Survivor's Quest

The Geroon started back. "You would take me aboard your vessel?" he breathed.

"Would that be a problem?" Luke asked cautiously, wondering if he'd made some terrible mistake in etiquette. Were the Geroons afraid of strangers and strange ships? And yet, they were here, aboard a Chiss ship. "Because if it would make you uncomfortable—"

"Ah, no," Bearsh said, dropping suddenly onto one knee and bowing his head low to the deck. This time some of his drink did slosh up over the rim and dribble down over his fingers. "It is too much. There is too much honor for one Geroon. I ca

"Maybe I should just give you the data cards, then," Luke suggested. "Though you might not be able to read them," he added as that thought belatedly struck him. "I'd have to bring a datapad along, too."

"You would be willing to allow us to honor you?" Bearsh asked eagerly. "You would come aboard our humble vessel?"

"Certainly," Luke said, touching his mouth with his napkin and standing up. "Shall we go?"

"The honor is great," Bearsh said, bowing repeatedly as he stepped back. "The honor is great."

"You're welcome," Luke said, feeling decidedly awkward. The sooner he got himself and this groveling Geroon out of here, the better.

He turned to Mara, who was practically radiating her amusement at his fumbling. "I'll see you back at our quarters," he told her, sending her a silent warning with his eyes that she ignored completely. "If you need me, I'll be in the Geroons' shuttle."

"Understood," Mara said blandly. At least her voice was polite enough. "I'll see you later. Have fun."

"Thanks," Luke growled, turning back to the still-bobbing Geroon. And Leia made this diplomatic stuff look so easy. "Lead the way, Steward Bearsh."

The Geroon shuttle, as it turned out, was docked on the starboard side of the Chaf Envoy about twenty meters aft of the Jade Sabre. Luke ducked into the Sabre as they passed and grabbed a set of astrogation data cards and a datapad, then followed Bearsh back to their ship.

Twenty-two years before, back at the Mos Eisley spaceport, he could remember gazing at the Mille

The entire interior was a patchwork of repaired, reworked, or readapted equipment, patched pipes and conduits, and power cables that would have had a New Republic safety inspector scrambling for emergency cutoff switches. Two of the bunkrooms and a storage compartment had been sealed off with vacuum-leak warnings on the doors, and half the displays on the control deck seemed to have been permanently shut down. Overlaying it all was a faint odor that seemed to be a mixture of lubricating compound, battery solution, maneuvering fuel, and hydraulic fluid. It was, Luke thought more than once, astonishing that the thing had managed to make it here from the main Geroon ship.

Or perhaps the Chaf Envoy had a really good set of tractor beams.

There were three other Geroons in the ship when he and Bearsh arrived, and it was quickly evident that the steward's adulation in the dining salon had actually been greatly restrained. The other Geroons clustered around him practically from the moment he ducked through the rusty hatchway, blathering excitedly and repeating over and over again how much of an honor it was to have him aboard, until he was about as embarrassed as he'd ever been in his life.

Several times he tried gently to explain that he wasn't really someone who deserved such adulation. But all it did was inspire fresh salvos of praise even more insistent and pathetic than what had gone before.

Eventually, he gave up. Whatever those aboard Outbound Flight had done for these people, it was so deeply ingrained that even after fifty years there was no holding it back. All he could do was endure it, try not to let it go to his head, and hope they would eventually run out of adjectives.

"All right," he said when they had finally quieted down enough to sit around a small table together. "I've pulled all the information I have on Outer Rim systems. Just bear in mind that a lot of these systems aren't members of the New Republic, and a lot more give only token allegiance. But if we can help you, we will. Now, what sort of world exactly are you looking for?"

"One with air like this," Bearsh said, waving a hand around him. "Less full and flavorful than the Chiss air."

Probably meant a lower oxygen content, Luke decided. "Okay," he said, keying that parameter into the datapad. "I presume you need water, too. What about climate and terrain?"

"We need places for the children to play," one of the other Geroons put in eagerly. "Many places, for many children to play."

"Peace, young one," Bearsh soothed, his mouths opening in another toothy Geroon smile. "On an entire world, there will be plenty of places for the children."

He turned back to Luke. "You must excuse Estosh," he said quietly. "He has never known life anywhere but within our vessel."

"I understand," Luke said. "I can tell your people put great store in your children, too."

"How do you know that?" Bearsh asked, his face puckering oddly. Then it cleared. "Ah—of course. The great and renowned powers of the jedi."

"Actually, there was nothing special needed on this one," Luke said. "We saw your earlier conversation with the Chiss. Any people who would put a playground right in their command center must certainly care a lot for their children."

"Ah," Bearsh said. "Yes. Our vessel was originally built for scientific surveys. That space was designed to contain the center for instrument responses." His face puckered again. "It was the only place large enough for a proper play and exercise area. All the rest of the vessel is composed of small rooms for the singles and families. We had no need for the instruments, so we took them out and gave the space to the children."

He straightened his head and shoulders, his eyes unfocusing as if gazing into the future. "But one day," he said firmly. "One day we will have a real place for the children. And then you will see, Jedi Master Skywalker, what the Geroon people can become."

"I'll look forward to it," Luke promised. "Now, about terrain?"

Bearsh seemed to come back from his dreams. "We will live in whatever grounds you find for us," he said. "Mountains or lakes, woodlands or plains—it does not matter."

"All right," Luke said. They certainly weren't a picky lot. "What about temperature ranges?"

Again, Bearsh waved his hand. "The temperature in this vessel is somewhat warm for us," he said. "But we will adapt and adjust to whatever—"

He broke off as the deck beneath them gave a sudden gentle jolt. "What was that?" Estosh asked fearfully, looking quickly around.

A second later they had their answer as a distant thunderclap echoed faintly through the open hatchway. "An explosion," Luke told him, jumping to his feet and sprinting toward the entry tu

"We've got an explosion and fire on the aft port side," her voice came back. "I'm heading back to see if I can help."

"I'll join you," Luke said, clearing the end of the entry tu

"Fel's transport, for one thing," Mara told him. "No idea what else, but from the way Drask took off I'd guess something serious. Vital equipment, or possibly fuel storage."