Star Wars: Outbound Flight

4

Thrawn had told Car’das that his base wasn’t far from the spot where his task force had run into the Bargain Hunter: What he hadn’t mentioned was that the trip would take nearly three standard days.

“About time,” Qennto muttered under his breath as the three humans stood together at the back of the Springhawk

‘s bridge and watched as the handful of ships flew in formation across a small asteroid field. “I’m about to go stir crazy.”

“You could always join Maris and me for the language lessons,” Car’das offered. “Commander Thrawn really is decent company.”

“No thanks,” Qennto grunted. “You two want to aid and abet a potential enemy, be my guests. Not me.”

“These people are not potential enemies,” Maris said firmly. “As you’d realize if you’d made any effort to get to know them. They’re very polite and extremely civilized.”

“Yeah, well, the Huns have a civilization, too, or so they say,” Qennto retorted. “Sorry, but it’ll take more than good manners to convince me the Chiss are harmless.”

Mentally, Car’das shook his head. Ever since that first night aboard when he’d been frozen out of the negotiations, Qennto had been nursing a grudge against the Chiss in general and Thrawn in particular. Car’das and Maris had both tried to talk some sense back into him, but Qennto was more interested in brooding than in reason, and after a few attempts Car’das had given up. Maybe Maris had, too.

Thrawn had been across the bridge, standing beside the crewer at what Car’das had tentatively identified as the navigation station. Now the commander stepped back and circled to where the humans waited. “There,” he said, pointing ahead out the wide viewport. “The large asteroid with the slow rotation. That’s our base.”

Car’das frowned at it. The asteroid wasn’t rotating so much as it was doing a slow wobble, nearly but not quite end over end. Not for pseudogravitational purposes, obviously; the Springhawk showed that the Chiss had artificial gravity. So why pick a rotating asteroid?

Maris was obviously wondering the same thing. “That wobble must make it hard to dock with,” she commented.

“It does require a certain degree of skill,” Thrawn agreed, lifting his eyebrows slightly like a teacher trying to draw an answer from a group of students.

Car’das looked back at the asteroid. Could Thrawn have set up a deliberately tricky docking procedure as a training exercise for new recruits? But he could do that more easily and safely with a separate practice station.

Unless this asteroid was merely a training facility andnot his main base at all. There were certainly no lights or indications of construction showing anywhere that he could see.

Was that the conclusion Thrawn expected them to come to?

And then, suddenly, he had it. “You’ve got a passive sensor array at one end,” he said. “The wobble lets it sweep the whole sky instead of just one spot.”

“But why spin the whole asteroid?” Maris asked, sounding puzzled. “Couldn’t you just rotate the array?”

“Sure he could,” Qennto growled. “But then there’d be something moving on the surface an enemy might spot. This way everything’s all nice and quiet and peaceful, right up to the minute when he blows their ships out from under them.”

“Essentially correct,” Thrawn said. “Though we’re not expecting enemies to actually come calling. Still, it’s wise to take precautions.”

“And they didn’t blow our ship out from under us,”

Maris said, tapping a finger on Qennto’s chest for emphasis.

Qennto turned a glower toward her. Car’das spoke up quickly: “So we’re in Chiss space now?”

“Yes and no,” Thrawn said. “Currently, there are only some survey and observation teams here, so it’s hardly representative of a proper Chiss system. However, the second planet is quite habitable and within a few years will probably be opened up to full colonization. At that point, it will come officially under the protection and control of the Nine Ruling Families.”

“I hope you’re not expecting us to stay for opening ceremonies,” Qennto muttered.

“Of course not,” Thrawn assured him. “I tell you this simply because you might wish to return someday and see what we’ve made of the Crustai system.”

“You’ve named it already?” Maris asked.

“The initial survey team always has that honor,”

Thrawn said. “In this case, the name Crustai is an acronym for—”

“Crahsystor Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” a Chiss called from across the bridge. “Ris ficar tli claristae su fariml’sroca.”

“Sa cras mi soot shisfla, ”Thrawn replied sharply, striding back to his command chair in the center of the bridge and sitting down. “Hos mich falliare.”

