Survivor's Quest

She drew herself up to her full 1.58-meter height. "Or don't you mean it when you say you want to take us out of here someday?" she demanded. "Are you so comfortable in your private little kingdom that you want to keep us all here?"

"Silence, woman," Tarkosa rumbled, his eyes glinting ominously beneath his bushy eyebrows. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, be silent," Uliar seconded gruffly. "I didn't bring you here to listen to you make excuses for your brother."

"Then you apparently don't know her very well," Pressor told him, a small part of him starting to enjoy this. "Meanwhile, our guests are waiting."

Uliar's lips pressed briefly together as his eyes flicked over Pressor's shoulder. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Introduce us."

"Certainly," Pressor said, half turning and waving the others forward. Uliar hadn't given up, he knew. All he'd done was abandon this particular probe, at this particular time.

But he would be back. He would definitely be back.

Walking at the head of the group, Jinzler stepped to Pressor's side and stopped expectantly. "May I present the representative of the New Republic," Pressor said, watching Uliar's expression closely. "Ambassador Dean Jinzler."

The director was good, all right. There was barely a twitch from the corners of his eyes as the name registered. "Ambassador," he said smoothly. "I'm Chas Uliar, current director of the Outbound Flight Colony. These are Councilors Tarkosa and Keely, two of the original Survivors of the Devastation."

"Honored, Director," Jinzler said, bowing from the waist like a diplomat from some old holodrama. "We're pleased to find you alive."

"Yes," Uliar said, a little too dryly. "I'm sure you are."

"This is Aristocra Formbi of the Chiss Ascendancy," Pressor went on, "and First Steward Bearsh of the Geroon Remnant, along with their assistants."

"Such a varied group," Uliar commented as he exchanged nods with Formbi and Bearsh. "I understand you brought two Jedi along with you, as well."

"Yes," Jinzler said. "Guardian Pressor informs us they're still being held, along with the others."

"Others?" Uliar asked, looking questioningly at Pressor.

"Five others, in a separate car," Pressor confirmed. "Representatives of a government calling itself the Empire of the Hand."

"Empire of the Hand," Uliar repeated, as if to himself. "Interesting. I presume, Ambassador, that you'll wish both groups released at once to join you?"

Pressor held his breath. A simple, obvious suggestion; but he'd long ago learned not to trust simplicity when it came to dealing with Uliar. Was the director's question in fact an attempt to find out who was really in charge of this expedition?

Jinzler hesitated, perhaps also sensing a trap. "I'm sure they're fine where they are, Director," he said carefully. "We'll want them released eventually, of course, but we can certainly begin our discussions without them."

"Good," Uliar murmured. Apparently, Jinzler had passed the test. "Well, then. The Managing Council chamber is located a short distance back this way. If you'll follow me?..."

"Thank you," Jinzler said, bowing again.

Uliar turned and headed aft down the corridor, the two councilors falling into step beside him, Jinzler and Formbi following a couple of paces behind them. Pressor caught the eyes of his three Peacekeepers and nodded toward Uliar; nodding back, Ronson and Oliet moved into flanking positions beside the three Survivors. The black-clad Chiss were already walking in a military-precise, lockstep line behind Formbi, with the Geroons following somewhat more tentatively and not at all in step with the rest of the group or even each other. "We're certainly starting off with a bang," Pressor muttered to Rosemari as the procession marched away. "You'd better take Evlyn and—"

He broke off as he glanced down at his sister's side. Evlyn was nowhere to be seen. "Blast her," he snarled under his breath, looking around. There she was, of course, halfway down the corridor, walking between Aristocra Formbi and the three black-clad Chiss striding along behind him. "How does she do that?"

"I don't know," Rosemari murmured grimly. "But if she doesn't quit it, Uliar won't need any help figuring out what she is."

"No kidding," Pressor said, a tightness settling into his stomach. "You'd better catch up and go with her."

"What, to a council meeting?" Rosemari countered. "I'm not authorized to be in there."

"Sure you are," Pressor told her. "You're representing the Colonists in these negotiations, remember? Uliar said so."

"And that was as much of a fraud as asking why you keep using Evlyn for these stunts," Rosemari shot back. "Speaking of which—"

"Save it," Pressor cut her off. "Look, if you don't go, Evlyn's going to crash the party by herself. What do you think Uliar will say when he finally notices her and doesn't remember seeing her coming in?"

"You're right," Rosemari conceded reluctantly. "But you'd better be there, too."

"I fully intend—"

Pressor broke off as the comlink at his belt gave an odd twitter. Frowning, he reached down and pulled it free.

"That's weird," Trilli murmured, stepping to his side, his own comlink in hand. "Your comlink just say something, Chief?"

"I thought it did," Pressor said, tapping the switch. On the normal cha

"Want to know what's stranger?" Trilli pointed down the corridor at the departing crowd. "I saw Jinzler and Formbi go for their comlinks, too."

Pressor frowned, an uncomfortable feeling creeping across his back. With the jamming still in place, there shouldn't have been any communications getting through. Not to anyone's comlinks. "Get back upstairs and double-check the jamming," he ordered Trilli. "Our guests may have a trick or two we don't know about."

"Right."

Trilli started to go; stopped again as Pressor caught his arm. "And while you're there," the Guardian added quietly, "put a lock on the controls for the forward trap cars' repulsors. Make sure no one but us can turn them on or off."

"Sure," Trilli said, sounding puzzled. "You afraid someone's going to accidentally bump into them or something?"

Pressor gazed at Uliar's receding back. Uliar, who had lived through the destruction of Outbound Flight and still carried the scars from that event. Uliar, who knew where the Jedi and Imperials were currently being held.

Uliar, who was leading the way toward a meeting room far from the turbolifts and the turbolift controls, where Pressor and the others wouldn't be in a position to notice if someone slipped up to Four and started playing with control switches.

"Yeah," Pressor said softly to Trilli. "Or something."

With a disconcerting thump, the turbolift car began moving. "Steady," Fel warned, putting a hand on the vibrating wall for balance and watching closely as Watchman and Grappler adjusted the power splitters they'd cobbled together. "Take it real easy. We're not in any particular hurry."

"We're keeping it slow," Watchman assured him. "It's ru

"Good," Fel said, not entirely sure he believed it. The car's vibration seemed to be increasing, and a low-pitched rumble had started in from somewhere.

On the other hand, if the trick failed, they would probably be dead before it even registered. Comforting.

"You still want us to head for the storage core?" Grappler asked.

"If you can manage it, yes," Fel said. That other car they'd heard, the one with Jinzler and possibly Formbi aboard, seemed to have gone straight down to the next Dreadnaught in the ring. It didn't seem like it would be a good idea to just burst in full-bore behind them, especially if Pressor had other surprises prepared for unwanted company. Far better if they could bypass that ship entirely and find a way to come up on it from below.