Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Yes, there are localized datapad systems that can handle up to two hundred droids each,” Doriana said, suppressing a grimace. Kav was upset enough at him for simply handing over his starfighters for the Chiss to pick apart. He wasn’t going to be any happier about losing his combat droids.

“I’ll pack one in with the droidekas.”

“Good,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I take it only the droidekas come with those built-in force shields?”

“Correct,” Doriana said. “But if you’re thinking about adapting the shields for use by your warriors, I’d advise against it. There’s a fairly dense radiation quotient involved, plus high-twist magnetic fields that turn out to be fairly nasty for living beings.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, inclining his head slightly. “As it happens, we’re somewhat familiar with such devices, though they were generally used with reversed polarity.”

“Reversed polarity?” Doriana frowned. “You mean with the deflection field facing inward?”

“They were used as intruder traps,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo explained. “Many an unwary robber incinerated himself as he tried to shoot a guard or homeowner from the inside.”

Doriana winced. “Ah.”

“But as you say, they proved too dangerous to bystanders and innocents who were accidentally caught,” thecommander went on. “Their use was discontinued many decades ago.” He stood up. “I must leave now. I’ll return later to confirm that my orders have been carried out.”

Fourteen vessels,“ Admiral Ar’alani declared, her glowing eyes sweeping the field of debris stretched out before them. ”Possibly thirteen, if the two sections of wreckage to the right belonged to a single vessel that broke apart before exploding.“

“Is that the correct number, Car’das?” Thrass asked.

“Yes, that’s sounds about right,” Car’das agreed, his muscles wilting a little with relief. The fifteenth ship, the intact Trade Federation battleship, was nowhere to be seen. He just hoped that it was Thrawn who’d moved it, and that it hadn’t managed to skip out on its own. “Of course, I was just an observer,” he reminded them. “I didn’t have access to the sensor information.”

“Plus there were a considerable number of those,”

Ar’alani continued, pointing at the charred sections of two droid starfighters floating past the bridge canopy. “Too small to be staffed.”

“They’re mechanical devices called droids,” Car’das said. “These in particular are called droid starfighters.”

Thrass grunted. “If the field of battle is any indication of their combat abilities, I would say they’re misnamed.”

“Don’t be misled by your brother’s skill at warfare, Syndic Mitth’ras’safis,” Ar’alani warned. “If these droids were as useless as you imply, no one would take the time and effort to build them.”

“I’ve seen reports of them in combat,” Car’das confirmed. “Against most opponents, they’re quite formidable.”

“Yet I still see no evidence that these weapons or theirmasters attacked first,” Ar’alani pointed out.

“I can only repeat what I said earlier, Admiral,”

Car’das told her. “The mere act of launching the starfighters was an overt act of aggression. Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo responded in the only way he could to protect his forces.”

“Perhaps,” Ar’alani said. “That will be for a military tribunal to decide.”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. “You’re bringing him up on charges?”

“That will also be for the tribunal to decide,” Thrass said. “But we’ll first need to examine the records of the battle and interview the warriors who were present.”

“At this battle as well as the earlier raid against the Vagaari,” Ar’alani added.

“I understand,” Car’das said, his heart starting to beat a little faster. Here was the opening he’d been looking for.

“Speaking of the Vagaari, my colleagues and I were hoping we could settle the question soon about the treasure we were promised, so that we could be on our way.”

Ar’alani’s eyebrows arched. “Now, suddenly, you’re in a hurry to return home?”

“We’re merchants,” Car’das reminded her. “This has been an interesting and productive side trip, but the cargo in our hold is way overdue for delivery.”

“A cargo you would very much like to supplement with stolen pirate plunder.”

“Yes, but only because our customers will demand late-delivery penalties,” Car’das explained. “There’s no way for us to pay those without the items Captain Qennto has requested.”

“You should have thought about that before deciding to stay,” Thrass said. “At any rate, the matter of the treasure willhave to wait until the tribunal has made its decision. If my brother is found to have violated Chiss military doctrine, he’ll have no standing to argue your side of the question.”

“I understand,” Car’das said heavily. “How long is this hearing likely to take?”

“That depends on how quickly I can collect the details of the two battles,” Ar’alani said. “Once I’ve done so, I’ll request that a tribunal be seated.”

Weeks, in other words. Possibly even months. “And what will Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s status be until then?”

“I’ll be supervising his operations and overseeing all of his orders,” Ar’alani said. She nodded fractionally at Thrass. “At Syndic Mitth’ras’safis’s request.”

Car’das looked at Thrass, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Once again, Thrawn’s analysis had proved right on the mark. “You’d do this to your own brother?”

The muscles in Thrass’s cheeks tightened; but it was Ar’alani who answered. “Neither Syndic Mitth’ras’safis nor I is unsympathetic toward Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said evenly. “We wish only to protect him from his own excesses of zeal and ability.”

“From his excess of ability?” Car’das snorted. “That’s a new one.”

“He’s a gifted tactician and commander,” Ar’alani said.

“But without proper restraint he’ll eventually go too far and end his days in exile. What good will those gifts do anyone then?”

“And meanwhile, the Vagaari are free to destroy and kill?”

Ar’alani looked away. “The lives of other beings are not ours to interfere with, for good or for ill,” she said. “We cannot and will not trust in whatever feelings of sympathy we might have for the victims of tyranny”

“Then trust in Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Car’das urged.

“You both agree he’s a gifted tactician; and he’s convinced that the Vagaari are a threat you’ll eventually have to face. The longer you wait—the more alien technology and weaponry you let them steal—the stronger they’ll be.”

“Then that is what we’ll face,” Thrass said firmly. “And as a syndic of the Eighth Ruling Family I cannot listen to any more of this.” He jabbed a finger at the carnage outside the viewport. “Now. Describe this battle for us.”

It was half an hour past the shift change, and D-4’s number three messroom was crowded as Lorana came in. Taking a long step to the side out of the doorway and the people moving in and out, she scanned the crowd for Jedi Master Ma’Ning.

But he was nowhere to be found. Giving the room one final sweep, she started to turn toward the door.

“Hey!” a child’s voice called over the hum of background conversation. “Hey! Jedi Lorana!”

It was Jorad Pressor, waving his fork over his head to get her attention. His parents, in contrast, had their eyes firmly fixed on their plates as they continued to eat. Deliberately ignoring her and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Two days ago Master Ma’Ning had briefly taken over Pressor’s hyperdrive maintenance bay to show to some of the young Jedi candidates, and one of the children had managed to dump a container of inverse couplings all over the floor. Pressor had had words with Ma’Ning about that, to the point where C’baoth had intervened and docked Pressor two days’ pay.