“What did he say?” Qennto demanded, grabbing at a nearby chair back for balance as the Springhawk veered sharply portside and began to pick up speed. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Car’das said, mentally replaying the Cheunh words and trying to sort out the various prefixes and suffixes. The Chiss grammar was logical and relatively easy to learn, but after only three days of lessons he didn’t have much vocabulary to work with. “The only word roots I caught were the ones for `stranger‘ and ’run.‘ ”

“Stranger. Run.” Qennto hissed between his teeth as the stars in the viewport stretched into starlines. “They’re after someone.”

“Someone not too far away, either,” Maris murmured.

“Isn’t stae a word root for ‘near’?”

“Yes, I think you’re right,” Car’das agreed. “I wonder if we ought to go back to our quarters.”

“We stay right here,” Qennto said firmly. “We already saw how they treated one ship that wandered in too close. I want to see what they do with another.”

“They only took out Progga because he fired first,”

Maris pointed out.

“Yeah,” Qennto said. “Maybe.”

For the next few minutes the bridge crew workedbusily at their stations, the silence punctuated only by an occasional command or comment. Car’das found himself staring at the back of Thrawn’s head as the commander sat motionlessly in his chair, wondering if he dared sidle up behind the other and ask for an explanation as to what was going on.

A few seconds later he was glad he hadn’t. Less than a minute after entering hyperspace, they suddenly dropped back out again. “Already?” Qennto muttered, sounding stunned.

“He did a microjump,” Car’das said, hardly believing it himself.

“Ridiculous,” Qennto insisted. “You can’t hit the side of the Senate Building with a—”

Abruptly, the deck jerked beneath them, nearly knocking them off their feet. Reflexively, Car’das grabbed Maris’s upper arm with one hand and a nearby conduit with the other, keeping both of them on their feet.

Just as a pair of small ships roared past the viewport, spitting laserfire and missiles at the Springhawk.

“I’d say he did a little better than hit the side of the Senate Building,” Car’das managed as the deck again shook beneath them. “Looks like he’s right where he wants to be.”

“Terrific,” Qennto bit out. “I’m glad he wants to be here.”

The shaking subsided as the attackers flew out of optimum firing range, and Car’das focused on the visual displays. There were just three ships indicated: the two fighters now coming around for another pass, plus one larger ship considerably farther away. Unlike the fighters, the larger vessel seemed to be trying to move away from the battle zone instead of into it.

“Here they come,” Qennto said.

Car’das looked back at the viewport. The Springhawkhad swiveled to face its attackers, and in the distance he could see the glow as the fighters kicked their drives to full power.

“Grab on to something,” he warned, resettling his fingers around the conduit as Maris got a grip beside his. The fighters split formation as they approached, veering toward opposite sides of their target, their lasers opening up again. The Springhawk‘s weapons returned fire.

And both attackers exploded.

“Whoa!” Qennto said. “What in the—?”

“They blew up,” Maris breathed. “A single shot, and they just blew up.”

“Don’t start cheering just yet,” Car’das warned. The Springhawk was swinging away from the expanding clouds of debris and picking up speed. “There’s still the big one left.”

The dizzying sweep of stars settled down as they finished their turn, and in the distance he could see the drive glow of the larger ship. “I don’t suppose we could be lucky enough for it to be unarmed,” Qennto said.

“Thrawn wouldn’t attack an unarmed ship,” Maris told him firmly.

“Why not?” Qennto growled back. “I would. Those fighters attacked first. That makes the whole bunch of them fair game.”

“And probably dead meat,” Car’das muttered.

Maris shivered but said nothing.

The other ship saw them coming, of course. Even as the Springhawk closed to firing range, it swung partway around, and a handful of missiles streaked out. The Chiss lasers flashed in reply, and the missiles vaporized in midflight. The enemy responded by rolling ninety degrees over and launching a second salvo. This group, too, was dealt with at a safe distance. A third missile group followed, then a fourth, all destroyed en route.

“Why don’t they jump to lightspeed?” Maris murmured.

