Survivor's Quest

"A useful start," Drask said, his tone neutral. Clearly, he wasn't all that impressed. "Yet we are still inside. What now?"

"Now," Luke said, smiling tightly at Mara, "you'll get to see how Jedi do things."

From somewhere ahead came a distant clunk. "What was that?" Feesa asked, looking up.

"Machinery," Grappler said, lifting his BlasTech and taking a step toward the passageway Luke and Mara had disappeared down a few minutes earlier. "Possibly a door sealing."

"The Skywalkers!" Jinzler said sharply, looking around. "They're gone!"

"It's all right, Ambassador," Formbi said calmly. "They went with General Drask to scout ahead." He peered in that direction. "It's time we joined them."

Fel suppressed a grimace. He'd assumed the two Jedi would be back before they were missed, or at least before it was time to move on. This was going to play havoc with his marching order. "Stormtroopers, form up," he ordered. "Two and two, front and rear."

"I'd prefer they hold rearguard position, Commander," Formbi said. "You"—he gestured to the three Chiss warriors—"come with me."

Without waiting for comment or argument, he strode off down the corridor, one of the Chiss warriors taking point two steps ahead of him as the other two moved into position on either side of him.

Fel hissed between his teeth as Jinzler, Feesa, and the Geroons moved off behind the procession. He hated being stuck all the way in the back this way. "Rearguard formation," he ordered the stormtroopers.

He was striding along behind Bearsh when a young, auburn-haired girl stepped out of concealment in front of the lead warrior, bringing the whole group to an abrupt halt. "Hello," she said calmly, as if visitors dropped by Outbound Flight every day. "Are you here to see the Guardian?"

Formbi glanced at Jinzler, then back to the girl. "We're here to see the survivors of Outbound Flight, and to help them," he said. "Is the Guardian the one we need to see?"

"Yes," the girl confirmed. "Come; I'll take you to him."

She turned and headed down the corridor toward the forward sensor room. "Who are all of you?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I am Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family of the Chiss Ascendancy," Formbi identified himself. "This is my aide, Chaf'ees'aklaio. This"—he gestured to Jinzler—"is Ambassador Dean Jinzler of the New Republic. Our expedition also includes representatives of the Geroon Remnant and the Empire of the Hand."

"So many people here to see us," the girl commented, turning into an alcove to her left.

"Yes," Formbi said. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Evlyn," she said. "This way, please." She touched a control on the wall, and a door slid open in front of her. Gesturing the others to follow, she stepped inside.

Fel stepped close beside Cloud as Formbi and the others filed through the doorway. "Are you picking up Drask or the Jedi anywhere?" he murmured.

"I have no sensor contact," the stormtrooper murmured back. "But there's a lot of metal and electronic equipment in here. It may be shielding them."

"Maybe," Fel said, pulling out his comlink as he and the stormtroopers reached the doorway. The opening led into a short corridor, he saw, with another door at the far end and a third door midway down the wall on the right. Formbi, the Chiss warriors, and two of the Geroons were right behind the girl, while Jinzler, Feesa, Bearsh, and the fourth Geroon had fallen a couple of paces behind the leaders as they looked around the empty corridor. "Cloud, Grappler: go catch up to Formbi," he ordered quietly. At the far end of the corridor, Evlyn touched a control, and the door slid up in front of her. "We'll stay back here and—"

He never finished the sentence. Evlyn stepped through the door; but instead of staying open, the panel slammed violently down right in Formbi's face. Even as Fel drew his blaster, another door dropped out of a groove in the ceiling in front of Cloud, cutting the Imperials off from the rest of the party. He spun around in time to see the door they'd come though slam down in turn, isolating them from the rest of the ship.

An instant later, the floor seemed to drop out from under him as their newly created prison began to fall.

It braked to a stop before he had time for more than a single curse. "Good day," a voice said from a speaker in the control panel. "My name is Guardian Pressor. You're in a turbolift car that is being held in suspension between two opposing repulsor beams. Do you understand this?"

"Perfectly," Fel said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm Commander Chak Fel of the Empire of the Hand. Interesting trap you've got here."

"Merely making use of limited resources," Pressor said. "The six turbolift cars ru

"Ah," Fel said. "I take it this pylon you mentioned is the co

"The wiring that feeds power to the repulsor beams also wraps randomly around the outside of the car," Pressor said, ignoring the question. "I'd therefore advise against trying to shoot or cut your way out."

"Understood," Fel said. Clearly, Pressor wasn't interested in a long conversation. "What is it you want from us?"

"From you, nothing," Pressor said. "I'll speak with you again when I've come to a decision concerning your group."

"Very well," Fel said, looking casually around the car. There would be at least one hidden monitor in here, he knew. "Would it help to tell you we come in peace, and in the hope of helping you and your people?"

"Not really, no," Pressor said.

The speaker clicked off. "Anyone?" Fel invited sourly.

"They're jamming our comlinks," Shadow offered. "I can't raise any of the others."

"Big surprise there," Fel said. "What about monitors?"

"One," Grappler said, pointing his BlasTech toward the control panel. "I mark the monitor system feed in there."

"Concur," Watchman agreed.

Fel nodded. "All right, then," he said, digging into his emergency pack. "The others are off by themselves, out of our reach and protection. That is unacceptable."

His fingers located the insulator blanket and emergency food paste he'd been looking for. So Pressor was proud that he could make use of limited resources? Fine. As far as Fel was concerned, the Empire of the Hand had invented that particular operational philosophy. "So let's make ourselves a little privacy," he continued, crossing toward the hidden monitor, "and then see what exactly we can do about this."

"...so I'd advise against trying to shoot your way out," Pressor said, wiping the sweat from his forehead in the hot room as he once again ran through the warning message he'd prepared. "Is that understood?"

"Clearly," the Blue One—Chiss—who had identified himself as Aristocra something-or-other said calmly. He'd ended up in the Number Four Turbolift Car, along with three more Chiss and two of the other, unknown aliens. "We'll await your decision," the Aristocra continued. "I would simply say that we've come here to help you, not to harm you."

"I understand," Pressor said. "I'll speak with you soon."

He cut off the speaker, scowling blackly at the fuzzy image that was the best the turbolift monitors could handle anymore. Of course they weren't here to harm anyone. Just like those strange soldiers with their white armor and hidden faces weren't here to harm anyone, or the Jedi weren't here to harm anyone.

Jedi.

For a long minute Pressor stared at the image of the two Jedi on the Number Two display. It was hard to tell on the ancient and failing equipment, but they looked young, probably younger than he himself was.