Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

Who else is in this pathetic little conspiracy?”

Uliar didn’t answer. “Well, let’s go see,” C’baoth said.

“Discreetly, of course, if you please.”

As if Uliar had a choice. With C’baoth’s hand riding loosely on his shoulder, the two men headed down the corridor after Jinzler and the blue-skinned alien. They reached the hangar just as the others arrived at Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s ship. A few meters away was one of Outbound Flight’s shuttles…

Uliar felt his breath catch in his throat as he suddenlyrealized why the rest of the committee hadn’t appeared. Rather than bringing everyone in along the corridors and turbolifts like an impromptu parade, Pressor had instead loaded them aboard one of D-4’s shuttles and had Mosh fly them across.

Which meant there was still a chance. All Pressor had to do was pop the hatch, and before C’baoth realized what was happening they would be in front of Mitth’raw’nuruodo, ready to plead their cause. Surely even a Jedi Master couldn’t strangle the words out of all of them at the same time.

But the hatch didn’t open. With his tongue frozen again, Uliar watched helplessly as Mitth’raw’nuruodo spoke briefly with Jinzler, then went inside his shuttle and closed the hatch.

And with that, their last chance was gone.

C’baoth’s hand prodded at Uliar’s back, nudging him forward. “And now,” the Jedi said with cold satisfaction, “all that remains is for me to decide what to do with all of you.”

Jinzler turned around as they approached, her expression flickering with surprise at their presence. “Jedi Jinzler,” C’baoth greeted her. “I have another job for you.” He waved a hand casually at the silent shuttle.

The hatch abruptly flew open, spilling Pressor and Mosh out. From the way they sprawled onto the deck, it was obvious they’d been shoving at the hatch with all their weight when C’baoth released his grip on it. “So they were trying to open it,” Uliar murmured.

“Of course they were,” C’baoth said contemptuously.

“If a swoop couldn’t escape my notice, how did you expect an entire shuttle to do so?” He raised his voice. “You—all of you—come out. I want to see your faces.”

“What’s going on?” Jinzler asked, staring at the people as they began filing silently out onto the deck.

“This, Jedi Jinzler, is a conspiracy,” C’baoth said, hisvoice as dark as Lorana had ever heard it. “These people apparently don’t appreciate all the work and effort we’ve put into making Outbound Flight as rewarding a place as possible to work and live.”

“Maybe we just don’t want your ideas of what’s rewarding,” Uliar said. “Maybe we don’t want to be treated like children who can’t decide for ourselves what we’re going to do with our lives.”

“Do you have the Force?” C’baoth countered. “Can you tap into that which binds the universe together, and thus automatically defines what is best for us all?”

“I don’t believe the Force wants to control every aspect of our lives,” Uliar shot back. “And I sure don’t believe you’re the chosen spokesman for that control.”

C’baoth’s face darkened. “And who are you to—?”

“Master C’baoth,” a voice called.

Uliar turned. Standing at the entrance to the hangar, gazing at them with a face carved from stone, was Master Ma’Ning. “A word with you, if you please,” he said. “Now.”

“What are you doing here?” C’baoth called back, and Lorana could sense both surprise and suspicion radiating from him. “You should be at your duty station.”

“A word with you, if you please,” Ma’Ning repeated.

Snorting under his breath, C’baoth strode across the deck toward him. Lorana hesitated a moment, then followed.

“This had better be important,” C’baoth warned as he reached the other Jedi Master. “We have work to do.”

“It is,” Ma’Ning assured him, his voice under careful control. “I’ve spent a great deal of time over the past few days considering and meditating on the situation aboard Outbound Flight… and I’ve come to the conclusion that we’ve oversteppedour proper place as guardians and advisers of these people.”

“Walk warily, Master Ma’Ning,” C’baoth warned, an edge of menace in his voice. “You’re speaking to the rightful and duly appointed leader of this expedition.”

“That you are,” Ma’Ning acknowledged. “But even the most powerful and knowledgeable of Jedi may sometimes stumble. It’s my opinion that in your zeal to guide, you’ve crossed the line into direct rule.”

“Then your opinion is wrong,” C’baoth countered flatly.

“I’m doing what is necessary—and only what is necessary—to keep this mission running smoothly.”

“Others would disagree,” Ma’Ning said, his eyes flicking over C’baoth’s shoulder to the crewers and their families gathered together beside their borrowed shuttle. “At any rate, it’s now a matter for all of Outbound Flight’s Jedi to decide.”

C’baoth seemed to draw back a little. “Are you suggesting that a Judgment Circle be convened?”

“In actual fact, Master C’baoth, I’ve already made the arrangements,” Ma’Ning said. “The circle will convene as soon as the situation with the Chiss has been resolved.”

For a long moment the two men gazed at each other, and Lorana could sense the tension arcing along the line between their eyes. “Then it will convene,” C’baoth said at last. “And when it concludes, you’ll understand that I do what is best for Outbound Flight and its people.”

He looked at Lorana. “You’ll all understand.”

He turned back to Ma’Ning. “Until then, I am still in command,” he went on. “You’ll return at once to Dreadnaught-Four and prepare for combat.”

Ma’Ning’s lip twitched. “The negotiations with the Chiss have failed?”

“There was nothing to negotiate,” C’baoth said.

“Return to Dreadnaught-Four.”

Ma’Ning’s eyes flicked to Lorana, as if wondering whether he should ask her opinion on that. But if he was, he left the question unvoiced. “Very well,” he said, looking back at C’baoth. Turning, he left the hangar.

C’baoth took a deep breath, let it out in a long, controlled sigh. “Did you know about this?” he asked quietly.

Lorana shook her head. “No.”

“A waste of time,” C’baoth said contemptuously. “Still, if it’ll end this dangerous disunity, he can convene his little circle. Now; come.”

Turning, he led the way back to Uliar and the others.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Pressor murmured at Uliar’s side.

“No idea,” Uliar said, studying the three Jedi closely.

Even if they’d been closer, the hangar’s lousy acoustics would probably have made their conversation impossible to hear.

But neither distance nor acoustics could disguise their expressions… and to Uliar, it was abundantly clear that no one over there was very happy right now. “Maybe they’re finally having it out,” he suggested.

“I doubt it,” Pressor said. “Jedi stick together like molwelded deck plates.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Uliar agreed sourly. “Probably just a difference of opinion on how to swat down this Mitth-whatever.”

“Probably.” Pressor cleared his throat. “You know, Chas, it occurs to me that we still have one card we could play,”

he said, lowering his voice even further. “Back in the aft reactor storage area we’ve got a couple of droidekas packed away foremergency intruder defense. If we pulled them out and turned

‘cm loose, even the Jedi would have to sit up and take notice.”

Uliar snorted. “Oh, they’d notice, all right. All the bodies lying around would be a dead giveaway. Those things are way too dangerous for amateurs to fool around with.”