“I don’t think they can,” Car’das told her, pointing to one of the tactical displays. “Looks to me like someone took out their hyperdrive.”

“When?” Qennto asked, frowning. “I don’t remember hearing any firing before the fighters attacked.”

“Someone had to be here to call in the news,” Car’das reminded him. “Maybe he got in a lucky shot.”

Whatever the reason, the other ship was definitely not getting away. The Springhawk continued to close the gap, and as they neared it, Car’das noticed for the first time that its hull was covered in what looked like ovoid bubbles, each roughly two meters across and three long. “What are those things?” he asked.

“Qennto?”

“No idea,” the other said, craning his neck. “They look kind of like tiny observation blisters. Part of the navigation system, maybe?”

“Or cabin viewports,” Maris said, her voice suddenly tight. “Could it be a passenger liner?”

“What, with four clusters of missile launchers?”

Qennto countered. “Not a chance.”

The Chiss helmsman moved the Springhawk alongside the alien vessel, compensating almost casually for its sluggish attempts to veer away, and nestled up against the other’s hull.

There was a quick stutter of dull thuds as maglocks were engaged, and Thrawn tapped a key on his command board. “

Ch’tra,” he called.

“ ‘Go,’ ” Car’das translated. “Looks like we’re boarding.”

The commander rose from his chair and turned around. “My apologies,” he said, switching to Sy Bisti as he crossed to the three humans. “I hadn’t intended to take you intodanger this way. But the opportunity presented itself, and I needed to take it.”

“That’s all right, Commander,” Car’das assured him.

“And it didn’t look like we were in that much danger.”

“As it turned out,” Thrawn said. Stepping to a bank of lockers along one wall, he opened one and pulled out an armored vac suit. “Your quarters are too close to the boarding area for safety, so I’ll ask you to remain here until we return.”

“You’re going in personally?” Maris asked, frowning.

“I command these warriors,” Thrawn said, climbing into the vac suit with sure, practiced movements. “Part of my duty is to share in their danger.”

Maris glanced at Qennto. “Be careful,” she said, sounding almost embarrassed.

Thrawn gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry,” he said.

Slapping the final seal closed, he pulled a helmet and large handgun from the locker. “The vessel is most likely severely undercrewed, and Chiss warriors are the best there are. I’ll return soon.”

Car’das had wondered at first why none of the rest of the bridge crew had joined with Thrawn in the boarding party, the sounds of which they could occasionally hear wafting along the corridors and through the open door. It was soon clear, though, that they weren’t just sitting around waiting, but were actively engaged in some project of their own.

It was only as the melee was winding down that he was able to piece together a few recognizable snatches of conversation and figure out what that project had been. Using the Springhawk‘s sensors, they’d been assisting the boarders in tracking down enemy combatants, whether hiding or gathering together for an ambush. Even charging pirate-style onto an enemy vessel, Commander Thrawn made use of all available resources.

It took less than an hour for the Chiss to secure the enemy vessel. Another two hours went by, though, before one of the warriors came to the bridge with instructions to bring the humans aboard.

Car’das hadn’t traveled very much before hooking up with Qennto and Maris. But most of his recent travel had been to the seedier parts of the Republic, and as he stepped into the boarding tunnel he was confident he could handle anything they found at the other end.

He was wrong.

The vessel itself was bad enough. Dank and dirty, its entire interior showed signs of multiple repairs done in a hasty and careless manner, and the mixture of odors swirling through its corridors made his nose itch. Worse than that were the dozens of blast points and scorch marks on the walls and ceilings, mute reminders of the short but vicious battle that had just taken place.

Worst of all were the bodies.

Car’das had seen bodies before, but only the serene and neatly laid-out ones he’d encountered at funerals. Never before had he seen bodies haphazardly stretched out wherever the Chiss weapons had thrown them, twisted into whatever grotesque contortions their own death throes had sculpted for them. He winced as the Chiss warrior led them through various clumps of the dead, not wanting to look at them but forced to do so if he didn’t want to step on them, hoping desperately that he didn’t completely shame himself by getting sick.

“Relax, kid,” Qennto’s voice muttered at his side as they reached yet another scattering of corpses. “They’re just bodies. They can’t hurt you.”

