of their captor might actually be right. “A very nice view it is, too,” he commented, not knowing what else to say. “I’m a little surprised to find such a room aboard a warship.”

“Oh, it’s quite functional,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him. “Its full name is Forward Visual Triangulation Site Number One. We place spotters here during combat to track enemy vessels and other possible threats, and to coordinate some of our line-of sight weaponry.”

“Don’t you have sensors to handle that?”

“Of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “And usually they’re quite adequate. But I’m sure you know there are ways of misleading or blinding electronic eyes. Sometimes the eyes of a Chiss are more reliable.”