Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“Perhaps,” he said hesitantly. “I’ve located a long, enclosed valley that I believe will be deep enough to hold us.”

“I don’t see how that gains us anything,” Lorana said.

“Enclosed valleys imply valley walls, which imply a sudden stop somewhere along the line.”

“In this case, the stop would be somewhat less violent,”

Thrass said, pointing to the display. “This particular valley is full of small rocks.”

Lorana frowned, leaning over for a closer look. He was right: the whole valley was filled nearly to the top with what seemed to be gravel-sized stones. “I wonder how that happened,”

she commented.

“Multiple asteroid or meteor collisions, most likely,”

Thrass said. “It doesn’t matter. This is the only place on the planetoid that offers a chance for survival.”

Lorana grimaced. But he was right. With the drive gone, coming down anywhere else on the planetoid would mean a full-bore collision at near-orbit speeds. With the gravel, at least they would have a slightly more gradual slowdown. “Can we reach it with the drive gone?” she asked, keying for an analysis.

“The valley is not far off our current orbital path,”

Thrass said. “I believe the maneuvering systems will be adequate to move us into position, and to give us at least a little deceleration before impact.”

The analysis appeared on the display. “The computer agrees with you,” she confirmed, looking out at the dark world rotating beneath them as she tried to think. “All right. We’re here in D-One, the Delta-Twelve is in D-Three, and the rest of the survivors are in the core. If we want D-Three to end up on top of the gravel heap, we’ll need to rotate Outbound Flight to put D-Six at the bottom. It’ll hit first, taking the initial impact and hopefully slowing us down enough that the damage to the other ships will be minimal when they dig in.”

“Including the damage to this one?” Thrass asked pointedly.

Lorana made a face. “I know, but we have no choice.

We need D-Three’s hangar bay to stay above the surface if we’re going to get the Delta-Twelve out. So we rotate D-Six to the bottom, as I say, then move the people out of the core to—”

“Hello?” a voice came suddenly from the bridge speakers. “Jedi Jinzler? You there somewhere? This is Chas Uliar. We got tired of waiting, so we all came up to D-Four.

Jinzler?”

For a stretched-out second Lorana and Thrass stared at each other in horror. Then, snapping out of her paralysis, Lorana dived for the comm station. “This is Lorana Jinzler,” she called urgently. “Uliar, get everyone back to the storage core right away. You hear me? Get everyone back to—”

“Jinzler, are you there?” Uliar’s voice came again.

“Jedi, if you’ve cut out on us I’m going to be really upset with you.”

“Uliar?” Lorana called again. “Uliar!”

But there was no reply. “He can’t hear you,” Thrass said grimly. “The comm isn’t transmitting at this end.”

Lorana twisted her neck to look out at the planetoid, her pulse throbbing violently against the agony in her head. D-4.

Why did they have to have gone to D-4?

Because it was the one closest to the Jedi school where she’d left them, of course. And now there were fifty-seven people wandering around down there, completely oblivious as to what was about to happen to them.

Thrass was watching her, a tautness in his face. “We have no choice,” she told him quietly. “We’ll have to rotate and put D- Four on top.”

His expression didn’t even flicker. Clearly, he’d already come to the same conclusion. “Which will put D-One—this one—at the very bottom,” he said.

Where it would take the full brunt of their crash landing. “We have no choice,” Lorana said again. “It’s only an assumption that the bottom Dreadnaught will take enough of the impact to leave the others intact. For all we know, they might all hit hard enough to be ripped open to vacuum. We have to try to keep D-Four as far out of the rock as possible.”

“I understand.” Thrass hesitated. “There’s still time for you to leave, you know. You may at least be able to get to the core before we hit, perhaps even all the way to D-Four.”

Lorana shook her head. “You can’t handle the landing alone,” she reminded him. “But I could do that while you go.”

“And who would keep the remaining systems from self-destroying while you cleared a path through the pylons for me?” Thrass countered. “No, Jedi Jinzler. It appears we will both be giving our lives for your people.”

Lorana felt her vision blurring with tears. Deep in the back crevices of her mind, she’d wondered why she’d felt so strongly about sending Car’das home with that message for her brother. Now she knew it had been the subtle prompting of the Force.

“This is hardly the temporary home I’d envisioned for them,” Thrass went on, as if talking to himself “It’s likely to be far more permanent than I had hoped, too.”

“Your people will come here someday,” Lorana assured him, wondering why she was saying that. Wishful thinking? Or more prompting from the Force? “Until then, they have enough food and supplies to last for generations. They’ll survive. I know they will.”

“Then let us prepare for the end.” Thrass hesitated, then reached out his hand to her. “I’ve known you and your people only briefly, Jedi Lorana Jinzler. But in that time, I’ve learned to admire and respect you. I hope that someday humans and Chiss will be able to work side by side in peace.”

“As do I, Syndic Mitth’ras’safis of the Eighth Ruling Family,” Lorana said, taking his hand.

For a minute they stood silently, their hands clasped, each preparing for death. Then, taking a deep breath, Thrass released her hand. “Then let us bring this part of history to a close,” he said briskly. “May warriors’ fortune smile on our efforts.”

“Yes,” Lorana said. “And may the Force be with us.”

She gestured downward toward D-4. “And with them.”

“As you can see, we have left your ship and equipment undisturbed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, gesturing as he led Doriana and Kav through the Darkvenge‘s bridge toward Kav’s command office. “I know certain of you were concerned about that,” he added, looking over his shoulder at Kav.

The Neimoidian didn’t reply. “At any rate, I imagine you’re looking forward to returning home,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo continued as they walked into the office. “There are just one or two points I need to clear up before you leave.”

“Of course,” Doriana said, taking a hasty step to the side as Kav pushed past him, brushed by Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and circled the desk to drop rather defiantly into his ornate chair. “We’ll do whatever’s necessary,” he added as he took a chair at one corner of the desk.

“Thank you,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, sitting down ina chair at the other corner and gazing across the edge of the desk at Doriana. “Basically, I believe we both wish to make certain that this one contact between our peoples remains the last.”

“I don’t understand,” Doriana said, forcing puzzlement into his voice. “Our relationship thus far has proved mutually beneficial. Why wouldn’t we want it to continue?”

“Come now, Commander,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said mildly. “My side of the arrangement is already secure, of course.

You have no idea where my base is, or where the worlds of the Chiss Ascendancy lie. We can remain hidden from you as long as we wish.” He paused. “It therefore remains only for you to ensure to your own satisfaction that I will never bring news to the Republic of your betrayal of Outbound Flight.”