Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Then it’s agreed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, standing up.

“One more thing,” Car’das said, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll be happy to teach you Basic, but I’d also like some language lessons myself. Would you be willing in turn to teach me the Chiss language, or to have one of your people do so?”

“I can teach you to understand Cheunh,”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But I doubt you’ll ever be able to properly speak it. I’ve noticed you don’t even pronounce my name very well.”

Car’das felt his face warm. “I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him.

“Your vocal mechanism is close to ours, but there are clearly some differences. However, I believe I could teach you to speak Minnisiat. It’s a trade language widely used in the regions around our territory.”

“That would be wonderful,” Car’das said. “Thank you, Commander Mitth—uh… Commander.”

“As I said, Cheunh pronunciation is difficult for you,”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo noted drily. “Perhaps it would be easier if you called me by my core name, Thrawn.”

Car’das frowned. “Is that permissible?”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo—Thrawn—shrugged. “It’s questionable,” he conceded. “In general, full names are required for formal occasions, for strangers, and for those who are socially inferior.”

“And I’m guessing we qualify on all three counts.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “But I believe such rules may be broken when there are good and valid reasons for doing so. In this case, there are.”

“It will certainly make things easier,” Car’das agreed, bowing his head. “Thank you, Commander Thrawn.”

“You’re welcome,” Thrawn said. “And now, a light refreshment has been prepared for you and the others. After that, the language lessons can begin.”

The receptionist set down her comlink and smiled up at the man and woman standing over her. “The Supreme Chancellor will see you now, Master C’baoth,” she said.

“Thank you,” Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth said, his voice cool and brooding.

Beside him, Lorana Jinzler winced to herself. Her Master was angry, and under the circumstances she couldn’t really blame him. But C’baoth’s quarrel was with Palpatine, not a lowly receptionist who had no power or authority over the orders that issued from the Supreme Chancellor’s Office. There was no reason to vent his annoyance at her.

That wasn’t the way C’baoth did things, however.

Without another word, he strode away from the woman’s desk and headed for the doors to Palpatine’s inner office. Lingering half a step behind him, Lorana made sure to catch the receptionist’s eye and give her an encouraging smile before following.

A pair of Brolfi came out the door as they approached, their yellow-and-green-patterned hornskin quivering with emotion beneath their leather tunics. C’baoth didn’t break stride, but continued straight ahead toward the two aliens, forcing them to move hastily to either side to let him pass.

Wincing again, Lonna took a couple of quick steps to catch up with her Master, reaching him just as he passed through the doors into the office.

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was seated at his desk, an expansive view of Coruscant’s skyline visible through the wide window behind him. A young man wearing a tooled tunican and vest was standing beside him, leaning over the desk with a data-pad and speaking in a low voice.

Palpatine looked up as C’baoth and Lorana entered, his face breaking into one of his famous smiles. “Ah, Master C’baoth,” he said, gesturing them forward. “And your young Padawan, of course—Lorana Jinzler, isn’t it? Welcome to you both.”

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Chancellor,”

C’baoth said stiffly, pulling a datapad from his belt pouch as he strode forward. “This isn’t a social visit.”

The young man beside Palpatine straightened up, his eyes flashing. “You will not speak to the Supreme Chancellor in that tone,” he said firmly.

“Mind your tongue, underling,” C’baoth growled. “Take your bureaucratic trivia and get out.”

The young man didn’t budge. “You will not speak to the Supreme Chancellor in that tone,” he repeated.

“It’s all right, Kinman,” Palpatine said soothingly, holding out a restraining hand to the young man as he rose to his feet. “I’m sure Master C’baoth doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

For a moment C’baoth and Palpatine stared at each other across the wide expanse of the desk, an almost visible tension rippling the air between them. Then, to Lorana’s relief, the Jedi Master’s lip twitched. “No, of course not,” he said in a marginally more courteous voice.

“As I said,” Palpatine said, smiling fondly at the young man. “You haven’t met my new assistant and adviser, have you, Master C’baoth? This is Kinman Doriana.”

“Pleased and honored,” C’baoth said, in a tone that made it clear that he was neither.

“As am I, Master C’baoth,” Doriana replied. “It’s always a privilege to meet one of those who’ve dedicated their lives to safeguarding the Republic.”

“As it is for me, as well,” Palpatine agreed. “What can I do for you, Master C’baoth?”

“You know very well what you can do for me,” C’baoth growled. Without waiting for an invitation, he seated himself in one of the chairs and set his datapad on the desk. “In a word: Outbound Flight.”

“Naturally,” Palpatine said tiredly, gesturing Lorana to the chair beside C’baoth as he reseated himself in his own chair.

“What is it now?”

“This.” Waving a hand, C’baoth used the Force to send the datapad sliding across the desk to stop in front of the Supreme Chancellor. “The Senate Appropriations Committee hascut my funding again.”

Palpatine sighed. “What do you want me to say, Master C’baoth? I can’t dictate to the Senate what it should do. I certainly can’t force a stiff-necked group like Appropriations to see things our way.”

“Our way?” C’baoth echoed. “It’s our way now, is it? I seem to remember a time not very long ago when you weren’t at all enthusiastic about this whole project.”

“Perhaps you should examine your memory more closely,” Palpatine said, a slight edge creeping into his tone. “It’s the Jedi Council, not me, that’s been backing away from Outbound Flight for the past few months. In fact, I was under the impression Master Yoda had even changed his mind about allowing more than one or two Jedi to join the expedition.”

“I will deal with Master Yoda when the time comes,”

C’baoth said firmly. “Meanwhile, you’re the one holding the project’s fate in your hands.”

“And I’ve done everything in my power to assist you,”

Palpatine reminded him. “You have your ships—six brand-new Dreadnaughts, straight off the Rendili StarDrive assembly line.

You have the central storage core you wanted, and the turbolift pylons ready to connect the whole thing together. You have the crews and passengers in training on Yaga Minor—”

“Ah!” C’baoth interrupted, jabbing a finger at the datapad still sitting untouched in front of the Supreme Chancellor. “In fact, I do not have my passengers, not at all.

Some idiot bureaucrat has changed the population profile to consist of crews only, with no families or other potential colonists.”

Reluctantly, Lorana thought, Palpatine picked up the data-pad. “A cost-saving decision, most likely,” he said, scrolling through the data. “Having all those extra people aboard would mean more supplies and equipment.”