“I know that,” Car’das growled, throwing a surreptitious look at Maris. Even she, with all her genteel upbringing and idealistic sensitivity, was doing better with this than he was.

Ahead, a door opened, and Thrawn stepped into the corridor. He was still wearing his vac suit, but the helmet now hung on a fastener on his left hip. “Come,” he called, beckoning.

“I want to show you something.”

Nearly there. Taking a deep breath, focusing his attention on Thrawn’s glowing eyes, Car’das managed to make it the rest of the way.

“What are your thoughts?” Thrawn asked as they reached him, gesturing to the corridor around them.

“I think they were probably very poor,” Maris said, her tone mostly calm but with an edge of disapproval. “You can see where they’ve had to patch and repatch just to keep everything operating. This isn’t a military ship, certainly not one that could have been a threat to the Chiss.”

“I agree,” Thrawn agreed, turning his glowing eyes on her. “So; poor people, you think. Nomads?”

“Or refugees,” she said, the disapproving edge growing a little sharper.

“And the missiles?”

“They didn’t do the passengers much good, did they?”

“No, but it wasn’t from lack of trying.” Thrawn turned to Qennto. “And you, Captain? What’s your reading of this?”

“I don’t know,” Qennto said calmly. “And I don’t especially care. They fired first, right?”

Thrawn shrugged microscopically. “Not entirely true,”

he said. “One of the sentries I had stationed here happened to be close enough as they came through to disable their hyperdrive.

Car’das? Your opinion?”

Car’das looked around at the faded and motley walls.

He might not have had a lot of schooling before running off to space, but he’d had enough to know when a teacher was stilllooking for an answer he hadn’t yet gotten from anyone else.

But what was the answer? Maris was right; the ship did indeed look like it was falling apart. But Thrawn was right about the missiles, too. Would refugees have weapons like that?

And then, suddenly, it struck him. He looked behind him, locating the nearest alien body and doing a quick estimate of its height and reach. Another look at the wall, and he turned back to Thrawn. “These aren’t the ones who did the repairs, are they?”

“Very good,” Thrawn said, smiling faintly. “No, they aren’t.”

“What do you mean?” Qennto asked, frowning.

“These aliens are too tall,” Car’das explained, pointing to the wall. “See here, where the sealant pattern changes texture?

That’s where whoever was slopping it on had to go get a ladder or floatpad to finish the job.”

“And whoever that worker was, he was considerably shorter than the masters of this vessel.” Thrawn turned back to Maris. “As you deduced, the vessel has indeed been repaired many times. But not by its owners.”

Maris’s lips compressed into a hard, thin line, her eyes suddenly cold as she looked back at the dead bodies. “They were slavers.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “Are you still angry at me for killing them?”

Maris’s face turned pink. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Thrawn’s eyebrows lifted slightly “You of the Republic don’t condone slavery yourselves, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Maris assured him hastily.

“We have droids to handle most menial chores,”

Car’das added.

“What are droids?”

“Mechanical workers that can think and act on their own,” Car’das explained. “You must have something of the sort yourselves.”

“Actually, we don’t,” Thrawn said, eyeing Car’das thoughtfully. “Nor do any of the alien cultures we’ve met. Can you show me one?”

Beside Maris, Qennto rumbled warningly in his throat.

“We didn’t bring any on this trip,” Car’das said, ignoring his captain’s thunderous expression. Qennto had warned him repeatedly not to discuss the Republic’s technology level with the Chiss. But in Car’das’s opinion this hardly qualified. Besides, Thrawn had surely already examined the Bargain Hunter‘s records, which must show a dozen different types of droids in action.

“A pity,” Thrawn said. “Still, if the Republic has no slavery, how is it you understand the concept?”

Car’das grimaced. “We do know a few cultures where it exists,” he admitted reluctantly.

“And your people permit this?”

“The Republic hasn’t got much pull with systems that aren’t members,” Qennto put in impatiently. “Look, are we done here yet?”

“Not quite,” Thrawn said, gesturing toward the door he’d just come through. “Come and look.”

