Survivor's Quest

An unpleasant thrill tingled across Jinzler's skin. Ambassador Jinzler. He'd started this whole charade purely to get himself aboard Formbi's expedition. Quite unintentionally, he'd apparently sold these people on that story, as well.

And unless he was misreading the tone of Pressor's voice, he was about to be dropped into negotiations regarding the fate of everyone aboard the expedition.

For a long second panic bubbled in his throat. He wasn't a diplomat, trained in mediation or negotiation. He was only an electronics tech. Mostly a failed one, too, like he'd been a failure at everything else he'd tried. Luke and Mara should be handling any talks with Guardian Pressor. Them, or Aristocra Formbi—after all, this territory belonged to the Chiss, not the New Republic. Even Commander Fel probably had more experience with foreign cultures than he did.

But he was the one Pressor had chosen. Arguing the point would probably be a bad idea, and admitting his deception would be even worse. Whether he liked it or not, it was up to him. "Certainly," he told the disembodied voice. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

"When the door opens you will step outside," Pressor said. "The girl who met you earlier will take you to a nearby room. I'll be waiting for you there."

"I understand," Jinzler said, glancing down at the top of Feesa's head. "What about those in here with me?"

"They'll have to wait there until we're finished."

Feesa gave a soft whimper. "Please," she whispered. "Please. No."

"You ca

Jinzler grimaced. This could get very awkward. "I understand your concerns, Guardian," he said. "But my companions... they're not exactly what you'd call heroic."

"We have no need of heroes here, Ambassador," Pressor said, his voice dark. "We don't need them, and we don't like them."

"Of course," Jinzler said hastily. "My point is that it's going to be a severe hardship for them to stay here alone. Besides which," he added as inspiration finally struck, "First Steward Bearsh and the other Geroons came a long way to pay you honor for saving them from slavery to the Vagaari all those years ago. I know they would very much like to be present at our discussions."

There was no answer. Jinzler remained motionless, holding on to Feesa and mentally crossing his fingers. "Very well," Pressor said at last. "They may all accompany you, provided they remain silent. I trust you are willing to guarantee their behavior?"

"I am," Jinzler said firmly. "No one wants to hurt any of you. We're only here to help."

Pressor snorted. "Of course you are."

With one final delicate slice of her lightsaber, Mara cut away the twenty-centimeter-square section of the turbolift car wall she'd been working on, leaving everything behind it untouched. The piece of metal fell inward, stopping abruptly in midair as Luke caught it in a Force grip. "Okay," he said, easing it to the floor as warm air flowed in through the opening. "Let's see what we've got."

"Mostly a lot of wires," Mara said, switching off her lightsaber and stepping closer to the wall.

Luke moved to her side. She was right: in just the small section she'd opened up there were no fewer than eight wires of different colors crisscrossing their way across the gap. "Guardian Pressor wasn't kidding about the power cables being wrapped around the car," he commented.

"He sure wasn't," Mara agreed, pushing experimentally on one of them. It gave about a centimeter and then stopped. "Wrapped pretty tightly, too. We're not going to be able to push them far enough out of the way to squeeze between them."

"What good would that do anyway?" Drask asked. "Even if we left the car, we would still be suspended in midair."

"Sure, but as long as we stayed out of the repulsor beams, we'd be all right," Luke told him. "All we'd have to deal with along the edges would be standard ship's gravity, and there should be access ladders built into the sides of the tube we can use to get down."

"Except that the wires prevent us from reaching them," Drask said tartly. "Have you any other ideas?"

"We're not finished with this one yet," Mara countered, just as tartly. "What do you think, Luke? Should mine be on the other side?"

"Yes," Luke agreed. "Back to back always seems to work best."

"Right."

Crossing to the opposite side of the car, Mara ignited her lightsaber again. With the delicacy of a surgical droid, she began to cut a second opening. "And this will accomplish what?" Drask asked.

"If we do it right, it'll get us out of here," Luke told him.

"And if we don't," Mara added helpfully, "at least it'll kill us quickly."

Drask didn't reply.

Watchman ran his induction meter to the lower edge of the rear wall and straightened up. "Well?" Fel asked.

"The topside repulsor cable comes around the corner right about here," the stormtrooper reported, marking the spot with a daub of synthflesh from his medpac. "It's in slightly worse shape than the power line to the underside generator—the field leakage is definitely stronger."

"Right." Fel shifted his attention to Grappler as he ran his own sensor over the edges of the door. "Anything there?"

"Yes, but not promising," the other said. "If Watchman is right about the differential in leakage levels, it appears the opposing sets of power cables were dropped into a cross-co

"So if we try to force it open, we break one of the circuits?" Fel suggested.

"Actually, we'd eventually break both of them," Watchman said dryly. "At least in theory. In actual practice, we'd probably be slammed into something solid one direction or the other before the second circuit popped."

"Let's try to avoid that," Fel said, trying not to sound sarcastic. His stormtroopers' apparently casual attitude, he knew, was just that: apparent. Beneath the surface they were all working as hard as he was to sort through the facts and options. "Anyone have a less lethal suggestion to offer?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Cloud cleared his throat. "I'm not as tech-trained as Watchman and Grappler," he said. "But if we drain some of the power to one of the repulsors, wouldn't the strength of the beam diminish?"

Fel rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. That was an interesting direction to go. "Watchman?"

"I don't think so," the stormtrooper said slowly. "Not with the power cables themselves."

"But we may be able to do something with the control lines," Grappler suggested. "If we can adjust them enough to lower their output, we may be able to lower the car to ground level."

"Right," Watchman concurred. "Of course, we'll only be able to get to the control cables if they're also wrapped around the car. You think they were careless enough to do that?"

"I don't know," Fel said. "Let's find out."

The place Evlyn led them to reminded Jinzler of the meal room back at the Comra relay post: a drab, viewportless place enclosed in undecorated metal, furnished only with a long, plain table and a handful of equally plain chairs.

Seated in the chair at the far end of the table was a dark-haired man in his midfifties with a lined, brooding face, dressed in the same simple fashion as the girl.

"Good day," Jinzler said with a nod, trying to remember how diplomats usually talked on the holodramas he'd liked to watch in the days when such entertainments could still interest him. "Do I have the honor of addressing Guardian Pressor?"

"You do," Pressor acknowledged. His eyes flicked to Feesa and the Geroons, lingered a moment on the wolvkils slung over the aliens' shoulders, then came back to Jinzler. "Sit down."