Survivor's Quest

Her first impulse was to have it out right now, to insist that he bring his thoughts on the subject out into the open where she would have the chance to knock them down one by one.

But something held her back. Perhaps she sensed it wasn't the proper time or place for that kind of discussion.

Or perhaps she wasn't so sure she could knock them all down.

He was right in a way. She had found it disturbingly easy to slip back into that role. It had been refreshing to deal with soldiers who took orders without question, instead of a mixed group of humans and Bothans and Devaronians and Mon Cals, all of whom had their own prejudices and perspectives and who sometimes heard or obeyed orders in entirely different ways.

I've had my fill of Imperial service, she'd told Fel. But had she? Really?

"Anyway, we should probably go back to the Jade Sabre and see if we've got anything that'll pass as formal wear," Luke went on. Apparently, he didn't want to have it out yet, either. "Di

CHAPTER 6

After the size of the reception room, Luke had expected the Chaf Envoy's main dining salon to be equally grand and expansive. To his surprise, it was in fact built more along the lines of a standard ship's wardroom, though decorated with the same sort of elegant touches he'd already noted in their quarters. Apparently, once the high-level dignitaries had been ushered aboard in proper style, the pomp and ceremony diminished considerably.

Perhaps the dignitaries' wardrobes were supposed to make up for it. Formbi and Drask were dressed even more elaborately than they had been at the Jade Sabre's landing, though each maintained the same color scheme he'd been wearing then. Fel had switched to a dress uniform that bordered on the regal, with much of the tunic's upper left covered with rows of colored bits of metal that apparently denoted specific campaigns or victories. Jinzler had done equally well, with a layered robe-tunic that would have fit right in with a diplomatic reception on Coruscant. Mara wasn't too far behind him, with her flowing wraparound gown and embroidered bolero jacket.

It made Luke feel decidedly out of place in his plain dark jumpsuit and sleeveless, knee-length duster. Next trip, he made a mental note, he was going to have to make sure to bring a couple of fancier outfits along.

Still, he was far from being the worst-dressed guest at the party. The two Geroons on the far side of the wide circular table looked positively shabby in comparison with the Chiss staffers seated on either side of them. Both aliens wore simple but heavy-looking brown robes of some kind of thick material over long tan tunics. One of them, the Geroon who had spoken to Formbi from the refugee ship, also had what appeared to be a complete dead animal thrown over his shoulders, its long-snouted head and clawed forepaws hanging down across his chest nearly to his waist, while most of the torso and hind legs hung down behind his back. An elaborate blue-and-gold collar glittered around the animal's neck, about the only real decoration anywhere in the Geroon's outfit.

"I trust the food is pleasing?" Feesa asked from her seat at Luke's left.

"It's excellent, thank you," he assured her. In actual fact, it was a little too spice-heavy for his taste, and the combination fork-knife he'd been given to use left an oddly metallic aftertaste after each bite. But it was so clearly an attempt to create a New Republic-style banquet that he certainly wasn't going to quibble over minor details. More than once, he wondered if Parck had supplied the recipes.

"Interesting trophy Steward Bearsh is wearing," Jinzler commented from Feesa's other side. "That dead animal thing?"

"The wolvkil, yes," Feesa said, nodding. "I heard Steward Bearsh say they were a feral variant of a predator creature the Geroons once domesticated as pets. The one he wears is a mark of honor that has been in his family for four generations."

"Pets, huh?" Jinzler shook his head. "Frankly, I don't think I'd even like to meet it in the woods, let alone have it curled up by my bed."

"I doubt that will happen soon," Feesa said, a note of sadness in her voice. "All remaining wolvkils died with the Geroon world."

"I see," Jinzler murmured, and again Luke caught a flicker of emotion from him. For all his surface calm, he was clearly a man who felt things deeply. "A terrible tragedy, that. Was Aristocra Formbi able to help them find a new world?"

"Our knowledge of the regions outside our borders is very limited," Feesa said. "I don't believe anything suitable was found."

"I hope the Aristocra isn't giving up this quickly," Jinzler said, a note of challenge in his voice. "They couldn't have had more than a couple of hours to study your star charts."

"Perhaps more study will be scheduled," Feesa said diplomatically. "Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has not told me his plans."

Across the table Bearsh stirred and looked over at Luke, linking his fingers and dipping both hands and head in a sort of unified bow. Luke nodded in reply; and as he did, the Geroon picked up his fluted drink glass and got up from his seat. Circling the table, he came up behind Luke. "Good evening," he said, the words coming out from both his mouths. "Am I correct in the belief that you are Jedi Master Luke Skywalker?"

Luke blinked in surprise. Back in the command center, he'd only heard the Geroon speak in the Chiss trade language. "Yes, I am," he managed. "Please forgive my surprise. I didn't realize you spoke Basic."

The Geroon opened his mouths slightly, showing a double row of small teeth in each. A smile? "Should we not know at least a portion of the language of our liberators?" he countered. "It was we who were surprised to learn that the Chiss aboard this vessel could understand it."

"Yes, they do," Luke agreed, feeling suddenly like a hopeless bumpkin who'd just been dropped off the bantha cart at the edge of town. He understood probably a dozen languages, but all were anchored solidly to the cultures that dominated the Core Worlds and I

Which now meant that everyone else out here was having to go out of their way to accommodate his shortcomings.

But then, to be fair, this was hardly a situation he would normally have expected to find himself in. At least not without C-3PO or some other protocol droid along to assist with language duties.

"It is their way of honoring those of Outbound Flight, no doubt," Bearsh said, a note of reverence in his voice. "If I may intrude, I overheard you and Feesa speaking of our search for a world for our people."

"Yes," Luke confirmed. "I hope you will succeed."

"As do I and all the Geroon Remnant," Bearsh said, a note of sadness replacing the reverence. "That is indeed why I came across to see you. I hoped you might be willing to help."

"In what way?"

Bearsh waved his hand, nearly spilling his drink in the process. "I am told your New Republic has great resources and vast territories within its borders. Perhaps when you are finished with your meal you would be kind enough to search your records to see if any of your worlds near this region of space might be available for our use." He ducked his head. "We would of course pay for any world you might find to offer us. Our resources are small, but all Geroons stand ready to serve with their hands and minds and bodies until any such debt is repaid."

"If we find a suitable world, I'm sure something can be worked out," Luke assured him. "Actually, I'm finished now if you'd like to accompany me to my ship."