Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“But only for defense,” Maris put in. “Jedi never attack first.”

“You talking about Jedi?” Qennto put in. “Car’das? Did she say Jedi?”

“She’s trying to describe the Jedi for him,” Car’das said. “The Chiss apparently don’t have anything like them.”

“Good,” Qennto grunted. “At least we top them in something. So what’s she saying?”

“They were just talking about Jedi powers,” Car’das said, looking at the two Chiss. Thrawn’s face was expressionless, while Thrass was clearly annoyed with this side conversation in a language he didn’t understand. “But we can talk about this later,” he added.

“Yeah,” Qennto said. “Sure.”

They finished the rest of the tour and returned to the base. Car’das still couldn’t tell what Thrass thought of it all, but he found himself wilting with relief as he and the others were released to go back to their quarters. He’d half expected the syndic to order them all into the brig.

The relief was premature. Even as he started to pass Qennto and Maris’s quarters and head toward his own, Qennto took his arm and hauled him bodily through the door. “What—?”

“Shut up,” Qennto said, pulling him the rest of the way through and letting the door close behind him. Giving him a shove toward Maris, he put his back to the door and folded his arms defiantly across his chest. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

“Let’s hear what?” Car’das asked, his heartbeat starting to pound again.

“The story about you and Maris and Thrawn,” Qennto said coldly. “Specifically, these private chats he and Maris have been having.”

Car’das caught his breath, and instantly cursed himself for his reaction. If Qennto had requested a guilty reaction in writing, he could hardly have delivered him a better one. “What do you mean?” he asked, stalling for time.

“Don’t you mean, how do I know?” Qennto snorted.

“What, you think that just because I don’t come to your little language school I’ve just been sitting around staring at the walls?” He nodded at the computer across the room. “Maris was kind enough to let me watch her set up the pathway to the vocabulary lists.”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. “So you understand Cheunh?”

“I understand enough of it.” Qennto looked at Maris. “I also know how to read women.”

“You don’t understand,” Maris said, her voice low and soothing.

“Fine,” he said. “Explain it to me.”

She took a deep breath. “I admire Commander Thrawn,” she said. Her voice was still soothing, but Car’das could hear cracks starting to form in it. She knew Qennto’s temper even better than he did. “He’s intelligent and noble, with an artistic sensitivity I haven’t seen since I left school.”

Qennto snorted. “You mean since you left those shallow needle-headed idiots you used to hang out with?”

“Yes, most of them were idiots,” she agreed without embarrassment. “Comes of being young, I suppose.”

“But Thrawn is different?”

“Thrawn is a grown-up version,” she said. “His artistic sense is coupled with maturity and wisdom. I enjoy spending time talking with him.” Her eyes flashed. “Just talking with him, if that matters.”

“Not really,” Qennto growled. But as Car’das watched some of the tension go out of him, he could tell that it did. “So if these meetings are so innocent, why have you been hiding them?”

A muscle in Maris’s cheek twitched. “Because I knew you’d react exactly like this.”

“And this secrecy was all your idea, huh?”

She hesitated. “Actually, I believe Thrawn suggested it.”

Qennto grunted. “Thought so.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Maris asked, her eyes narrowing ominously.

“It means he’s playing you for a fool,” Qennto said bluntly. “I may not be cultured or artistic, but I’ve been around a little. I know his type, and he’s not what he seems. They neverare.”

“Maybe he’s the exception.”

“You can believe that if you want,” Qennto said. “I’m just telling you that somewhere along the line this little pyramid of cards you’ve build around him is going to fall apart. Bet on it.”

“I will,” she said, her eyes blazing openly now. “You be sure to point it out when it happens.” Turning her back on him, she stalked over to the computer and dropped into the chair.

Qennto watched her go, then turned to Car’das. “You have anything to say?” he challenged.

“No,” Car’das said quickly. “Nothing.”

“Then get out,” Qennto said, moving away from the door. “And remember what I said. Don’t you trust him, either.”

“Sure.” Sidling carefully past him, Car’das escaped out into the corridor and back to his quarters.

Through the row of viewports on the bridge of the Trade Federation battleship Darkvenge the starlines faded once again into stars. “We have arrived,” Vicelord Kav announced from his throne-like command chair.

“Mm,” Doriana murmured noncommittally from his seat on the observers’ couch curving out beside the other. In general, the Neimoidians had excellent navigational systems. But systems were only as good as their operators, and in the Darkvenge‘s case that was open to question. Sidious had insisted the crews of all the task force’s ships be kept to a bare minimum, retaining only those who could be trusted to keep their mouths closed and bringing in droids to take up the slack.

More than once, Doriana had wondered whether Sidious’s ultimate plan was to kill any survivors of the mission to make doubly sure that none of this ever leaked out. If so, the low crew numbers would certainly make that easier.

“Your concerns are needless,” Kav said haughtily, completely missing the direction Doriana’s thoughts had taken.

“We are double-checking the location now.”

“Thank you,” Doriana said, inclining his head politely.

The skeleton crew would not, of course, affect their attack capabilities to any great degree. That would be handled by droid star-fighters, and that system was largely automated.

He looked around the bridge at the Neimoidians and droids working busily in the various sunken control pits, then turned his attention to the tactical board. The task force was arranging itself into a typical Neimoidian defense structure: the two huge Trade Federation split-ring battleships in the center where they would be best protected, the six armed Techno Union Hardcell-class transports forming a pyramid-point defensive shell around them, and the seven Trade Federation escort cruisers arrayed in a patrol cloud beyond that.

It was an awesome collection of firepower, possibly the largest assembled in one place since the fiasco at Naboo. Against even the weaponry of six brand-new Dreadnaughts, they should have no trouble carrying the day.

Assuming, of course, that Kav’s navigators had indeed brought them to the right part of the right system. If they missed Outbound Flight here, they would have to hurry another six hundred light-years ahead in order to catch it at its second navigational stop.

“Our position is confirmed,” Kav said with satisfaction.

His nictitating membranes blinked at Doriana. “If the coordinates you have brought us are correct.”

“They are,” Doriana said. “If Outbound Flight is on schedule, they’ll arrive in a little over eleven days. Until then, we’ll run training exercises to make sure your people and equipment will be ready.”

“They are more than ready,” Kav insisted stiffly. “The combat programs for the droid starfighters are the very best, and between our two battleships we have nearly three thousandof them. No matter how strong Outbound Flight’s defenses, no matter how skilled their gunners, we will destroy them with ease.”