More bodies? Steeling himself, determined not to go all woozy again even if the whole place was piled high with them, Car’das stepped past the commander and through the doorway.

And stopped short, his mouth dropping open in amazement. The room was unexpectedly large, with a highceiling that must have stretched up at least two of the ship’s decks.

But it wasn’t piled high with bodies. It was piled high with treasure.

Treasure of all kinds, too. There were piles of metal ingots of various colors and sheens, neatly stacked inside acceleration webbing. There were rows of bins, some filled with coins or multicolored gems, others stocked with rectangular packages that might have been food or spices or electronics.

Several heavy-looking cabinets against one wall probably held items that would have been too tempting to leave within easy reach of the slaves or perhaps even the crew itself.

There was also a good deal of artwork: flats, sculpts, tressles, and other forms and styles Car’das couldn’t even categorize. Most of it was stacked together, but he could see a few pieces scattered around throughout the room, as if some of the loaders either hadn’t recognized them as art or else hadn’t much cared where they put them.

There was a sharp intake of air and a slightly strangled gasp as Qennto and Maris came in behind him. “What in the worlds?” Maris breathed.

“A treasure vessel, carrying the plunder of many worlds,” Thrawn said, slipping into the room behind them. “They were not only slavers, but pirates and raiders as well.”

With an effort, Car’das pulled his eyes away from the treasure trove and focused on Thrawn. “You sound like you already know these people.”

“Only by reputation,” Thrawn said, his almost gentle tone in sharp contrast to the tightness in his face as he gazed across the room. “At least, up until now.”

“You’ve been hunting them?”

A slight frown creased Thrawn’s forehead. “Of course not,” he said. “The Vagaari have made no move against the Chiss Ascendancy. We therefore have no reason to hunt them.”

“But you know their name,” Qennto murmured.

“As I said, I know their reputation,” Thrawn said.

“They’ve been moving through this region of space for at least the past ten years, preying mostly on the weak and the technologically primitive.”

“What about their slaves?” Maris asked. “Do you know anything about them?”

Thrawn shook his head. “We haven’t found any aboard this vessel. From that, and from this room, I presume they were en route to their main base.”

“And they off-loaded the slaves to keep them from finding out where that base is?” Car’das suggested.

“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “The crew complement is smaller than one would expect for a vessel of this size, as well.

That indicates they weren’t expecting trouble, but instead intended to go straight home.”

“Yes, you mentioned back on the bridge that they were undercrewed,” Car’das said. “How did you know that?”

“I deduced it from the fact that their defense was sluggish and mostly ineffectual,” Thrawn said. “They did little but launch missiles, all running The same countermeasures we’d already seen. A fully crewed vessel would have had laser gunners in place and would have shifted the defense patterns of their missiles. Clearly, they were expecting their escort to do any fighting that became necessary.”

“And boy, were they wrong,” Qennto muttered. “You had them outclassed from the start.”

“Hardly outclassed,” Thrawn told him. “I merely noticed that in both of their attacks a laser salvo preceded their missiles in a distinct and predictable pattern. When they launched their third attack, I was able to fire back just as thetubes’ protective doors opened, detonating the missiles before they could be launched. Fighters that size never have sufficient armor to withstand that sort of internal blast.”

“You see?” Car’das said drily. “Nothing to it.”

Qennto’s lip twisted. “Yeah,” he said. “Right.”

“So what happens now?” Maris asked.

“I’ll have the vessel towed back to Crustai for further study,” Thrawn said, giving the room one last look before turning back to the door.

“Question,” Qennto put in. “You told Car’das you’d be giving us some extra stuff as payment for teaching you Basic, right?”

“That wasn’t precisely the way I stated it,” Thrawn said.

“But that’s essentially correct.”

“And the longer we stay, the more extras we get?”

Thrawn smiled faintly. “That may be possible. I thought you were in a rush to return home.”

“No, no, there’s no hurry,” Qennto assured him, giving the treasure room a leisurely sweep of his eves. His earlier impatience, Car’das noted, seemed to have vanished without a trace. “No hurry at all.”