Survivor's Quest

"Thank you," Jinzler said, choosing a seat midway down the table. Feesa took the chair beside him; Bearsh, perhaps sensing the lack of welcome, sat himself and his compatriot at the far end of the table, as far from Pressor as possible.

"Let's make this simple, Ambassador," Pressor said as the group settled in. "First of all, I don't trust you. Any of you. You arrive suddenly and without warning, invading my ship without even attempting to communicate with us first."

"I understand your feelings and your concerns," Jinzler said. "But the fact is, we didn't know anyone was here until we were already aboard. Even then, if it hadn't been for the Jedi, we probably wouldn't have known about you until we stumbled over Evlyn here."

"Yes," Pressor murmured. "Well, we'll let that pass for the moment. Right now, I'd like to hear why I should permit any of you to come farther into our world."

Jinzler smiled faintly. This was starting to sound and feel almost familiar. Maybe Pressor had learned his diplomatic technique from the holodramas, too. "Don't you mean, why should you permit any of us to live?" he suggested. "Because that really is the question, isn't it?"

At least Pressor had the grace to blush. "I suppose so," he admitted gruffly. "What can you offer that's worth risking the betrayal of my people?"

At the far end of the table Bearsh stirred in his seat. Jinzler threw him a sharp look, and he subsided without speaking. "I don't know exactly what happened to you," he said, turning back to Pressor. "It's obvious you've all suffered tremendously. But I'm here—we're here—in the hope of bringing that suffering to an end."

"And then what?" Pressor demanded. "A glorious return to the Republic? Most of us volunteered for this voyage specifically to escape the very thing you're offering."

"We're not the Republic you left," Jinzler said. "We're the New Republic."

"And, what, you no longer have squabbles among factions and members?" Pressor countered. "The bureaucracy no longer exists? The leaders are wise and benevolent and just?"

Jinzler hesitated. What exactly was he supposed to say? "Of course we still have a bureaucracy," he said carefully. "It's impossible to operate a government without something of that sort. And there are certainly still squabbles and factions. But we've already tried the other option: rule by a single, monolithic Empire. Most of us prefer the alternative."

"An Empire?" Pressor asked, frowning. "When was this?"

"The wheels were already in motion when Outbound Flight left Coruscant," Jinzler said, wondering how much he should say. His goal was to convince Pressor that the New Republic offered hope to these people, not to give the full history of one of the politicians' more spectacular failures. "At first, Palpatine only seemed to want peace—"

"Palpatine?" Pressor cut him off. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine?"

"That's the one," Jinzler confirmed. "As I was saying, at first he only seemed to want to bring the Republic together. It was only afterward, in hindsight, that we were able to see how he was drawing more and more power to himself."

"Interesting," Pressor said. "But that's the past. This is the present. And I'm still waiting to hear a good reason why we should trust you."

Jinzler took a deep breath. "Because you're all alone out here," he said. "You're in foreign territory, surrounded by the hazards and lethal radiation of a tightly packed globular cluster, sitting in a ruined and useless ship."

"This ship is hardly useless," Pressor said stiffly. "With all the work my father and the droids put into it, this particular Dreadnaught is pretty much ready to fly."

"Then why haven't you loaded everyone aboard and left?" Jinzler countered. "I'll tell you why. You haven't left because you have no idea how to get out." He locked gazes with the other man. "The bottom line is this, Guardian. If you don't trust us—if you kill us, or even if you just send us away, you and your descendants will be here forever."

Pressor's lip twitched. "I can think of worse fates."

"And if it were just you, I wouldn't have any problem with that decision." Jinzler turned to look at Evlyn, standing silently just inside the door. "But it isn't just you, is it?"

Pressor muttered something under his breath. "Well, one thing hasn't changed between the Old and New Republics," he said. "The politicians and diplomats still know how to fight dirty."

He waved a hand as Jinzler opened his mouth. "Never mind. I guess that's how the game has always been played."

"I'm not trying to push you into anything," Jinzler said quietly. "We're not in any rush, and you don't have to make any decisions right now. But ultimately, you have to be aware that your decision is going to affect more than just your own life."

Pressor didn't reply. Jinzler listened to the silence, trying to think of something else to say. "While you're thinking," he said as he finally found something, "we'd very much like to meet the rest of your people and see your ship. It's a testimony to your ingenuity and perseverance that you were all able to survive for so long, particularly after suffering so much devastation."

For another long minute Pressor gazed at him with narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide whether the request was genuine or simply one more diplomats' word game. Then, abruptly, he nodded. "All right," he said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. "You want to see our home? Fine; let's go see it."

"What about the others?" Jinzler asked, standing up as well. "The Skywalkers and Aristocra Formbi and the rest?"

"They'll keep for now," Pressor said, circling the table toward the door. "If we decide we're going to deal with you, I'll release them."

"It would be a nice gesture to at least release Aristocra Formbi," Jinzler said, pressing the point cautiously. "You're in Chiss space, and he's a high-ranking member of the Chiss government. You'll certainly need their help before this is over."

Pressor's lips compressed briefly. "I suppose," he said reluctantly. "All right. The Aristocra and his group can join us. But the Jedi will stay where they are." He considered. "So will those armored soldiers, I think. I don't much like the looks of them."

Jinzler bowed his head. "Thank you, Guardian," he said. To be perfectly honest, he didn't much like the looks of the stormtroopers, either. Fel could talk all he liked about how his Empire of the Hand wasn't the despotic tyra

Pressor reached the door. Then, abruptly, he turned back around. "One other thing," he said, his voice pitched just a bit too casually. "Your name: Jinzler. Any relation to the Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler?"

Jinzler felt a hard lump form around his heart. "Yes," he said, forcing his voice to be as casual as Pressor's. "She was my sister."

Pressor nodded. "Ah."

He turned around again. "This way."